#in the morning / we are perfect‚ will we crack? pressing my thumb on your knuckles for dear life / i'm scared if i close my eyes

[yourthirdparent]

call me pretty by elliotly is sooooo it's such a jasico song. it's so themcore. logically speaking it'd be from nico but i am dedicated to making everything about jason so it's from jason's pov.

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

sunday morning [bob PT. 1/8]

PART OF MY “WHATEVER THIS IS” SERIES WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE PAIRING: Robert 'Bob' Floyd x WSO!Reader CALLSIGN: Gemini It goes without saying but I do not give permission for anyone to use my work or copy it somewhere else.

PLOT: You've been secretly dating Robert Floyd for over two years while you were stationed together in Lamoore. After learning the Bob was picked for the mission to the Uranium Enrichment plant - he proposes. How will the two of you navigate planning a secret wedding?

ONE WEEK AFTER THE SPECIAL DETACHMENT

The sun crept in through the slivers of the window, revealed from the AC’s cool air brushing the powder blue curtains aside. The sheets were cool around your body as you groaned, rolling over to touch smooth skin beside you. A lazy smile stretched across your lips as you slid closer to his side and snuggled into the man.

“Mornin,” his deep voice croaked, laced with exhaustion as his strong arm draped along your back and brushed his fingertips lightly along your spine.

“Good morning handsome,” you whispered, smiling wider when you felt Bob’s lips press a kiss to your nose. You giggled at the feeling, leaning into his touch as he kissed your cheeks and your forehead. “How’d you sleep?” you asked gently, eyes cracking open to stare up at him. Your chin rested on his chest as you admired his long lashes and rosy lips, the strong curve of his jaw when he clenched and swallowed at the question.

“Another nightmare,” he murmured, hands wrapping around your head to pull you up his body and giving you a tingling kiss. You cupped his jawline, thumb sliding over his skin as you straddled his hips.

“It’ll pass,” you breathed against him, his hips rolling up into yours slightly. You peppered kisses along his mouth and up to his ear, making him shiver. “I promise it will pass,” you repeated and trailed your lips along the column of his neck onto his collarbone.

Bob laced his fingers with yours, enjoying the feeling of you against him. It had only been a few days since the intense mission to blow up the Uranium Enrichment plant and Bob’s nightmares had yet to subside.

You could still remember the fear in his eyes when Maverick called his name to select him and Phoenix to be his rendezvous team, dread filling your body as you thought about saying goodbye to your long-term boyfriend. That night, tucked between two F-18s while doing pre-checks – Bob had gotten down on one knee on the flight deck and proposed.

Eyes glazed with tears, he whimpered out that he would be damned if he let another minute pass without planning the rest of his life with you. You cried as you said yes, letting him slide the necklace, dangling gorgeous diamond ring on it over your head. He pressed his lips to yours, mumbling that his daydreams of you walking down the aisle would be the only thing keeping him focused during the mission the next morning.

On the way home, Bob asked for a private meeting with Maverick to share the news along with asking if he would officiate the small ceremony you were planning in the next two months – the delight on his face at learning that he was the only soul in the Navy to have the knowledge of your relationship. He squeezed the two of you tightly, begging to let him take you two to dinner to celebrate the news.

            A week later and safely back in North Island, you had moved into a more permanent residence after Maverick let it slip that you were both being assigned to a permanent Dagger squadron here on base due to the success of training and the mission.

            The rest of the team would get the news today at the debrief, getting their temporary accommodations extended until they found a residence. You hummed against Bob’s touch as he felt your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckle above the sparkling and simple ring. The diamond was beautiful and the perfect size, something that you had stared at every moment over the peace and quiet of the recovery break.

            “Can’t we just stay here today?” Bob mumbled, feathered kisses against your skin making you giggle. “We already got our debrief,” he whimpered as you rolled your hips and moved to get up. His arms slithered around your hips to keep you in place, giving you goosebumps.

            “The others don’t know that,” you told him, and you wiggled out of his grasp to get out of bed. You snickered at the obvious bulge beneath Bob’s cotton boxers, and he playfully glared at you as he sat up and adjusted slightly.

            You wiped your face slightly and began to pull a comb through your hair to form your perfect military bun. Once. It was up and smoothly patted down; you unclasped your necklace from around your neck and slid the ring onto it. Bob’s arms returned home to your waist for a moment before his soft touch replaced yours to clasp the necklace properly. When he finished, he kissed the back of your neck and moved to the bathroom to take his shower.

            It didn’t take long for the two of you to get dressed, moving around each other to make breakfast and pack your lunches. At 4:45 AM, you were ready to go – grabbing your backpack and moving through the front door onto the porch. Bob locked the door behind you, pulling you into him one last time to kiss your lips and savoring the taste.

            You hummed at the feeling, pulling back and smiling at your fiancé with delight. You smoothed down the stray hair on his head to keep it in place before you stepped back. “I’ll see you on base, okay?” you whispered and headed over to your own car. You hated driving separately, hated the longing feeling of not being able to share your relationship with your coworkers and friends.

            Now that Maverick knew and was elated to hear, you felt that it was completely acceptable to share the news with the team. Over the last week, each discussion of the matter nearly began because Bob would hush you by drag your hips to his and moved to bedroom to get lost in each other’s flesh.

            As you rushed down the road and nodded to the security guard at the gate, you got lost in thought – barely noticing your pilot getting out of her car. “Gemini,” she called out, pulling you from your thoughts. “Earth to Gemini,” she giggled as your gaze finally fell on her face. You smiled at her, bumping elbows as you headed toward the hanger for debrief.

            “How much coffee you had this morning Aries?” you quipped as she scoffed, slapping your shoulder playfully.

            “Not enough,” she replied with a chuckle, pulling the door open and sliding her aviators over her bright eyes.

            “Ladies,” Coyote called, catching up with them and throwing his long arm around Aries’ shoulders. “How’re my Zodiac sisters doing?”

“Definitely not enough coffee for Coyote’s mood,” Aries retorted, earning a gasp from Coyote as he threw his hand over his chest.

“Words hurt Aries,” he replied, greeting the others as you approached the tables. You slid into your seats as the door opened again across the way, revealing Bob and Maverick whispering lightly to each other before taking their respective places. You were called to attention, shifting to stand as Bob’s eyes caught yours for a moment, winking at you and turning back to hear the news.

When you were released to your desks, now stationed behind you and tucked inside to avoid the raging desert sun – Aries squealed with delight, dragging you in to a tight hug. “This is so great, I love this squad,” she replied and leaned back to look at you. “There’s no WSO I would rather be teamed up with Gemini.”

“Right back at you Aries,” you grinned and pulled back to laugh. “Ready to make some hellfire for these recruits?”

“Hell yeah!” Aries called, laughing as you began to move to your desks as Maverick assigned them. The assignments made Fanboy groan. “What’s up your ass?”

“Bob gets to be surrounded by all the women,” Fanboy moaned, waving his hand to the arrangement, Bob’s desk effectively boxed in by yours, Ares and Phoenix’s desks. Bob just flushed at the comment and Maverick stepped forward.

“Bob is the most respectable so Bob,” he emphasized as he pulled up his sunglasses and adjusted his jacket. His eyes found yours briefly, amused at the ordeal. “Bob gets the prime desk.”

[littlefreya]

Sinful!Henry waking you up with an orgasm.

Summary: Ever so in love with you, he can’t hold back and decides to please you even in your sleep.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader (2nd person POV)

Words: 650

Warnings: 18+, RPF, smut, somnophilia, fingering, female orgasm, male erection, hinted sexual intercourse, savouring on bodily fluids, body worship, male POV, Freya’s use of poetic sex metaphors.  

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

N/A: Decided to try something different, told from a male pov while it’s still reader inserted. Not beta’d; we die with our typos like August getting hit with a hook, falling off a cliff and crashing into an explosion. Divider by @firefly-graphics 

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed my work. 🖤

Midnight Glow.

The shades of a midnight glow veiled you, slumber an unjust kiss that kept you away from my bewildered gaze. Leaning on my forearm to watch you sleep, I was in awe, but of course, forever will I be taken by your deity.  

My dear love. My definition of beauty. 

Not wishing to wake you from your sleep, I carefully reached a knuckle to brush upon your cheek - the surface of your skin so supple it felt like silk. The faintest flutter waved through your lashes, and a dark crease parted your lips though you did not wake.

"Are you dreaming?" I whispered while carefully, my hand glided below the blanket shielding your perfect body. God, your flesh simmered below my palm as if my trail left a path of blazing flames behind it. I took your left breast and gave it a light squeeze, my thumb massaging your hardening nipple, making the beat of your heart quicken, and a shudder of breath left your quivering lips.

"Are you dreaming about us?"

A part of me wanted to wake you, to sink between your parted legs and make slow love to you, but I couldn't resist the temptation of bringing you to ecstasy within the tendrils of a delirium. 

My hand continued to survey down the valley of your torso, following the warmth calling me from between your thighs. I leaned closer with my upper body, almost hovering from above while two long fingers parted your soft petals, and my thumb found the jewel hidden at your apex. I wanted to breathe in the silent moans that escaped your lips as slowly my thumb began to draw languid circles over your clit. 

The moan that cracked from your throat thrummed through my lungs, and just then, I felt dew pooling at the honeyed crease that longed for my penetration. 

"I love you," I uttered and kissed below your eyes. The pillowy pads of my digits traced the seams of your dripping slit, raking the smooth wetness on and on before entering your succulent cove.

Little wrinkles formed in your brow. You moaned even harder, your entire body writhing and coiling, spine rising from the matters with the invasion of my fingers into your heavenly cunt. It almost seemed as if you would levitate, possessed by the spirits of pleasure I provoked within you. In and out, I continued to tease your clit by my thumb and pumped in you, my cock stirring in unfulfilled desire to conquer while your hot canal milked around my fingers.     

Hanging between fantasy and consciousness, you bucked your hips into my hand and called by my name. 

"Henry..."

Enamoured, I entered you knuckles-deep, pressing into the sensitive spot that made you quake with rapture. Finally, your beautiful eyes flared open, your mouth did too as your pussy clamped around me. I could feel you spasming against my hand, the tidal convulsion of your ecstasy spurring before you fell back to pillow gasping with astonishment. 

"Good morning...?" you panted, looking at me semi-amused and semi-stunned.

Leaning in, I drank the mead of your lips and brushed my nose over yours. 

"Actually, it's the middle of the night..." I retorted with a sheepish grin and then slowly slid my fingers out and brought your elixir to my mouth. 

Your sharp fangs grazed the pillow of your bottom lip as I savoured on your taste. Impressed by my devotion, you ran your hands down my abdomen, weaving through the hair of my body. 

"Then why did you wake me?" 

"Couldn't sleep again," I shrugged and groaned as I felt your nails scratching below my navel.

"Well, it seems like someone else is up. Should I... fuck you to sleep?"

I smiled groggily and flipped onto my back, letting you climb onto my body and take the reins.

The last thing we were going to do tonight was sleep. 

[brighteststar707]

Hi! Can I request Lazy Morning with GE Saeran for Spring Request? Thank you❣

Hi! Thank you for your request <33 I hope you enjoy!

#22: Lazy morning

You wake up to sunlight coming in through the blinds in your little bedroom. Saeran is already awake, blinking slowly as his eyes adjust to the light in your room. You’re both not used to this. You fell asleep last night with the window still cracked open, and the room is filled with the smell of dewdrops and wildflowers. You couldn’t be farther away from your bedroom in the bunker, with its artificial light and filtered air.

This is the first time that you’ve taken a trip together that didn't involve any rescue missions. You decided that escaping to a cottage in the middle of nature was the perfect way to celebrate what felt like a new beginning. Spring had come on all at once this year, and it felt like a sign. Buttercups and dandelions had sprung up almost overnight and it felt like the whole world was waking up from a long dream.

You reach for Saeran, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck to hide from the light. Almost automatically, his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer and properly blocking out the light.

“Morning, love,” he says, stifling a yawn.

“Mmm… not yet.” Your voice comes out muffled. “Can we… stay here a little longer? ‘m too comfortable.” Nestled in his arms and cocooned in a thick warm quilt, you feel like you’d be happy to lie like this forever. The world outside can wait.

He laughs softly and hums in agreement. With one arm still wrapped around your waist, he runs his fingers through your hair, brushing it backwards and away from your face. When it’s all fanned out on your pillow, he moves to gently trace your jawline with his thumb. You hum softly at the feeling, his fingertips just a bit cold (as always).

It has become a subconscious habit of his to fiddle with you, run his fingers along your skin when he’s thinking, or drifting off to sleep. He likes the reminder that you’re near him, solid and warm. Sometimes, you feel as if he’s trying to commit all the curves and contours of your body to memory.

You're not sure how much time passes as you lie like this, slowly coming to your senses, feeling his fingertips skim down your neck and back up again. It's almost enough to make you fall asleep again. Almost.

You pull back a little and turn your head to let your eyes adjust to the light. The walls of the little bedroom are painted white, which only make the room brighter in the sunlight. You look up at the ceiling instead, with its crisscrossing wooden beams.  

Meanwhile, Saeran has propped himself up on his elbow and is looking at you with bleary eyes. It’s not often that you get to see him like this. At home, he usually wakes up before you. You’ll find him, fully awake, lying in bed patiently waiting for you to wake up too. He doesn’t often let himself linger in the place between sleeping and waking like this.  

The sight of him hovering slightly over you, morning sun making his hair shine, is enough to wake you up. You really would be happy to lie here with him forever, you think.

He has moved from tracing your jaw to running the tip of his index finger down the curve of your forehead, the bridge of your nose, your cupid’s bow. You tilt your head back to follow his movement.

His finger catches on your lower lip and you take the opportunity, grasping his hand and pulling it forward a little so you can press your lips to his wrist.

His eyes open fully now, surprised. You’re thankful for the way the light hits him and highlights the blush on his cheeks. Ha. It’s not often that you catch him off guard like this. He always seems to know your next move before you do.

However, he is still easy to fluster. You don’t let go of his hand, instead you turn it so you can kiss his knuckles next.

He’s definitely awake now. He dips down to pepper your cheeks with feather-light kisses.

“Good morning, my love.” This time, your voice is clear.

“Are you ready to wake up now?”

You make a show of thinking about it. With a sigh, you nod your head, “Yes, I think so.”

With a groan, you sit up and stretch, enjoying the way the sun makes patterns on your bare arms. “Breakfast?”

He mirrors your movements, sitting up and stretching his arms over his head. “Lead the way.”

[boldlyvoid]

Amethyst you so much

Summary: Spencer has had a crush on Y/N since she started working at the bau. She only ever works the night shift after a case, handling all the aftermath gracefully. one night, Spencer stays back and they strike up a conversation about rocks, causing their feelings to dig a little deeper.

Warnings: pure fluff, weed mention, hurt/comfort, grief and mourning

Word Count: 6.4K

Read on Ao3

Late nights at the office had become his thing since Gideon left.

He couldn’t bring himself to go home some nights without a game of chess, a cup of coffee, and the ambiance of the post case staff working. He would’ve had no idea about what goes on after they close a case if he didn’t stay behind most nights.

The phone rings almost every 10 minutes, and it’s always answered by the sweetest voice. The fax machine never turns off, and the most beautiful girl in the world is always running around placing papers in different places.

He’s been smitten with her since she started here, 2 years ago. Never seeing much of her since she was switched to the night shift, always wanting to just watch her from afar, never speaking to her unless he needed to.

“Yes, again we are so sorry for the door,” he can hear her voice from the back corner of the room. “Agent Morgan will be paying for that out of his paycheck, don’t worry, Mr. Kennings. We’ll be sure to remember your hotel when we’re in the area again. The FBI has a very generous budget for overnight cases. Of course, you have a good night too.”

She hung the phone up harshly and let out a deep sigh. He turned around to see her face in her arms, resting against the desk. She looked done, completely fed up. He would be too.

She looked up then, noticing that he was making eye contact with her. She awkwardly smiled and waved at him, “sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Spencer replied. “We asked for the key, I should have stopped him from kicking it in.”

She laughed then, walking over to his desk so she didn’t have to yell across the room. She sat on the corner of his desk lightly, “why do you stay every night?”

“Oh, um,” he wasn’t prepared for this. She had never talked to him before. She was barely able to even look at him when she used to place papers on his desk 2 years ago, now she was on his desk.

“I don’t like to bring the work home with me, it’s better to destress here before I go to my apartment,” he answered, half honestly.

She nodded slightly, “I get it. Luckily I go home in the mornings so the sun helps me feel better.”

“Going home in the dark isn’t fun,” she lightly smiled up at her.

“Do you want a coffee or anything?” She asked softly, “seeing as I am still your assistant as long as you’re here?”

He laughed lightly, “I would, but I’d like to join you in the staff room for it?”

“Okay,” she stood, straightening out her shirt as he stood as well.

He held the doors open for her, letting her walk out first, still smiling as she waited in the hall for him. Never being anything less than 1 foot from him for some reason, and he didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Do you like your job?” He asked lightly.

“Oh yeah,” she laughed. “It’s like customer service on crack. Have you ever had to explain to someone why you can’t pay for the cracked foundation after Agent Morgan’s ransacked a place?”

“I honestly never thought of who has to deal with the aftermath,” he awkwardly admitted to her. “I’m so sorry.”

She couldn’t stop laughing as they entered the kitchen, “it’s fine. I never have to apologize on your behalf, it’s everyone else who seems to be reckless. Sometimes I feel like it would be better if I came along to babysit.”

“That would be helpful,” he smiled softly as she entered the staff room.

He watched as she took a new coffee filter out of the cupboard. Emptying the coffee pot with ease, rinsing everything before adding the water and scooping in the grounds. He was mesmerized by how fast she was able to do it, then again it was sort of her job.

“What mug would you like?” She turned to him with a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“Um, the purple one, if it’s there?”

“You really like purple, huh?” She teased him, standing on her tippy-toes to reach the mug for him.

She placed it on the counter before grabbing a white mug, it had a bumblebee on it, “bee happy” written along the top. It was perfect for her.

“Purple is a stress-reducing colour,” she explained. “When I was a kid my parents painted my room purple so that I’d sleep better.”

“I’ve always been drawn to it.”

She leaned against the counter while the coffee pot started to percolate, “Probably because of your anxiety, coffee doesn’t help that.”

“It’s in my DNA to be like this,” he tried to joke, knowing he succeeded when her smile crept back onto her face.

He was on a mission to keep seeing it.

“For someone who spends a lot of time with dead bodies, creepy places and bad people, you sure are a mousy little thing aren’t you?” She teased him.

“I also love Halloween, go figure.” He’s not sure where the confidence came from, being able to make light-hearted jokes like this was only easy with the team.

Which she technically was a part of. He’s seen her almost every single day for 3 years, slowly being able to get comfortable enough for this very moment.

“What else are you into, outside of here?” She asked honestly, making his heart swell as no one else had ever asked him before.

“Lots of things,” he sighed. “I love to read, I’ll read anything. But mostly I enjoy far-off worlds. Lord of the Rings, Star Trek, Doctor Who, Sherlock mostly.”

“No supernatural?” She gasped. “Sacrilege, honestly. What kind of nerd are you if you don't support supperwholock?”

“That's the show with the monster hunting brothers right?” He tried to recall it to his mind.

She nodded with a pressed-lipped smile, “it’s bad but in a way where I can’t stop watching every Thursday, they just introduced an angel who is pretty gay. Star Trek is cool too, I guess, I was raised by Trekkies.”

“My mom was into Doctor Who.”

“Mamma’s boy,” she teased him slightly, returning her focus to the coffee as she poured the now finished brew into their mugs. “She was nice when she came in that one time, I made her a very sweet coffee just like yours.”

He reached for the sugar then, poring a generous amount into his mug with a grin, “how much do you like?”

“the same amount,” she couldn’t help but laugh. “I hate the taste of coffee, but it keeps me awake.”

He poured the sugar into her mug as she places a spoon in each. Allowing him to stir his own before picking it up finally. Holding the warm ceramic in his hands, it was almost as warm as the feeling in his chest when he looked at her.

He’s felt it for a long time. He’s been caught staring at her by Derek, JJ even tried to get him to give her his number. Which she already had for when she calls him into work in the middle of the night. They knew he had a crush, he did too. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

“Come to my desk, I want to show you something?” She asked softly, avoiding eye contact as she walked towards the door.

He followed, like a lost puppy, all the way back to her desk. It was always neat, he always looked at it when he made his way up the stairs to the briefing room. He could even see it from where he sat at the table sometimes. Always wanting to see her leave in the mornings.

She had a collection of rocks that always changed, he loved the blue one the most but it wasn’t there currently. She had all new ones since the last time he looked.

“Here,” she hands him one. It’s brown and gold, the colours moving and shifting as he turns it with his fingers. The gold running through it like a beautiful wave.

“what’s this for?”

“It’s a Tiger’s eye, for good luck and happiness,” she smiled. “Keep it at your desk and maybe it’ll be easier for you to relax when you come back?”

The butterflies in his chest were swirling then as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. Wanting him to take it, wanting him to feel better. Caring for him.

“Thank you,” he barely whispers, clearing his throat softly. “It’s very nice of you.”

“You’re always nice to me, so,” she shrugged.

They sat down then, he dragged his chair from his desk over to hers. Sitting in close as she explained all the meanings to her rocks. He listened carefully, getting to examine each one as she spoke.

“This one is Jade, it’s for balancing emotions and allowing compassion so I don’t scream at everyone on the phone,” she laughed as she placed one in his hands. Her fingers brushing his palm softly.

It was a beautiful green stone with a thin white line running through it, separating into 3 directions as he flipped it over, “it’s beautiful.”

“I know some people don’t believe in this stuff,” she started to get embarrassed as she placed them all back on the shelf. “But I’ve always thought; if the moon, which is just a rock, can control the water, and humans are 70% water, then who’s to tell me the moon cycles don’t control my emotions and these smaller rocks can’t help problem areas?”

“You’re not wrong,” he shook his head softly as he thought her words over. “People depended on the stars and planets for guidance originally, as well as rocks and herbs for healing, just because it’s outdated doesn’t mean it doesn’t work?”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “No one has ever agreed with me that easily.”

“Anytime you want to talk, I’ll just be over there,” he pointed at his desk. “And I’m a phone call away?” He swallowed sharply at his boldness, trying to stay calm as he awaited her answer.

