#open idea if anybody wants to take it further

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Helping Hand

Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader/ Steve Rogers x fem! reader

Warning: Smut, fluff

"I can't believe this."

"What was that?" Bucky asked as he approached behind her, wrapping his arms around her. We can stop right now. You don't have to do this. I can just tell him to turn around."

"No, Don't do that to him." (Y/n) said as she leaned back into his chest, rubbing his arms. " Just... promise you won't be upset. Promise you'll still have me after this."

Bucky chuckled, spinning her around. " Doll, I'm the one who suggested this. All this was my idea."

"Still, if you change your mind, you'll tell me, right?" He pulls her close, kissing her.

Against her lips, he whispered," I am yours forever and always. Nothing will ever change that. Especially not this."

A knock at the door brought them back to reality.

"It's time. How do I look?" she said, pulling away from him and opening her robe, revealing a simple, short pink silk dress.

He whistled, " Is this new?"

"Yeah, I figured...I just thought he'd like it," she said shyly, closing her robe.

"He'll love it, " he said, giving her another kiss before he went to open the door. She stayed in the bedroom, sitting on the bed and taking a deep breath.

(Y/n) listened as Bucky let him in. She heard them talking in the living room and heard Bucky reassuring him. She stood up as she heard them open the bedroom door.

"Hi," Steve said as he stepped into the room. "Um...I-"

"Bucky told me everything. He explained everything. It's okay."

"You can say no."

"I don't want to." (Y/n) watched as a deep blush erupted on his skin.

"I guess I'll leave you to it," Bucky said as he closed the door. " I'll be in the front room. Hollar if you need me."

They both waited until they heard him walk away before turning to each other, a bit more relaxed without the audience (although he was no doubt still listening from the front room) but still tense.

"Thank you for doing this."

"You don't need to thank me. I am honored that you want to experience your first time with me." She sat on the bed and motioned for him to join her, which he did. " How about you tell me what you'd like."

"I don't know," Steve confessed, looking down at his shoes as he nervously rubbed his hands on his pants. " I've never done any of this. I mean, I've kissed people before, and I've had someone touch me with their hands before-"

"A handjob"

"Yes, that, I've had that. But nothing else." Steve said, still not making eye contact.

"Bucky was my first," (Y/n) confessed. Steve snapped up to look at her. " He was my first everything. My first kiss, the first time having sex... I've never been with anybody else."

"We can stop."

"I told you I don't want to stop. I just want you to know that I'm not some expert."

"That's not what Bucky says. Sorry," Steve quickly apologized when he realized what he had said.

"You guys ... talk about me?"

"Not in a bad way. He loves you. He loves you very much." Bucky did talk about (Y/n) a lot, and sometimes, if they were alone, the conversations got explicit.

"And he loves you too," (Y/n) said as she leaned forward. " I think that's why he trusts us." She gently kissed Steve. As she pulled away, he gave chase, finding her lips again, his movement both eager and hesitant, as if scared to take it any further.

(Y/n) gently pushed Steve away and stood up, carefully sliding her robe off.

"Woah," Steve whispered. She smiled and moved to sit in his lap. "Woah," he whispered, already panting. Steve was hesitant, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around his neck as she connected their lips again. He might be inexperienced, but he sure as hell knew how to kiss. (Y/n) moaned as she felt his tongue slip into her own mouth, tasting her.

As she started to move her hips, grinding against him, he whimpered against her lips. He held on to her as she moved her hips, riding his cloth cock. Rocking against him in a slow rhythm. She loved the whimpers and whines he let out; Bucky never made such sounds. She was eager to hear more, desperate even as she pressed down hard.

Until Steve started pushing her away. "Wait, wait."

"what's wrong?" she asked.

"I just... I'm about to... and I don't want to." He looked down slightly. She looked down as well. Seeing the wet spot forming in his pants. " Sorry"

"No, It's okay," (Y/N) said as she stood up, pulling Steve to stand with her. He was confused for a moment until she pulled off his shirt and started unbuckling his belt.

"Wait, wait," she stopped, pulling away.

"I can- I can do it." He stuttered. The truth was, he feared that he was going to cum at that moment and wanted to slow down, catch his breath and get a grip before he embarrassed himself. He unbuckled his pants with shaky hands and let his pants fall to his ankles. He fingered the waistband on his pants, took a deep breath, and pulled down his boxers.

And, of course, (Y/n) eyes went to the saluting soldier.

"I... I know I'm not as big as Bucky-"

"But you are," (Y/n) said." You are." She stepped forward, giving him a gentle kiss before pulling back. She slowly lifted her dress, revealing her lace panties and nothing else.

The pre-cum leaking from his cock told her she did well.

"Do you want to be on top?"

"Top?" Steve asked, confused. That answered her question.

(Y/n) pushed him onto the bed, making sure he got comfortable, and put the condom on. Grabbing the condom off the side table, she then pulled off her panties and got on the bed, straddling him.

"Ready?" she whispered. He nodded and let out a breathless 'yes.'

Sitting up, she lined him up and slowly lowered herself onto him. Steve gasped as he watched his cock slowly disappear into her, gripping and pulling at the sheets as she went.

"Oh shit, oh fuck, fuck, fuck" he cursed, tossing his head back.

(Y/n) moaned out as she finally bottomed out. She had to take a moment. This was very different from Bucky. She hadn't been lying earlier when she said Steve was as big as Bucky; while Steve didn't have the same length as Bucky, he sure as hell had girth. She had to take a few moments to get used to the stretch.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked when he noticed her eyes closed and how still she was.

"I'm fine." she leaned forward, kissing as she started to move her hips. He moaned, placing his hands on her hips as she put her hands on either side of his head. Rolling and lifting her hips, just as Bucky had taught her. Slow and steady, sweet and gentle.

She could tell by the way he was gripping her hips and could no longer keep up with kissing her that he was close. She began kissing down his neck and chest. His chest had risen and fallen in its pink hue.

She had no clue what compelled her, but she wrapped her lips around his right nipple. Something Bucky had done to her numerous times. Gently biting and -

In an Instant, Steve quickly filled the condom with a shout.

Something Bucky no doubt heard.

(Y/n) gently ran her fingers through his hair, and Steve caught his breath. For a moment, she feared that he would fall into an asthma attack, but he waved her off.

"You okay?" she asked.

"yeah, " he smiled, " I'm good...um ...Did you..."

"It's okay. This is about you," she said, moving to sit up, but Steve wrapped his arms around her.

"I want you to feel good, too."

"Don't worry about it. I'm fine, Stevie."

"No, tell me what to do. Tell me how to make you feel good, please."

"Okay," she sits up, " Just... don't move. Stay inside."

Steve watches her in confusion, hands on her hips. She bounced a little as she reached down between them. If Stevie remembers correctly, the place she was touching Bucky was called the clit.

Steve couldn't stop the whine that slipped out of his mouth or the ones that followed as (Y/n) walls clenched down onto him. The tighten he was not prepared for, he was overwhelmed and overstimulated. He started bucking and shaking underneath her. She tightens her legs around him and pushes him down.

"Oh fuck, please, please, please," she begged as she arched her back into him, rubbing herself closer to her release while watching Steve whether underneath her.

Steve couldn't even form complete sentences. He was just babbling nonsense, too overstimulated to do anything else but hold on to her.

Soon enough, He was cumming again.

"Yes, yes, yes." And (y/n) followed him quickly after.

(Y/n) rolled off to the side so as not to squish him and pulled him into her chest, running her hand through his hair. Waiting for him to catch his breath.

"Are you alright?"

"G-Good," he stuttered, wrapping his arms around her waist. "That... woah."

(Y/n) giggled and kissed his forehead. "Come on. We got to clean up now." He was exhausted, though. She didn't bother him to move. Getting up, she grabbed a towel, carefully pulled off his condom, tied it up, threw it away, and used the towel to clean themselves up. By the time she was done, Steve was knocked out.

Grabbing her robe, she wraps herself up. Covering Steve up, she leaves, closing the door behind her. Just as she shuts the door, Bucky steps out of the bathroom.

"Hey," he smirked and leaned against the door frame. "How was it?"

"He's happy. Fell asleep afterward."

"Yeah, after his big finish or second big finish." Bucky teased. They both made their way to the kitchen, where he poured her a glass of water.

"I just wanted to make sure you were still okay." she sipped her glass slowly.

"Still haven't changed my mind." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. " I still love you." He tilted her head, giving her a gentle kiss on the lips. " I will always love you."

"Thank you"

"You never have to thank me for loving you. " He gave her another kiss.

[tremendousmothergoat]

Toriel warily eyes the VR headset that Asriel left out for her. He said he'd loaded up some fun games or experiences she might want to try, but didn't elaborate much past that. But still that it was something she should try out? She didn't know enough about technology to have any idea what was on that thing..

Still, she picked up the controllers and put on the headset. Might as well give it a shot!

[kngrose]

pitfighter vi who promises reader just the tip and then gives her the whole strap🫶🫶🫶

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐏

vi making you take the whole strap

WARNINGS: NONCON! Dead Dove Do Not Eat, virginity loss, coercion, dacryphilia, spit play, implied corruption kink, bulging, be safe, heed warnings!

from roselí. ᡣ𐭩 : i am so in love with this idea omg omg omg— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i got carried away, so the ending is abrupt. ^^

Vi would just be going against her better judgment here, like she usually does about… everything.

"...Are you sure this is what you want, baby?"

She’d asked gently as she leaned down and whispered into your ear, her breath warm as it hit your skin. Vi's hands moved up and down your sides slowly, her body pressed against yours. She let out a something like a huff of a laugh through her nose at your whispered, ‘Yes… But— you remember our promise, right?’ It was something about that, that made you think, maybe you should’ve known better.

She promised a few nights ago that she would indulge your request of losing your virginity. She was close, trusted— you’d had no problem confessing it to her and she’d made you feel comfortable and safe in her presence. You didn’t want to lose it to just anybody, but you wanted to have the experience. “Just the tip.” She’d initially meant it as a joke. Just a lighthearted statement to loosen you up a bit, but she was taken aback when you’d eagarly nodded in agreement, holding her to that statement.

Vi chuckled lowly at you, your nervousness and anticipation was so cute and endearing. She leaned down, her body hovering over yours, her mass pressing you to the matress. She could feel your heart beating fast, it was exciting. She took a moment to relish in this moment, her lips moving down to your neck, kissing and biting at it softly. "You're so cute, you know that?" She whispered against your skin between kisses, gently biting and suckling the sensitive flesh on your neck. You could make out every strand of inky black hair on her head.

“Vi—”

“You’re nervous, huh?”

You swallowed thickly, trying to push down the nerves that were making it hard to breathe. “Yes.”

"Try to relax, it'll feel better." She murmured, finally sitting up straight, gripping the thick— almost daunting strap in her fist. She’d told you she had nothing smaller, that this was all she could offer you. She placed a large palm right above your pussy, pressing firmly to keep your hips still. “Ready for it?” she locked eyes with you, nudging the tip against your clit, slapping it there a few times. You nodded shakily, holding her gaze with anticipation.

“Words.”

“Yes I’m ready…” It came out shaky, like you were riding a bike on a rocky path. She nods curtly, her gaze falling to your pussy, all spread nicely for her. She taps the tip against your clit a few more times, enjoying the way you gasp softly before slowly tilting the tip downwards to your hole.