“I do have your number,” she smiled, reaching out to place her hand on his. “But you should go home, I’m sure you’re chilled out now.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, staring at her hand as they touched. He lightly wrapped his hand around hers, holding it slightly, running his thumb over her knuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“And every day after,” she whispered, tilting her head as she smiled at him.

This was going to be interesting.

—

Penelope was always dragging him out. She would take him shopping, to dinner, to the movies. She was like his big sister, dedicated to making sure he wasn’t always cooped up or trying to retreat into a fantasy life.

She kept him busy.

She had 4 bags in her hands as they walked down the street, peering into the store windows to see what else she could possibly be interested in taking home for someone. That’s when they passed the natural health store.

He stopped in his tracks, seeing all the different rocks on the wall accompanies by little cards that described how they could help. He opened the door and rushed inside before Penelope even noticed he stopped following her.

“Good afternoon!” The shop owner called out to him. “How can I assist you today?”

“Um, the girl I like has a rock collection,” he says softly, knowing Penelope is behind him listening. “Crystals more specifically, I’d like to get her some?”

“Well, you came to the right place,” the man beams, escorting him to the wall of rocks. “What is she like?”

“Wonderful,” the words are carried out of his mouth on a sigh as he thinks about her. “She’s confident and nice, and caring. She’s always positive and just so lovely.”

“I’ve got you,” the man starts picking rocks off the wall and placing them in his hands.

Spencer follows him to the desk where he lays down a handful of rocks, Penelope is shockingly quiet as she stands beside him, staring at the collection. She’ll be full of questions later, all of which he is terrified of.

“This is a rose quartz, pretty basic love, beauty, anti-depression stone,” he pushes the pink and a green rock towards him. “Serpentine is for new adventures, observation and insight. I have a feeling you’re up for an adventure with her?”

Spencer nodded enthusiastically, “I like that one. It would be better to get her some rare ones, some that have to do with friendship, new beginnings, or opportunities?” He tried to explain his feelings as best as he could. Not knowing if he sounded dumb for a change.

The man smiled wide, “here,” he dipped below the counter and dug out a box. “Chrysocolla is literally for new beginnings, love and opportunity.”

He hands Spencer a vitreous, raw blue stone with small green marks running all through it, it’s beautiful like her. “This is perfect.”

“I’ll throw in a Kiwi Jasper as well, it’s for being by someone's side, support and trust. As well as a Ruby in Zoisite it symbolizes finding the joy in life with someone,” he hands Spencer two equally beautiful stones, prepping a bag and wrappings for all of them.

Spencer lays out the 5 stones he picked out, watching him wrap them with care before placing them in a bag. He rings everything up, Spencer pays and before he’s even out the door Penelope is pouncing on him for answers.

“Who?!”

He can't help but blush and stutter, trying to brush past her and continue walking down the street. “You can’t hide forever Spencer, who is she?”

“How do you know it’s a she?”

“You literally said so?” She looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Come on? I won't tell anyone!”

“Y/N.”

The gears are turning in Penelope's head as she tries to place a face to the name, knowing she’s seen her somewhere, “From the office?”

He nods softly, “the one Derek bullies me for staring at?” He clues her in more as they walk.

“He also bullies her for staring at you,” she adds with a smile. “She’s going to love those, when are you going to give them to her?”

“I was thinking about just leaving one on her desk every day? Maybe with a note for why I picked it?” He really wants to woo her, she’s too special to just flirt with.

“She’s going to love that.”

—

Sure enough, he walked into work every day for the next week, placing a rock on a sticky note on her desk. He was never around when she was able to see it, only knowing she got it when he'd arrive at work the next morning with a note reading 'thank you ♥︎ ' on top of his files.

He thinks about her all weekend, planning how he'll give her the last rock as he takes the elevator up that morning. Only to see her sitting at her desk, phone pressed to her ear as she tried to talk someone out of suing the FBI, she looked absolutely miserable. Just a casual Monday morning for her, almost at the end of her shift.

He rushed over to his desk, putting all his stuff down to dig one of the rocks from his satchel. Picking the Kiwi Jasper for today, he grabbed a pen and a sticky note and wrote her a little note.

“Always here if you need to talk, -Spencer ♥︎”

He walked over to her desk, she was still talking so she didn’t notice him until he was right there, she looked up at him with a thankful smile.

“Yes sir,” she answered the person talking to her. “Can I call you back after I speak to the chief? thanks.” She hung up on him, turning all her attention to Spencer.

“I know you know it's been me leaving these, but I brought you in another one,” he says softly, placing the rock in her hand and sticking the note to the shelf where it would end up.

“oh my gosh, Spencer?” She placed her free hand on her heart as she looked at the rock.

“You looked upset?”

She stands and pulls him into a hug, he can feel all the eyes on him as he holds her back, letting his chin rest on her shoulder as she squeezes him.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she pulled back, awkwardly smiling at him as she also noticed everyone staring.

“Always,” he smiled back, hand still resting on her arm. “Um, I have a case I need to get to.”

“Of course, good luck,” she smiled.

He pulls the tiger's eye out of his shirt pocket, showing her that he still had it, “kinda hard not to have good luck with this.”

She bit back a smile, her eyes gleaming as she took a deep breath through her nose. Releasing the same feelings he was keeping inside, allowing both their butterflies to swarm out together.

—

He loved when they had cases in Virginia. Being able to stay in the bullpen and work was relaxing, it was easier to think where he felt safe.

He was working on the geo profile all alone, a huge map stretched across a clear case board as he laid a yardstick across it. Drawing a thick red line with marker over it, in his own little world as he worked away.

He doesn’t realize she’s standing there too until she’s lightly pressing her hand on his back.

“Hey,” she whispers softly. “It’s 10 pm, thought you’d like a coffee?” She places the purple mug on his desk with her purse, turning her attention back to what he’s doing.

“Thank you, I’m almost done here,” he says softly, finishing the red triangle he was making on the map.

“I’ve always found it fascinating how you do this,” she complimented him. “You’re so careful.”

“Like baking, it’s an exact science,” he smiled softly.

It made her giggle slightly, placing her hand back on his back as she moved in closer to look. He wanted her to stay there forever, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus. He tried his best to steady his hand as he finished the line.

Putting the yardstick back down and turning to her, she doesn’t move her hand, instead, softly moving to rest on his arm as she stands close to him. “How are you?”

He feels nervous for some reason, it’s not like she hasn’t been this close to him before. It’s just that she’s close and she smells wonderful and he wonders if her lips would be a better wake-up call than the coffee she brought.

He realizes he’s staring at her lips when he licks his own, “I’m good,” he furrows his brow and clears his throat with a nod.

She smirks at him, “how come you’re the only one still here? Hotch said it could wait till tomorrow?”

“I was waiting for you,” he admits, “but I got carried away setting this up, I never heard you come in?”

“Cause I didn’t,” she scrunches her nose slightly as she straightens her stance. “I saw you working hard and went right to get you a coffee.”

“You’re wonderful,” he blushes as the words slip out, trying his best to keep eye contact when all he wants to do is kiss her.

She pats his arm slightly as she backs up a little, grabbing her bag from where she set it on his desk. “I’m going to set up for the night, come talk to me before you leave?”

“Of course,” he says as she walks away, letting out a small sigh as he realizes just how badly he wants her.

He never gets to talk to her before he leaves, she’s on the phone when hotch comes storming in. Saying something about another body and making Reid leave with him. He’s busy for 3 days straight, thinking about her with every free thought he’s able to squeeze in.

He carries the rock from her in his pocket everywhere he goes; in his pants beside his keys, in his bag with his books, in his breast pocket, over his heart, behind a bulletproof vest. Feeling it press against his chest, a part of her keeping him safe where ever he went.

They finish the case with minimal damage, Spencer specifically making sure that Derek leaves all the doors on the hinges for Y/N’s sake, cleaning up any messes they make so she won’t have to hear about it over the phone. They all notice that he’s doing it for her, quietly appreciating the fact that Spencer is happy for a change, that there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes again.

He arrives back at Quantico 30 minutes before her shift starts. Everyone else is packing up for the day while he sits at his desk, reading to occupy the time before she comes in.

Only she doesn’t.

30 minutes pass and she’s nowhere to be seen, it’s only 9:02 by the time he starts to panic. Wondering if she’s okay, hoping she’s just in the elevator or grabbing a coffee that’s actually good, somewhere outside of the office.

“Reid,” he hears Hotch calling him from his office door. “She just called in, her grandmother passed away last night so she won't be in.”

“Oh,” he furrows his brow, looking at him with confusion. “How did you know?”

“Penelope,” he smiles. “She’s still here too, and she knows where Y/N lives.”

“It wouldn’t be weird to go see if she’s okay?”

Hotch just smiles at him again, “go see her, Reid.”

Getting her address from Penelope felt a little weird, but she writes it on a sticky note for him and he’s out the door before she can even pry into what he’s going to say. Which is good, because he doesn’t know yet.

It’s late, but he stops by the little rock store on his way to her house. Seeing the lights still on and the same man from before behind the counter.

“Welcome back,” he’s overly cheerful for it being so late. “How did she like them?”

“She likes the ones I’ve given her so far,” he smiles, looking over the wall himself this time for the right one.

Scanning past every emotion and affirmation known to man as he looked around, picking out a beautiful pink Rhodonite for healing grief, supposedly acting as a hug from emotional troubles. And a Rainbow Moonstone for inner peace, harmony and strength.

“She’s lost someone recently?” He asks as Spencer places them on the counter.

“Her grandmother,” he says softly. “These are good, right?”

“They’ll be perfect, we also have amethyst bracelets, they’re good for healing and drawing in positive energy,” he points towards the small display of bracelets. Small purple stones separated with small gold beads.

He picks up 2 of them, placing them on the counter as well.

“Is she still just a crush?”

Spencer laughs lightly, “unfortunately.”

“She might be more after this,” he smirks, ringing him up. “I’ll give you a 2 for one deal on everything, I have a feeling you’ll be in a lot.”

Spencer thanks him as he pays, picking out a small purple bag for the rocks and bracelet. Placing one on his own wrist before leaving. Also picking up some cookie dough ice cream and a card at the corner store just beside her apartment. Remembering all the times Penelope, JJ or Emily has mentioned it being the best ice cream for crying.

He takes a very deep breath before knocking on her door, hoping to every god out there that she doesn’t find this incredibly inappropriate and weird.

“Spencer?” He hears her voice before she even opens the door, looking out the peephole at him.

She whips the door open, eyes puffy and swollen as she looks at him in shock. She’s in a big sweater and shorts, tears dripping down her cheeks as she shakes her head at him.

“I thought you could use some cheering up?” He awkwardly smiles, holding the ice cream up for her to see.

She wraps her arms around his middle, burying her face against his coat. Still crying as she holds him, he holds her with his free hand, shushing her as he presses his cheek to her head.

She pulls back with a sniffle, “come in,” she offers with an arm out, ushering him inside the small room as she closes the door.

He takes his shoes off, handing her the ice cream so he can take off his coat and satchel too. “This isn’t weird right?”

“Not at all,” she laughs slightly through the awkwardness. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you care this much.”

“I brought something for you,” he says as he struggles to dig everything out of his pocket.

He hands her the card and the little purple bag, seeing the overwhelming glance grow on her face. Her eyes grew wide as he mouth opened, speechless.

She opened the card first, reading the passage about grief that was already provided. Dealing with grief was something Spencer knew too well, adding something a little special to the bottom of the card.

“To live in hearts we left behind is not to die,” -Thomas Campbell. As long as you remember her, with a smile on your face and love in your heart, she will always be with you ♥︎ Spencer

She wipes her tears with her forearm, placing the card on the counter beside the ice cream before she opens the bag. She pulls out the bracelet first, absolute shock on her face.

“Spencer?” Is all she can say, in a high squeak as she shakes her head at him.

“I didn’t want you to be sad,” he says softly, stepping into her space and placing a hand on her arm. “I love seeing you smile, and I thought this could help.

He takes the bracelet from her grasp and places it over her hand. Resting it on her wrist softly, straightening it out against her sweater as she notices the matching on over his shirt sleeve.

“Oh this is so cute,” she swoons. “thank you, really Spencer.”

“And there are some rocks for grief healing in there too, one is supposedly like an emotional hug which should heal the grief and sorrow, and the other is more for inner peace and harmony,” he rambles away, not wanting her to miss anything.

She pours the rocks from the bag, into her hand, looking them over silently with a smile, “they’ll look great on my desk.”

“The purple looks nice on you too,” he compliments her, watching her eyes drift up to him.

She places the rocks on the counter before wrapping her arms around him once more. This time he’s able to actually hold her back, tight as possible as he rubs his hand over her back.

She smells like home, clean laundry and happiness. She’s soft and warm, he holds her perfectly against his chest, like she was a missing puzzle piece that someone finally found under the table, she fits into his life like she was supposed to be there.

She kisses his cheek softly before she pulls back, causing him to pull her into a real kiss on impulse. Connecting their lips as she sighs into the contact, melting into his grasp as she kisses him back.

Her lips are soft, fitting between his own gently as she breathes him in. Her hands reach up to grip his cheeks, kissing him again and again, placing pecks to his lips and cheeks with her eyes closed as he giggles.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his lips, “for everything.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers back, kissing her one last time before she pulls away.

“I was actually about to smoke some weed on the fire escape and probably cry some more,” she laughs lightly. “would you like to join me?”

“I’ll stick with a bowl of ice cream,” he smiled awkwardly.

“Nice one,” she laughs as she opens the ice cream.

“What?”

“Oh, you didn’t even get the reference you made,” she laughs lightly, “to get high you smoke a bowl, so…”

It makes him smile, “I'm a comedian part-time.”

He makes her laugh again, loving the sound of her giggle replacing the tears. “Why aren’t you this funny at work?”

He thinks about it for a little, watching her scoop the ice cream into two bowls, “it’s a little hard to make jokes when people's lives are on the line, I know everyone else does but I get too focused.”

“They probably wouldn’t appreciate your jokes even if you did make them,” she says as she handed him a bowl with a spoon. “They’re kind of mean to you, in a family way but it still sucks sometimes to overhear.”

She walks into the living area then, grabbing a few blankets and opening the window to the fire escape. Crawling out to sit on the ledge, waiting for him.

“I don’t mind it,” he says as he finally sits down beside her.

She places the blanket over their laps, both of them sitting criss-cross applesauce as they ate.

“Do you like your job?” She asks him, just like he once asked her.

“Most of the time,” he nodded as he got brain freeze. The cold air, the cold ice cream, everything that was catching up to him as he scrunched his face up at the feeling.

She laughs at him only a bit before she’s also attacked by the brain freeze, holding the vein in her neck as she chokes out another laugh, trying to warm up the blood going to her head so the pain would stop.

They’re both just a mess of giggles together, unable to say any words as they let it all out. She leans her head on his shoulder lightly as they calm down to just soft chuckles. He presses his cheek against her head.

“Thank you, Spencer,” it sounds like she’s crying a bit. “My grandma was a lovely woman, she’d be glad I’m laughing right now.”

He reached out a hand for her to hold over the blanket. She interlocked their fingers softly, both cold from holding their ice cream bowls.

“If she was anything like you, I’m sure she was the most wonderful woman,” he says softly, not intending to make her cry but having a feeling he might.

“Would you be interested in holding me on the couch while I cry?” She asked softly, tears in her eyes as she looked up at him.

“Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

—

He’s late for work the next morning.

Waking up to the smell of coffee, opening his eyes to a strange view. He’s on a couch he doesn’t recognize in a room he doesn’t know too well.

Then he remembers, they ended up cuddled up on the couch. He wakes up to the memory of her on his chest, crying softly as they listened to some music, he ran his hand over her back while she went through it all, blessed to have his support.

He fell asleep under her at some point, waking up alone with a blanket laid over him. He sat up to see her in the kitchen, pouring coffee into a travel mug.

“Good, you’re awake,” she smiles at him. “Coffee is ready, I uh, I have this button-up shirt from a guy friend, if you wanted to wear that to work today? So they don’t think you stayed here?”

“That’s smart,” he replies as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

Getting up, he uses the bathroom, changes and takes that coffee from her. He’s not expecting her to kiss him on the lips at the door, but she sends him off to work like an old housewife.

He doesn’t want to pull away from her, keeping her pressed against him as he leans in for 4 more kisses before she finally pushes him out into the hallway with a laugh, “get to work!”

“Fine,” he sighs, “are you going to be in tonight?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “funeral is in West Virginia next week, so I’ll be in until then.”

“I’ll see you later?”

She nods slightly with a soft smile, “you’ll be seeing a lot of me soon, Spencer.”

“Good,” he winks at her before heading down the hallway and towards the street entrance.

He sighs as he walks outside, resting his back against the apartment complex door, taking a moment to think about everything that just happened, the night of company and the wonderful send-off.

It was something he could get used to.

He rushes into the briefing room when he arrives at Quantico, sitting down with his coffee and pretending he wasn’t late. Listening carefully to JJ’s presentation of the case as he flips through everything he missed already.

“Wheels up in 30,” he heard Hotch say as he zoned back in. “Nice of you to join us, Reid.”

“I know that travel mug from somewhere,” Derek said as he stared at Spencer, who was taking a sip to avoid the awkwardness.

“Hmm?” He played dumb.

“That’s Y/N’s. She washes it every morning when she leaves to go home, I see her do it every morning,” his eyes open wide. “Holy shit.”

“Isn’t that the same tie and slacks from yesterday?” Emily teased him as well.

“Her grandma died, I brought her ice cream and slept on the couch okay?” He all but yelled, flailing his arms slightly so they’d all back off.

Derek reached his fist out for him to pound it, “good man.”

Then Penelope noticed the bracelet, “did she get you that?”

He sunk his hand into his pocket then, “no.”

“What?” Emily and JJ asked in unison, straining their necks to try and get a good look at what she was talking about.

He nervously held his arm out for them, showing them the purple bracelet resting over the sleeve of his shirt. “I got one for her too, it’s for healing and peace. It’s what she needs right now.”

“Oh, so you love her,” Derek smiles as he teases him. Making everyone else in the room swoon slightly.

“Okay and?”

“Oh my god!” Most of them shout at him, embarrassing him to no end. He was so glad she wasn’t at work this morning or else she would be able to hear this from her desk.

“Did you kiss her?” Rossi pries, asking what everyone else was thinking.

He scrunches his face, pushing his glasses up slightly as he clears his throat, “a few times.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” JJ kept the questions coming.

“Not yet,” he said softly. “Kinda weird to walk into her apartment while she cries to say ‘hey sorry about the death in your family, want to date me?’”

“Yeah,” Emily agrees, shrugging lightly. “At least she knows you like her now, it’s been what? 2 years?”

“2 years, 3 months, 17 days and 43 minutes,” he confirms with a small nod and pressed lips.

“Gross,” Derek teases him.

“The plane is leaving in 10 minutes,” Hotch cut into their fun.

Making them all gather their things and continue the interrogation in the elevator, and eventually on the plane, and in the police precinct. Even Penelope called him in the middle of everything to bug him about her.

The questions were never-ending, everyone wanted to know how they even started talking, who made the first move, how he plans to ask her out. They were relentless, he almost regretted admitting to anything.

They bug him all throughout the day, all the way until they’re arriving back at the BAU late that same night. He almost doesn’t want to go back to the bullpen and see her with all of them, knowing they were going to follow and say something.

She’s waiting in the hall when the elevator doors open, a pressed-lipped smile on her face, “bad news.”

“Another one?” Hotch sighs, “have Garcia send us the info. Be at the table in 10.” He pushes his way out of the elevator, passed them all as they stare at Y/N.

“Hi?” She awkwardly waves at them all, showing off the bracelet on her wrist.

“See ya, Spence,” JJ and Emily say as they matt his shoulder, dragging Derek and Rossi towards the bullpen doors.

“Sorry,” he apologizes for them softly, stepping into her space.

She wraps him up in a quick hug, keeping one arm around his waist as she guides him towards the bullpen, “it’s fine, they’re going to have to get used to us being together.”

“Together?” He repeats her words.

“I only cry on my boyfriend's shoulders, if you're up for the title?” She teases him softly, pinching his side as they walk towards the doors.

“Can I frame “Dr. Spencer Reid, Y/N’s boyfriend” beside my Ph.D.’s?” He keeps his hand on her shoulder, holding each other slightly as they walk towards her desk. He felt like one of those kids who wouldn’t let go of their girlfriend's hand in the school hallway, attached to her at the hip.

“I’ll make one for you while you’re gone,” she laughs lightly.

They stop at her desk where he sees all rocks he got her collecting on the shelf, as well as a cup of coffee and his favourite kind of donut.

“Thought you deserved something nice too,” she says as she nudges his side.

He kisses her on the cheek as a thank you, “you’re welcome,” she smiles to herself. A feeling of pride growing in both their chests.

“See you later?” He asks as he picks up the coffee and donut, walking away slowly as she smiles at him.

“Come home to me safely, Doctor Reid,” her voice is just loud enough for everyone in the briefing room, where everyone is waiting at the window, watching them, deciding to put on a show in return.

He stops on the steps to look at her softly, “I’d fight a thousand unsubs to come home to you.”

“I’ll leave the light on,” she blows a kiss at him, making him blush a deep red.

He waves, making his way up the steps and into the briefing room. A smile on his face, heart thumping in his chest, all the support in the world swarming around him as everyone patted him on the back.

That tiger’s eye really did bring him good luck and happiness, and her name was Y/N.

[insufferablelust]

Cockwarming Don Reid with his men in the next room

Warning : Cockwarming, mob boss! Spencer, Mean dom!spencer, mention of killing, degrading name calling, filthy.. so fucking filthy, exhibitionism, literally almost fucking in front of people, mention of sub space, d/s theme obviously, and yeah.. 18+ please.

MASTERLIST HERE.

“Princess, come here.” Spencer pat his lap with a burning gaze directed to the cute little thing sat ontop of his office couch like a queen. Work days usually means no playing around, for Y/N it’s one of those days where she’d usually spend at her apartment doing her tasks or paint something for the young don.