It started out subtle, a stinging sensation that slowly built up— but it spread quickly as she pushed further, your hole struggling to accommodate to her size. It felt like being ripped open, the girth of it pushing upwards of your blatter. Your back lifted off the bed. “O-ouch!—” You let out a soft yelp, grasping her hip tightly as to keep her grounded there.

"Shhh.. just keep breathing" She replied immediately, feeling you tense and her free hand coming up to push you back down onto the bed. "Just breathe, relax." She whispered, gently kissing along the leg she held up. You tried to do as she instructed, taking deep, shaky breaths, closing your eyes tightly. It was starting to work.

But your relief was short lived, snatched from you as you felt the searing pain of her sliding deeper. “W-wait vi— what are you doing?!” You took the hand you had placed firmly on her hip and pushed, trying your hardest to still her movement. But it was impossible— she was so strong, much moreso than you, your efforts were fruitless. "Shh... calm down, baby.." She whispered softly, trying to sooth you as she held her position for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling. Her free hand moved up to brush against your cheek and gently caress your chest, trying to get you to relax. Her voice was soft and calming, trying her best to comfort you as she felt you getting tense. "Relax. Everything is gonna be alright. I got you. I promise I'll go slow but..I need you to relax, okay? Just breathe…"

“N-no! Vi— you said just the tip!”

"I know, I know... baby, I'm sorry.." She said, her body moving still to hold herself up, one arm propped on the bed beside your head. She looked down at you with an understanding, but also determined look, trying to reassure you. "But you're doing so well for me. You're such a good girl..." She pushed her hips further, firmly this time, watching your expression closely. “Move your hand.” she commanded gently, and when you refused she grabbed it and pinned it your your side. She leaned down and pressed her lips to yours, claiming your lips in a deep and passionate kiss.

She frowned as you turned your head, a childish attempt at avoiding her affection. "Baby, please.." She begged softly, her hand reaching up and gently grabbing your chin, tilting your head back towards her so she would see your face. "Don't do that, look at me, baby. C'mon." Her voice was desperate. Her lips were so close to yours, her body leaning over you, her free hand still caressing your skin. She was aching for your taste again.

When you turned your face away from her a second time, low growl escaped her lips, her grip on your chin tightening. "No. Eyes on me, baby. I said look at me. I want you to look at me, I want to see your pretty face when I'm taking you." She commands, her voice firm yet gentle.

You felt her bottom out, your pelvis throbbing at the feeling. You felt to full, so uncomfortable. It hurt just to slightly move your hips. Tears blur your vision, a mixture of frustration and and betrayal overwhelming you. It felt like she was pressing down on you at all sides— her presence giving you a sick feeling in your tummy.

She started at a slow and steady pace, her hips meeting yours deliberately, one of her hands gently caressing the side of your face to try and sooth you. Her lips began to suck at your neck again, leaving soft, small love bites and hickeys along your skin, marking you as hers. "That's it... you're such a good girl for me, baby.... So so good... and you look so pretty like this. Taking me in... so good for me.." You didn’t bother to try wiping your tears, they would keep flowing anyways.

She took a hand and rubbed your clit meticulously, applying soft pressure. “F-fuck—!” You cursed, hands gripping the sheets tightly. Vi smirked at your reaction, rubbing just a bit faster, “Gotta loosen you up baby, you’re so tight.” She spit onto your pussy. “Relax, princess.”

“I can’t!”

“You can.” You try to bite back the yelps of pain, not wanting to edge her on any further than you already unkowingly have, tucking your lip between your teeth. You keep your eyes squeezed shut, your body rocking with every slam of her hips. "No, sweetness,” She takes her thumb and pulls your lip free. “You’re so pretty when you make little noises for me. Let me hear them, I wanna hear your pretty voice." Her eye contact was daunting and unwavering, it made you nauseous.

Her pace began to pick up a bit more, her hips moving more urgently against you. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the air, along with her soft, ragged breaths and your yelps. Her free hand squeezed your hip, her slender fingers digging into the soft flesh. Her mouth came down and began to gently nuzzle your neck, her breath hot against your skin as she pressed messy little kisses along the sensitive flesh there.

“How is it, hm?” She said between kisses, but you chose not to respond. You were focused on the way you could feel you pussy starting to leak, your hole embracing her now. Your body was betraying your mind. “S-shit!” You whimper quietly against your best efforts, but you know she caught it.

She sits back up and you could see the thought cross her mind before she acted on it, her hand reaching down to shove two fingers into your mouth, caressing your tongue with a perverted smirk. "Good girl.... keep those pretty lips open for me, baby..” You could feel the spit sliding down your chin. You felt your pussy throb at her praise, moaning abrubtly at her words. Her thrusts had really been working into you now, nudging your walls with a purpose. It felt good.

That one moan went straight to Vi's core, hearing you sent a shiver down her spine, her pace quickening slightly. She pulled your hips up, into you at new angle, watching in awe as you fell apart. “Hah—hah—” You didn’t even try to stay quiet anymore, her dick hitting your g-spot deliciously. "Yeah.... just like that, baby. Let it out for me.” She stuck two fingers back into your mouth, “Get ‘em nice and wet, babydoll,” Vi groaned lowly as she watched you flick your tongue over her fingers, moving them down to your clit again to rub you. “Feels s’good right, baby? My baby just needed someone to push her past her limits, huh?”

You replied with a string of moans, your feet flailing aimlessly at her thrusts. “Oh, fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” She notices it before you do; the bulge sticking out of your pelvis everytime she bottoms out. “Ohhhhh, fuck me. Look at that, baby.” Her voice pulls you out of your trance, lulling your head up to look at what she was referring to. “Oh my God—” You choke up as she lifts a hand to press on it, “Bet that feels fuckin’ amazing, huh? Getting your guts dug in?”

You can hardly form a sentence, arching your back into the matress; she’s fucking you so good. “Yesss— fuck! S’good!”

“That’s what I like to hear.” She fucks you at a vigorous speed, beating into your g-spot with every thrust. “Cmon, sweetness. I wanna see your cum face.” She spits on your pussy again, taking her fingers and rubbing your clit, fast. “Cmon baby, let go f’me.”

taglist: @opropheticsoul @gravegoer @d3eathnotes @nikaachuuuu @elwerostinky-13 @maiiluvs @sevikasfan @hearrrtfillia @facelesshere @vanillasundaeblob @jannesyjane @bamtorriii @simp-of-the-day @hellokittyfeenie @livingdeddghirl @trizxyp @finefocks @pleasantlyhotgarbage @halle5s @lominaria @xxblairslairxx @croissantime @saturnknows @bloodyskns @theogkqthxrjne @malacrnaruza @softsy @randomperson291 @arevik2345

if you’re not being tagged, check your privacy settings!

[delehosies]

𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 — benedict bridgerton x female reader . in which benedict discovers a lady asleep on his bed after retiring from the annual bridgerton ball for the night.

3200 words | a fluffy mess ! | masterlist | suggest fics ideas

The last thing that Benedict had expected to see when stumbling into his bedchambers after retiring from the ball for the night, still slightly tipsy, was a lady fast asleep on his bed. But Alas — there you were. Fast asleep, chest slowly rising and then falling again, your lips parted and the material of your ballgown draped in a rather messy manner around you.

He rubbed at his eyes harshly, as if doing so would prove that you were indeed a figment of his imagination, that he was coming down with a fever and therefore hallucinating, that a shadow had taken form on his bed and he had simply mistaken it for a girl. But no. You were actually there. On his bed.

Benedict felt his mouth fall open and shut again – bewildered but slowly coming to his senses. He finally closed the door behind him, so as to ensure nobody would see you, that your reputation wouldn’t be ruined over something which wasn’t anything. “Alright… alright.” he mumbled to himself, taking a few steps closer to the bed and kneeling onto the mattress besides you. Hoping that perhaps his weight shifting underneath would wake you up but… no. Instead you just mumbled something incoherent in your sleep, shifting onto your side as you did so. 

The annual Bridgerton ball had taken place that night, was still taking place downstairs in fact, and was still running into the early hours of the morning. But Benedict decided that he had had enough of the ton for one day, that he would get a somewhat early night. Instead one of his mother’s  guests was napping in his bedchambers. Which he had to admit was something completely new to him, in their many years of hosting balls he had never experienced this. 

“Um… Excuse me? Miss?” he half whispered, placing a light hand on the soft skin of your arm and attempting to gently shake you awake. “You really need to wake… You don’t wish to be caught alone together, hm? Especially not in my bedchamber…” 

Upon further inspection, Benedict noticed that your hair had been lazily removed from its updo, and instead fell around you, framing your face and complimenting your features perfectly. He brushed a piece away from you, tucking it behind your ear and frowning as he stared down at you. He was entirely unsure of what to do, and far too aware of how the situation would appear to anybody else - your reputation would be completely ruined if you were caught in this situation. Benedict wanted to ask his mother for help, but was frightened to leave you here alone. What if something happened to you? What if something had already happened to you? 

Benedict was unaware that just a few hours earlier, you had began to grow incredibly bored of the ball – by the mundanity of it all, the endless stream of men that your mother insisted on parading in front of you, the dances, the meaningless and far too polite conversation. You had instead decided to plant yourself in a corner nearest to the drinks table… where you had been drinking the night away ever since. 

You were unsure of how much you had actually drank, but when the entire room began to spin in a rather unpleasant way you had decided that it was probably time to stop. You had managed to stagger out of the ballroom and into a hallway – though you can hardly remember the journey upstairs and through the hallways into Benedict’s bedchamber, nor can you remember falling asleep, but you know that you certainly didn’t intend to fall into such a deep slumber. 

“Miss?” your eyes fluttered open to the sound of a concerned voice – a man. You sat yourself up quickly, too quickly. You immediately regretted it as the room began to sway again, the unfamiliar surroundings rocking back and fourth. You soon discovered the source of the voice, sat besides you on the bed with his eyebrows pulled together in concern. A Bridgerton. You weren’t entirely sure which one, but you knew that he was a Bridgerton.

“Oh dear God.” the words fell from you before you could stop them, bringing your hands upwards in an attempt to cover your face. Although you were still very drunk, you had enough sense to be embarrassed, mortified in fact, by the entire situation. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Mr Bridgerton.” you mumbled — refusing to meet his eyes, which were burning through you with an undeniably intense curiosity. 

Benedict blinked in surprise, he had never got quite used to the entirety of the ton being aware of who he was — most of the time they cannot tell him apart from his brothers, but they are still aware that he is a Bridgerton, meanwhile he is half asleep when introduced to people by his mother, it can be quite rare that he actually remembers a name.

“Are you quite alright?”

“I’m a little bit...”

“Drunk? I know that. I can smell the alcohol on you. But are you alright? I mean you were hiding in my bedchambers, asleep on my bed. Did something happen? Other than the copious amounts of alcohol.” Underneath his concern, his curiosity, his twenty questions – was amusement. You could tell that he was repressing a smile, perhaps even in a small laugh. 

You felt your cheeks begin to warm, feeling completely and utterly  embarrassed – he could smell the alcohol on you after all. You stood from the bed as soon as you could get up, an action which ended up being a complete mistake, you began to stagger sideways almost instantly. Benedict having to stand from where he was sitting in order to prevent you from falling. He placed two firm yet gentle hands on your arms, holding you in one place. 