But on rare occasions such this, where all the workload of responsibilities upon responsibilities piled on his shoulder, he’d bring her in, he’d tell her to sit all pretty, and continue to study unless daddy calls and that’s exactly she has been doing for hours now, sketching the wooden figurine on his shelf with her legs up the table and her back rests against the couch. She looks prettier than usual he thought, not that his butterfly never look anything less than amazing but she just radiates that softness, that gentle and tender touch which he often depraved himself of— being in the mob especially as the leader, he has to be on the rough rugged edge all the time, he cannot be tender and soft but he can certainly have you as his own personal reminder that not all things in life is as bad as what he has seen.

Y/N, the darling butterfly happily obliged as she stood up after placing her sketchbook down the table and make her way to where he sits on the large chair— colored burgundy red. The soft knitted knee high socks that clad her feet anxiously drags her to the edge of his desk with her fingers fumbling on the hem of her flower dress, no matter where and when, or how and why— he always intimidates her in ways that seemed to flutter her insides with pure wanton yet desirable lust, all for him.

Encased in a black suit, he sat up straight as he holds her hips before placing her down atop his lap with her back against his front, his perfect little princess. “Dressed so prettily for daddy. Haven’t seen this one before pet, did you buy them just to impress me hm?” if it were any other man, talking to you like you owe them you would flip their asses off and beat them to pulp— but when he says it, demands it, caress your soul with it— you couldn’t refuse nor deny.. not that you would ever want to anyway because yes, yes you did buy them to impress him, to make him as weak as she is for him.

She nodded shyly with a small “yes daddy” before squirming gently ontop of his lap whilst Spencer caress her inner thigh— calloused rough fingers brushing up and down her god glowing skin, intensifying all the tension that builds inside of her. Her skin prickled with heat as he inches his sinful fingertips up up up creeping upon her clothed dripping wet cunt, causing her to mewl lowly in frustration, grinding her ass back against his growing crotch.

“Daddy has so many things today pet, so many fucking things to keep you happy, to buy dresses like this one.” He whispered onto your ear, his lips pressing against your temple with his curls gazes against your heating cheek as you nod and shut your eyes tight— feeling his knuckles graze right against your clothed aching swollen clit, making you buck up your hips as he laughs behind you, chest rumbling with triumph.

“Jesus petal, haven’t done anything and you’re soaking my pants already? are you always this needy? fucking hell.” He shook his head as he keep on laughing condescendingly, whilst you writhed and squirm on his lap, your face nudging against his neck. “Please d-daddy..” Oh how he loves your mewls, your sweet sweet moans just sent all the blood from his head rushing down toward his cock— making him all dizzy and dying to feel your clutching heat.

“Shh you want Morgan to hear you, is that it? want my men to hear your filthy moans, bunny?” His words sent tingles up your spine, through your bloodstream as his fingers skillfully tear your panties apart, with you gasping— eyes as glassy as ever and mind absolutely mush with tension and pleasure. “Daddy asked you a question.” He growled, before slapping your bare wet soaking cunt few times which you respond with loud cries and squirm on his lap.

“Sorry daddy! f— please i... oh mmh!” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you feel his thumb grazing innocently to your little nub of pleasure numbing nerves, flicking his thumb up and down it focusing on the rhythm as he might as well play you like his favorite instrument. “All needy and you can’t even get a proper word out, such a mindless baby.” He scoffed before slapping right on your clit multiple times.

“Ah! Ah oh! daddy!” You screamed, having no care in the world if his men heard— you knew in the back of your mind that they heard and that alone sends a new surge of adrenaline throughout your body, leaving you pliant and in need for daddy— daddy’s cock, fingers, anything just anything. “Here’s what you’re going to do, pup. You’re going to keep daddy’s cock warm whilst i do my job, if you behave like a good little girl then i’ll let you cum, but if you decided to think with your cunt and move i swear to god i’ll edge you six fuckin ways to sunday, you hear me?” You felt him fumbling with his zipper as he took his cock out, with you whining— babbling ‘yes yes yes daddy’ against his skin, eyes all droopy and fucked with your neatly applied mascara drip down your cheeks.

“Up you go pet, slide daddy in.” You shakily stand, bunching the hem of your dress on your hips before you straddled his thigh and looks down to get ahold the base of his well endowed cock— pulsing with need and heat. “Fuck, go on.” He urged you as he grab ahold of your hips before you lined him up with your sopping wet entrance and sink down slowly— down his massive throbbing length that has you moaning, panting.

“You can do better than that slut”

Smack!

“N-no! daddy please help! please i— ungh you’re too big!” You shook your head as you tried and tried to take him, all of him but everytime you sink another inch— your body felt like it’s been penetrated into a whole new level as if it hadn’t this morning or the night before, “Fucking helpless baby, look at you, pathetic and needy.” He growled before thrusting up inside you at once, forcing his thick length to slip fully inside your pumping dripping heat causing you both to moan out.

“Oh! oh mmh daddy.. shit..” You felt him deep, deep deep inside you, the tip of him grazing against your spot oh so deliciously, whilst you pant and convulse against him, clutching his cock like a vice. “Perfect little cunt, such a perfect doll for me.”

—

You’re convinced that if god was real, at this moment god must hate you for existing, must hate you so much that the universe sent you this adonis of a man to torture and blur the line of sanity and lunacy for you, torment your pleasure in mockery and sarcasm of how he stayed calm with you perched on his godly lap, panting like a puppy in heat as his thick length penetrated your insides as if it belongs there— forcing every bit of your self control over the teetering edge. You’re loosing your mind, that you’re sure of.

It has been no longer than 30 minutes but your toes have curled and uncurled themselves for eternity, your walls grew slicker and slicker each time he ‘shift’ accidentally, as you mewl and bit the skin on his neck, by the last minute of the long 30– you were trembling in order to resist yourself not to move, for the last bit of your working mind still recognized how severe the punishment would be if you were to move, the don is not one to fuck around with— oops.

Just as he stretches his hand, the knock of the door sent you into a spiraling mess, looking up to Spencer with wide eyes— all glassy and doe as you shook your head, “Daddy, d-daddy n-no..” Shivers runs deep and thrumming lively on your bloodstream as you saw his devilish handsome smirk.

“Be good and quiet, pup.” He whispers

“N-no! no daddy please! i—“

“Come in.” The sound of his voice and door cracking open has you shutting your eyes as tight as you could, face buried on the crook of his neck as he grips onto your thigh. You took a peek at the tall standing figure on the middle of his office, recognizing so clearly that it’s in fact Hotch not only that Emily and Morgan were also present, fuck— you’re fucked as you clenched hard causing the don to hiss and slap your thigh.

“What did i tell you about behaving hm? are you going to behave or should i let them deliver your punishment for you little one?” He growled in your ear, making you let out a pitiful whimper, trying as best as you could to resist the need to look at your patrons and to stay still. “No please, i’ll behave.” you muttered meekly, panting at the raging burning release that has been coiling inside your body.

“No please what? you know better, minx.” He shook his head before grasping your neck with his palm as he take a look at your messy figure. “No daddy p-please..” you bat your eyelash at him as he went in to kiss your lips with a small ‘good girl’ before getting back to his business.

“What is it?” He muttered coldly, one hand on the whiskey glass that he took a sip off every once in awhile and the other secured tightly around your lower tummy— you knew what he’s doing, the game is clear, you knew he likes to feel how you can feel him inside of you, pressing against your sweet spot and your slick canal tried so hard not to clench at the thought.

“The shipment hasn’t arrived yet to midtown, it supposed to days ago but we just heard from Garcia that the Kingsley’s hadn’t even reached out to her in weeks.” Although confident, you could tell there’s a hint of fear and worrisome latched behind Hotch’s voice, one does not fuck with your dom, one does not absolutely delay the shipment of his drugs— no no those cannot do.

“Have you traced it back to them?” The voice that rumbled against your back was eerily calm and deeper, resisting every urge inside his body to lash out— you know that very well. His fingers tighten and tighten its hold onto the glass which you could clearly see his knuckles turning white, you just hope that the poor glass won’t break.

“Yes don, Walker and Alvez went to their base and it was empty, looks like they left in a hurry.” You could feel it before you even see it, heard it, the way his blood pumps just even faster before a lound cracking of the wood sent fear and adrenaline through everyone’s bloodstream, “I don’t fucking care how many, and who’re you going to kill, but i want that fucking shipment arrived to midtown by dawn or i’ll pluck their own eyes myself.” His voice somehow rise and fell deeper at the same time, rumbling deep inside his chest which send shivers on everyone’s spine as they nod with a small uniformed ‘yes don’ before heading out hurrily— no one questions him, no one dared to speak against him, even if they know they’ll have the bloods of people (though bad) on their hands by nightfall.

His threat lives like a venom that stuck on their throat as they pursued their mission— one don does not get his hand dirty let alone going round plucking some low life mob’s eyes— or the end result could be.. would be catastrophic. These Kingsleys have one hell of a problem heading their way.

and you.. you have one hell of a raging frustratingly mad Mob boss in your hand.

—

Y/N’s head couldn’t even process the whole thing before she screamed in absolute pain when he pulled out harshly and bent her over his desk, knocking his whiskey glass onto the floor, clattering with no care in a world. Your mind begs for you to soothe him, soothe his anger yet your cunt aches and throbs with the need to let him use you— take the anger out to you, and ruin you for eternity. You’re his, and you’re ready.

“Stay fucking still.” Spencer slapped your ass harshly, causing you to jump in the position, your legs curled up for a moment as he gripped your hair tightly and grasp your neck with his unoccupied hand, “You’re going to stay still and be a good cocksleeve for me, i’m going to use you like you’re my toy and i won’t stop unless you say your safeword, got it?” His breath fans over your heated skin as you shake and tremble, your mind fuzzy with needs and mush of pleasure— blurring your absolute senses and submitting yourself fully to the mercy of his hand— his cock.

“Use your words, dumb little slut.” He hissed, choking your neck even tighter, with much force and you cried out, “Yes! yes sir, use me, i.. i’m yours..” just as you muttered out, your walls involuntary clenching at the intrusion of his cock plunging deep deep deep inside of you in one go, making you scream out in absolute pleasure and pain.

Spencer might’ve seen red— but when he delves deep inside of your tight heat, he saw the absolute heaven on earth as he begins to thrust in and out of your cunt in a brutal space, knocking his desk toppers off, and making you mewls and screams.

“Fucking tight little cunt— mine huh? isn’t it fucking mine pup?” He slammed into you over and over again as his balls hit your clit in an antagonizing pleasure whilst you writhe below him, forcing your eyes to stay open with all the power in your body looses control. “Its— mmmh ngh fuck! it’s y-yours sir! yes yes yes!” Your moans filled the entire building but neither of you care as Spencer drove his cock home everytime he sinks inside your tight pussy.

“Being such a good whore, letting me use you as my personal fucktoy, just to let my anger out.” He laughs maniacally, pistoning his hips as you clench your walls tightly to elevate the pleasure for you both, causing the room to tremble as you moan and cries out loud, “ungh yes! yes yes your whore daddy— mmh fuck me!” You could feel all the drool drips down your lips as he fucked you stupid atop of his desk but neither of you care nor have the patience to even pay attention because in his mind— the messier the better.

“Won’t be able to walk for days, pet. Fucking cunt going to drool for me everytime you see all the marks i fucking left on you.” He growled, bringing his palm over your ass before giving it a smack over and over again as your body lunges forward trying to get away with how all the friction is causing you to went into over sensitivity. But being the mean dom that he is, Spencer laughs as he pulled you back towards him by your hips. “Where are you going, bunny?”

“Please p-please let me cum, sir... ah!” You arched your back perfectly when the tip of his finger move down down down to where your swollen sensitive clit was, rubbing quickly in a fast pace just to send you over the edge, testing you, daring the orgasm out of you. “Wanna cum petal? hm wanna make a mess on daddy’s cock?” He whispered, one hand continues to rub your clit as the other focuses on holding you against him whilst his hips drives up deep— so deep that the tip grazes against your cervix.

“mmhh ah uh uh uh!” Your eyes lolled back trying to find a cohorent sentence— anything you can say to him but no matter what you’re trying to say was rendered to sinful moans and cries instead as you were right on the brink, “You can do better than that, c’mon bunny, beg daddy to cum.” he stills for a second, pressing in deep as he slaps your cheeks not once but twice— bringing fresh tears flows from your eyes.

“I.. ungh please daddy please! let me cum! been so good for you, please— want you to fill me up too.. fill your baby up, daddy!” Your high pitched voice rang an alarm through the circuit of his lust and anger laced mind, you’re slipping into your space and you’re slipping fast with your eyes just glazes absolutely flying through the realm of pleasure sensitivity.

“Good girl butterfly, such a good fucking girl, wanna cum? c’mon cum..” He whispered, before thrusting his hips in and out slowly, feeling the bliss of your overly wet and tight cunt engulfing him— milking him to cum inside, “Cum for daddy, princess, that’s it.. ohh... that’s it baby, good girl.” You cried out silently as you cum hard around his cock, muscles clenching so tightly that you sent him to release himself inside of you, thick ropes of cum paints your inside as you both moan and tremble.

“My good girl, shh thats it— best cunt ever.. that’s it, so so good for me.” He whispered softly, backing down to where his chair was pushed aside, bringing you with him before sitting down. You groaned out a loud scratchy, “daddy..” As you feel his cock shifted deeper inside of you, your eyes closed as he holds you and calms you down.

“Shh shh princess, just stay here like this. such a good girl, gonna keep me warm while i wait for them aren’t you?”

Although your cunt practically ache and scream for you to not say yes, your love and lust filled mind fogged with utter desire— just nods whining an agreeable mumble— just for him.

This will be a long long day and even a longer night.

[hopelesshunny]

the love languages part i: gifts (f.w.)

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred doesn't like to admit that he gets jealous when it comes to his girlfriend, after a overhearing a conversation where the love of his life is the topic he goes shopping.

warnings: jealously, slight possessiveness, greasy comments from greasy guys, kissing, fred playfully slaps y/n's butt once.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: this is the first instalment of my love language series, i'm hoping to update it over the next four mondays!! i'm starting a taglist for this series and for my future writings in general which you'll find here, i'm so excited to keep writing for this series and i'd love to hear what y'all think of it - my ask is always open and i can't wait to hear your opinions!!

*all photos are from pinterest*

series masterlist // part ii // part iii // part iv

Fred laid back on his bed, his hands clasped behind his head as he watched his girlfriend adjust her uniform in the mirror. Fred had known Y/N for years but she had become a Weasley family staple after she rescued a very stressed Ron in the library who was pouring over a potions essay that Hermoine had refused to help with. It wasn’t until they had convinced Y/N to spend the summer at the Burrow with them this past year that Fred had finally worked up the nerve to express his feelings for her, and now here she was flashing him that sunshine smile in his dorm room, his mirror, making her way over to kiss his lips.

“You’re staring Freddie.” She giggled, as she plopped down in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Can’t help it angel.” He replied, pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead. “You’re just too good to be all mine.”

“Well-” she started “I can assure you that I am, my love.” He chuckled as he placed another kiss to her lips. She closed her eyes, relishing in the feeling of his lips on hers for a little longer than she probably should have. In all honesty, Y/N had been crushing on Fred for years, long before he had even known who she was. She had simply intended on observing him from afar, sneaking in quiet chuckles at the jokes he and George cracked in class, stealing quick glances at him across the Great Hall as he teased his siblings. But when she developed quite the unlikely friendship with his younger brother and they had invited her to their family home, Fred started to see her in a different light. Y/N had been at the Burrow for over a month when Fred finally realized that maybe the reason he always wanted to be close to her and that he laughed the hardest at her jokes wasn’t just because he wanted to be her friend, he wanted to be her boyfriend, he was in love with her.

She was everything he had ever wanted, the perfect girl for him, but her being perfect made her quite the center of attention. Fred would never admit that he was jealous but the stares she attracted as the pair walked down the hallways always got to him. However, she never noticed the way other people looked at her, probably because she was too busy staring at him, too focused on the feeling of his hand in hers.

“Freddie.” She whined, wriggling in his grasp. “I’ve got to get to the library and you’ve got practice.” She giggled as he buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent.

“The library isn’t going anywhere and they won’t mind if I’m late.” He mumbled which earned a playful scoff from her.

“I have a feeling that your lateness will not be excused.” She replied as he groaned into her skin.

“Fine.” He spoke before placing a playful smack to her butt, signalling for her to move off of him so he could reluctantly get ready for quidditch practice.

“Don’t worry Freddie, I'll find you once you're done.” She cooed, placing a kiss to his lips before making her way out of his room and down the hall, leaving him breathless, once again.

Fred quickly got dressed and started the trek towards the pitch, his head flooded with the thoughts of Y/N, a smile seemed permanently etched on his face. Until he overheard voices from around the corner; there stood two Ravenclaw boys leaning against the wall, and the topic of discussion happened to be his girlfriend. Fred gritted his teeth at the sound of her name coming from such mouths, his jaw becoming tight as he felt his hands ball themselves into fists.

“No, I’m telling you, she knows how to fill a uniform.” One of them groaned as the other laughed in agreement. The thought of someone staring at her, making such comments about his girlfriend made him angry, but the fact that they were looking at her like that, like she was nothing more than a body, infuriated him. She was so much more than that, sure she was gorgeous but she also helped his younger siblings with their homework when they couldn’t figure something out, she baked bread with his mother on Sunday mornings and always reassured him when he felt like the entire world was against him.

“You’re right.” The other remarked. “Don’t know what she sees in Weasley. Merlin, she could do so much better.” He added, running a hand through his hair. Fred couldn’t listen any longer, couldn’t handle the garbage he was hearing.

“And I assume you think you’re better eh?” Fred spoke as he sulked his way out of the shadows, causing the two boys to jump at the sound of his voice. “Quiet now, are we?” He chuckled.

“It’s only the truth Weasley, she’ll leave you at the sight of someone better.” The braver of the two spoke. “You’ll be tossed out soon enough.” Fred could feel the anger bubbling inside of him, but he knew that Y/N would despise the thought of him fighting, especially over her.

“We’ll see about that.” He breathed, feigning a lack of bother, the two boys stared at him, shocked at his response as he simply walked past them.

The week had melted itself into the weekend and the thought of his conversation in the hallway still plagued him, he knew Y/N wasn’t like that, she wouldn’t simply drop him if someone better came along. He knew that she loved him, knew that she barely even noticed those who were interested in her no matter how persistent their efforts in pursuing her were. But he needed something, something to prove that she was his, something that could show that she was proud to be his. After seething over this for the past week, thinking about constantly pulling his jumper over her head or maybe just never letting go of her hand in an attempt to keep greasy eyes off of her, it finally hit him and after a sneaky visit to a jewelry store he had a solution.

“Hey princess.” He spoke, excitement evident in his tone as he took his spot next to Y/N in front of the tree she was leaning against.

“Hi, my love.” She replied, abandoning the book she was reading to lay her head in his lap. He sighed with content, running his fingers through her hair as she gazed up at him, nothing but pure love gracing her features.

“I got you something.” Fred said softly as he ran a thumb across her cheek, she looked up at him, taking the hand that wasn’t occupied on her face into her own, interlacing their fingers.

“Freddie-” She started, but he stopped her, pressing a finger to her lips.

“No, no, no.” He protested. “I know you always say you don’t need gifts but this one means a lot to me.” She stared at him curiously as he continued to speak.

“I overheard these guys talking about you and I tried to not let it get to me but I- I couldn’t.” He spoke, her face softening. “I know you love me and I love you more than anything, I just wanted to get you something that could show everyone that, that could show you that.” He ran his fingers through his crimson hair and let out a shaky breath as she brought his hand to her mouth, gently kissing each knuckle. He was so nervous, he had planned exactly how to go about this in his head, but here in this situation, with her staring up at him with those eyes, all previous thoughts of smooth words and flirting were abandoned. He wanted nothing more than to spill his guts to her, tell her every single reason why he loved her, kiss every inch of her body.

“I always say I don’t get jealous when it comes to you, but I do, I hate it when other people look at you the same way I do.” Her lips quirked into a smile. “You’re the love of my life Y/N, there is absolutely no one out there better for me than you, I’m all in.”

“I couldn't agree more Freddie, all my bets are on you.” Y/N said, rising from her spot in his lap to straddle him. She placed her palms against either side of his face, resting her forehead against his closing her eyes and feeling the heat of his cheeks against her hands. Fred reached into his jacket pocket to reveal a small velvet box, Y/N’s eyes grew wide at the sight. He chuckled, sensing her surprise.

“It’s not an engagement ring angel.” He started, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “At least not yet.” He opened the box, where a simple silver necklace sat, four letters sat in the middle, his name in plain script. Y/N gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as Fred pulled the necklace out of the box and loosened the clasp.

“May I?” He asked, a grin etching itself on his face.

“Of course.” She whispered as he placed the chain around her neck.

“There.” He spoke, leaning back to admire her, she looked so pretty with his name lying against her skin. “What do you think?” He asked, his voice quiet as he searched her face for some sort of indication into how she felt about the gift. She stayed quiet for a moment, simply staring down at the necklace, she ran a finger across the letters as Fred bit his lip, nervous at her sudden silence.

“I love it Freddie.” She whispered, pulling his face to hers capturing his lips with her own before kissing his forehead, both his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, his lips again and again. He broke into a full fledged laugh until he noticed the tears in Y/N’s eyes.

“Oh no princess, don’t cry.” He chuckled, wiping away stray tears.

“They’re happy tears Freddie.” She giggled. “Just love you so much.”

“I bet I love you more though.” He retorted, resting his hands on her waist as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. “I’ll have to buy you more gifts if you keep kissing me like that.”

Y/N sighed in response, her fingers twirled in the hair at the nape of his neck. They both knew that Fred could never buy her another gift for as long as they both lived and she would still love him as much as she did in this very moment. There was so much uncertainty in the future but right now, with his name around her neck and his arms wrapped so tightly around her waist she knew that no matter what happened in the next month, the next year and for the rest of her life, her love would be completely and utterly Fred Weasleys.

taglist (join here!!)

@onlyfreds

[here4theheartbreak]

Isn’t Nature Beautiful? (PJM)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationship: Jimin x Female Reader

Genre: smut, pwp | Rating: Explicit | Word Count: ~1.9k

Summary: You and Jimin go for a walk on his day off, but all he seems to have eyes for is the trees.

Tags: smut, PWP, public sex, jealous reader, squirting, dirty talk, bareback, standing sex, clothed sex

A/N: This fic was written for @pars-ley​ in response to the request for Jimin x Reader, “I’m not jealous” request for my 2k followers - hope you like it!