“It’s alright… I’m not angry, if anything I’m quite amused…” you were forced to make eye contact with him at that point, and discovered that he was practically gazing at you, smiling as if he was biting back a laugh – he became serious again rather quickly. “But are you alright? Has anybody hurt you? Or was the annual Bridgerton ball just that boring?” 

You shook your head quickly. “I’m quite alright… I didn’t mean to fall asleep, do you see? I just needed a rest.” Your excuse didn’t give you any comfort, here you were, apologising to someone who was practically a stranger for falling asleep on his bed because you… needed a rest. 

“So you’re fine. Just sleepy, I suppose.” 

“Just sleepy.” You confirmed.

“And drunk… Too much of my mother’s famous punch.”

A quiet giggle fell from your lips – he was actually quite amusing. Why couldn’t your mother have paraded him in front of you instead of the magnitudes of bores who she insisted on you at least considering? 

“Do you care to tell me your name?” Benedict questioned, his head tilting to one side as his eyes scanned across your features, not making an attempt to hide his curiosity. 

“Y/N.” You replied, raising your head in the most confident and self assured manner that you could muster. 

“Well… It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Y/N.” He removed his hands from each of your arms, instead taking your hand in his and pressing a soft kiss to the bare skin, before gently releasing you. “I’m Benedict — You don’t have to bother with the Mr Bridgerton stuff, I’m just Benedict afterall.” 

“I must be getting back… Benedict.” You smiled, hesitating at first but ultimately enjoying the way that his name sounded on your tongue. Benedict — you decided that you could get used to it. “I am sure that my mother will be worrying.” 

Benedict raised an eyebrow, sitting back on the edge of his mattress. “You can hardly stand, Miss Y/N. I’m not sure that you’re in any fit state to return to the ball just yet.” He stretched his legs out, removing his waistcoat and discarding it somewhere across the room.

“I appreciate the concern but I am perfectly fine.” you crossed your arms across your chest, feining irritation as you stared down at where he now practically laid across the bed. Unbeknown to you, your words were still slurred – very slurred. 

He was now laying back, gazing up at the ceiling. “You’ll be the talk of the town! I can picture it now… Do you think that you’ll be the main feature on Lady Whistledown? Or instead one of the more minor segments?” You stayed silent, arms staying tightly crossed. “Miss Y/N…” He held out an arm dramatically above him “drunken disaster…” 

“That is very rude! Were you not taught never to speak to a lady in such a manner?” you exclaimed, picking up what was nearest to you and throwing it across the room, where it landed on his chest – luckily, it was quite a small book, and did no damage when it came into contact with him. 

Benedict seemed utterly unfazed, laughing quietly to himself and opening the book to a random page – where he seemingly pretended to be utterly engrossed in the chapter. “Apparently not… I have four sisters so I am quite used to bickering with these so called ladies that you speak of.” He paused for a moment. “I will find something to sober you.” he stood, suddenly serious, his gaze turning to where you stood. “But only if you promise to stay here for the time being. If someone sees you leaving my bedchambers it would look most suspicious.” 

You nodded quickly, knowing that as much as you wanted to disagree,  he was most definitely right. “Just sit.” Benedict pointed to the bed, and you did so without hesitating, being very obedient. “And stay there. I won’t be gone for very long.” 

Benedict managed to leave his bedchamber without being spotted – using the servants staircase in order to avoid seeing anybody, and making his way down to the kitchen in order to fetch tea and biscuits for you. Meanwhile, you sat on the edge of Benedict’s bed, inspecting the surroundings the best you could without moving. You noticed an easel in the corner of the room and raised an eyebrow – you wouldn’t have guessed that he was a painter, but then again, you hardly knew him.

The minutes dragged on for what felt like eternity, waiting for Benedict to return to his room, and when he finally did you weren’t expecting him to return carrying a huge tray in a rather clumsily manner. He placed it down on the table besides his bed, shutting the door behind him as quick as he could. “Sorry that took me so long I…” He hesitated for a moment, seeming to carefully think his words over. “If I’m being completely honest I couldn’t work the stove to heat the water… but I got there eventually. Tea and biscuits, for you.” Benedict smiled sheepishly, before beginning to pour you a cup of tea. He handed it to you, and you gratefully took it. “You actually stayed sat there, how obedient!” 

You rolled your eyes, attempting to pay no mind to the way that particular comment made you feel – deciding to ignore it completely. “Thank you, Benedict.” Silence fell between the two of you, Benedict pouring a cup for himself before sitting besides you. “You’re an artist?”

He glanced over at the easel in the corner of the room before looking back to you, nodding as he did so. “Something like that… I like to draw, but whether I am an artist or not is most likely up for debate.” 

“Are you any good? Would you be able to capture my likeness? Can I see one of your sketchbooks?” You inquired, questions falling from you with zero difficulty. You thought that perhaps you might be speaking too much, but Benedict entertained every question that you asked him. 

He paused for a moment, eyes scanning you up and down – you couldn’t help but shiver underneath his gaze. “Hm… I’m certainly not a bad painter, though sometimes I doubt myself – I suppose we all doubt ourselves at times.” He was quiet once again, choosing his words carefully. “I’m unsure whether I’d be able to capture your beauty, but I’m always up for a challenge.” Benedict began to search through his bedside drawers, holding multiple sketchbooks in his hand. “I’m not sure if all of my sketches would be exactly… appropriate for a lady.” 

Once again, your cheeks warmed in embarrassment, and you turned your attention quickly to your tea to hide just how flustered his words made you – trying to ignore him as he began to flick through the pages of the filled books, tossing a few aside as he deemed them as being too inappropriate for your eyes. Of course you were curious, but you chose not to press on. 

You crossed your legs underneath you in the best way that you could manage whilst still wearing your ballgown, leaning forwards with interest as Benedict opened a sketchbook on the bed in front of you – pointing to the charcoal sketches. “My sisters… Daphne, Eloise, Francesca and Hyacinth.” he pointed to each picture, smiling proudly as he did so – proud more so of his actual sisters than he was of the drawings (although he knew that he had captured them well.)

“They’re beautiful, truly. You’re quite gifted.” You turned the page, smiling as you took in each sketch. 

You certainly didn’t miss how Benedict’s cheeks flushed a reddish hue with each compliment, how his lips turned up at the corners into a shy smile. He was clearly passionate about his work, cared more than he wanted to about what others thought of his art, that he valued your opinion. “Thank you… it means a lot. Truly.” 

The two of you spent as long as possible, talking, laughing, looking through Benedict’s sketchbooks, discussing books you had read recently – until you had sobered up… at least a little bit. The tea and biscuits soaking up some of the alcohol in your system, though there was nothing wrong with being a little bit merry at an event. 

“I suppose you truly should be off now.” Benedict sighed, helping you to your feet. “Most people will be leaving soon…  and you don’t want your mother to end up sending out a search party to find you.” You were certainly a lot more steady on your feet this time around, taking a few hesitant steps with the help of Benedict and feeling fine. 

You nodded, sighing quietly to yourself – you had had a much more enjoyable night, with better conversations in the short amount of time spent with Benedict than you had had at any other ball. “Thank you, for being so kind… and I’m sorry again.” 

Benedict shushed you, pressing a gentle finger to your lips – apparently feeling rather more bold than he usually would. “There’s no need to apologise – as strange as it was, I’ve had a lovely time. A better time than I would had I spent more time actually socialising.” 

“Me too.” You admitted, smiling sheepishly at him. Benedict turned from you, creeping to the door of the room and slowly opening it in order to prevent it creaking — he peered out, eyes scanning the hall to ensure that nobody was around. “It’s clear.” He reached out his hand to guide you to the door and you gladly took it, enjoying the warmth of his skin on yours as you were lead from the door. Benedict walked you to the end of the hall, pointing as he gave you directions back to the ballroom. 

You couldn’t help but feel a sadness within you as you walked the halls, taking in every tiny piece of detail: the paintings; the wallpaper; the furniture; the flooring – certain that you wouldn’t be returning. “Well… Goodbye.” You whispered shyly, offering a small wave before turning and beginning to descend the grand stairs. 

“Wait…” Benedict mumbled, turning and taking your hand in his and spinning you around to face him. You felt your eyebrows furrow together in confusion, watching as he hesitated with his words before finally blurting out the question – “Can I see you again?” 

“Of course you can… Mr Bridgerton.” You smiled, and in a feeling of unnatural and rare moment of courage you leaned up to kiss his cheek – pressing your soft lips to his skin before pulling away and watching as his face began to flush to a pretty shade of rosy pink. Unbelievable. You had managed to make Benedict Bridgerton blush. 

Before he could speak, you practically ran from the scene, gathering up your skirt in your hands to ensure that you wouldn’t trip. You knew that it was probably quite a dangerous thing to do, considering the fact that you weren’t exactly sober.

Benedict watched as you ran from him until you were completely out of sight, his lips slightly parted in surprise as he struggled to process all of the events from that night — it  all felt very much like a fever induced dream.

On returning to his bedchambers, Benedict flipped to a new page in his sketchbook and began to draw – wanting to sketch you to the best of his abilities before his memories began to fade. Despite his previous desire for an early and long night of sleep, he ended up staying awake for most of the night working on the portrait, ensuring that it would be ready before you awoke that morning. 

And when you awoke one of the first things that you discovered was a grand bouquet of roses left on the table besides your bed, made up of all sorts of different shades and sizes… alongside a note. Your lady’s maid had brought the flowers into your room whilst you had slept, creeping along the wooden floor so as not to wake you. She was secretly excited for you, having sneakily seen the note which came with the bouquet – she had unfolded it before tucking it back into place.

Hours after the flowers had arrived, you finally awoke. Still in your nightgown, half asleep and still in your nightgown, half asleep and sporting a small alcohol induced headache - you had leaned over to inspect the flowers before reaching for and unfolding the note — discovering a drawing of yourself. 

 A small gasp escaped you as you took it in. Benedict. He had made you look beautiful, so beautiful – he had captured you perfectly, all of you, seeming to even capture the soul behind your eyes. You just seemed so alive. His signature was at the bottom of the portrait, alongside the words “Sketched with love and care for Miss Y/N. – Benedict Bridgerton.” 

You ran your finger gently across the words, careful not to smudge any of it – the words repeating in your head again and again. A contented sigh falling from your lips, you fell back onto your mattress, holding the drawing close to your chest as the night’s events really sunk into you. It was hard to believe – yet the words on the page were there as proof — sketched with love and care for Miss Y/N. Benedict Bridgerton.

[alisonsfics]

late nights and merlot

pairing: carmy berzatto x reader

summary: after having equally terrible weeks, you and carmy stay late to brainstorm new dishes. all it takes is a few glasses of wine and some late night confessions to get you both further and further away from the friends label.

word count: 2.9k

When you walked into the Bear early this morning, Carmy greeted you with a sleepy smile and a cup of coffee. “Why do you look like you’re about to ask me for a favor?” You had asked him, hesitantly accepting the coffee. He asked you to stay late to help brainstorm ideas for a special menu.

Of course you said yes. It was Carmy. And you figured it would help get your mind off your all too recent breakup.

Ever since you walked in on your boyfriend with another woman a week ago, your life had been shit.

To make it worse, you hadn’t told anybody about it. None of your friends. No one at the Bear. Especially not Carmy.

You were too embarrassed. While you knew it was your ex-boyfriend’s fault because he did the cheating, you were still worried you’d be judged for not being able to keep your boyfriend.