A/N 2: This fic was written for @thebtswritersclub​ April Prompt: Bloom

A/N 3: The banner for this fic was made by @casuallyimagining​ - tysm!!

You really did love days that were all yours to spend with Jimin. The two of you rarely had days off together, especially with Jimin’s work. So when Jimin suggested you two take a walk on the lovely spring morning, through a little trail that he knew of – secluded and pretty – you were ecstatic. 

That was, until you realized that Jimin was far more interested in the trees and flowers than he was in spending time with you. It wasn’t his fault, you supposed. He had borrowed a book from Namjoon recently, filled with interesting facts about the forests in your area. And Jimin, above all else, loved to learn new things. 

It would have been cute. Emphasis on would have. Except the two of you had been walking for nearly an hour, and Jimin had spent far more time talking your ear off about the local fauna than even looking at you. 

“They say that these types of trees—”

“If I had wanted a nature documentary, Jimin, I would have turned on the Discovery Channel.”

Jimin froze at that, looking at you. His brows furrowed. “You sound mad.”

“Did you want to spend time with me or the trees?”

The crease on Jimin’s forehead deepened, and then faded. He grinned. “Wow.”

“What?”

“You’re jealous.”

“Of what?” You spluttered.

“You tell me, ___.” He smirked. He took your hand and began to walk again, once again looking around at the trees. “Oh, ___!” 

“What?” You startled at Jimin’s sudden outburst. He pulled his hand from yours and rushed over to the side of the path.

“Come look.”

You didn’t bother to stifle your eye roll as you neared him. Jimin was pointing to a tiny patch of yellow flowers.

“What am I looking at?”

“I’m not sure,” Jimin admitted. “Isn’t it pretty though?”

“Sure,” you mumbled. You didn’t mean to be bitter, but you had hoped that the two of you could talk about something other than flowers today. Spend some time with one another.

Jimin chuckled again. “You are jealous.”

“Of what, Jimin?”

“Nature? The forest, I have no idea.”

“I am not jealous!” You cried. “I just want you to pay attention to me.”

“I am. We’re walking this beautiful trail together.” 

“And you’ve spent more time looking at the stupid trees and flowers than me.”

Jimin’s smile faded a little, a pout forming in its place. “I didn’t realize…”

“I know.” You sighed softly. “You’re just excited.”

“Come on.” Jimin rose and pulled you up, twining your fingers together.

“What are we doing?”

“Going to pay attention to you. And to make sure you know how nice nature is.”

You scowled at that. “Jimin, I—” Jimin dropped your hand. He slid his hand behind you and firmly grabbed your ass, nearly pulling your skirt up. “___.” His voice had taken on a deeper tone, and it went straight to your guts. You swallowed hard.

“Jimin…” “What?” He smirked. He let go of your ass and wrapped his arm around your waist instead, nuzzling your neck. “Being out here, it’s freeing, isn’t it? Surrounded by nature and beauty… If you’re feeling envious of that… I have to show you you’re where my focus is always, don’t I?”

You swallowed hard. Jimin led you a little further down the path until he spotted a bench. He settled onto it, pulling you close to him. 

“Still jealous?” He asked softly, stroking your chin.

“A little,” you admitted. He sighed and looked around. 

“I mean, nature is beautiful.”

You scowled at that. Jimin smirked. “Come here.” He pulled you until you moved enough to settle onto his lap. Immediately, his hands went to your thighs, sliding slowly under your skirt as he kissed over your ear. “That tree in front of us. Look at it’s pretty bark.”

You looked, noticing that the bark looked almost like a greyscale watercolor, with splotches of varying grey and brown. It was pretty – not that you’d give Jimin the satisfaction of admitting that. He didn’t seem too interested in your opinion of the tree anyway, as his hands had slid up your thighs under the skirt. He began to rub your crotch slowly, his breath hot on your neck. As he did, he began to point out a variety of trees and plants within your line of sight, giving trivia or comments on each. 

It was nearly infuriating. His constant, steady, perfect stimulation between your legs had you growing more and more wet, even as he rambled on about some indigenous fern. Your panties were clinging to your pussy, soaked with your need. 

Jimin slid his knuckles down over the slick, wet area, and smirked against your ear. “Take them off and hand them to me.”

“H— Here?”

“You have a skirt. Do it.”

He removed his hand and you rose. As carefully but quickly as you could, you slid your soaked panties down your legs and tugged them off. Jimin rose, pressing against your back. He shifted a little and your heart rate sped up even more. His cock was exposed, and had slid under your skirt to nestle in the crack of your ass. He began to rub and grind gently. The smooth skin of his cock slid over your ass. Hot little streaks of precome wet your skin and made your skirt cling. 

Jimin grabbed your panties, balling them up and sliding them into his pocket. He sat back down, pulling you with him.

“Isn’t nature beautiful?” He asked. He dragged you onto his lap, prodding your opening with his cock.  Without warning, he slammed your hips down, impaling you. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand to keep from crying out.

To anyone that walked past, you’d look somewhat normal, sitting on your boyfriend’s lap; your skirt completely hid the fact that his thick cock was buried to the hilt in your sopping pussy.

“I asked you a question, ___. Isn’t nature beautiful?” He asked again, his grip tightening on your hips as he began to make you ride him. 

“Yes,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure if you were agreeing or moaning for him. Jimin didn’t seem to care. 

“These trees,” he commented as he urged you to move faster, “so big. How many years did it take them to grow this height?” 

His cock was hitting your g-spot dead on, causing little shockwaves of pleasure to shoot through your nerves as you struggled to stay quiet. 

He slid one hand down under your skirt, no longer needing to guide your thrusts as you rode him. You felt him lightly squeeze his balls before moving up and slapping your pussy. The sound echoed in the woods, as did your sharp cry. 

“Shht,” Jimin scolded, pinching your clit and drawing another tiny moan from you. “You don’t want to disturb the animals.” 

You groaned desperately, clenching around his cock as your orgasm neared, much too soon for your taste. 

Jimin pushed you off his cock and rose. You turned around, ready to scold him, but the words died in your throat as he rose. His cock was hard and ruddy, slick with your fluids as it hung out of his pants. His cheeks were mottled as well, mouth parted as he drew in ragged breaths. Your pussy clenched around nothing, and a trickle of your wetness trailed lazily down your thigh. 

He grabbed your hand and dragged you a few feet into the woods. Before you could question it, Jimin turned you and shoved you over a half-felled tree, the perfect height for you to bend at the waist. You were facing the trail as he flipped your skirt up. You wondered if someone would walk down it. Look this way, and see you getting pumped full of cock. The thought made you clench.

Jimin noticed, and chuckled. 

“You like this.”

“Yes—“

“You should water the grass,” he commented casually. He slammed his cock in, and you didn’t bother muffling your cry this time. 

Jimin began to fuck you hard and fast, reaching around to rub and pinch your swollen, sensitive clit.

“The ground plants in this area are struggling,” he commented, as if he weren’t pounding you into a tree. “They need all the water they can get, since the trees take so much.”

You heard him spit, and flushed deeply when it landed square on your exposed asshole. Jimin took his free hand and began to rub the human around your tight pucker, spreading the saliva before driving it in.

You shouted, your pussy squeezing his cock hard enough to make him moan.

Jimin began to finger your ass while still fucking you and abusing your clit, the sounds of your sex filling the air around you.

“Jimin—“ You pleaded, thighs shaking with the strain. 

“I’ve got you.”

You gasped, moaning raggedly. His cock was filing you so full, gaping your swollen pussy as he used you. His thumb, buried deep in your asshole, was rubbing at the thin skin separating the two holes, tightening the way for his cock. 

The pressure built steadily in your groin, drawing your muscles tight and sending urgent messages all over. Too much, he was going to push you over the edge. Your stomach twisted up and you squeezed his cock and fingers. 

Too much. You sobbed brokenly as you came. Shudders of pleasure wracked your body, clenching and releasing muscles everywhere. 

Your pussy convulsed, gushing hot fluid out around Jimin’s cock.

He pulled his cock free but continued to play with you, laughing a little as you squirted onto the ground, wetting your thighs. It was perfect.

You collapsed over the felled tree as your orgasm faded, muscles refusing to cooperate. Jimin must have seen your relaxed state, as he took advantage. He pushed his cock into your slick, aching hole and began to fuck you again, shoving you into the tree as he chased his orgasm.

He pinned you down, panting in your ear. Jimin getting like this was rare. He was normally reserved and polite, so when he let go, it was perfect. Your pussy convulsed, squeezing out a weak dribble of your own release.

“Tell me,” Jimin growled.

“Nature is beautiful,” you gasped, mostly teasing him. 

Jimin laughed breathlessly. “___, say it.” He repeated. He slapped your ass hard.

“Give me it,” you obeyed this time, “give me your load.” 

Jimin growled softly. His speed increased and he slammed in harder. Twice, three times, four, on the fifth time he drove in, he grunted, going still. You could feel his cock pulsing inside you, and each pulse was accompanied with a soft grunt. 

Jimin laid over you, shallowly pumping his cock into your sloppy hole until he began to go soft, finally pulling out. A trail of his come followed, dribbling down your thigh. 

“You know,” you panted as you fixed yourself as best you could, “we didn’t have to do that here.”

“No, we didn’t.” Jimin fixed his jeans and reached into his pocket, pulling out your panties. You smirked, grabbing them from him and sliding them on. You grimaced at the uncomfortable wetness.

“I insist we go home so can change.”

“You don’t want to keep looking at the beautiful trees?” Jimin teased, wrapping his arms around your middle. He nuzzled your neck playfully, and you laughed. 

“No, thank you.”

“But isn’t nature beautiful?” He joked.

“Jimin – good sex or not… I will deck you.” 

Jimin’s mouth curled into a grin against your neck. “No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.”

“I’m hungry anyways… Why won’t we grab a bite to eat on the way home and then go watch movies?”

You relaxed a little into his arms. “That sounds good.” 

As you two walked back toward where he’d parked, you sighed softly, looking around. “You know,” you began, “nature really is beautiful. Even if I’m jealous my boyfriend loves it so much.”

[pascalpanic]

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Five / Double Shot on Ice

W/C: 3.7k

Warnings: physical fighting, mentions of blood/bruises/injuries, pepper spray being used, language ofc, tenderness to the extreme

A/N: hi this is going to be really harsh then very tender, so I hope you like that! I really love this series and I can’t wait for you guys to keep reading :)

previous chapter || next chapter || masterlist

“Javi!” you shriek as Tie Guy gets up, head still spinning but ready to fight. No, you do not want this. Javier defending you was one thing, but you can’t let him be harmed.

Grabbing the man you now consider your boyfriend by the arm, you pull him from the bar, rushing outside into the chilly D.C. night. You wrap your coat tighter around yourself, looking at the man with the most puzzled expression your face can possibly make.

Tie Guy has followed you out. Fuck. The one goddamn night you wear heels, you mentally shame yourself. Even though they aren’t very tall, there’s no way in hell you can run in them. “Let it go, let it go,” you mutter under your breath, begging Javi and silently praying the other man drops it too. It doesn’t work. Tie Guy stalks after you, following you into the parking garage nearby. He’s dead set on Javier. Your plea works until Tie Guy shouts out.

“Hey, you bastard! I’m not finished with you!” he shouts.

Javier spins and drops your arm, handing you his coat and stalking towards the man.

“You wanna be a disrespectful fucking bastard, I’ll keep beating your ass,” Javier threatens.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Tie Guy huffs. “She’s got you so fucking whipped man,” he laughs, pulling Javier right into his trap. “She’s not even-”

Javi steps closer to throw another hit. The man beats him to the punch, quite literally. His fist connects with Javier’s eye, and he stumbles backwards, falling onto his rear end in the gravel. “Yeah, tough guy,” Tie Guy crows, but Javier gets up quickly.

Whitney, your car, is parked right there. You can’t bear to look away, but you know what to do. You run to the car, sliding into the passenger seat and rummaging through your glovebox. While you’re running, you hear another smack: Javier is on the ground, clutching what was his good eye until he got punched in it. Fuck.

Javier is a trained fighter. Tie Guy really doesn’t stand a chance when Javier gets up, rage and adrenaline coursing through his veins from taking two hits to the face. More fists fly, nothing connecting with the proper target. Nails find skin, scratches and scrapes on arms and faces. Javi kicks him in the gut and he falls down but gets up before Javi can keep going,

The timing is perfect. Tie Guy has his back to you, and Javier is a yard or two away from the man. You just need his attention-

In the heat of the moment, you think of the only thing you can throw: you slip off one of your heels and wail it at the man. It connects with the side of his head, which he immediately claps a hand over in the pain. “What the fuck-” Timing is everything, and you have the power. Lifting the lid and releasing the trigger, you pepper spray the man right in the eyes. He wails in agony, falling to his knees and clutching at the excruciating eyeballs.

You nod to your car, and throw the other shoe at the man for good measure. It connects with his balding head, he falls flat on the ground, and you start running towards Whitney in your now bare feet. Javier follows, immediately sliding into the passenger seat.

Now is the time you wish you’d put a little more money into your ride. Whitney sputters to life after a few panicked seconds, and you slam on the gas once your car is shifted in reverse, wasting no time in getting the fuck out of that parking garage. Once you’re on the road, Tie Guy now up on his knees in pain in your rearview mirror, you sigh in relief and shudder as the adrenaline dies down.

Javier’s head is swimming, probably from the intense hit he took to it. He looks over at you, in your disheveled formal gear, and can’t help but laugh. “Damn, abejita. Thought you were just a fluffy little bumblebee. Didn’t know you could sting.”

You giggle from the adrenaline and brake at a stop sign, pulling Javier’s face to yours and kissing him hard. His lip is split, you can taste the blood, but he doesn’t wince in pain so you kiss him harder for a minute, putting all of your energy and gratitude and passion for the man into it.

When he breaks away, he looks down. “You’re driving barefoot.”

“That’s the first fucking thing you have to say to me?” You laugh, though it’s far from offended. You shake your head as the consequences of earlier start to sink in, driving towards Javier’s hotel. “Javi, what the fuck? You didn’t need to throw the first punch, oh my God. He was a douche but you could’ve taken a much different path.”

“It’s the only way he’d learn his lesson,” Javier grumbles, his adrenaline-enhanced state of laughter turning to one of annoyance at being chided. Your expression matches his, wanting to fight back but not wanting to start anything. You just leave it be.

You gasp in realization of something else and go quiet for a moment. You look over at him, the frown breaking, and giggle a little. “Oh fuck. We didn’t pay the tab.”

Javier’s stoic expression breaks and he laughs a little too, the adrenaline still rushing through his system. “We just can’t go back there ever again, I guess.”

“That’s your answer?” You laugh as you look over at him, your heart in your eyes. “God, I love you,” you laugh off-handedly, then a shiver runs through your body, eyes practically bulging from your head. “Oh, fuck,” you murmur, looking over at him with furrowed brows. “I, uh, I didn’t mean to say that.”

Javier just smiles a little, taking one of your hand and tracing your knuckles with his thumb. “It’s okay.”

“I- well, and you don’t have to say it back by the way,” you stumble. “I know I haven’t known you that long, and we’re barely together already, but just everything tonight has me overwhelmed and I’ve never felt that much adrenaline, oh god, I think I meant it but you don’t have to say it back if you don’t want to,” you ramble again and continue, “just… yeah.”

Javier reaches over and presses a kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay,” he repeats and nods, his hand on the back of your head and his fingers softly sinking into your hair in a way that makes you whimper. When he pulls back, he finds your eyes to be round and watering. “What’s wrong?” he asks, brows lowering over those warm eyes.

You gulp, voice quivering when you speak. “That was embarrassing,” you admit with a watery laugh, the tears running down your face. “And that whole thing was so scary, I’ve never even had to use pepper spray, and he beat you up, and-”

“Pull over,” Javier orders and you comply, parking in a nearby spot in front of a store that’s long closed for the night. Your eyes are still slowly dripping and Javier takes both of your hands in his. “You did so good. You did the best possible thing, and I didn’t even have to tell you. Most people wouldn’t have done that.”

You pull one of your hands back and wipe your nose. “That was my favorite pair of shoes.”

It makes Javi crack a smile and a small laugh. “It’s my fault. I’ll buy you a new pair.”

“It’s not your fault,” you backtrack, voice still squeaky from the tears dripping from your eyes. You take in just how rough he looks, arms scratched, lip bleeding, eyes red and bloodshot and likely to bear the brunt of it in the morning. “Javi,” you coo, cupping his face. “Fuck. You’re really beat up.”

He shakes his head. “This is nothing, little bee,” he mumbles and kisses your knuckles. “What matters is that you’re okay. Come on, let’s get to the hotel and get my stuff then I’ll drive the rest of the way.”

With a sniffle, you nod and kiss him one more time. “I think I meant it,” you whisper to him, and he offers you a soft smile before returning back to sitting forward and buckling back into the seat, like you’d insisted he do earlier. He doesn’t ask what you meant. He knows.

On the drive back to Georgetown, Javier holds your hand, and you trace over the scratches and bruises on his knuckles when your eyes aren’t on the road. Traffic out of the city is slow, as nights usually are around this time, everyone flocking in to see the heart of the capital city. Your adrenaline rush is coming down, starting to make you tired and chilly. You look over at Javier and consider that he didn’t say he loved you back. It’s not fair of you, you shake your head and turn back. It’s been a week of knowing each other. He doesn’t have to, especially if he doesn’t feel that way.

The anxiety of Javier never responding to it makes the anxiety swirl through your brain as you drive. From the place you pulled over, it doesn’t take very long for you to arrive at the grand hotel, the warm lights casting a golden glow and radiating warmth. The adrenaline has faded by now, leaving you worn and warm-hearted as the consequences sink in: Javier would fight for you. You’re starting to suspect there aren’t many things he wouldn’t do for you.

You kiss his cheek before he gets out of the car. “I’ll park over here,” you tell him and point to a spot near the door. “That way, when you’re done checking out, you can just dump your stuff in here and we’ll head to my place.

Javier turns your face to his and kisses you softly, his mouth drawn up in a soft smile. “Sounds good, abejita.” He gets out of the car and walks inside, leaving his suit jacket in the car. He loosens his tie as he walks in, the muscles of his back and shoulders visible through his dress shirt. You could get used to that view.

It takes him a little bit; of course it does, you rationalize, since he has to pack up and check out. You rest your head against the window and lock your car, letting your eyes fall shut. You’re not sure if you drift off or not, just that it’s not much longer before there’s a tap at your car window.

You startle as you sit up and open your eyes, finding Javier there, holding his bag and suitcase. You unlock the car and get out, letting him take the driver’s side. He kisses you on the head before putting his things in the backseat. You walk around and get into the passenger side, the ground wet and cold from the December snow melting beneath your bare feet.

The car is cozy and warm compared to the chilly air you just spent a moment in. You gaze over at Javier lovingly as he takes control of the car, backing out of the spot. “You gotta tell me where to go,” he reminds you as he pulls out of the hotel parking lot.

Nuzzling in against the car door, you tell him the directions to your apartment, shivering intermittently. Your eyes slip shut and your arms squeeze around yourself tighter before Javier chuckles. “Here,” he says, reaching into the back and getting his suit jacket, draping it over you. It’s still warm from his body heat, a little muddy on the back from when Tie Guy knocked him down, but it’s the coziest thing you’ve ever had the pleasure of wearing. “Thanks, Hercules,” you tease as you rest your head against the chilled glass.

“Hercules?” He laughs.

“Self-explanatory,” you smile sleepily and shrug beneath his jacket.

-

When you’re finally at your apartment, you open the door a bit nervously then show him the living room, directly connected to the door. “Voila,” you chuckle and wrap his jacket tighter around yourself, walking inside. “Bathroom and bedroom are to the right, kitchen’s right there,” you inform him, turning to him and shrugging. “Sorry it’s kind of a mess.”

It’s far from a mess, Javier thinks, nothing compared to his place or Steve’s that week he went on a bender. There are houseplants under every window, and the decor is warm and inviting. It’s definitely very you. “It’s not,” he chuckles, setting his briefcase on the couch.

“It is by my standards,” you shrug. “Why don’t we get changed then we’ll ice your eyes?”

“My eyes are fine,” he insists.

“I don’t give a shit if you think they’re fine,” you shrug and pat his cheek lightly, wandering towards your bathroom. Javier follows you in the same direction but goes into your bedroom to change. Inside, you take off your makeup and adjust your hair in the mirror. You change into pajamas and sigh at your exhausted-looking reflection.

When you’re done, you walk into the bedroom to find Javier in sweatpants and shirtless, his back to you. His muscles are defined, moving as he rummages through his bag of belongings. God, he’s strong, and it makes you shiver a little at the sight. You place a hand between his shoulder blades, marveling at the softness and warmth of the skin there.

He jumps at the feeling but melts into your touch, especially as your nimble hands knead his back softly. He sighs at the feeling, cracking his neck and earning a few pops. You press a kiss to the nape of his neck and you can feel his body shiver beneath you.

You swallow hard, wanting to say something but not knowing what. The moment is soft and quiet, and you’re honestly surprised Javier hasn’t made a dry joke yet. That’s how you know he must like you touching him, and it makes you bite your lip to hide a smile. You kiss down his spine until you land between his shoulder blades, then break away and sigh. “I’m going to go get an ice pack for your eyes,” you inform him and give his worn shoulders one last squeeze.

You turn to leave, but Javier catches your waist, turning around himself. He kisses you softly, his hand cupping the side of your face. The heels of his hands are scraped, and you touch your face when he pulls away to find he transferred a little blood there. It doesn’t matter; it was worth it. “And some bandages and rubbing alcohol,” you chuckle, kissing his palm beneath his fingers, making your way to the kitchen.

To access the top shelf, you have to get on your knees on the counter. That’s where Javier finds you a few moments later, grabbing the medical supplies. You turn and sit on the edge, setting the medical supplies to one side while the ice pack sits at the other. You smile as you see him, sighing at the warmth he radiates in his white t-shirt and sweats. “Come here,” you beckon out in a quiet voice, like there’s some soft reverence now that you don’t dare to break.

Javier spreads your legs and stands between them, a hand resting on each thigh. He steals a kiss before you look away to grab the cotton swabs and hydrogen peroxide. You pour a little on the puff and Javier winces at the smell, all too familiar with the sting that’s sure to follow. He lifts his hand without you needing to ask, and you rub the wound softly.