So, a late night of menu brainstorming with your coworker, who you had a tiny crush on before you started dating your boyfriend, sounded like the perfect distraction.

You had made it to the closing of the restaurant for the night. The whole team was hanging out in the kitchen joking around and chatting. Carmy had noticed you were a little distant, so he was trying to stay close to you.

You were leaning backwards against one of the counters, and he was standing right next to you with his hand resting on the counter behind you.

Richie was in the middle of teasing Sydney about some new crush she had. Every time you had heard someone bring up flirting or dating in the past week, it had made all your emotions about the breakup come rushing back.

It was hard to listen to people talk about love as you were grieving it.

“I’ll be right back.” You leaned towards Carmy and whispered. He gave you a supportive nod. “Yeah, okay,” he said, softly. He knew that something was wrong. He just didn’t know what it was.

You quickly walked into the office and closed the door. Sugar looked over at Carmy. “Is she okay?” She mouthed to him, not wanting to cause a scene. Carmy shrugged. “I’m not sure.” He mouthed back.

Carmy was often the person that they turned to when something was off with you. You both were very close, and Carmy was always able to read you better than anyone.

After everyone left, Carmy noticed you still hadn’t come out of the office. He walked over and slowly opened the office door. “Hey, everybody’s gone now, if you want to come out.” He said, softly.

You looked up at him from the office chair where you were sitting. He noticed the tears slipping down your cheeks. “Are you alright?” He asked. He wanted to run across the room and hug you, but he was trying to give you space.

You simply shook your head, wiping the tears away. You stood up and walked towards him. You wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his chest. He quickly reciprocated and wrapped his arms around you.

He held you tightly against him. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He comforted you, running one of his hands over your hair. You cried into his chest. He softly swayed with you in his arms, trying to do anything he could to comfort you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked you, softly. You shook your head. “I really appreciate the offer, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet” You told him honestly.

“That’s okay. I’m always here.” He said, rubbing your back.

After a few more minutes of peaceful silence between the two of you, you both pulled away. “You want to start working on the menu?” He asked you.

You quickly nodded. You were desperate for a distraction. “Great, I have this idea for a dish, and I’ve been wanting to make it for you.” He said, walking back into the kitchen as you followed.

He guided you through each step of this dessert dish. He kept making little jokes just to get you to laugh.

He was working on some kind of fruit sauce and was telling you about this embarrassing story from his childhood. Your laugh was infectious to Carmy. He couldn’t get the smile off his face, and he couldn’t stop trying to make you laugh.

“Oh, shit. There was something else in this sauce. I don’t remember. Can you go grab my notebook from the office? I think I wrote it down.” He asked you.

You quickly nodded and went into the office to grab the book. You knew exactly what book he was talking about. You always saw him scribbling down notes in it whenever inspiration struck.

You started to flip through the book as you walked back towards him. You saw beautiful sketches of all kinds of dishes.

“Carmy, I didn’t know you could draw like this. These are amazing.” You said, in awe. His cheeks were tinted pink as a bashful smile appeared.

“Yeah, I took a few art classes here and there, and it helps me visualize the presentation of the dishes.” He told you. Carmy was the most humble person you knew.

He was one of the best chefs in the country, and he still acted surprised when you liked his food.

You accidentally flipped over a sketch that wasn’t of food. You realized it was you. You blinked as you stared at the sketch, thinking that somehow your eyes were deceiving you.

“Carmy, is this…?” You asked, not being able to find the right words.

He looked up, to see what you were looking at. He froze when he saw you staring at the picture. “Oh— that,” he mumbled. He didn’t know what to say.

“Is this me?” You asked him, smirking at his shocked expression. You both knew it was, but you wanted him to confirm it.

“C’mon, we both know that’s you. I needed a break from drawing food one day, so I looked around for inspiration. And, I don’t know. I see you everyday, so—” he rambled.

“So, you drew me?” You asked, touched by how sweet the gesture was. He bashfully nodded. “Anyway, flip to the page about the sauce,” he said, changing the subject.

You helped him finish the dessert but kept thinking about the drawing.

“Carmy, this looks delicious,” you told him as he completed the assembly of the dish.

You grabbed one of the spoons he had set out. “Not yet, don’t touch. It pairs great with this wine we have.” He said, wiping his hands off on his apron.

He noticed the mischievous grin on your face. “Don’t touch,” he repeated, making you giggle. He went out into the dining room to grab the wine from behind the bar.

He came back into the kitchen and poured you both a glass. “Can I finally try it?” You asked, impatiently.

Carmy chuckled and nodded. “Go for it,” he told you. You grabbed a spoonful of the dessert and tried it.

Carmy watched nervously. He knew you always liked the food he made, but he was still nervous every time.

“Oh my god,” you said, grabbing onto Carmy’s bicep. He felt his heart skip a beat, and goosebumps popped up on his arm. “Carmy, this is the best thing you’ve ever made.” You complimented.

“I guess we’re adding it to the menu if you like it that much.” He said, chuckling. You quickly nodded your head in agreement while you tried another bite.

You held up your wine glass. Carmy chuckled and quickly followed your cue. “To the best fucking dessert I’ve ever had.” You said, clinking your glass against Carmy’s.

You both sat there in silence, slowly eating the dessert. “You wanna know something sad? This is like the closest thing I’ve had to a date in a while” he told you, with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Just like that, your mind was back on your breakup.

You bit down on your lip, trying to fight the tears that you knew weren’t far away. “Oh, fuck, I screwed it up. Whatever I said, I’m sorry.” He said, immediately noticing the change in your disposition.

“It’s not you, Carmy. It’s not your fault.” You said, your voice cracking. Carmy reached out and gave your hand a comforting squeeze.

You took a deep breath before looking over at Carmy. He gave you an encouraging smile.

“I haven’t told anyone this, but last week I caught my boyfriend cheating on me. That’s why I left earlier. I just couldn’t listen to everything about having crushes and relationships. I’ve been so ashamed, which I know is stupid because it’s not my fault. But I’ve refused to tell anyone til now. I’ve felt like shit, and I haven’t had anyone to talk to about it.” You told him.

“I’m sorry. That’s so shitty that that happened to you. I want you to know that you have me to talk to. I will always be here, and you can tell me anything.” He said, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long to tell you. You make everything seem better.” You told him, giving him a hug.

You took another sip of your wine. You felt relieved that you had finally gotten that off your chest.

“To honor that, do you want to know something that I haven’t told anyone?” He asked you. Your intrigue was written all over your face as you quickly nodded.

“One of my ex-girlfriends from school got married this weekend, and it messed me up. It’s not like I’m hung up on her or anything. We were like 14 when we dated, but I just feel so behind. So many people I know are getting married and having kids, and all I have is a restaurant that’s struggling to stay afloat on the good days.” He confessed.

“Thank you for telling me that. I know that’s hard. And I know what you mean.” You told him, resting your hand on his forearm. Carmy also felt relieved after confiding in you.

“But just because you’re not married or having kids doesn’t mean you’re not accomplished. You have this place, which is great, even though it’s stressful. You’re a great friend, and a great brother. You are doing just fine.” You assured him.

He raised his glass again. “Another toast?” You asked, giggling. He nodded his head. “To being each other's confidantes,” he said, tapping his glass against yours.

“It would be a shame for this wine to go to waste. And I think we’ve dampened the mood too far to keep cooking.” You said, raising your eyebrow at him.

A smirk grew on his face. He grabbed the wine bottle and pulled you towards the office.

You both spent the night getting wine drunk and complaining about all the things you’d been wanting to complain about.

Most of it was shit talking your ex-boyfriend. You obviously hated him. And Carmy couldn’t fathom the idea of being lucky enough to be your boyfriend and throwing it away, so he hated him too.

The next morning, Sugar got out of her car and headed towards the back door. She finished the last sip of coffee in her cup before tossing the cup into the dumpster.

She took a deep breath before unlocking the door. Once she walked inside, it was time for another stressful day at the Bear.

She walked through the kitchen, noticing some abandoned pans that hadn’t been cleaned. Carmy staying late and testing recipes wasn’t new, but normally he cleaned up before he left.

Nat noticed that the office door was open, so she walked over. She started to think Carmy decided to have an early start to the day.

She peeked into the office and almost jumped when she noticed Carmy and the fact that he wasn’t alone.

She saw the two of you, asleep on the futon in the office. Given that it was a small futon, you both were closely pressed up against each other. Carmy’s arm was wrapped around your waist, keeping you from falling off the couch. Your head was perfectly nuzzled into Carmy’s neck.

Nat had been secretly betting on you both getting together. She had to cover her mouth to stop herself from bursting out in laughter. She sneakily took a photo of the two of you and immediately sent it to Richie and Sydney.

Then, Natalie heard the back door open. She quietly rushed over, trying to tiptoe as well as she could.

She found Richie walking inside. She quickly held her finger up to her lips to keep him quiet. “Did you see my text yet?” Nat whispered, to which, Richie shook his head no.

She grabbed his wrist and made him follow her. Nat pushed Richie towards the office doorway.

“Holy shit,” Richie said, in complete shock. Nat quickly jumped to cover Richie’s mouth with her hand, but the damage was done.

You and Carmy both heard the loud exclamation and slowly woke up. The last few hours of last night were completely gone from your’s and Carmy’s memories. You remembered drinking a lot of wine, but not how you ended up on the couch.

When you opened your eyes and saw Carmy only a few inches away, you jumped back in surprise. In an equal amount of shock, Carmy tried to stop you from rolling off the couch.

It didn’t work. You flopped off the couch and landed on the ground. You sat up, rubbing your eyes and then finally saw Nat and Richie standing in the doorway.

“Hey, you two,” Nat said, with a smirk.

“You okay?” Carmy asked, helping you up off the floor. Richie’s eyes stayed glued on the both of you.

“What’s with you two?” You asked, gesturing towards Nat and Richie. They both frowned at you, knowing it was obvious. “We’re not gonna address the two of you cuddling on the couch?” Richie asked, raising his eyebrows.

You and Carmy quickly looked at each other and then back at Nat and Richie. “No, it wasn’t. Not like that.” You corrected them.

They didn’t believe you.

“Yeah, you were totally curled up in each other’s arms in a friend way,” Richie said, sarcastically.

“Can you leave us alone?” Carmy asked Richie, exasperatedly. Richie furrowed his eyebrows at Carmy. “But teasing you is so much more fun, cousin,” Richie said, chuckling to himself.

“Alright will this shut you up?” Carmy asked and then leaned over and gave you a quick peck on the lips. You felt butterflies in your stomach. You barely had time to react to the kiss. But you went along with it.

Richie and Nat both looked shocked as they watched in disbelief. “Now we’re going to go get some coffee, if you don’t mind.” Carmy said, putting his hand on the small of your back and leading you out the back door.

As soon as you both were in the alley, Carmy dropped his hand from your back. You quickly turned to face him.

“You mind telling me what that was?” You asked him, referencing the kiss.

“I’m sorry. I panicked, and I was trying to shut Richie up.” He quickly apologized.

“Well I think you nailed that, Berzatto. Instead of thinking we got drunk and fell asleep, now Richie thinks we’re together.” You said, laughing at the craziness of the situation.

Carmy's mind was racing with all the things he wanted to tell you. “I don’t think we should lie to Richie though.” Carmy said, making you even more confused. You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate on what the hell he was talking about.