“Fuck,” he grunts, and it’s gone as soon as it started.

“It’s not so bad,” you tease and wipe his other palm, earning a similar reaction. “Do you need me to kiss it better?” you offer sarcastically, raising one eyebrow at him.

“Yes please,” he smirks, and you cup his face as you kiss him, his warm body pressing flush to yours. God, you didn’t realize how cold your apartment was before just now, when the heat Javier seems to endlessly radiate seeps into every ounce of your being.

When you break away, you swallow and look away, desperately avoiding the longing for him you can already feel growing as an ache in your gut. “Bandage time. Give me one,” you say, holding your hand out for his. He rests his palm on yours and you unwrap a thick patch bandage, placing it over the scraped heel. You repeat the motion on the other hand, then kiss his knuckles. “Good as new, right?”

He nods softly, kissing you between your eyebrows. “Thank you, abejita.”

“Any time. Well, no. I don’t want you in any more fights,” you shake your head and laugh, looking down at his thick and worn hands. “Let’s go rest on the couch and ice your face,” you smile, pushing him back and sliding off the counter’s edge.

“I could use you in Colombia with me,” he chuckles, grabbing the ice packs as you set the supplies aside. “You make a much better nurse than the medics we have at the embassy.”

You blow a raspberry into the air, chuckling at the notion. “Just bring me with,” you laugh, leading him to the couch.

Javier takes one of your hands. “I would, but it would be no good for you down there. Too much danger, especially without our protection.”

“And what would that protection entail?” You ask sarcastically, playing into the joke before plopping on the couch.

Javier follows, draping an arm across your shoulder. “I’d have to ask my partner; he’s married, and I’m clearly not so I don’t know. I do know that you would be in harm’s way if I brought you just as my girlfriend. The narcos will fuck around with guys’ girlfriends, their flings, use them as bargaining chips. I’ve seen it happen. But the wives, they get the protection. If a narco fucked with them, they’d be good as dead.”

You nod along, listening. It’s kind of interesting. You have to admit, you don’t know much about what’s going on down there, but it’s fascinating to learn. You’ve always wanted to travel, especially to Latin or South America since you’d studied Spanish all through high school and your time at Georgetown. “Then you’ll have to sign me on as a nurse with the DEA, huh?” You flirt and kiss the tip of his nose.

He doesn’t answer, just laughs, lying back on the couch. “Here,” you say and tell him the ice pack, which he drapes over his eyes.

You snuggle into his side, enjoying the slow and steady heartbeat through his white t-shirt. “You know, we could always just ice it in bed,” you mumble, pressing a kiss to his collarbone innocently, lightly.

He frowns. You can see it. “I’m sleeping on the couch while I’m here.”

“What? You are not sleeping on a couch for a month, Javier,” you insist and sit upright, separating yourself from him.

“I’ve known you for four days. You have your space, and this is it. I’m with you all the damn time anyway. I want to give you some room.” Javier’s words are true, but he really has a deeper meaning. He wants to fuck you. He wants to fucking ravage you until you’re screaming his name, he really does, but the gentleman deep inside tells him he needs to wait. It tells him that he doesn’t want to ruin this, the relationship you’re having. It’s December: almost a new year. He just got a new job. He’s going to be a new Javier. And if he sleeps in the same bed as you, that’s going to make things a hell of a lot more difficult.

The words he speaks are valid. You nod, though you’re only planning to let it slide for one night. “Okay.” You recline back again, against Javier’s chest and into his arms.

Javi knows the couch won’t be comfortable. He’s slept on plenty of them in his day. But if that’s what it will take for the relationship to stay like this, soft and light, he’ll take it. He’d sleep on a couch every night for the rest of his life if it means he gets to have you.

The clock creeps ever closer to midnight as you and Javier lie there, in each other’s arms, his eyes covered by the ice pack. You yawn and Javi realizes the ice pack has turned to slightly chilled water. “I think it’s time for bed, little bee,” he mumbles and sits up, opening his eyes again to find the moonlit apartment, blue with the night’s only light.

You nod and stand, stretching. Javier spots the small strip of skin evident between your top and bottoms, how soft and warm it looks, how much he’d like to kiss and bite it- no. Stop. If he had a squirt bottle, he’d be drenched from how many nos he says in his head.

Javier kisses you softly and follows you to a hall closet, where you grab him extra sheets and blankets, tossing extra pillows into the living room. The two of you make his makeshift bed, a sheet covering the cushions and several fluffy blankets on top of him. “Goodnight, Javi,” you murmur as you squat next to him, seated on the edge, kissing him goodnight.

“Goodnight, abejita,” he murmurs and kisses your forehead.

“Just holler if you need anything, okay?”

“I won’t,” he chuckles. “Go sleep. You need it.

You shake your head and cross your arms, making your way to your bedroom.

When you get in bed, you find yourself the drowsiest you’ve been in quite some time. The sleep you find is good, but you can’t help but think it would be better if Javier was in your bed too. Oh well. That’s a problem for tomorrow night.

-

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[graymatters]

Men of Routine

For @drarrymicrofic's prompt, Sunrise. Instead of my usual habit of writing a microfic and expanding later, I took the plunge and wrote 1k off the bat. Hopefully, this one will let me be, instead of haunting me for days (although my tattooed!Draco is shaking his head at me, telling me I don't stand a chance).

Also on AO3.

Every morning, Harry finds Draco in the tattered velvet chair at the front window of Grimmauld Place. On the day Draco moved in, he strode through the front door, boxes and bags levitating neatly behind him. One box, denoted as fragile in a loopy script, fell from the air when Draco caught sight of Harry shrinking the armchair for the trash. “What in Salazar’s name are you doing?” he’d asked, eyes wide in disbelief. “It’s an antique; you can’t just toss it in the bin like a crumpled napkin.”

Draco spent a few days reading up on furniture restoration spells, and before long, the chair was good as new, no longer splitting at the seams and its deep cerulean velvet, smooth and unstained. A couple of decades later, that chair is still a staple of Draco’s morning routine. Occasionally, when he’s feeling a bit prickly, he likes to remind Harry that he almost threw it away.

In the heavy heat of the summers, Draco lounges in his chair and squints at the glare of the rising sun, his hair fluttering in the breeze that pours through the open windows. Under the blanket of winter, he brings a quilt with him, gifted from Molly at his first Weasley Christmas. He dismisses the early morning darkness with a careless Lumos tossed into the corner, and flicks his wrist at the hearth to fill the cracks in the floor with a warm, dry heat.

Some mornings, Draco flips through The Prophet with his ankles crossed properly in front of him; others, he tucks into a muggle novel, his long legs criss-crossed and contorted beneath him. Occasionally, and more often in recent years, he dozes off with his arm tucked under his head, not yet ready to face the day.

Today, he wrinkles his brow at a muggle book about the microbiome, meaningless to Harry, and the early summer sun dusts a pale yellow light over Draco’s fine, gray hair. His thin wire glasses are perched on the bony bridge of his nose as he hunches over the book in his lap. Harry leans over the stair railing, admiring the way the light highlights Draco’s softened cheekbones, and thinks about the other ways Draco has softened over the years.

Harry spots the fading tattoo on Draco’s collarbone, peeking out from his open collar. The inky dragon’s tail flits lazily across his thin, pale skin, occasionally flicking up towards Draco’s neck. Laced with charms, the magical ink is opalescent in the morning light.

Harry smiles at the memory of Draco gripping his hand in the tattoo parlor, knuckles white and jaw stiff, as the artist etched the pearly ink across one of his iridescent scars. “Making lemonade,” he’d gritted out, eyes determined but misty. “It’ll make the scales even shinier.” Harry had rubbed his thumb over the gallop of Draco’s pulse and watched a piece of their ugly past transform into something beautiful, something new.

When the ink was fresh, Draco complained relentlessly about the near-constant tickling sensation as the restless Antipodean Opaleye came to life across his skin. Now, Harry probably notices the little movements more than Draco does, still enraptured by the dragon’s shimmering scales when the sun hits them just right.

A step creaks under his feet as Harry lazes down the rest of the stairs, muffling a yawn and scratching an itch between his shoulder blades. Draco glances up at the sound and unashamedly smooths his gaze over Harry’s body beneath his barely-there pajamas. The cheeky glint in Draco’s eye fades to reluctant amusement when Harry sticks his tongue out for no reason at all.

With an extended hand, Draco offers a sip of coffee from his favorite mug, allowing his fingers to graze Harry’s when he relinquishes the warm cup. Draco’s crow’s feet deepen when he smiles, and, as it does every morning, the sight beckons a pleasant puff of air from Harry’s lungs.

Harry turns the mug in his hands and huffs at the moving picture of his younger self, plastered on the cup, smiling awkwardly and hair wild as ever. It’s one of four in a collection George and Ron released, The Boy Who Lived to Drink. The day the mugs released, Draco had strolled down Diagon, howling and carelessly swinging his shopping bag at his side. “I couldn’t help myself… I’ve bought two of each,” he’d snorted, pulling one of the ridiculous mugs from the bag and admiring the looped photo of Harry trying to look graceful on a broom. “These are so awful, they’re brilliant,” he’d cackled. “Don’t you dare tell the Weasel I’ve said that.”

Harry takes a sip of coffee and swishes the sweet, milky liquid in his mouth before swallowing. “I looked pretty sexy back then, don’t you think?” Harry asks, rotating the cup so Draco can see his image grimace at a camera flash. They both know Harry’s fishing for a compliment. Neither cares.

“I’d argue you’re even sexier, now,” Draco smiles, always with the right answer. He pats Harry on the bum in affirmation, but Harry recognizes the unspoken request for his coffee to be returned. Harry hands the mug over without protest and peers at the open book in Draco’s lap.

“Prevotella, hm?”

“Mm, indeed,” Draco affirms, offering no more. Harry scoffs, and Draco counters, “All right, would you like a lecture on how various gut flora impact the absorption and creation of essential vitamins?”

“I could watch you talk about anything,” Harry smiles, only half-listening as he admires the movement of Draco’s lips.

“Watch does not equal listen,” Draco smirks and tugs at Harry’s wrist. “But I appreciate the effort.”

Harry leans into the pull and captures Draco’s lips in a slow and easy morning kiss, perfect despite their chapped lips and morning breath. Perfect, perhaps, because of them.

“Jam on your toast?” Harry asks as he pulls away, even though he already knows the answer.

“Marmite, if we have any left.” Draco grins, thanks Harry with a peck on the cheek, and tucks his nose back into his book. Harry reaches to thread his fingers through Draco’s hair and presses a kiss to the top of his head. He lingers a moment, grateful for his morning view, and turns to amble towards the kitchen for a cup of English Breakfast and toast.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Not Safe | Professor Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Professor Hiddleston x Reader

Summary:  You and your former professor, Tom Hiddleston, are carrying on a clandestine relationship under the guise of you as his TA. You are aware of Tom’s dark fantasy and today is the day you fulfill it.

Warnings: Smut, Breeding, Desk Sex, Teacher-Student Relationship, Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex

-

You snuck into the back of the lecture hall and took one of the few empty seats at the back. If the lecturer up front saw you, he gave no indication. Professor Thomas Hiddleston continued on with his lecture on John Bunyan.

“Pilgrim’s Progress.” He clicked over his PowerPoint. There was a collective groan from the students. Tom smiled before adjusting his glasses, pulling his hands from his pockets.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it, Pilgrim’s Progress is probably one of the more boring parts of English literature.” A smattering of chuckles. You smiled, that joke never fails to hit. “But if we can get through the material with no more groaning or anyone falling asleep.” His eye caught you in his peripheral vision. “I’ll let the class out an hour earlier.”

He winked, and you squirmed in your seat. That man knew what to do to soak your panties. Not that you were wearing any that day. Tom’s voice drifted into the background, a constant hum, as your mind wandered to other things, such as how nicely the Professor’s ass looked in those pants or how his three-day stubble tickled and scratched the inside of thighs when he ate you out this morning. It wasn’t like you needed to pay attention anyway, having taken the class last year and graduated with your Bachelors in English Literature. You now attended the college as a graduate student, giving perfect cover as Professor Hiddleston’s teaching assistant for why you linger in his office at unusual hours.

You snapped out of your daydream as Tom announced, “Please bring your essays on Milton’s Paradise Lost to the front and place them on the table. And for the next time, please read pages 123-157 in your textbook.” You tugged down your skirt, short enough to show off your legs but not so short to get you into any more trouble than you wanted.

“Anything I can do for you, sir?” You sidled up to the professor, brushing against his arm.

Tom’s lips twitched at the word “sir”. It happened so fast, only you caught it. “Why don’t you take these papers back to my office?” He pushed the stack of essays into your hands. “and prepare the handouts for my ENG 104 lecture at 4:15 p.m.?”

You nodded. “Yes, sir.” His lips twitched again, and you spun on the heel of your flat and exited the lecture hall.

Tom resisted the urge to leer at your backside in your almost too tight skirt. Which was made even more difficult by the crush of students asking questions, most of them female undergrads, desperate to catch his eyes. It didn’t take a PhD, although he possessed two, to figure out these girls were attempting to fulfill some fantasy of fucking their professor. He smiled. If they only knew the truth.

Fortunately, no one did. Or else you would be expelled and Professor Hiddleston fired. Graduate student or not. “Everyone!” He held up his hands. “Any questions you have can be answered during my regular office hours tomorrow.” A few of the students groaned. “Now if you excuse me…” He gathered his leather briefcase and glasses from the table and headed out the door. “… I need to prepare for my next lesson.” His pace brisk towards his office, where you should still be.

You were hunched over Tom’s desk, collating papers. You didn’t hear the door open and closed or the lock flip shut.

“How dare you?!” Tom called out, causing you to throw the papers into the air in fright.

You clutched your chest as copies flutter to your feet. “What the hell? You scared the shit out of me!” You screeched back. “Ever heard of knocking?” You bent down to pick up the papers. Tom ran his hand up your back. You jumped again.

“It’s my office. Why would I knock?”

“I could have been naked or something.” you muttered, straightening the papers.

He sat down on the couch against one wall, legs splayed. “That’s an option?”

You smirked as you spun to face him. “It is, if you ask nicely.”

He patted his lap, and you straddled his legs. Tom squeezed your ass, pulling you into a rough kiss. Your hands combed through his curls, tugging. He bit your lower lip.

“You know what I want.” He stared into your eyes. No matter how many times you gazed into them, you always got lost in those eyes. His mind wandered as he stared at your chest to the thought of your breasts, engorged with milk. Your belly swollen, whether with child or his cum. It didn’t matter.

You leaned close to his ear. “What if I told you today was your lucky day?”

His eyes widened, and nails dug into the fabric of your skirt. “Don’t joke about that.”

“I want you to breed me, Professor. I want to fill me.” Tom panted as you purred against him. “I am fertile today. If you were to cum inside me, it would not be safe.”

Tom’s hips bucked into you. “On the desk, now.”

You rose to walk to the desk. “Yes, sir.” You swayed your hips and then leaned over the edge of the table, hands flat against the surface. You wiggled your ass as his pants leg swished along your thighs.

CRACK! Tom smacked your ass hard, you jumped forward, your hips hitting hard against the solid wood desk.

“As much as I love your ass. On your back.” He pushed the papers and books away as you spun and hopped onto the desk. Your legs fell open and Tom smirked.

“Good girl.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The tips of his fingers grazed the skin of your inner thighs, crawling up your legs toward your core, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

His eyebrow raised when his fingers teased along your folds. “No panties?”

“As you requested. Sir.” you added as Tom’s brow furrowed.

His fingers collected your arousal, swirling his thumb over your clit, earning a whimper from your lips.

“Class is still in session, my pet. I suggest unless you want someone coming to see me fucking you like the cumslut you are, you keep it down.” Tom clenched his jaw and his eyes flashed.

You bit your lip and nodded. Tom pushed into between your legs, pushing them even further apart. He plunged two fingers inside of you. You let loose a soft gasp.

“But I thought…” you questioned as Tom’s fingers scissored and curled inside of you.

Tom shushed you with pursed lips. “You need to be prepared for my seed, love. Give it the best chance to impregnate you.”

His thumb pressed onto your clit and her head hit back against the desk. Within moments, you came around Tom’s fingers, gushing and gripping.

“That’s it.” Tom urged as he continued to thrust inside of you. “Squeeze on my fingers like you will when you milk my cock.”

When you slumped against the desk, Tom removed his fingers. They dripped with your juices. Tom pressed his fingers into your mouth, while he fumbled with the fly of his pants.

“Clean up your mess, love.” You greedily sucked on his fingers. Your tongue dragged along his knuckles. Tom removed his fingers with a pop. “Now to fuck you…” The tip of his cock dragged along your slit before Tom buried himself in you. “… like the breeding slut you are.”

You moaned softly. Tom snapped his hips against you. Your mouth fell open in silent moans as Tom rutted into you. Each snap and thrust of his hips and cock deliberate. Tom’s hand slipped under your ass and lifted it up. He placed your feet on his shoulders.

“You mold around me, pet. Your body sucks up my cock. You are dying to be bred.” Tom growled. He reached down and squeezed your tits. You moaned. “Your tits will swell with milk for our child.”

Your walls fluttered around him, already sensitive from your orgasm, earlier. “I’m cumming!” you hissed. Your nails dug into the wood of the desk.

Tom’s hips snapped hard against you. He pulled your legs tight against him, giving him more leverage to plunge deeper into you. “So am I.” With a last thrust, Tom’s cock pushed deep inside you, his cum painting your walls.

Tom’s mouth fell open as you clenched around him. “That’s it, love, milk me for every drop. Let us not waste anything.”

Tom slumped forward, your bodies covered with sweat, both of your chests heaving. Your legs pressed against your body. Tom’s cock stayed inside of you.

You tried to sit up, blocked by Tom’s hips holding you fast against the desk. “Well I have class to—”

Tom pushed you back onto the desk. “You are not going anywhere. We are not done here.” His cock twitched inside of you.

“But, Tom, I was just—”

His hips rocked into you. You moaned. “You are mine and you will leave when I have filled you to my satisfaction. Until I am leaking out of you.”

Tom’s cock hardened and twitched inside of you. Your eyes shut and you gripped the sides of the desk and Tom pounded into you for Round Two.

“Whatever you say, Professor.” you moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer.

[amphxtrite]

cedric diggory x fem!reader

part one: Never Let You Go. (smut)

warnings: mentions of smut (but not actually smut), swearing, spelling/ grammar mistakes.

summary: Life with Cedric leading up to your graduation is pretty normal, except for the fact you hide the fact that you’re dating. With amortentia, avoiding practice for cuddles and a graduation dance coming up, how long can this relationship stay a secret.

a/n: thank you to the wonderful @mullthingsoverinthehotwater for this idea and all the help! She’s amazing go check her out!!

word count: 3.4k

tag list:@cupidpoison @wonderful-writer @coldlilheart @inglourious-imagines @evisbored @mayaleon0614 @dogsandrocketsocks

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

Waking up in the arms of a lover is the most ethereal feeling you could imagine, a safe feeling, so comfortable and warm, even with the slight pain that poked at you when you tried to move your legs.

As you lay next to Cedric the sun rose through the clouds and casted an angelic glow on the hufflepuff’s sculpted face, it almost felt like you were in the presence of something divine, and just as mortals were in tales of of the gods, you were curious and wished to touch the miraculous boy before you. Tracing his jawline and pink lips a smile grows before he begins to stir and a light sigh rings as he awakes.

“Good morning love.” He yawns, his raspy morning voice bringing butterflies to your stomach. “What are you doing?” He smirks looking at your thumb tracing his cheek.

“Just admiring you darling.” You giggle leaning over to press a chaste kiss to the brunette’s lips. Cedric chuckles and pulls you closer against his chest, burying his face in your neck and sighing at your sweet scent.

“We should probably get you back to your room darling, we still have class today and I’d hate to make you late.” The gray-eyed boy smirks a bit, pressing a kiss to your nose before sitting upright on the bed. “Alright.” You yawn, rubbing your eyes to get the sleep out before standing and walking towards the door, pausing when a thought crosses your mind.

“H-Hey do you mind if we keep this between us for now?” You start, a little nervous. ”I don’t think I can take any gossip right now, and I can’t have the school knowing I’m shagging the dreamiest boy at Hogwarts, they’ll hate me!” You finish with a light laugh.

Cedric can’t help but chuckle at your cheeky comment, walking over to peck your cheek before whispering. “Of course love, whenever you’re ready.”

__________

Learning magic at Hogwarts was a dream come true for you; Charms and Transfiguration were marvellous and fascinating. Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic were interesting and fun, but your favourite class, by far, was potions. Despite the potion master’s snide comments and constant eye rolls, brewing concoctions that had the properties to create and destroy was an amazing feeling. A potion has the ability to heal things even the most powerful charms cannot, they can change your form without the need to transfigure, and even break the fates to bring luck to anyone, and in that class you had the ability to do it all.

“Today, we will be brewing a very famous potion, and a very difficult one at that.” Professor Snape’s usual drone begins at the beginning of the lesson.

“Now since you are the NEWT class, I expect absolute perfection, I will write the instructions on the board and you can brew and figure out the identity of the potion with your partner. Begin.”

Excitement bubbles in you as you begin to jot down the information. You and your partner gather your supplies and begin to cut, mix and sprinkle your ingredients into the cauldron.

The distinct smell of wood combined with freshly cleaned laundry and fresh air soon floods your nose and it was as though you were on cloud nine, the scent brought a calmness to you, a safe feeling; the person connected to it was just on the tip of your tongue. A wood like aftershave, clean clothes that had swallowed you whole and the type of air only a seeker gets flying after a snitch.

Cedric peers over to you across the classroom to see you smiling at your cauldron, a dopey smile on your face. He cocks his eye brow in confusion, but as he adds the finishing touches to the bubbling liquid he immediately understands. He’s instantly transported to your arms, the scent of your intoxicating shampoo surrounding every inch of him along with chocolate and a hint of that strawberry chapstick he tasted on your lips while ravaging you in the shower. A blush immediately floods the hufflepuff’s cheeks, and suddenly his pants get a little tight.

“Mr. Diggory, since it’s quite… Obvious, you smell the amortentia. Tell us what your aroma is.”

Hoping Snape isn’t implying the tent in his pants, Cedric slaps on a small grin.