“You want to run in there and say you were kidding? Richie’s not gonna buy that.” You said. You were waiting for this genius plan that Carmy seemed to think he had.

He shrugged, running his fingers through his hair. He stepped closer to you. “Maybe we just make it not a lie,” Carmy suggested.

If it was possible, you were more confused. “Carmy, what are you talking about?” You asked him. Normally, you both were pretty close to sharing a braincell, but right now, you couldn’t even read his expression.

“Last night was great. It was almost therapeutic. I feel so safe with you, and it just feels natural. I don’t know if I said any of this last night cause last night’s a little fuzzy, but it just feels right with you.” He said, stepping closer to you and cupping your face with his hands.

“Just kiss me, Berzatto,” you said, smiling at him. He quickly closed the distance between the two of you. You wrapped your arms around him. You felt goosebumps race across your skin.

He grabbed at your waist, your body curving against his. You could feel him smiling against the kiss. He softly nipped at your bottom lip and smirked. “Your ex didn’t appreciate you, but I will,” he mumbled against your lips.

You knew he meant every word of it. Carmy was going to worship the ground you walked on.

You both pulled away from each other. When you met his gaze, smiles instantly spread across both of your faces.

All it took to get you both together was an expensive bottle of wine and a few years of pining.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @lillyssh-tposts @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guacam011y @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @visenyaverse @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore @princess-evans-addict @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @supernaturalstilinski @stephv213 @warriormirkwood @one-sweet-gubler @narliesstuff @bibissparkles @stupiidfrogs @navs-bhat @mattsfavbigtitties @the-sylver-dragon @0-n-1-x

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

[strrykais]

(❤︎) love shot

sometimes the best feeling is the way his mouth moves against you, and other times.. its the taste of sweet sweet revenge.

cw: fingering, oral (fem receiving), drugging, bondage, foot on crotch, mentions of death, gangs mentioned, revenge, age gap if you squint (its legal like 6-10yrs idk dont think too hard about it ! just putting here to be safe!) not proof read! wc: 1.5k

requested: Idea to distract you: the reader tying Seungmin, Han, Lee Know or I.N. to a chair for sexy times and they absolutely just melt under the readers attention.

「 authors note 」 took this and definitely deviated from their plot... and i'm very proud of it.. let me know your thoughts.. for more click here !

minho almost had a heart attack when he walked into the living room to see you sitting in the dark. you have been waiting for him to come home for hours now only thinking he wouldn't be gone for so long.

"jesus baby, you scared me. why are you sitting in the dark?" minho reached for the light switch, turning it on to see your pouting face.

"you are late babe. where the hell have you been?" you say crossing one leg over the other, the gown you wear sliding down your thigh. minho couldn't help but glance down. you knew his one true weakness was your thighs. He could spend hours in between them and that is exactly where you planned to have him tonight. if only he wasn't so late.

"i know baby, but the boss needed me and you know how demanding they are." He takes off his jacket and throws it over the couch walking to you. He places his hands on either side of the chair, trapping you in.

"you should really leave that gang. it's only gonna lead you to an unfortunate end." you reach out to caress his cheek as he leans into your touch.

"don't say that baby, plus i can't exactly say my girlfriend wants me home before 11. if anybody knew about you, you cou-"

"yes min i know, i could be seriously hurt. but it would be great to you know see you more than once every two weeks." you say leaning back into the armrest. minho takes this opportunity to lean in and press a kiss into your lips. you open your mouth letting him deepen the kiss as you are melting into it.

minho places both hands on your cheeks, running them down your arms and firmly placing them on your thighs. You sigh into his lips as he gently separates your crossed legs, gently pulling you down as he detaches himself for you taking in your appearance. 

Your blushed cheeks, your puffy lips, your gown slipping off one shoulder, minho loved that he had this effect on you. He never got tired of seeing how needy you begged for him and tonight was gonna be no different. He places a kiss on your temple, then gets down on his knees right between your legs.

You watch as he pushes your legs further apart, the gown slowly riding up. He takes notice of you not wearing any underwear and lets out a soft groan. 

“Not wearing any panties? Since when did you become such a dirty girl.” squishing the meat of your thighs, rubbing his hands all over your legs but never rubbing the place you needed him to.

“I can’t help it when you look so good.” hips lifting trying to get him to touch you, to relieve the ache. 

Minho lets out a breathy laugh at the way he completely had you under his spell. He usually loved to tease you, but the way you looked was so pretty he just needed to taste you. Minho glides his fingers through your folds gathering up your wetness, pressing onto your clit giving it a pinch between his fingers.

You moan at the feeling, getting lost in the way he was playing you like a fiddle. Minho did a lot of bad things in the field he worked but one thing he was good at was making you reach completion with his hands and mouth every time. 

He removes his fingers from your clit replacing them with his mouth, alternating between sucking and licking. You were completely unraveling at the way his mouth was devouring you. Its like he was a man starving and you are his next meal. 

Minho inserts two fingers into your wet hole, not giving you time to adjust as he presses against your walls in the spot he knows will make you lose your mind. Your moans were music to his ears, which only fueled him more as his fingers thrust in and out. Minho was a man on a mission he wanted, no he needed to make you come into his mouth. He sucked harder, pressed harder, thrusting harder. It didn't take long before you clenched your thighs around minhos head squeezing hard. 

“I'm gonna cum. Fuck baby please don’t stop. Dont stop.” you moan out, one hand gripping the armrest and the other lying to his hair pulling hard as you start to grind down on his face. You let out a loud moan as your legs shake, cumming in his mouth.

Minho groans still deep in your pussy, fingers still helping you ride out your high. His mouth licks up your orgasm. He falls back on his heels admiring his work. 

“Open up baby.” he guides his fingers into your mouth as you suck harshly, licking his fingers clean of your orgasm. He groans as your warm tongue wraps around them. He pulls out his fingers, your mouth making a popping noise as he pulls out.

“Fuck your mouth is so warm. Wanna be a good girl and let me use it.” 

“Yes, if you let me have some fun now.” you say glancing up at him. He groans at the way your eyes are glossed over completely willingly to suck him off. 

“Fuck baby do whatever you want, as long as you continue to look at me like that.” you smile nodding your head as you help him undo a few buttons. You kiss him, fully wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you. You giggle out as he grabs a handful of your ass. 

“You gotta trust me okay?” you say as you pull away from him, switching sides with him and pushing him down on the chair. He furrowed his eyebrows as he watched you walk away returning with a glass of liquid and red rope. 

“You are not tying me up.” he shakes his head in disbelief, in awe that you would even be into this, so dominating, minho has always been the dominant one in the relationship so he was quite confused about why you never brought it up.

“Baby, please. Just one time, that's all I ask.” you twirl the rope around, extending out the drink. “Here, this will calm your nerves.” you smile at his face. He looked at you skeptically, sighing, you brought the glass to your lips, but he stopped you before you could. 

“Okay give me the drink, it better be vodka.” you nod your head handing him the glass as he downs it in a gulp. Placing the glass on the table beside the chair. 

“Don't worry baby, I'll be gentle.” you go to work on tying him to the chair, starting with his arms and then going down to his legs. Minhos heart was racing, he had never been so submissive to a woman before this was new to him. He watched as you made sure the knots were tight almost like you have practiced for this very moment. 

Once you are satisfied with your work you step back grabbing minho’s chin forcing him to look up at you. “Gosh it's almost a shame it has to end this way.” you softly say, voice losing its loving tone. Making your way to the radio, putting on some music.

Minho was starting to worry about the way you were staring at him. Before minho can ask what you meant, you tied something around his mouth to get him to be quiet. Minho pulls against his restraints realizing that you have tied him tightly, and he has no way of getting out. Minho watched as you made your way back to him pulling up a chair to sit across from him. 

“You know we have been seeing each other for 3 months and you still haven’t recognized me minho.” you watch the sheer panic in his eyes trying to make sense of what you are saying. “Of course you don’t, I was only a child when we first met.” you extend your leg, pressing firmly on his crotch. Minho groans as the pain, mind becoming fuzzy, he was starting to lose control of his body, he feels like he was drunk, he couldn’t fight back against the tight hold of the ropes.

“You took something very important to me, and when I finally found you, I knew what had to be done. Who would've thought someone as pretty as you would be so dumb.” you watch as minho head fights to stay up right. You take your foot off of him, pulling his hair so his eyes were looking straight into yours. 

“Don’t worry I'm not gonna kill you, but your boss might. You see he found me and stopped me from killing you on the spot, made me an offer I couldn't refuse. All I had to do was get you all drugged up and weak and I would be set for life. Your boss is a scary man.. But he seems to hate you more than I do. Something about playing both sides? Minho people don’t like snitches.” the ringing of a phone breaks your attention from him, letting him go, head fully flopping over. 

“He’s yours. Come on up.” with one last glance to minho, completely unconscious in the chair, you grab your coat from the rack, walking out, never looking back.

ⓒ strrykais

permanent taglist: @hyunestrella @spicy-sawdust @charlieg1rl @gnabnahcbby @totheseok @mystverse @jisungs-iced-americano @kimseungminpabo @bookswillfindyouaway @puppy-minnie @katchowbbie @night-storm7 @auroratiseee @goldenmellow @sellomaybe @embrr0-0 @skysole

[help-itrappedmyself]

Summoning Game Show 3

Masterpost

I got so inspired and had so much fun writing for part 2 I just kept going. I have determined that this 'fic' should be about 7 parts long total. And here's Part 3, because I'm enjoying the nonsense of this so much.

~~~~~

“Congratulations on successfully finishing the first challenge! You can make your way back to the main room to receive your clue.”

The screen changes once Nightwing is on the stage with them. It now shows what looks like a wheel of fortune puzzle. Three words, four letters, four letters, and seven letters.

“For your clue, you can choose a letter for the puzzle!” Danny explains. “Since there are four of you we will give you four letters automatically, and you each have the chance to earn an extra letter. For the freebies! E, the most common vowel in English.”

“Looks like no E’s in this puzzle.” Danny shrugs at the boys with a grin on his face. “For the next three letters, we have the three most common consonants: T, N, and S!”

“Three letters up, two N’s and one T.” Danny turns away from the screen to face Nightwing. “What letter would you like to choose?” Dick turns to look at Red and Jason “This portion is not collaborative.” Danny cuts in with a small frown, making everyone look back at him. “You earned the letter, you choose the letter. They only get to pick a letter after they’ve earned one.”

Nightwing grimaces slightly. “A?” 

“A!” Danny turns back to the screen.

“One A!” Danny turns back. “The next challenge is a sword fight against Fright Knight! Who would like to sword fight?”

Damian very quickly raised his hand. Tim almost wanted to smack him, but as similar as a bo staff can be, and as much as he doesn’t want Damian in danger, Damian does have the most extensive sword training amongst them.

Danny takes Damian to pick out his sword. “I see that you have a sword already, but the fight is to first blood and you can’t harm Fright Knight with that sword, so that’s kind of unfair. We need to get you a weapon that will actually be able to hit your opponent.” They leave through a side door, but they leave it open so everyone can see all the weapon racks and Danny as he shows Damian around.

Tim leans towards Dick and Jason as Dick takes his seat in the middle chair. “Cool, so our weapons can’t actually hurt them, good to know. What exactly are we going to be asking the King at the end of this?”

“What do you mean?” Dick asks.

“I think he means that if we want to get back to our dimension we don’t want to piss off everyone here by wasting their time.” Jason spits out, sitting up and turning towards them. “They didn’t seem to take too kindly to that idea earlier.”

Dick winces and nods. “We could ask him to deal with the cult that brought us here.”

“What if he kills all of them?” 

“Well, you clearly have an idea Red, why don’t you tell us instead of making us guess.” Jason complains.

“Diplomatic relations.” Red states. “New dimension, new culture. We’re here to learn, maybe we could ask to set up a meeting between the King and Batman, or the Justice League.”

“The whole point of this is to get a meeting, what do you think he’s going to do if we use this meeting to ask for a different meeting?”

“Jason has a point. Maybe we could just ask to set up a way to communicate between us?” Dick suggests.

“I have obtained a sufficient weapon.” Damian calls out as he and Danny approach. Danny comes up onto the stage, heading back to the podium, but Damian doesn’t waste his time going back up and instead waits by the short stairs for further instructions. He is holding a katana, similar to the one he is used to, but with a different grip and that is glowing.

“So, since you’re using a semi unfamiliar weapon, Fright Knight is not going to be allowed to use his Soul Shredder, just to make it fair. And just in case he draws first blood, we don’t want to accidentally send anybody to their nightmare dimension!” Danny chirps out cheerfully. “You will be fighting in here, just stay on the main floor and away from bystanders. Fight will immediately end at first blood, no maiming, no killing, no excessive force. No use of powers is permitted.”

Danny gestures to where Fright Knight is exiting the armory with a regular looking broadsword. “This is Fright Knight.” Fright Knight waves as he comes over, stopping next to Damian so they’re both standing beneath the stage.

“Are you both ready?” The two swordsmen take a few steps away from each other and take positions before nodding. “Begin!”

[barrel-crow-n]

Something that makes me crazy is the difference in how Kanej deals with their issues.

Kaz was hurt so he hurt others. He got scammed so he became the scammer. He was beaten up so he became the one beating people up. He found a way to thrive in the toxic cycle of violence in the Barrel. This keeps him alive, but makes him a bad person. Kaz doesn't care. Kaz left decency behind the second that was what was necessary to survive. He shrugged it off like a cheap coat. Don't like touch? Simple. Break anybodies wrist that dares touch you; break their arm. Give them a reason to keep away. Make them scared because that keeps you safe (and as a result will keep them safer from you).

Inej was hurt so she prevents others from being hurt. She hunts down slavers so children won't have the same fate as her. She can't just leave decency behind, her values and beliefs won't allow it. She does penance after every kill, she cried after killing the first time, she isn't keen on violence and only does it when completely necessary (at odds with Kaz that attacks at the slightest provocation to the point of everyone giving him a wide berth). The violence committed on her makes her angry (and righteously) but she doesn't lash out at everyone like Kaz does, she holds that back for a select few, to make them pay for the suffering they've caused.

Kaz felt like he died and became someone new so he leaned into it. He change his name from Rietveld to Brekker, he became someone new, a stranger. Nobody knew who he was, or where he came from. Kaz Rietveld was dead, and a monster had taken his place.

Inej also says that she feels like she died. She says that the girl she had been died in the belly of a slavers ship. However, unlike Kaz, she refuses to change her name. And dehumanisation links to this!

Kaz was dehumanised so he dehumanised himself further. Dirtyhands. Per Haskell's rabid dog. Demjin. Kaz thrives in this, because it makes him feel safe, it makes him feel untouchable. Kaz Rietveld was weak, so was replaced by Kaz Brekker. When that isn't enough, Dirtyhands is there to get the rough work done.

Inej was dehumanised so she humanised herself. She is not a lynx or a spider or a wraith. She is Inej Ghafa. She is a pirate vigilante, rescuer of slaves. And the interesting thing is that Kaz offered this to her too! He asks her "Is that what you prefer to be called?" (referring to her name, Inej Ghafa) when buying her indenture at the Menagerie. He is offering her the same thing he did. A change of name, a clean slate. But she declines. She is a Ghafa and no matter what happens to her, she always will be.

Kaz was traumatised so he isolated himself. He holds people at arms length because he sees them as weaknesses, or as obstacles between him and his revenge. He put his gloves on and doesn't take them off, he failed once with Imogen and decided to never try again. He yearns for connection but it only serves to isolate him further. Because they have no idea what it's like to watch friends hug, knowing you can never have the same. Kaz builds up armour (the gloves) but he doesn't tackle the root problem that is his fear of touch. He tried once and failed and quit (which is actually out of character for him, in contrast with him learning magic ceaselessly until he has mastered it - and shows how terrified he is and how disgusted he is at himself) and this serves to make him feel like he just can't. Like the dream of friends is hopeless.

Inej was traumatised so she seeks human connection. She has Jesper and Nina. She has the other Crows. She tries to heal, to open herself up. She might still flinch at touch occasionally but her friends are helping her and she wants to try and heal. She knows how to ask for help.

In all, Inej's ways of coping are a lot healthier. Kaz is stuck in a toxic cycle, and has been for years, but Inej is giving him a way out of it. Finally, he can make the step towards proper healing. He won't change his name back. He won't stop being a gangster. But he can feel more comfortable in himself and with his friends. And that's what Inej wants to give him, because she knows how important that is.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Anger

Vicky Losada x Putellas!Reader

Summary: Your phone kept ringing

You frowned as you stared down at your phone.

"What is it, amor?" Your wife asked as she watched you stare.

"Alexia's been calling me," You replied," And then Alba's texted to say not to answer her. Huh...I wonder what's wrong."

"They're probably fighting," Vicky said," You know how they are."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, I do." You bit your lip. "But I'm a little worried. What if something bad has happened?"

"If something bad has happened," Vicky said," Then your Mama would have been the one to call. Come, sit down. The stress isn't good for the baby."

You heeded your wife's advice, taking a seat on the sofa.

Your pregnancy hadn't come as a surprise. You and Vicky had been trying for months now but each time the IVF treatment hadn't stuck until this final try. You hadn't really told anybody, content to keep it private until you got through the first trimester.

But now, as you approached the end of your second and began to show, you and Vicky had been discussing who to tell.

"If it's so bad then I'm sure you'll get another call later," Vicky assured you as you fretted throughout dinner.

"I...I'm just worried. Alexia called me so much and now it's just radio silent."

Vicky stood from her seat at the table and crossed over to you, a hand coming to rub soothing circles on your arm. "It'll be fine, amor. Your sisters probably had an argument they wanted you to finish."

You looked at your phone on last time before nodding. "You're right. Of course you are." You drained your glass of water. "Did you make dessert? The baby's craving something sweet."

Vicky grinned at you, always in sync with you. "Of course she is."

You ended up on the sofa a moment later with a warm dessert and cream. Vicky had you curled up into her side, an arm gently rubbing circles on your bump as she narrated the show to your baby.

You knew it was to be a girl, having been convinced by Vicky to find out the gender so you could plan accordingly. The pair of you were bouncing between name ideas and how to announce the upcoming pregnancy to your friends and family.

The doorbell rang just as Vicky tried to convince you that telling your family would be best if you paired it with a little Barcelona jersey like how your mother had revealed all of her own pregnancies.

"Were we expecting someone?" You asked, leaning your head over the back of the sofa to look at the door.

The bell rang again.

Then somebody thumping on the door.

Vicky sighed deeply. "If it's Julia or Katie coming to bother us, I'm going to kill them."

You laughed. "Well, if they're bringing more food, kill them after. Your baby sure is hungry tonight."

Vicky rolled her eyes even though a smile poked through on her face. She was still looking at you as she swung open the door, which was why she probably didn't realise what was going on until it was too late.

A hand clawed into the fabric of her top and slammed her into the hallway wall.

"Madre mia!" You exclaimed in shock.

Your oldest sister had your wife up against the wall, practically spitting in anger.

The sudden radio silence from Alexia now made sense.

She was still dressed in her Barcelona training shirt.

Clearly she had caught the first plane to England.

"Alexia?!" You demanded," What you doing here?!"

She ignored you in favour of shoving Vicky further into the wall.

"Where do you get off?!" She demanded," Knocking up my sister?! Huh?!"

Vicky, somehow able to wrench her eyes from Alexia, looked at you in disbelief. "You told her?!"

"No!"

"Jenni told me!" Alexia yelled," Don't talk about me like I'm not here!"

You glared at your wife. "You told Jenni?!"

"It was an accident!"

"Which part?! Telling Jenni or knocking up my sister?!"

"Shut up, Alexia!" Both of you yelled.

"How do you accidentally tell Jenni?"

"She asked about you and I told her that you'd been having me get food at stupid o'clock in the morning and she made a joke about you maybe being pregnant. And I just...kind of didn't say anything and she worked it out herself."

You let out a big sigh, rubbing your temples to try and stop the impending headache. "Amor, I know it was an accident but we purposely said we couldn't tell Jenni just yet because she would blab to everyone."

"Well, she did blab to everyone," Alexia said," But me specifically." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you know how embarrassing it is to get a call from my ex-girlfriend congratulating me on becoming an aunt and having no idea about it?! I even had to call Alba to check that she hadn't heard either!"

"Why don't you let go of Vicky," You said," And sit down. We'll explain everything."

"Why can't you explain everything here?"

"Because you look like you're a moment away from killing my wife and I kind of need her around when I get fat and can't move anymore."

It took a few minutes but eventually, Alexia was convinced to sit in the armchair as you and Vicky took up your spots on the sofa again.

"Well? Explain."

"Well-"

"Not you, hemanita," Alexia cut you off, staring daggers at Vicky," I want her to explain."

"Ale, really, this is-"

She held up her finger and you fell silent. You squeezed Vicky's hand.

"We did IVF," Vicky said eventually," And it didn't work and then it did."

"You got my sister pregnant, is what you're saying."

"Well, technically-"

"You knocked up my sister."

Vicky sighed. "Yes. I knocked up your sister."

Alexia was silent for a long moment before she sighed deeply. She rose to her feet and Vicky stood as well, blocking Ale's path to you.