“Sweet shampoo, chocolate and strawberry chapstick sir.” He manages to nod, as Snape raises an eyebrow. “Intriguing. Miss l/n and Miss Macavoy, you were first to finish, what do you smell?”

Your partner, Heidi Macavoy’s face lights up. “Fresh parchment, Honeydukes, and broom polish.” Snape nods, looking over to you.

“I smell aftershave, clean laundry and fresh air sir.” Your eyebrows furrow for a moment when it finally hits you. There was only one person that fit that scent, in fact the only aftershave you’ve ever smelt. Cedric. Your smile widens.

The professor nods with a sigh, folding his arms and walking back to the blackboard to write. “Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world. Now, I would like you to write a paper on the properties of amortentia and how each ingredient factors into giving the potion it’s unique qualities. The rest of class will be for finishing your potions and starting your writing...” Snape concludes the lesson.

__________

Months pass and everyday grows closer to your graduation. Your relationship with Cedric is kept quiet, but you manage to steal kisses in dark corridors and meet in the night. Oftentimes you spend evenings in the prefect’s shower, using the sound of running water to hide desperate moans and dirty actions, but it still gets hard to remember in public you’re only friends.

Cedric adores teasing you in public, running his hand up and down your thigh underneath the table and flirting insufferably with you everyday.

“Well hello there gorgeous, where are you off to today?” He’d tease every morning.

“Oh shut it Diggory.” You’d sigh as Cedric leaned closer to your ear.

“That’s quite hypocritical to the person screaming my name last night.”

Leaving you a flushed mess for the rest of the morning. Cedric respected your want to keep the relationship a secret, he knew he was popular as it is, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun with you. He loved it when you gave him the warning glare if he ever tried his luck in public, and the blush he left after teasing you brought a huge smirk to his face every time. And any chance he got, whether alone or in public, he loved to bring up your amortentia.

“Aftershave, laundry and fresh air huh?” He’d grin down to you, a playful look in his eyes. “Oh Merlin here we go again.” You’d sigh, readying yourself for the cheeky comments.

“Sounds like you smelled the dreamiest boy at Hogwarts!”

__________

The Winter snow took over the Autumn leaves and Hogwarts became a winter wonderland, sweaters were swapped with cloaks, runners became boots and scarfs covered the necks of each student in the school. Unless you were a quidditch player. The captains of each team were still determined to win the quidditch cup, and Cedric was no exception. Everyday was filled with drills, plays and scrimmages that left your muscles sore and your nose frozen from the winter cold. Cedric left no time to stare at the falling snow and each practice somehow left the team shivering and sweating all together.

You couldn’t blame each of the captains for wanting to earn the cup and lead their house to victory, but when Cedric went captain mode it seriously made it seem like you were going to be stuck by your goal post for the rest of the winter.

“Ced, it’s blizzarding outside.” You sigh as the brunette began pulling on his uniform.

“Can we please just take today off? We’ve trained everyday for the past 3 weeks!” Cedric seems to hesitate. “I-I know love, but-“

“Cedric, you know you’re overworking yourself, c’mon let’s just take today off alright?” You stick your bottom lips out in a pout and make grabby hands towards the tall hufflepuff.

“Alright love, because you asked so nicely.” He smirks and collapses back into your arms. He wouldn’t admit it, but you were right, his hands still ached from holding the broom too tight and Merlin were his feet cold. You smile before relaxing into your darling’s arms.

__________

As Winter shifted to spring, the subject of graduation became of the utmost importance.

“Graduating class! As you know at each graduation ceremony there is a ball and banquet. I expect proper behaviour, and represent hufflepuff well. It was a pleasure having you here with us.”

Professor Sprout’s speech comes to an end as the graduating students of hufflepuff cheered and applauded their head of house.

“Are we allowed to bring dates to the ball? A person not the fruit I mean.” Another student calls to Sprout as a couple kids laugh. “Of course! You can bring any of the graduating class, of any house, with you.” The short professor smiles and turns to chat with a girl.

Cedric immediately turns to find you in the crowd, smiling excitedly at you, only to see a worried expression on your face.

“Are you alright?” He asks, walking closer to check on you.

“Can we talk a sec?” You pull the Head boy by the arm to a deserted area, away from prying eyes and take a deep breath.

“Cedric, I really want to go to this ball with you, but I'm nervous about what people would think of me.” You begin cracking your knuckles in an anxious manner, biting on your lips as everything that could go wrong plagues your mind.

“Darling.” Cedric smiles and takes your hands into his. “Who cares what people say? I’d be honoured to have you by my side. If you’ll have me that is.” Cedric looks around for anyone before falling to his knee and kissing your hand. “Y/n, I absolutely adore you, and I could not care less what little minded people have to say. Accompany me to the ball?” The hufflepuff’s eyes fill with hope and love and you knew then, he was right. Cedric was your sunshine and no one could take him away from you.

“Yes Cedric! Yes I’ll go to the ball with you.”

__________

It was decided the two of you would show up together at the ball to ‘announce’ your relationship, but until then you’d stay on the down low.

It was hard seeing girl after girl walk up to Cedric with hope in their eyes only to be rejected in the nicest way possible. You were happy Cedric was yours, but some of these girls were gorgeous and sweet and it made you want to hide your face when they’d walk away dejected; although a small part of your brain jumped for joy when Cedric would discreetly look at you and wink after each confession. As each day grew warmer, so did your heart. Excitement flourished and each day held pure joy that you were one step closer to a future with Cedric.

__________

The Hogsmeade weekend before the graduation ceremony finally arrived and just like most of the graduates you rushed to find the perfect outfit before everything was gone. There were quite a few clothing shops at the village, but your favourite was the small shop towards the end of the street. A small business run by a mum and her family. You enter the shop and the smell of cinnamon and sugar greets you.

“Y/n!” Two little voices call out and two young girls make a beeline for you.

“How are my two little princesses?” You giggle, kneeling down to their level to wrap the small children in your arms.

Coming to the shop often helped you grow close to the family in charge, they were so kind and always had exactly what you were looking for.

“Where’s your mum kiddos?” You ask just as Melina, the owner and mum of the two girls, comes rushing towards you.

“Good to see you y/n dear, now you two run along while I help our little graduate.” She smiles at the girls who hug you one last time before running off to find something to play with.

“Looking for a dress i’m guessing?” Melina laughs and begins walking towards a shelf in the back. “You know me too well Mellie.” You smirk, trailing behind the brunette. Mellie brings her finger to her chin as she begins searching, her eyes full of concentration, shifting to success as she pulls a f/c gown from the rack.

“I knew this day was coming, so I made this dress especially for you.” She grins, holding the dress out to you.

Immediately you wrap your arms around her, and thank her like your life depended on it. This was by far one of the most thoughtful things someone had done for you, and it made you emotional. With small tears running down your face you pull back. “Thank you so much Mellie, it’s gorgeous.”

You giddily run for the change room and pull yourself into the gown. The f/c contrasts your skin beautifully and the shape accentuates your curves, bringing out a newfound confidence and you find yourself admiring yourself. Twirling, laughing and picturing yourself dancing with Cedric.

Despite her insisting it was a gift, you press the galleons for the full price into her hand, hugging her and the kids one last time before walking out of the store, dress in your arms. You stop at Honeydukes for a treat before making the trip back to the castle.

__________

Cedric wanted to make sure he was dressed appropriately for the ceremony, and his suit from last year just wasn’t going to cut it. He scourges every clothing shop in the Hogsmeade vicinity only to be met with empty shelves or nothing in his size. He’s about to give up and wear his old suit when a small shop catches his eye.

“Worth a shot.” He murmurs before pushing open the door. “Hello, I’m looking for a suit.” He greets the woman at the front.

“Oh you must be graduating as well. I’m Melina, please follow me.” She gives the brunette a warm, motherly smile before leading him to a rack.

“I just had a girl come in for her graduation outfit as well. Do you know y/n?”

Cedric let’s his smile shine through when your name is mentioned and turns to Melina.

“I do actually, I’m the lucky guy who gets to go to the ball with her.”

Melina’s eyes light up and she immediately rushes towards a suit towards the end of the aisle.

“Perfect, I had a lot of extra fabric when I made her dress, so I tailored a suit to go with it.” She rushes towards Cedric, pulling a tape measure from her apron pocket. Cedric raises his arms and allows the woman to take his measurements, an excited smile gracing his face.

“It’ll be a little tight in the chest, but other than that it’s a perfect fit!”

Melina quickly pushes Cedric into a change room and the brunette shrugs on the dress shirt and jacket before pulling on the pants and the cape-like overcoat. He nodded to himself in the mirror. This was perfect and he knew you’d love to see him in your favourite colour.

__________

The night of your graduation ceremony arrived and every seventh year was preparing themselves for the night ahead. Some were fretting over hair and makeup while others were content with just showing up and having fun. You were in your room with a couple of your friends, helping each other with outfits and makeup.

“Hold still Sebastian, I'm almost done with the eyeliner!” You scold the blonde as he fiddles with his fingers. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just ticklish.”

You smile and feel a tug on your scalp.

“Gently Heids, you’re gonna rip out my hair.”

Everyone began to laugh and slowly but surely you all got dressed and prepared for the long night ahead. You slowly make your way to the great hall, arms linked with your friends and laughs ringing from everyone. Once at the doors you split up in search of your dates. You spot Cedric’s mop of brown curls and quickly make you way closer to him.

“Nice suit.” You smile and turn back to your date, smiling at the colour choice and design.

“Thanks I got it from Melina.” He grins proudly, pulling a corsage from behind his back and clasping it around your wrist.

“No wonder we’re matching!” You laugh and move your wrist around admiring the flowers. Cedric smiles as he takes in your dress, thanking his lucky stars for whatever he did to deserve such an angel like you.

“Well, you ready milady?” Cedric grins offering his arm to you. “As I’ll ever be milord.”

You take in a deep breath and push open the doors to the hall.

Bright lights flood your vision and happy cheers sound in your ears, people laughing, dancing and drinking, and overall having a great time. Your face lights up and you begin to pull Cedric faster through the room. There were quite a few eyes staring in your direction. Emotions ranging from envy, sadness, disbelief and awe were all noticed when you stepped inside with the Hogwarts Champion, golden student and Head boy on your arm. You could hear whispers claiming you to be fake, an attention seeker or whore, and a frown begins to tug at your lips. Cedric takes notice and quickly wraps you into his arms gazing at you with love filled eyes as everyone else fades away. The anxiety and disappointment evaporates and soon it was just you and Cedric swaying in the middle of the dance floor. Many of your friends shoot you thumbs ups and congratulated the two of you, but all you could focus on was the gray eyes that pulled you into a trance. When the two of you glided across the hall you could’ve exploded with happiness, Cedric ignored even his best mates just to keep on dancing with you. His eyes were glued to you and only you as your face lit up and your eyes shone like stars. He was reminded of the Yule Ball from last year and how he awkwardly danced with you, trying not to look directly into your eyes in fear of getting lost and tripping up.

If his past self could see him now Cedric was sure his mouth would be agape with an unshakable grin. the brunette kept on pinching himself just to make sure you were really in his arms looking into his eyes as if he was your world. It got to the point he couldn’t help but pull you into him and dip you into a low kiss.

So much had happened in just a couple days. He’d won a quidditch game and your affection, he made love to you in a shower, cuddled you in his bed, and smelled you in his amortentia. And while all those things were amazing, he didn’t need one more hint you were the one for him. He had fallen in love with you, and when he looked to the future, the only one he could see by his side was you; In front of him when he knelt to propose, Beside him in a white dress and a veil, holding your children in your arms and growing gray and old with him. His silver eyes found themselves tearing up as he deepened the kiss and held you there in place. The sound of whooping and groaning drowned out, and you smiled into the sentimental kiss, cupping the hufflepuff’s cheek in your hand as you wiped away his tears.

“I love you y/n, so much.” Cedric murmurs against your lips, trying to hold back his tears as you stood so beautifully before him, drying his tears and smiling that perfect smile.

“I love you too Cedric, more than you’ll ever know.” you respond adoringly.

The ceremony began and every student cried in joy at the fact they were now graduates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

You held onto Cedric’s hand all night and as the party came to an end, you toasted to the night and all the bright days ahead.

With the newfound freedom to just be a couple, Cedric pulls you away from the dance early and with a laugh, leads you to his dorm and places you onto his bed. The rest of the evening was dedicated to your sinful thoughts and desires as lust broke free.

No one saw you for the rest of the night.

[falling-pages]

Fight for me: Hikaru x Renge

Renge tends to Hikaru's wounds after he gets in a fight to defend her.

-

Renge Houshakuji x Hikaru Hitachiin

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, first kiss

Warnings: None

-

Hikaru knew how to throw a punch, but holding his own against three men was above even his own skill level.

It was amazing he had lasted so long in the fight until Mori spotted him and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck like a kitten, tossing him from the circle and finishing the fight himself. Those three upperclassmen didn’t stand a chance--yet he felt his blood run hot at the thought that he had to be saved when he was trying to save someone else.

Toui Kendarishi and his dumb fucking mouth just had to get under his skin, again.

A sharp scrub against his cheekbone jerked him back to reality. He hissed, going to swat at it, before the girl grabbed his wrist and pushed it back down.

“Don’t get mad at me, I’m just trying to help you,” Renge grumbled.

Yeah, some help she was. With every dab of the cotton ball and slab of ointment he relived every moment of the fight, every right hook and gut punch and kick he had endured for her, and she had no idea. The only soothing thing about this therapy appointment was her nails scratching his scalp, but only to distract him from a bad bout of pain.

He only rolled his eyes, jerking away as she moved on to his mouth. “I know you didn’t just roll your eyes at me,” she said, tugging at his bottom lip. His top lip had taken the brunt of Kendarishi’s fists, and all he tasted was his own blood in the back of his throat. He was sure he was a monster to look at, blood staining his teeth and tongue. As it dried against his skin, Renge thumbed it away, smearing it against her hand before she took a washcloth to it.

“So observant,” he hissed, resisting the urge to spit at the taste clouding his senses. Sarcasm was his trusted defense mechanism, and he relied on it heavily now to distract himself from the feeling of her fingers playing with his lips.

A harsh scrub against the wound was her own way of backtalk. “Sass me again, and I’ll stop, and you can explain to Kaoru why you look like a fucking Picasso,” she said.

“Tch.”

But he listened. The blood and spit and pain rendered him essentially mute, much to her amusement, as she worked. His eyes wandered around her bathroom, impossibly pink and frilly for a college apartment. Like the rest of her place, it was like Paris had vomited itself inside, the chunk of the concoction muddled in the bathroom. A pink fuzzy rug was below him as he was perched on her gilded toilet, a gaudy shower curtain boasting images of the Eiffel Tower, and even her mirror was embossed with rhinestones. Everything, from the toilet paper pile to the cosmetics cases, were perfectly stacked and organized, with not a speck of dust or dirt to be found.

Geez. And he thought her shrill demands of perfection in high school were bad. Their host room was spotless thanks to her dictatorship, but this was on another level.

“Admiring the bathroom, I see,” she said, sucking in her cheek as she fiddled with opening a band-aid. Her nails, long and purple, couldn’t quite find the purchase to pinch the covering from the adhesive side.

His life and health were quite literally in her hands, but Hikaru couldn’t hold back the snicker from his bleeding lips. “It’s mental,” he said, reaching up to help her with the band-aid.

Renge ripped it away from him, glowering down her nose at him in the most egregious French expression she could muster. He hadn’t known her in France, but he imagined that was the look she gave every servant, every waiter, every busboy who didn’t fit her exact demands. “I’ve got it,” she spat, turning her back to him. Her shoulders shook, but because of the effort of unpeeling the band-aid or some unknown emotion, he didn’t know.

“Here,” she resumed, turning to face him, and Hikaru’s heart cracked at the tears welling up in her pretty brown eyes, the heaviness in her voice. It sounded so heavy, despite its usual nasal tone, and exhausted, defeated. What had she gone through when her back was turned?

He made her cry. He knew he could take the teasing too far sometimes, but bringing a girl to tears was childish, a middle school prank he had sworn to leave far behind him. But he had done it again, not even to a nobody, but to the girl who was fixing him up, his friend, whom he had grown up with and bruised two ribs defending.

As she leaned down to apply the bandage to his cheek, he tried to meet eyes, to apologize without aggravating his poor lips, but she evaded his glance, pursing her lips and focusing on her work. Her hands shook, lightly grazing his temple.

“Renge, hey, I’m--” he grabbed her wrist, and she jerked away, stepping back until she hit the wall. His voice forced more tears from her eyes, and she buried her face in her hands as she sobbed, massive pink bow bobbing with every movement.

“Just stop, Hikaru, stop!” she yelled, muffled by her closing throat. “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t keep stitching you back up when you snap, I can’t take how mean you are. We aren’t in school anymore, we’re adults, we’re in college, and you’re just puffing your chest like you’re invincible, picking fights and losing them.” She finally showed her face, anger and fear and… something he couldn’t place etched into the lines beneath her eyes. “You want to know what’s mental?” She gestured to him, waving her hand up and down his whole form. “This is mental. You getting into fight after fight and not learning a damn thing from them, that’s what. It’s amazing you didn’t break your nose.”

Blood and anger coiled in the back of his throat. He lunged forward and grabbed her arm again, firmer this time, and yelled out, “I did this for you! I got in this fight for you!”

Renge pressed further against the wall, but she stopped fighting. Her hands shook in his tight grasp. Eyes as big as a silver dollar gazed up at him, heart thrumming wildly in her chest. “What?”

“I got in a fight with Kendarishi, right?”

“Yes.”

“And who is he to you?”

Renge blushed, letting her eyes drift to his chest. She spotted a new bruise mottling on his collarbone. “My ex-boyfriend.”

“Exactly.”

Hikaru released her wrists and watched as they fell to her side, like all the resistance had been sucked out of her. “Every time I fight with him, it’s because he said something bad about you. And then he started saying stuff about me fighting for you, so I just can’t win. I just have a lot of motivation and a lot of anger.”

“Why do you care so much what he says about me?” she asked, still not meeting his eyes.

“Because it was some bad stuff, Ren,” he said. “And I know we haven’t always gotten along, but you’re my friend, and I’m not gonna stand there and while he calls you a ‘fucking French whore who screws every guy she meets.’”

She swung at him, but he blocked, whining, “Hey, he said it, not me!”

When he put his hands down, she was shaking, with rage and sadness and something that looked an awful lot like determination in her eyes. “Bold of him to call me a whore when he’s the one who cheated.” Her hands ball into fists, and her eyes scanned him again--with a less medical glare, this time, and more of a vengeance. “And he did this to you?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll be back.”

“Wait!”

Hikaru grabbed her by the back of her shirt and suddenly realized exactly how Mori must have felt watching him fight it out on the academic lawn. Renge’s feet scrambled on the tile, but he held her in place, dragged her back in front of him to block her path. “What, so you’re going to go fight him now since he fought me?”

“That’s not a good enough reason?” she pouted.

“No, but…” Hikaru rubbed the back of his neck. “You were just lecturing me about fighting him. Seems a little hypocritical to me, Ren.”

“Don’t use words you don’t understand,” she huffed, leaning back against the wall. She didn’t fight him when he leaned in closer, securely caging in her body. “You were just defending my honor. Let me do the same.”

“Mori dragged me out of the fight, so I’d say he fucked them up good enough,” Hikaru said, and his heart thumped especially hard when she laughed. Oh God, it was like the tinkling of a bell, cool and clear and exactly what he imagined confectioner’s sugar to sound like. He felt himself dragged with a current, down the slope of a well, but he didn’t mind; he looked into her eyes and allowed the feeling to bouy him along. If he weren’t bleeding, he might have just kissed her, but he didn’t need her slap adding to his injuries.

Renge’s breath hitched when he leaned closer, resting his forearm parallel above her head. She was so busy in high school that she never noticed how soft his eyes were, almost golden, like the rising sun over a field of wheat. It reminded her of mornings on her family’s country estate, when she would meditate and do yoga and drink tea while the world quietly joined her in consciousness, when everything was soft and drowsy. Such beautiful eyes, bruised and marred and bloodied for her.

“Renge, I--”

“Don’t,” she whispered, lacking her usual venom. “Let’s enjoy what we have right now.”

Hikaru bit his lip, immediately regretting it as the pain surged back through him. When Renge laughed again, he couldn’t help it; he leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers, drinking in that sweet, drawled perfume that he so often used to make fun of her for wearing. She smelled like a doll, but she was anything but--smart, outspoken, a firecracker all wrapped up in that pretty pink bow.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, lowering his hand to her hair without thinking. He caressed the silky locks, trailing his fingers down to touch her temple, tucking the stray hairs behind her ear. “And so soft.”

“You know I’m anything but soft,” she grumbled, but his touch was warm, and like a moth to a flame, she went to him, brushed her knuckles against the bruises on his collarbone. If it hurt him, he gave no indication; from the way he was looking at her, an asteroid could have hit earth and he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

“Sound pretty soft right now.”

Renge rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

“Gonna make me?”

Never one to turn down a challenge, Renge pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed him, as gently as she could manage. In an attempt to avoid his wound, her mouth only landed on half of his, but he could still taste the cinnamon on her breath, the stickiness of her lip gloss on his skin. Some hell of a first kiss, but at least it was a kiss, so he didn’t mind.

He ran his hands up her sides, tickling her ribs above her shirt. She broke the kiss with a giggle, bumping his nose with his as she threw her head back in laughter. What a beautiful sight he had there, all at the expense of a busted lip and a bruised eye.

“Remind me to get in a fight more often, if this is the payoff I get,” he whispered, grinning at her pointed glare.

“Don’t you dare,” she ordered. “You need to let this lip heal so I can give you a proper kiss.”

Hikaru raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t a proper kiss?”

“No.” Renge lowered her eyes back to his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him back in. “Once you’re healed, I’ll show you how the French really kiss.”

-

Kofi & Commission

[clairdelunelove]

Closer Than We Seem

kyoutani kentarou x f!reader

genre: slight angst, fluff, comfort, romance, mutual pining 

warnings: cursing, implied past physical abuse, mentions of physical/verbal harassment 

synopsis: college!kyoutani demanded to know the source of the obnoxious arguing that kept him awake throughout the night. The thin walls barely filtered out the yelling and he had a 7:00 a.m. class in the morning. Venturing out to immediately put an end to it, kyou stumbles upon a person with a past that changes both their lives- and romance ensues. 

a.n: 5.0k words of some kyoutani content! enjoy!