They stood eye to eye.

Alexia shook Vicky's hand, squeezing ever so slightly and leaning forward to whisper," If you dare to make her even cry during this pregnancy, you'll be shipped back to Spain in a matchbox."

Alexia hugged you tightly, laying kisses upon your cheek. She dropped to her knees. "May I?" At your nod, she lifted your top and pressed a kiss to your bump. Your hand came to card through your sister's hair as your wife pressed a kiss to your other hand.

"Hi, baby," Alexia whispered," I'm your Tia Alexia. I probably won't see you a lot but I'll make sure that your mamas bring you back every holiday and we will kick a ball around. And I'll make sure to come to your first games when you get old enough."

"And walk her to her first day at La Masia," You continued with a smile.

Alexia looked up in shock. "Her? La Masia?"

"It's a girl," Vicky said," We found out last week."

"And La Masia?"

"Once the season's up, we're coming back to Spain. My manager is already putting out feelers for clubs."

"We're coming home, Ale. I want the bebita to grow up with you and Alba and Mama and Vicky's family. We can't do that if we're stuck in England all the time."

She surged towards you, one arm around you and the other around Vicky, holding you both tightly against her.

"You're making me a Tia," She said finally," Thank you." She looked at Vicky and wiped away her tears. "Sorry, about earlier. It's just-"

"Your littlest sister is pregnant and you found out through Jenni. I understand. But hey, now that you're here, explain to y/n that the best way to tell your Mama is to get a baby-sized Barca jersey."

[literallyjusttoa]

I have been obsessed with the idea of Paris coming to the modern day in the same way Midas, Lityerses, and Medea did. Like, If anybody had some unfinished business, it's every citizen of Troy. Anyway here are some different little scenarios I've cooked up about how this silly little war criminal fared after making a mad dash for the doors of death in HoO.

Ok, so in this scenario, Paris is recruited by Gaea just like all the other spirits who come back from the dead. He ends up being tasked with working alongside Octavian. At first, he's driven only by grief and anger at the loss of his own family and city. As they approach Camp Half-Blood, Paris regularly remarks on how happy he is that's he'll be the one storming the walls this time. But over time, he slowly finds himself growing worried about Octavian's sanity. He tries to steer Octavian away from making reckless decisions, but Octavian refuses to back down. Paris sees the deadly fervor of his fellow soldiers in Octavian, and pulls away. From here we split off into two endings. 1. (the sad one) Octavian's fate plays out the same as the books and Paris just has to deal with how his actions unintentionally spurred the young man towards his own death. Or 2. (the happy one) Paris leaving is the wake-up call Octavian needs, and he pulls himself out of battle at the last second, breaking the cycle of hatred and wrath that started at Troy. Pick your fighter I guess.

In this scenario, Paris is not the only one who comes back from the doors of death. Half of the Argo II crew find him in Ancient Greece (Don't ask why he's there instead of Turkey idk shhhhh) And he's very helpful to them in whatever quest they're trying to complete at the time. All's well that ends well, except the OTHER half of the Argo II crew actually just met up with Hector on the other side of Greece lol. Turns out neither brother knows the other is alive, and the Argo II take the time to reunite the pair. I would specifically set this in BoO, and have the focus be on Jason and Leo as parallels for Hector and Paris, especially with them both thinking about sacrificing themselves bc of the prophecy (the whole "storm or fire" thing). Like, my idea is that a lot of emphasis would be put on Hector dying first, and how he sacrificed for Troy, and how Paris wishes he could've saved Hector. And Jason would come away from that thinking "Yes, I want to be Hector, i've made peace with making the final sacrifice to keep my friends safe" and Leo thinking "I'll do what Paris couldn't and give my life so that Jason doesn't have to" and ahhhh angst.

This is a ToA scenario instead of an HoO scenario. Paris and one of his siblings come back to life like in the last one, but instead of it being Hector, this time it's Cassandra. Idk when this would happen in the timeline of ToA, bc those books are so tight knit (maybe the infamous TTT to TON roadtrip) But I would add a little side quest where Apollo and Meg have to find Cassandra bc Nero's trying to kidnap her or smth. They run into Paris while they're searching for Cassandra, and the three of them team up for a lil bit. In this scenario, Paris works as a direct parallel to Apollo, all though he's a bit further behind on his redemption journey. Basically, Apollo feels like he's looking at slightly embarrassing old pictures of himself. When they find Cassandra, Apollo offers a genuine apology for everything he did to her. Emboldened by Apollo's example, Paris also opens up to Cassandra in a way he'd never done before. The two are finally able to air out their shared grief from Troy, and they set out to ... idk New Rome or the Waystation or smth. Either way they're a lot closer as siblings now, and Apollo promises to visit them once the Trials are over.

Of course, these are only my ideas that kinda fit into canon, I have a whole bunch more that go entirely off the rails. Anyways this pathetic little failure of a man has bewitched my body and soul or whatever I love rolling him around like a balled up chewing gum wrapper.

[shxnigxmi]

[𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄!𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁] [ꜰᴇᴍɪɴɪɴᴇ!ᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

Another popular trend on Tiktok, the one where women sit on a black painted canvas with colored paint on their bare ass and thighs—

c/w: nudes, feminine male reader, price jacks off to your gift, the 141 boys are all so down bad for you (because i’m an attention whore)

🔞 MINORS/FEM!ALIGNED DNI 🔞

—

Thinking about how fucking hot it would be to do that viral TikTok trend on Price where a woman gifts their boyfriend a black painted canvas with their ass and legs painted a bright color and they sit on top of it.

Cheeky thing you are— sending it to him on base. A little care package to show him how much you love and miss him. He knew you were doing it to be a fucking brat.

He knew that you knew just anybody could come waltzing along and swipe it from him before he got the chance to even see it. You’d wrapped it up in simple brown paper and put a kiss mark in cherry red lipstick in the corner. The only indication that it was from you to Price was the soldier who’d said it was attached to an envelope from you.

The Captain didn’t have a moment at the time to collect his care package from you but he told the soldier to keep it safe and he’d be back for it later that night.

It was kept in the locked and monitored armory, the armory that all his men had access too. All his men who’d heard that you left something special for him, and were eager to be invasive to see what it was.

Jealous of him for getting something from you and frustrated that you sent only him something. Which didn’t make sense since Price was your husband and the rest of his boys were just a casual on and off fuck buddy situation. (With the Cap’s approval of course).

They just couldn’t stand it, they all wanted you so bad that it physically hurt to accept the fact you would always belong to their Captain and him only.

So yeah, he was rather peeved with you for sending him something so lewd and provocative when any of the three others could’ve swiped it from underneath his nose and seen it before he could.

But he was quick to change his attitude when he saw what it was that you’d gifted him. A print of your ass and deliciously thick thighs over a deep black on the canvas.

In the envelope that came with it was a letter, in which you wrote about how lonely and unsatisfied you were without your beloved husband to take care of you. And he felt his cock stir eagerly at the mental image of you whining all pretty for him.

The rest of the contents in the envelope are what made his dick jump to full mast.. polaroids. Small pictures of you. You in lingerie, you with a dildo up your ass, a picture you took in the mirror of the backs of your thighs and ass painted in a deep and sexy red.

The man moved quick, scooting the painting further up his bed and laying the polaroids all over the canvas. He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed his boxers and pants down to his thighs. Sighing in relief as his hard cock jumped when it was released from the confines of his uniform. Then he was clambering into the bed to hover over the canvas and he grunted as he stroked himself with a few relived sighs sprinkled in. Pumping his cock to chase the orgasm he could feel cresting. Like a fire in his chest and broiling in his stomach. It was when he looked down at the painting beneath him that his stomach and balls tightened up and he was shooting his load all over the print of your ass.

He stroked himself through his orgasm, a deep groan that bordered on being a feral growl rumbled from deep within his chest. When he came down from his high an abrupt idea erupted into life in his head.

He grinned as he pulled out his phone and opened up the group chat he and with the rest of the boys.

[Come to my quarters. I got something here I think you’d all quite enjoy.]

—

a/n: somebody put me down like a sick animal🧍🏽

[talaok]

hi!!! request for joel being readers first kiss. He won’t go any further than kissing but they have a LOT of fun kissing

thx

post outbreak jackson pls

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: very brief talk of some sexual themes at the end, but the rest is... you guessed it, kissing!

a/n: 1000/10 idea i literally blushed when you sent it. idk about the execution tho

You were so incredibly embarrassed when you told him, when you finally had to confess that you had no experience, and by that I mean really none, absolutely zero.

But then again what could he have expected?

perhaps he knew right from the moment he set eyes on you, and perhaps... perhaps he liked it.

It oozed from your every pore... your innocence, it was in the way you couldn't meet his gaze, in the way you shivered when his hand grazed against your arm, in the shyness in your voice... it was in everything... it was all of you.

But he nicked at it, piece by piece, brick by brick, he had gotten to know you... maybe a little too much.

He had realized at one point, too late he'd grow to admit, that he liked you, really liked you, in a way he hadn't experienced in ages, in a way that made him feel sixteen all over again.

And yes you were young... much too young for him, and yes you were complete opposites, him, a rough man with enough blood on his hands to make a serial killer's skin crawl, and you, you a pretty little thing who'd lived her whole life in Jackson, safe from the atrocities of the real word... but still, still he he couldn't stop his old heart from beating faster when he was with you.

And that's why one day, one cold, windy day, as snow fell to the ground and you held onto his arm as if it was a life jacket, while he walked you back home, he couldn't do anything but tell the truth.

"Joel" you had said right outside your front door.

"yes sweetheart?" he asked, watching your pretty face fill with dread

"Joel I... I like you"

You'd told him so casually, so simply, that for a moment he wondered if he had imagined it.

But you had misinterpreted his pause all wrong

"I-I'm sorry nevermind, pretend I didn'-"

"no, no I'm sorry" he shook his head, forcing himself out of his trance "You said you like me darlin'?" he asked, taking a step closer to you so he was right there before you, looking down at the gorgeous girl who'd just made all his wishes come true.

"mh-mh" you nodded shily

And at that, he smiled, placing a hand on your reddening cheek, as his thumb gently stroked it

"well then we're in luck" he'd murmured "cause I happen to like you too sweetheart" he promised "a lot"

"r-really?" Your eyes sparked with joy

"of course baby" he breathed, bending down to meet his lips with yours instinctively before your voice stopped him

"wait-" you said

"oh, I'm sorry, I'm going too fast"

"n-no you're not it's just that..."

it was getting harder to meet his gaze again

"if you wanna wait that's ok, sweetie"

"n-no I don't wanna wait, Joel, it's just that-"

"what is it?"

A loud sigh left your mouth before you could respond

"I've never... I've never kissed anybody"

His mouth fell open slightly at the confession, but he recovered quickly, now both his hands holding your pretty face.

"oh" he breathed "that's ok sweetheart, we can wait"

"no I want to kiss you Joel, I really really do... but- but I'm scared I won't be... good at it"

"oh baby" he couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle "You'll be great at it, don't you worry"

Your heart was racing and your breathing hitched as you looked up into his hazel eyes

"do you think- do you think you could... teach me?"

Now Joel Miller didn't deem himself a romantic, but the way you said that... the way you gazed dreamily and both anxiously into his eyes as you spoke those words... he had to stop a moment to thank whoever was up there for having allowed him to meet you.

"of course I can" he said

"yeah?"

"there's nothing I'd like more baby"

And that was it, you were smiling like a kid in a candy store

"s-so what do I do?"

His hands were still on your face, holding you in a way that made your knees weak

"just follow my lead, I'll go slow, don't worry"

You nodded at that, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours and you were- you were giving your first ever kiss.

You got up on your tiptoes and held onto his arms as you closed your eyes and got lost in the feeling- and wow- you had only read in books about it and seen it in a couple of the movies they showed in Jackson, but this... this was just amazing, it felt like you were dreaming, like you had ascended to another universe.