He was sick of it.

Amber eyes, bloodshot around the edges, shifted to glance at the digital clock seated on the nightstand. The dark plastic is well worn as the illuminated screen is covered in cracks. Undoubtedly, the piece of technology was victim to his annoyed clobbering whenever the alarm went off.

Smothering a plush pillow over his ears, the blonde fervently attempts to block the commotion. His fingers press tightly against the only source of comfort that keeps his sanity at bay. A raised vein etched across his jawline as his teeth grind together and he forces out a grunt. 

2:25

“It’s been two damn hours.” 

Kyoutani’s gravelly voice is barely heard over the yelling in the next room. Disgruntled, he removes the pillow from his face and tosses it beside him with a roll of his eyes. The part-time college student is openly miffed by the lack of peaceful sleep he could be getting. He, quite honestly, didn’t appreciate showing up to morning classes with eye-bags as dark as the eyeliner that he meticulously lined his eyes with. Over the past four months, adequate rest is a miracle for him to discover each day. 

“And they’re still arguing,” Kyoutani rambles on while using the bottom of his hand to hammer the pillow onto the mattress, “who the fuck argues that long?” 

Scrunching his thin eyebrows, he tries to comprehend the mere logic behind quarrelling in the middle of the night, especially on a school night. By all means, Kyoutani isn’t a saint amongst sinners but in a couple hours the blond has a chemistry quiz, a subject he’s gloriously failing, and sleep was needed. 

Another frustrated shout rips through the popcorn textured walls which doesn’t muffle the noise due to the poor insulation covering. The voice is distinctly a male’s and it takes all of Kyoutani’s willpower not to roar back to assert his dominance. Instead, his fingertips rake through his cropped hair while letting out a grumble. 

His eyelids feel like weights are strapped to them, progressively drooping shut, as his vision becomes blurry. A rare silence drifts through his cramped dorm room. The place resembles a battle zone with clothes tossed to the bed, papers scattered over the desk, and empty protein bar wrappers cascaded on the floor. Yet, Kyoutani adored the small freedom he finally had at the university dorms. 

The silence lulls him to close his bloodshot eyes, a deep exhale flares out his pointed nose, and a relief floods through him. He might actually get some rest for once. 

“Get out!” 

At the obnoxious yell from the neighboring room, the blond is far too annoyed to logically comprehend his actions before his bruised knuckles are knocking at the wall. The numbness of rapping at the wall is barely registered over how livid Kyoutani is at the intrusion to his sleep. 

“Shut up!” 

He throws in the bellow for good measure and stops his onslaught of assault on the wall. It seems awkward scolding the wall and his hand slowly drops to his lap. His sharp eyes track the movement of his fingers, dimly noting that he needs to trim the cracked edges. Perhaps his unpolished fingertips are the reason for his missed spikes on the volleyball court lately. 

A solid thump resonates back to him, to which Kyoutani dumbly blinks at. Hairs at the back of his neck stand and he can literally feel the heat leave his ears as his blood boils. The college student’s temper has simmered down since high school but hearing the other person’s unperturbed knock ticked him off. It was almost like they were taunting him. 

“Oh that’s it,” he mumbles and kicks away the blanket that interlaced his figure. 

Stretching across the small room, his legs move on its own accord and he reaches to twist the knob of the door. Using the expanse of his muscular shoulder, he pushes the wooden structure open in hopes of confronting the rowdy student that resided next to his dorm room. 

Permanent frown plastered on his pale lips, the blond urges to dramatize the expression. He crosses his arms after knocking on the neighboring door and the action displays his athletic build as a result of years of sports. The irate appearance was perfected as a scare tactic that he used to his advantage in varying situations. Petrifying the student next door wasn’t excluded out of the list.

“Could you shut your mouth? You’re being too damn loud, man--”

Kyoutani allowed himself to commit a double take before hastily shutting his own mouth, only for it to part as a sharp inhale almost made him sputter. His onslaught of vulgarity, a script he’d previously rehearsed plenty of times, fell lost on his tongue as he eyes the female in front of him. 

You’re unfairly pretty. 

It pains him that the first thought that races within his mind is a compliment when your mascara is smudged at the edges. Your frizzy hair is at a disarray, strands sticking up even when it’s pulled into a ponytail. The hoodie that you’re wearing is far too large as the end hits above your midthigh and his thoughts short circuit when he drags his gaze upward to see that you’re already giving him a sheepish smile. 

“Sorry,” your voice pitches higher at the sudden appearance of the male, “were we being too loud?” 

“N-no? I mean yes,” Kyoutani sputters the first words and finishes his reasoning with a pathetic remark, “chemistry.” 

Your face lights up, visibly amused with his lack of speech at the moment while understandingly nodding, “you have a chemistry test?” 

“Yeah.”

“And you need to get some sleep before it?”

“Yeah.”

His responses are pitiful- even he knew- but there was only so much he could verbally say when focusing on the way your lips curved up when smiling. Plus, perhaps he was delusional with the lack of sleep, but your curiosity seemed to dip to his lean physique.

“I’m so sorry,” your eyes follow the blond’s movement of leaning against the doorframe, “we’ll try to keep it down so you can get some rest.” 

His brain disconnects with the small ounce of logic he carries when your sleeve sweeps across your nose to sniffle and he recognizes the dried tears that stain your face. Kyoutani isn't the best at handling emotions or being touchy-feely but he’s not ignorant.

“You good?” He asks while cautiously taking a step forward.

His defensive instincts, honed by years of avoiding other people, raise at the wary glint in your eyes. The blond’s inquisition is answered with a meek nod of your head and your nose scrunches to halt your sobs. Upon closer inspection, the sleeves on your hoodie is drenched in what he infers are tears.

Your feet remain rooted to the ground, neither welcoming him or pushing his intrusiveness away. He’s aware of the slight shake of your body and his golden eyes widen at how unnerved you were behaving. 

“My bad,” Kyoutani falters as his own doubts consume him, “I didn’t mean to make you cry-” 

“Who’s at the door, (Y/n)?”

The new voice, startling you with the sudden shout, comes from within the room. Distinctly, it’s the same tone that was hollering while Kyoutani was trying to sleep. The blond’s keen on how you were shifting your weight to each foot and the fidgeting only increased when footsteps resounded on the creaking floorboards. 

“Oh,” you squeak as your evasive gaze connects with his, “my dorm room neighbor.” 

Pulling your hands away from your face, a naive expression is plastered on when a male comes up behind you. The stranger is shorter and less lean than Kyoutani is. Yet, when the male captures your stare, you’re reeling back by fiddling with your fingers behind your back. 

The unpleasant male, brunet but his darker roots were peeking out, regards Kyoutani with a sniff, “can we help you?” 

Something about the male irked the blond and a frown tugs at his lips. He predicted that the guy was your boyfriend or had some type of connection with you. Being in university led to freedoms such as relationships. Although Kyoutani was a stranger to such involvement, he knew the attachment or void others were attempting to fill during these years.

“Yeah, you can,” the blond responds with a miffed scowl, “noise complaint.” 

There’s an uncomfortable silence when the brunet eyes Kyoutani with an agitated glower. It’s painstakingly silent. He’s surely showcasing his superiority within the uneasy situation. Though, the volleyball player is grateful for his decision of wearing a tattered, sleeveless shirt because the other male loosened into an apprehensive gaze. 

“She wasn’t listening to me, so,” the other male jut a thumb towards you and shrugs his shoulders, “sorry, dude.”

Raising a sharp brow, Kyoutani’s expression is dubious when noting how the blame is placed on you when the other male was clearly the only one hollering beforehand. It clicks that the uneasy flickering within your eyes is due to the other male and disgust engulfs him. 

His fist clenches, displeasure rolling off of him in waves before speaking up, “I’m pretty sure I just heard your loudass screeching. Just keep it down.” 

The brunet clams up at the jest, forehead wrinkling just enough to cause worry that lines would permanently stay there. Kyoutani watches the way the other male’s jaw tightens before he’s storming off. The blond regards the other’s lack of positivity with a roll of his eyes and mutters an insult under his breath. 

A whisper, faint but lingering in the silent air, leaves your lips, “thanks.” 

“Nah,” his amber eyes flicker to yours, “don’t need to thank me. ‘Ts about time someone put him in his place.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

“I could,” Kyoutani pauses to toe at the floorboards and the cheap tile chips at the touch, “if you’d let me.” 

The words tumble out of his mouth before it can be filtered and the result has him reeling back. His cheeks are warm, probably matching with his reddened ears. The invitation is annoyingly corny and the staleness makes him want to hurl. 

“Sounds like a deal.” 

Your response has his attention locked onto you again and he’s internally thankful that he’s not the only one embarrassed by his impromptu. Thumbing at the sleeves of your sweater, a lopsided grin etches across your face and the blond freezes up. His mind is functioning as quickly as a bullet train but his expression only stares back at you with a stupidly blank look. 

Your giggle snaps him out of his stupor before putting him into a daze over how charming the noise sounds. An entertained peek casts over him as you tuck your hair away from your face.

“I guess I’ll see you around-”

“Kentarou,” he discloses with a respectful yet hurried bow of his head, “Kyoutani Kentarou.” 

“(Y/n)(L/n). Call me (Y/n),” you mention before begrudgingly edging the door closed, “and good luck on your chemistry test, Kentarou.”

The next day, it irritates him that he can only conjure up an image of your smile when he should be solving for Planck’s constant.

-

“Whatcha doing there?” 

Keys dangling in his grasp, he halts at the front of his dorm room door. It’s unwelcomely cold today and the brisk wind has his fingers alike to popsicles. The blond’s tried to fight off the chill with his customary varsity jacket and black beanie. Ideally he didn’t toss on the hat because he couldn’t bother with styling his hair- of course not. 

You’re situated on the floor with your knees pulled up to your chest while balancing a notebook atop of your makeshift desk. The lined paper has quick notes jotted down, highlighted words, and doodled diagrams that Kyoutani is able to discreetly peer at. A twinge of satisfaction tugs at him when your study habits are exactly what he’d picture they would be. 

“Studying,” your eyes never leave your paper as you respond to him. 

Uncapping a pastel highlighter, you exaggerate the action by underlining a phrase written in your notebook and raising a brow at him. The incredulous look on your face only comes off as sarcastic as Kyoutani rolls his dark eyes at your mockery. A grin curls on your lips while raising your shoe to nudge the side of his boot. He’s recognized each one of quirks, including your friendly banter.

“No shit Sherlock,” the blond pulls his hand away from the door and tucks the keys into his pocket, “coulda sworn you were sleeping.”

Crouching on par with you, he extends a finger to poke at your cheek and indicates the dark bags underneath your eyes. It’s lighthearted payback for the attitude he received just a second ago yet there’s a concerned glint in his stare. The darkness that surrounds your eyes is apparent even with the dab of concealer you managed to slap on in the morning and an embarrassed hand covers half of your face. 

“Kyou!” 

The threat isn’t laced with malice but the jab at his shoulder sure proves that humiliation is a strong consequence of emotion. He lets out a groan while gingerly rubbing the ache that emits from the bundle of muscle you punched. 

Childishly sticking out your tongue at his dramatics, you declare, “that’s what you get.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

He pauses and then recognizes that the position you’re in is one that seemed too familiar. Your gaze flutters back to the flimsy notebook, aware of how perceptive Kyoutani was when it involved the wellbeing of yours. 

Inviting the blond to warm up to you was certainly a gradual process but you did not regret it. Shy smiles transformed into late night talks over the phone. The two of you had a special yet uncharted compassion for each other that had bloomed over the last two months. 

“What,” the words taste like venom in his mouth and he desperately wants to spit it out, “he locked you out again?” 

You feign interest in your notes, physiology facts are sprawled onto the margins, while avoiding Kyoutani’s heated gaze. His hand balls into a fist, dull fingernails digging into the soft flesh of his palm. He knows that you won’t answer the seemingly obvious question even when you’re slumped on the floor in a feeble heap and it tugs at his heart.

Unfortunately, when Kyoutani faces displeasure he’s only adept to outwardly show his emotions. Ever since he was born, it was a rule to allow oneself to be impassioned about hobbies, beliefs, and avocations. The blond applied the rule to showcasing his appreciation to the people he deemed as special, as per usual. Except, he didn’t have the best grasp on handling his intense emotions. 

“He’s always treating you like shit,” the next part comes out like a scoff that rages within him, “and you’re always falling for it.” 

The weight of the words felt like a blow to your face, leaving a stinging sensation that resonated within you. The confrontation shook you to the core. Not once has the male ever blamed you for your boyfriend’s inconsideration. 

Kyoutani’s chapped lips form around the syllables of the offense and he automatically knows that he just messed up. Curses sling together within his mind as he pitifully watches your reaction. A silent wince morphs upon your delicate face. You’re recoiling away from him, shrinking yourself into the crevice of the wall. His fingertips reach for you, the action is subconscious, and the next words spill out of his mouth like an off brand remedy. 

“Listen, (Y/n), I didn’t mean it like that-” 

“No,” you speak up with newfound acrimony, “that’s exactly what you meant.” 

Lifting your head up, your narrowed eyes connect with Kyoutani’s wide ones. A part of you desperately wishes to become agitated with the blond. Envy grips a hold of you at the thought that he’s able to live his life freely without the burden of an overbearing significant other. By all means, he had all the attributes to attest your relationship- or lack thereof. 

Your furrowed expression mellows.

Yet, his comment awakens a self reflection that you’ve casted away to maintain some dignity. Your boyfriend’s attitude toward you equated to virtually nothing. Countless nights of arguing, getting locked out, and being pushed aside were bouts of normalcy to you. It was your responsibility to get the respect that you deserved. Cutting out toxicity, even if the future frightened you, was an initial step. 

The golden hue outlining Kyoutani’s eyes, intense in many cases, recast into a softened stare. He’s mindful of the gears shifting in your head and the tremble of your bottom lip settles it. Unknowingly, you just received a life changing message with his chiding. The doors of independence and freedom swing open. An exhale passes through your lips. 

Crouching closer to you, the blond compels your attention with a tilt of his head, “sorry.” 

The apology is gruff, likely the result of his avoidance toward wrongdoings, but the intent is clearly there. Chewing on his bottom lip, he gestures toward your fragile stance with a shifty gaze. Your cowering behavior scared him immensely. It wasn’t often someone else was willing to interact with his loner self. He can’t mess this up even when his pride is screaming at him to bicker.

“It’s not your fault,” you shake your head in reassurance, “I know that it’s mine.” 

Unintentionally, your demeanor frees open with his genuine apology and you can’t help but be soothed at the gentle prod in his scrutiny. He appreciates that you’re able to acknowledge his opposition because the male wasn’t planning on taking his comment back. The truth may hurt but it’ll ultimately improve your mentality in the long run. 

Perching on the heels of his feet, he repositions himself to improve comfort. His arms are draped over his knees and the jacket bunches at the ends due to his movement. The blond is close, alarmingly near your face, and an aromatic whiff of dry cedar invades your senses. 

“You’re just,” his confession smoothly slips out, “too good for him.”

The side of his face rests against his forearm while he awaits your response. He’s content when your eyes light up, gleaming in reverence, at his blunt compliment. Lips tugging upward, your lopsided grin is all he has to witness as he hops to his feet. His palm pats at the faded denim of his jeans before offering his free hand to you. 

“C’mon,” he easily pulls you to your feet in a quick motion, “you can hangout in my dorm room, I guess.” 

“What do you mean, ‘you guess’?” 

Kyoutani catches your teasing eye roll while organizing your school materials that are cluttered on the floor. He’s nimble, stacking your books into a pile and swinging your backpack over his wiry shoulder. 

“I mean, let’s go.” 

With the grace of a dancer, the blond balances the items while fetching his keys and unlocking the door. He nudges it open and steps aside to let you enter first. Certainly the male must’ve picked up the chivalrous acts in a sappy movie or television show because your heart thumps against your chest. It’s absurd in reality. A person helping another is ordinariness yet you feel like you’re flying when he looks at you expectantly.

“Thank you,” the gratitude is a whisper as you tug your sweater tighter to your body and eagerly slide past him.

“Don’t mention it.” 

The room is comfortably warm, easing away the shivers that racked throughout you while seated in the middle of the dorm hallway. Its surprisingly tidy, which also comes across as a shock to Kyoutani because the scrunch of his nose indicates that he’s accustomed to a messy room. However, upon closer inspection, you note that the blond is the one readily cleaning because he scoots aside a stray snack bag with his elbow. An embarrassed pout conforms to his face when he hears your amused giggle.

Gently placing your stuff on the desk, he notices your awkward stance in the middle of the room and gestures to either his bed or desk chair. You respectfully, minus the internal debate you had, settle on the chair and only then does Kyoutani move over to lounge on his bed. It’s eerily silent despite how comfortable you both are with each other. 

Indefinitely, he flops onto the mattress, much like a child would, and folds his hands behind his head to stare up at the popcorn ceiling. A couple months beforehand he would’ve despised being locked up in his dorm room without having anything to do. Now, however, his nerves were bouncing off the walls.

Peering over to your rigid position, he takes your fiddling fingers and shy demeanor with scrutiny. Not once in his life did he think he’d actually invite a person into his sacred place. Yet, when his gaze locks with yours and you return a coy smile- he’s praying that this won’t be the last time.

“So, I only let you in because I don’t get this chemistry problem-”

“Kyou!”

-

Treading backward, a sense of urgency rushes through you as you narrowly avoid the aggressive hands. It’s bewildering that he’s willing to physically confront you in public. The dorm hallway was bound to have university students frequent the place and prying eyes were not on your current wishlist. 

“What are you doing? I told you that we’re over!” 

The incredulous question goes over his head as he refuses to outrightly answer or perhaps he just didn’t wish to. Before this incident, you attempted to just force in a power nap before your next class that was situated across campus. Your ex boyfriend, however, had other plans as he lingered by your dorm room while you were unaware of the unwanted surprise. 

The unruly male is clearly tipsy and his wandering hands are not in your favor as he lunges for you once more. Thankfully, you sidestep away while your shoulder bumps against the wooden frame of a door. Your blood turns to ice.

“Come here and give me a kiss, babe,” your ex boyfriend garbles. 

The stench of alcohol overwhelms your sobriety and a part of you yearns for the familiar scent of dry cedar musk. You longed for the latter of the aromas to engulf you in a reassuring embrace but grabby hands motioned for you again. A slight tug at your cardigan fuels the hatred that ignites within you. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, inwardly loathing how you managed to date such a pathetic excuse of a person. 

Your hands defensively jab at your ex boyfriend’s chest, “get away from me!” 

“Bitch!”

The sudden force propels him backward, giving you an inch of breathing room, before he’s barreling towards you again. His furrowed brows and snarl illustrate that you’ve unlocked danger. Sweat trickled down your temples, gathering at your hairline and your tongue sweeps across your chapped lips. The thrashing of your heart is the only sensation you’re aware of at the moment. Eyes fixated on his response, you don’t dare to blink. Your ex boyfriend raises a hand, a sign you’ve been introduced to before, and you instinctively flinch at the action.

A lean figure abruptly steps in front of you to provide protection from the physical onslaught. Dry cedar breaches your uneven inhales but you’re holding onto that scent like it was a lifeline. He was your salvation. 

Landing a hit on Kyoutani’s sturdy chest, your ex boyfriend promptly pulls away with a confused glance, “get outta the way, man-” 

“Didn’t you hear her,” the blond barks out and shoves him, “get the fuck away.” 

Waves of animosity radiate off of Kyoutani, a scene that you’ve never witnessed in your encounters with him. He’s absolutely livid. His teeth gnash together while his hands are clenched at his sides. The veins on his brow protrude as a result of his creased forehead. Kyoutani’s damp in perspiration from his hurried movement, a deduction you’ve assumed. 

The male is clad in exercise attire, probably coming back from a run, and his dri fit shirt conforms to his physique. His pullover and snug joggers were clear indicators that Kyoutani was in excellent physical shape, causing a wary stare from your ex boyfriend. 

If the muscles rippling off of Kyoutani’s body isn’t a fright factor then his black, rimmed eyes are intimidatingly adequate. Yet, your ex boyfriend has intelligence compared to a newborn so he still lurches forward to attack Kyoutani. The blond dodges, grasps your ex boyfriend’s wrist, and twists it behind the other’s back. His defensive response is swift- almost alarmingly so that you wonder if Kyoutani ever brawled before. 

“Seriously, cut the shit,” the blond warns, “leave (Y/n) alone.”

When your ex boyfriend utters a curse embedded within your name, the blond pulls the seized wrist tighter and a sickening crack echoes. Your hand flies up to your lips. Yowling in pain, your ex boyfriend’s mouth instinctively shuts to avoid further punishment. 

“‘Ts alright,” Kyoutani rolls his eyes at the other’s dramatic behavior, “I didn’t break it. Yet.” 

Your ex boyfriend’s eyes widen, irises dilated at the gruesome image conjured up in his mind, and pitifully begs, “I-I’ll leave you alone! Please. I’ll do anything! Jesus Christ, (Y/n), who is this guy?” 

Turning his cheek, your ex-boyfriend gets a glimpse of Kyoutani’s face and the recognition dawns on him. He’s seen the aggressive blond before. Months ago, when your ex boyfriend was hollering at your lack of intimacy and the other’s lined eyes glared at him to surrender. One side of the blond’s lips raise, a snarky smirk directed towards the other male. Triumphant reigns within Kyoutani. 

“Her new boyfriend.” 

Raising a freshly cut eyebrow, Kyoutani incites a victorious expression as your ex boyfriend’s eyes are downcast at the message. The blond sneers. A sense of satisfaction, you suppose that’s the rare emotion, floods within you at your offender’s misfortune. You toss Kyoutani a grateful smile and he’s left faltering. He blinks- once, twice, three times- before regaining his intimidating demeanor.

“Get the fuck outta here,” Kyoutani shoves the other male forward when acknowledging the lack of resistance, “or I swear I’ll invert your ribcage.” 

Your ex boyfriend doesn’t need to be reminded, sprinting off with his tail tucked between his legs and stumbling on his uncoordinated strides. You and Kyoutani regard the pathetic male with a deplorable frown. Then, the blond is tugging you close while burying his face into the crook of your neck. You don’t mind the sweat that gathers onto him and instead delve into comfort. A giggle resounds to reach him and he lets in a shaky inhale. He was indebted to the pure luck of running back to you. The thought of you getting injured or reliving the trauma you’ve initially faced was heartbreaking. 

“Kyou,” your nickname to him was like a secret prayer you voiced, “I love you.”

He’s steadfast, a physique of strength and warmth, giving you a perfect invitation to cling onto. Respect, loyalty, and adoration were qualities that you didn’t have to force out of him. Violence, in any form, were taboos that he never crossed. The blond is undoubtedly the beginning of your journey towards self-love. 

“I love you too.” 

The genuine moment lingers on when your teasing nature resumes upon hearing Kyoutani’s forthright confession. Your hand comes up to trace his jawline, collecting perspiration that hasn’t dried up quite yet. He’s still cradling you, fingers protectively pressed against your waist. The sentiment is seldom, yet welcomed, and Kyoutani’s drawing you closer. He’s earnest. Scrunching up your nose, you jokingly flick at his forehead and he’s grumbling at your childishness. 

“You didn’t tell me you’d gone out running,” you motion toward his frazzled state. 

“Phone died.” 

He fishes out his phone from his back pocket. Sure enough, your reflection is illuminated on the dark screen and you nod in acknowledgement. Your head dips to lay on the junction of Kyoutani’s chest. Allowing yourself to get swept up in his embrace is habitual, the addiction smothering an unmistakable itch inside you. 

He’s silent before remarking, “I got us takeout though.” 

Golden eyes don’t miss your gleaming ones and you’re beaming at the mention of food. Raising your head, the narrow stare he’s given causes him to motion to the forgotten bag that’s placed on the floor. Boxed cuisine was cast aside when Kyoutani saw the trouble you were caught up in. 

“What’d you get?” 

“Pizza,” he pauses, “and mozzarella sticks since you liked that stuff.” 

“You’re the best.”

Lifting on your tiptoes, you press a gentle kiss on his cheek and you emit a carefree giggle. His ears burn crimson yet the presumptuous grin on his face brings butterflies in your stomach. Fingers pressing into the sides of your cheeks, he responds with a chaste, insistent kiss on your lips and hums in covert satisfaction. 

It’s dizzying. Your mind is flooded with images of Kyoutani- his appeal in usual clothing, each line of muscle on his physique, and the carnal desire that swirls in his gaze when he pulls away. Your knees are putty as you’re rooted to your spot. The observant fixation is all you need to recognize when he’s aware of his effect on you and he raises a smug brow. 

“Your room or mine?” 

His question is in the form of a drawl, mostly uttered to raise impatience, but it only adds to the adoration you have for him. Your rooms are, quite literally, twenty feet apart. 

Taking a step forward, the blond grasps the large takeout bag while slipping your hand into his free one. His thumb drags across your skin and you’re shivering at his tenderness. Kyoutani proudly rakes his gaze over you, openly compliant and completely in love, before slowly chuckling. 

“Not that it matters, I guess.”

[threeminutesoflife]

Don’t Forget

Pairings: Steve x Black!Reader Summary: A look at family life for Steve, Reader and their daughter after reader suffers problems with her memory  Warnings: slight angst/ends happy, memory loss due to injury, smut, slightest breeding kink Word Count: 1.8k

prompt: 50 First Dates

a/n: @allaboardthereadingrailroad❣️🧡​ thank you for hosting the Diversity Challenge 

a/n2: piece is purposely choppy and randomly placed to reflect the reader’s struggle with memory. Also, references to Dark Knight, Love Actually, Say Anything, 50 First Dates.

___ A monetary, momentary impact- cause and effect:

Bank robberies were many things. Successful ones were more. Timing, precision, determination; a well-mapped out plan, and methodical dedication to achieve a streamless end result.

It was that sort of successful robbery that cemented you, an involuntary participant, on a repetitive course of choppy, foggy memories. Despite the jovial clown designs of the robbers’ masks, the severity of the situation was real.   

Because things really do play out in slow motion as dramatic events unfold- a deafening crash, a cloud of dusty sunlight pouring in through the bank's broken entrance. Stilted, broken flashes of your life projected themselves on the backs of your closed eyelids.

Unfortunately, you were within the range of the propelling debris when the school bus reversed into the building.

Because of that day, your memory would skip and strip. 

____

Exhilaration- friendly fear of tickle monsters:

The sound of tiny feet slapping the floor drew closer from down the hall, ten little toes against high-gloss maple.

The bedroom door crashed open with no regard to the plaster behind it.

Giggles cut through the room as thirty pounds of mischief in footed pajamas launched itself straight at you.

“Mommy!”

Your three year old squealed before bombing her limbs upon your stomach, "Daddy’s gonna get us!”

___

No time for regret, when you’re in the moment of gratitude:

Steve found you standing in front of the vanity, staring at the mirror- unfocused. Frowning slightly, he knew what you were doing to yourself.  

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Steve, do you ever think... it’d be easier if you didn’t ask me out all those years ago?”

“Which time?” Steve tested the waters with the usual joke, gathering time to prepare himself for the familiar, spirit-dampening conversation.

Every few months you’d ask him if all this was worth it- if the extra work to be with you was what he wanted. He’d always reply with, ‘Loving you's a blessing, not a chore.’

You’d hesitate at those words, at his sincerity- until he was able to coax affection back into your field of vision. Because you were worth it to him. 

“Steve, come on. I’m being serious.”

“Me too. I’m lucky to be as stubborn as people claim me to be-“

“Oh, it’s a fact," you snorted. "Not a claim. You’re stubborn.”

“Good thing for me then, huh?" Steve smiled, relieved by your humor. "Otherwise, I’d miss out on everything that’s good in my life.”

___

She’s got jokes:

A documentary splashed itself across the television screen as you sank into the couch next to Steve. Pointing your toes, you rested your legs over his lap and cracked open the fake memory journal's spin. 

Watching you from the corner of his eye, Steve hid his excitement that you brought the book out by him. 

You usually looked over it alone, too self-conscious to try remembering things in front of others. He always encouraged you to sit and read it with him. He liked resharing the stories you created together, but your underlying guilt for not recalling events easily shut the door on those conversations.   

Turning the page, you caught Steve glancing at you before shooting his attention back to the screen with a cough. 

Smugly stretching your legs, you bit your lip and rubbed your ankle over Steve’s bulge. Catching the way his thigh jumped and flexed under his thin sweatpants, your eyes darted back to the journal. You couldn’t wait to play out your prank. 

Keeping his eyes on the screen, Steve picked up your ankle and rolled his knuckles along the arch of your foot. As much as he appreciated the way you riled him up, he wanted you to open up.

Chuckling, you mumbled to yourself how great that day must have been before turning the page and complimenting another pretend event. 

Another faux memory praised, Steve twisted towards you before shaking his head and turning back to the screen. Pressing his thumb harder into the sole of your foot, he was unsure how to proceed. 

Delighted by his confusion, you complimented another memory with a theatrical dreamy sigh.

Giving in to his curiosity, Steve paused the television and gave it a shot, “What are we looking at?” 

“I thought it might be nice to talk about the stuff we did- like you’ve wanted.”

The smile that spread across Steve’s face almost made you feel bad for the prank.

“Yeah, yes- I’d like that,” he shut the tv off, practically dropping the remote in excitement. “What are you reading, what’s making you laugh?”

“How you asked me out using cue cards you made. The messages you came up with were sweet.”

“...Cue cards?”

“It was special of you, Steve. Taking the time to write out something on each one. Here. Look at this sentence, you called me perfect. Reading what you did and how loved I felt, you’re so wonderful.”

“...Honey...” Steve’s voice cracked slightly, “I don’t, I don't know anything about cue cards-”

“-And then the time you stood outside my bedroom window with that boombox. Holding it obnoxiously high above your head. Thank goodness for biceps, am I right?" You teased, nudging Steve with your elbow. "That gesture might be a little too much for some but reading how you made me feel, it meant so me.”

“You wrote that?” Steve questioned, an edge of concern creeping in. “You think I actually did-... you remember these things happening?”

“My favorite is right here. When you built that little house out of waffles at the diner. Setting up a kiddie pool of syrup for us to dip the roof in and a jacuzzi of hot chocolate nearby. And then your expression- when I said I'm more of a pancake person. You argued how pancakes aren’t sound enough for construction.” 

Keeping your poker face intact, you tried not to flinch as Steve inspected you intensely. 

Suddenly, he jetted forward and snatched the fake journal from your hands. Sailing it over his shoulder, he knocked your legs from his lap and climbed off the couch to loom over you. 

Before regret set in from your play of inaccurate historical accounts, your body snapped backward as Steve yanked you down the sofa by your ankles. 

“Hysterical. Pancakes over waffles” Steve scoffed dryly at your teasing, boxing himself over you and settling his knee between your legs. “I know you too well. You’re in for it now, sweetheart.”

____

Adoration, a promise of tradition and support:

You sat in bed with her snuggled by your side, a little nose peeked out from under her blanket. Her little hand wrapped itself around your shirt, her other held a well-loved, stuffed bunny. 

Scooping her up, you cradled her in your arms. Warm security. Peeling a corner of the blanket back, you kissed her cheek. 

Between giggles, she raised the rabbit up in the air and you played along- one kiss for her, another for her stuffed friend.

She settled in slowly with a yawn as you hummed the lullaby your mother softly sang to you before bed. The same rich melody draped with the lyrics your grandmother sang to her children. 

Tears gathered in your eyes as you willed yourself not to forget this moment.

___

Gratitude and gratefulness:

“Can’t you see how beautiful you are? Knowing I’m yours- that you’re mine... when you come out of that bedroom each morning, I witness that recognition of love on your face when you see us...” Steve’s body tensed, his shoulders shook as he stumbled over the words. "...getting to see you with our girl each day."

“Hey," You called to him, pulling himself out of his thoughts. "Hey, handsome."

Steve pressed his forehead against yours and tried to push down his anxiety. 

Your eyes locked to his as you promised teasingly, “You and our daughter- seeing her each day- that’s my happiness. You're just a bonus.”

Sputtering a laugh, he closed his eyes and relaxed from your fingers threading through his hair. Steve never took for granted how you soothed him, especially during the times when he should actually be comforting you. 

“Thank you,” Steve whispered. 

“Some things are easier to remember than others for me.”

“Yeah?” His lips ghosted over yourself, a half-smile raising the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah. The journal's a great cheat sheet, makes it easier to recall I have a husband. Now, if only I could pick him-”

Steve moved quickly, cutting off your joke. His mouth trapped your next words when his tongue swept over your lips. 

___

Muscle memory:

“Hold your legs. Spread'em wide for me,” Steve instructed between a husky, broken grunt. “Wider, sweetheart.”

He stroked himself in front of you as you laid naked on your back. Your arms were sandwiched between the fold of your legs and hands locked around your ankles. You provided your husband more access and an even prettier view with your feet in the air and legs parted. 

He ran his fingers over your folds, circling your clit. Lining himself up, he thought how these were some of his favorite moments with you, the intimacy and the need.

Caught up in the stretch and sensation of him slowly entering you, you almost missed his next words over your moans. 

“Want…” Steve stuttered, “want to be deep in you, beautiful.”

You mewled under him, squeezing him from his words. Releasing your ankles, you grabbed his arms for support as he slowly slid deeper. Steve’s movements faltered with a groan, feeling you tighten around him.

He closed his eyes to concentrate as you felt goosebumps run down his forearms under your palms. 

“Fuck,” Steve cursed and praised, thrusting harder. Your legs bounced above your arms from each snap of his hips.

“Free your legs. Give me your hands, sweetheart,” Steve instructed, massaging your breast.

Pulling him down, your hands wrapped around the back of his neck. You inhaled his woodsy shampoo as you dragged your nose along the light shadow of his beard. Capturing his mouth with yours, you tasted salt on his top lip.   

With a quick bite along your collarbone, his chest rumbled when you ignored his instructions. Collecting your wrists in one hand, he secured them over your head and ground into you harshly. 

“I love you,” Steve said, slowing his pace. 

You replied with a roll of your hips, earning a dark moan from him, "I love you, too.” 

Steve rocked back on his heels, dragging away his length and slipping out of you completely. Your body immediately began to cool from his lack of touch. 

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you called out, "What's wrong?"

“Your empty journal sheets bother me,” Steve stated, running his hands over your knees. "We're fixing that."  

His thumbs circled up your inner thighs, looping closer to your core. Spreading your legs further apart, he pushed them into the mattress. Taking himself back in his hand, he palmed his erection and rocked his shaft along your folds. 

"Let's have another baby, sweetheart," he smirked, teasing his tip into you. "Gotta fill up all those pages.”

[txemrn]

What About Us?

I am participating in this week's @wackydrabbles prompt number 99: "How about once more--for good luck!" (Prompt will be in bold)

Warning: fairly fluffy with a smidge of angst

Word count: 1575 (+/-)

Song Inspiration: "What About Us?" by P!nk

A/N: It's another Royal Roulette! What is RR? It's simple! Set your music to mix, and be inspired by the first song that pops up! I'm super excited about this one because it worked out perfectly with my desire to write something in honor of 🏳‍🌈PRIDE🏳‍🌈 month! I hope y'all enjoy! Big ol' hugs and special thanks to @burnsoslow and @chemist-ana for pre-reading this! The characters, some of the plot and dialogue belong to our friends at Pixelberry

🌈

A pair of deep ocean eyes anxiously shift around the New York hotel suite. He chews mindlessly on his pink, raw cuticles while his crossed-legs bounce with nervous fury. His other hand casually back-combs his playfully-styled locks, raking them upward into melted spikes. But, luckily for Maxwell, his close friends are preoccupied with excitement; they don’t notice that he is adrift with his raging, thunderous thoughts. Although their pressing questions have been answered, Maxwell wanders aimlessly with a broken heart.

Thanks to their clever sleuth work and strong desire for justice, Tariq was found; and better than anticipated, after careful discussion, he was willing to come forward about the false accusations of his relations with Lady Riley. But, time was of the essence if they were going to stop the Cordonian royal wedding. Riley along with her press secretary Justin, Drake, Hana, the Beaumont brothers work quickly to decipher the next course of action: a public statement to be broadcasted during Liam and Madeleine’s wedding shower.

Hana gently places her petite, manicured hand on Maxwell’s shoulder. Her warm smile and endearing touch calm his outward erratic nerves. Peering into her bright chocolate eyes, a roaring sense of courage overwhelms his internal timidity; he now has his own plan.

“You’re with me, Tariq,” Justin delegates, clapping Tariq’s back. The sound of his name breaks Maxwell from his fog. “We’ve got an appointment.” Maxwell’s eyes track the men as they exit the room, his opportunity for his own justice walking away in a tailored Brioni suit. He thinks quickly; this can’t be it. He needs answers.

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Drake stifles a yawn, turning towards the open door. “But I need some sleep before we go to this shower.”

Perfect. Now is Maxwell’s chance. “Yeah,” his voice cracks before clearing his throat. “My eyelids feel like they weigh a hundred pounds.” Hopping from the tufted leather chair, Maxwell smooths out his slacks. He finger-guns the ladies, hoping his humor covers up his awkward eagerness to leave. And to get to Tariq.

“Justin!” Maxwell calls out from down the hallway, jogging to catch up to the two men. Leaning into Justin’s ear, he begins to whisper an inaudible request. Though he keeps his head bowed, fixated on his notecards, Tariq casually sneaks a glance at Maxwell.

“Right now?” Justin scoffs, “we don’t have time--”

“Please. Just for a minute.” Maxwell pleads, a wave of seriousness washing over his body.

Justin sighs, placing a hand on his hip, looking at his watch. “Alright,” he motions with his head, “my room. Five minutes. But, then we have to leave if we’re going to get this statement out on time.” Justin ushers an unsuspecting Tariq into his hotel quarters before leaving him alone.

Maxwell takes a deep breath, willing the waves of his churning stomach to cease. He grits his teeth into a smile as his racing heart returns from the clouds. He pops his knuckles one last time before heading into the room to face him.

Maxwell slowly makes his entrance, easing the door closed behind him. With his arms crossed, he leans against the entryway to a small, breakfast nook. Ensuring that his presence is known, he softly coughs as he watches Tariq’s reaction.

Tariq quietly looks out over the busy Manhattan traffic, not acknowledging Maxwell’s presence. He wrings his hands as his thoughts appear to wander.

“Well?” Maxwell starts, chewing on his bottom lip. Tariq rolls his eyes to Maxwell before returning to the view. Maxwell scoffs. “So, that’s it then, huh? That’s what this has come to?” He puts his hands on his hips as he begins to pace. "After everything we've been through--"

“Maxwell--” Tariq meekly whispers.

“And then," Maxwell interrupts, "to hurt my best friend, trying to take away her happy ending, too--?”

“Stop it, Max--” Tariq gruffly mutters.

“I mean, God, Riq!" Maxwell stops pacing, searching for the right words. "What did you think--no, what did you feel when you looked through that peep hole and saw me on the other side, knocking on your door?”

His question hangs in the air as Tariq turns towards an angry Maxwell. Relaxing his shoulders, he slowly steps closer. “Relief?” Maxwell shakes his head in disbelief at the answer. Tariq comes closer, cupping his hand on Maxwell’s face, gently stroking his thumb. “I had always hoped you would find me.”

Maxwell grabs his wrist to stop his tender touch. “Why, Riq? Just, why? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn't you call me--?”

Tariq sighs, walking back to the window. “Constantine.”

“What does he have to do with anything--?”

Tariq let's out a long sigh. “He saw us, Max--” he looks to Maxwell, widening his eyes. “He--saw--us. You know? That morning?” He clears his throat. “At Applewood--?”

Max gasps, his cheeks flushing like a wildfire. “He saw us?” He tries to hide his grin, covering his mouth with his fingers. “But--”

“I know,” Tariq runs his hands nervously through his hair. “Later that morning, he requested my presence, only to threaten to reveal our relationship to the entire court--” he swallows thickly, “--not to mention our families-- and to the world.” Tariq’s eyebrows knit with worry as he continues. “My only deliverance was if I followed through with his plan to eliminate the American competition--” he defeatedly sighs, “--what I did to Lady Brooks, ‘for the sake of Cordonia and the Crown’.”

“Riq, I--I had no idea--”

“He told me I could return after Liam was married, but why would I want to?” The storm clouds gather in his eyes. “He would always have the truth about me--about us--hanging over our heads, not to mention how everyone must feel about me, how everyone must be disgusted with me--” he catches his head in his hands as his sobs. “How you must feel about me…” he whispers.

Max kneels in front of Tariq, taking his smooth, broad hands into his own. His eyes sparkle with adoration as Tariq stares at the floor. “Look at me.” Maxwell presses his lips to Tariq’s knuckles. “It’s okay--”

“I’m sorry,” Tariq stumbles over his tears. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve done against Ramsford, against you--God!” He grips tightly to Maxwell’s hands. “I’m so sorry what I’ve done against us--if there’s even still an us--”

“Shhh,” Maxwell hushes his cries. “Riq, do you remember the last time we were here?”

The corners of Tariq’s mouth curl, his swollen eyes meeting Maxwell’s gaze. “How could I forget?”

Both of the men chuckle as Maxwell touches his hand to Tariq’s cheek, his thumb wiping away his tears. “We talked about finally going public--”

“I know, I know. And Max,” he sighs, “I’m still scared. Of what people will--”

“No, no,” he interrupts, smiling kindly at Tariq. “Do you remember what I told you?”

“Before or after the third bottle of that cheap Merlot?” Tariq raises a mischievous eyebrow, squeezing Maxwell’s hand. Maxwell’s eyes grow dark with desire, giving Tariq a knowing look.

“This was definitely before,” Maxwell titters; but his tone quickly grows serious. “But, seriously? Do you remember Riq?” Tariq softly nods, lacing his fingers with Maxwell’s. “I mean what I said--and I still do.”

Tariq leans forward, resting his head against Maxwell’s forehead at the sound of his words. Closing their eyes, they cherish the moment, savoring each other in the stillness of being together. They’re hearts intertwine, beating as one, keeping perfect time and rhythm.

“I still love you, too, Max.” Lifting Maxwell’s chin up with the soft touch of his hand, their lips meet passionately. Maxwell slips his arms around Tariq’s neck, deepening the kiss. Tariq quietly moans into Maxwell’s lips, teasing them with his tongue as he pulls him into an embrace.

“Gentlemen?” A sudden knock at the door makes them jump apart. Justin appears, tapping on his watch. “We gotta go! If we leave now, we will make it--”

“Just-in time,” both Maxwell and Tariq groan. “We know. We know.”

Filing out of the room, Tariq takes Maxwell’s hand in his hand. Maxwell pauses, giving Tariq an inquisitive look, looking at their laced fingers before continuing comfortably down the hallway.

“I’m ready, Max--”

“I know you are.” Maxwell squeezes his hand as they stop to wait for the elevator. “You’re going to do great--”

“No, no--” Tariq raises their hands, kissing the back of Maxwell’s hand. “This. I’m tired of hiding. From court, from Constantine, from everyone. I’m ready for this. For you.”

“Riq,” letting go of his hand, Maxwell’s eyes flutter, blinking away a tear. “Maybe we need to talk more about this whenever we get home--because, oh boy, I don’t want you to feel any pressure, and you know, I’m willing to wait forever for you, you know that, right? I just want to make sure--”

Tariq steps up, pressing his hands against Maxwell’s chest. He leans in to place a gentle kiss to his supple lips to quiet his rambling. “I’m sure.” He smiles, mirroring Maxwell’s toothy grin. “Now,” Tariq continues, tapping on his lips with his finger, “how about once more--for good luck!”

Maxwell grazes his lips tenderly against his lover’s mouth before embracing him tightly. Leaning into Tariq’s ear, Maxwell lowers his voice: “we don’t need luck. babe.”

As the doors slide open with the chime of the elevator, Maxwell takes Tariq’s hand. Smiling at each other, the men step onto the lift and into their future together.

🌈

TRR Tags (please let me know if you need a status change in your tag! If you were forgotten, please forgive me! A clean-up is coming!): @ao719 @bbrandy2002 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @choiceskatie @forallthatitsworth @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @neotericthemis @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @texaskitten30 @thefrenchiemama @yourmajesty09