He had kept his promise, he did go slow, but it felt heavenly for him too nonetheless.

He leaned away after what was probably an eternity, to look back at you and confirm this was all real

"so?" he asked, "how was it?"

You couldn't help but giggle as you almost jumped out of your skin from the happiness.

"good" you grinned "very very good"

"mmmhh" he hummed, moving one of his hands to your waist to bring you closer to him "'s that right"

"yeah" you breathed so lowly he wouldn't have heard it if he hadn't been an inch away from your face

"well I'm glad" he smirked, kissing you on the cheek this time "Hopefully we'll do that again then"

"yes please" 

He chuckled at that, not leaning away

"would you like a goodnight kiss?"

Not a split second passed that you had already answered

"yes" you nodded, leaning up already "yes please"

And that was how it all started.

That was the night you found your true calling... kissing, and not only that, but kissing Joel Miller.

God, there was nothing better than it,

feeling his beard stroke your cheek, the way his strong hands held you as he did, the way he tasted, the way his warmth spread all over your body, it was all just... perfect

And the coolest thing was that when he said he was gonna teach you, he meant it.

Who knew there were so many ways you could kiss someone?

There were the French kisses, the kisses on the neck, the "special kisses" aka hickeys you loved giving him and that he loved pretending not to like, then the kisses standing up, laying down, and your personal favorite: kissing him while sitting on his lap, and then of course as time went on you both found out (although him especially) how much fun it was to kiss in public, at the bar, on patrol, you name it, it didn't matter, what mattered was that his lips were on yours and his arms were around you (and even if he would have never admitted it, he loved it because he loved showing everyone you were his, and he was yours).

If it were up to you, you'd spend your whole life like that, diving your fingers into his hair as his hands explored every inch of your body, your face, your hips, your ass, your belly (above clothes of course), making you shiver and whimper with every movement.

But it was only just kissing, Joel made a promise to himself he was gonna wait, and it's not that he didn't want to go further, god only knew how many times his dick got hard just by giving you a chaste kiss on the lips as he felt your body pressed against his (and yes that did make him feel like a hormonal teenager again, but then again, everything about you did), so no it definitely wasn't that, and he didn't know if it was because he felt guilty or in some way, like he would be doing something wrong, but for now, all he knew was that he needed to wait, wait until he was sure you were sure about him, and about you.

And for now... for now, you were more than happy with it, counting down the seconds until you'd get a taste of him again.

[testrella]

CRAZY RICH ASIANS..! G. SATORU X READER

𝜗𝜚 | CHAPTER THREE : just..friends!

NEXT… CHAPTER FOUR : tutoring.

gojo was reclined on his couch, legs sprawled out everywhere. the comfort of his own home at 17 was a luxury not anybody could afford. yet, it was gifted to him by his grandma on his 16th birthday. a 32 acre estate mansion designed by switzerland’s best architect. a blend of traditional japanese and a mix of modern luxury. despite the mansion being large enough to home a village, it was only filled with servants, gojo and silence.

which is why his father thought it was a great idea to have him take on a responsibility, a quite immense responsibility. 

“who the hell are you?”

gojo glances up from his phone and looks for what voice peeped from the entrance of the lounge room. the large dark oak doors were fully opened yet from his peripheral vision, there was no one there. that was until he looked down at a young boy.

his jet black hair, fair skin and green eyes stood out from any other kid has ever laid his eyes on. a shiver runs down gojo’s spine and goosebumps slowly form on his forearms as he continues to stare at the young boy.

“satoru,” his father’s voice echoed from the hallway, slowly becoming more apparent as he got closer. “this is megumi fushiguro, he will be staying with you from now on.”

the young white haired male’s jaw drops to the very floor as he repeated the last name out loud, “..fushiguro?” he glances at the boy then back at his father before raising an eyebrow, “and why is that?” there was no curiosity in his tone, just genuine concern. 

his father opens his mouth to respond before shutting it as megumi turns around to face him, seeming to have the exact same question. why is he staying with 17 year old gojo satoru?

“his father has..business to take care of. it required him to leave for a certain period of time so i’ve agreed to take him in.”

the explanation was typical; vague and left no room for any further questions. gojo knew better than to further poke the sleeping bear and just nod in agreement. but even though he answered gojo’s question, his eyes told a different answer. there was no doubt the boy’s father got into some trouble and was taken out for good.

gojo shrugged the lingering thoughts away before making his way to megumi. he knelt down to megumi’s height, to come off as less intimidating, and patted his head. “megumi, right? i’m satoru, looks like we’re gonna be roommates for a while.”

“i am not sharing a room with you.” megumi spat out while clutching onto a small dog plushie. even if he tried to come off as fearless, gojo couldn’t help but notice the way he was violently shaking. 

he chuckles at megumi before pulling him into a tight and unwarranted hug. “sure man, whatever you say goes.”

the busy streets of tokyo were alive every night, capturing the life of the city and its residents. honking horns, distant chatter, and the same rhythmic footsteps of busy people wanting to get from point A to point B. gojo suggested the two shopping the day after the party, which clearly irritated megumi.

“do we really have to go shopping during rush hour?” megumi grumbled and shoving his hands into his pockets. “i have better things to do.” 

satoru only chuckled at the angsty teen’s behavior. he watched megumi grow from a know it all toddler to a slumped moody teenager. “oh come on megumi! i’ve been meaning to buy you something nice. besides, it’s not like you actually have friends to hang out with.”  

megumi shoots him a glare, “i do have friends, and i could have plans that only involved myself.”

“like what? brooding in your room all day?” gojo teased, ruffling megumi’s hair before he slapped his hand away.

as they entered a high end luxury store, gojo’s attention was immediately caught by a limited edition pair of sneakers. he nudged megumi towards the display before picking it up and carefully inspecting it. “what do you think megumi? these would look great on you!” 

megumi barely glances at the shoe before mumbling a response, “they’re fine i guess. can we get them and go home now?” irritation was written all over the poor boy’s face. 

gojo was able to immediately pick up the teen’s attitude towards him. he rolled his eyes at the moody behavior, “you’re in a mood today. something bothering you?” 

“i don’t know… maybe it's the fact you're texting my teacher and asking her out for dinner again!” he whispered-yelled in the middle of the store.

gojo clicks his tongue. “ah, so that’s what this is about huh?” he said with a stupid smile plastered on his face, “well i happen to think miss. l/n is a lovely person to be around. she’s humble, intelligent and she seems to talk to me like a normal person. she’d be a wonderful friend!”

megumi scoffs and crosses his arms across his chest, “you’re not fooling anyone, you know there’s more to it!”

gojo leaned slightly towards megumi with a slight mischievous look in his eyes, “it’s refreshing to talk to someone who isn’t obsessed with the whole gojo clan nonsense. she’s not stiff and never talks about business.” he leans further into megumi’s personal space, “but you seem to be real caught up on this. are you jealous..?!”

megumi’s face flushed in a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. “i am not jealous! i just don’t think it’s appropriate for you to make plans with my teacher. it’s  weird..” he mumbled the last sentence. 

gojo raises his hand to scratch his chin and pretends he’s in deep thought. “hm, well if it makes you that uncomfortable then i suppose i have no choice but to cut contact.”

“r-really?! you’ve decided that quick?” 

“of course,” gojo said, ruffling his hair once again. “you’re more important to me than making a new friend.”

a small pang of guilt hit megumi’s chest, and his expression softened. “i mean, you don’t have to stop being her friend. just..stop trying to invite her to private dinners.”

“deal!” gojo says with a wide grin, “now, let’s go find some shoes you’ll actually like.” despite megumi’s outburst, he knew he cared for him in his own way. no matter how many times gojo has been a victim of megumi’s prickly demeanor, he would still let him have his way.

the duo exits out the store, with gojo swinging multiple bags over his back, into the bustling streets. the both continued to have a quiet conversation about tonight’s dinner options. just as they turned the corner, a small figure collided with him, again. 

“ah, miss. l/n!” gojo exclaimed, caught completely off guard. standing before them was today’s topic of discussion dressed casually with a few bags in her hand. 

“megumi, mr.gojo! what a lovely surprise to see you two here.” you smiled.

gojo cleared his throat, trying to regain any composure he had left “y-yes, quite a surprise indeed! we were, uh, out shopping for new shoes for megumi.” he tried to reach over to pat megumi’s shoulder, with his eyes on remaining on you, and ends up patting his face.

you glance at the multiple bags being held by gojo, “seems like you guys found something nice.”

“yeah thanks to this idiot.” megumi muttered before swaying gojo’s hand out his face, “he insisted i get new shoes.” 

“well, it was nice seeing you both.” you replied. “i’m actually on my way to a movie. i’ve been meaning to watch the new action movie that recently came out.” 

gojo’s eyes light up at the mention of the film, “oh really?! we were just about to grab something to eat but a movie sounds even better! right megumi?” he glances back at the teenager who seemed to be absolutely mortified by the sudden turn of events. 

“uh, sure but we really shouldn’t intrude-”

“don't be ridiculous!” gojo chuckled before turning to you, “we’d love to join you if that’s okay with you miss. l/n. tickets and snacks on me!” 

you laughed softly at the man’s eagerness, “i don’t mind at all, some company would be nice.” 

megumi gave gojo a “what are you doing?!” look but he was too infatuated with you to even notice. 

as they made their way to the theaters, gojo makes an attempt to make conversation to fill in the comfortable silence. but his nerves seem to hate him.

“s-so, miss. l/n.” gojo’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat before attempting again. “i hear that the, uh, curriculum changed throughout the year. i-is it difficult for you? but i mean i wouldn't be surprised if not since someone like you is capable of handling it well..”

you smiled kindly despite being confused at his sudden awkwardness, “it’s just an adjustment. i’m fine as long as the students are.” 

megumi sighed before yanking gojo aside and whispering, “ please stop, you’re embarrassing yourself. can we just-”

“relax megumi, i’m just trying to make conversation.” gojo said while nervously chuckling.

when they reached the ticket counter, gojo confidently stepped in front of both of them. “three adult tickets please, i’ll be paying.”

the young cashier smiled, “sure thing. i’ll be sure to add on tonight's family discount.” she prints out the tickets and hands them over to gojo. “enjoy the movie and your family night out!”

both megumi and gojo froze, processing her words while you chuckled at the misunderstanding.

“we’re not-” megumi started but was quickly cut off. 

“thank you and we will!” gojo said before snatching megumi by his collar. 

as they entered the theater, megumi gave gojo a stern look before muttering “did you seriously go along with that?!” 

gojo only laughed at megumi’s response to the situation. “why not? it’s kind of nice to be seen as a family, don’t you think?” he turned to you, waiting for your approval. 

your eyes softened towards megumi, “the two of you certainly give off the dynamic of a family. it’s cute to see.”

the theater’s lights start to dim and the chatter that was once there starts being hushed. gojo, being sat in between megumi and you, couldn’t help but keep up his playful demeanor. whenever a dramatized scene came on, he would whisper in your ear witty but funny remarks on it. all megumi heard were giggles coming from his teacher, and being caused by his mentor. 

it was annoying enough to see gojo play his classic playboy persona in front of his teacher. that was what he thought until he further inspected him. despite the horrible lighting, he noticed the subtle signs of nervousness.like the way gojo would lightly tap his fingers on the shared armrest, how he would stumble over his words, or the way he constantly looked over at you as if he seeked approval.

no matter how much of a distraction the both of you were, he couldn’t help but find amusement in watching the two of you. it was a rare sight to see gojo, the overly confident playboy, be genuinely flustered. for once, he decided to let gojo’s antics slide. 

once the credits rolled, megumi leaned into gojo’s ear. “you owe me for this.”

and before gojo could question what he meant by that, he sees him turn his attention onto you. “miss. l/n, i’m actually having trouble adjusting to the curriculum you mentioned earlier. would it be okay if you could tutor me at gojo’s house? he’ll pay you!”

and being the dedicated teacher you are, you respond with genuine concern in your tone. “of course! why didn’t you say anything sooner?!” 

tag list: @poeticlovefanpage @mistyheart @sureconfused @chilichopsticks @lightshowerrr @faeryminnyx @0001010dog @myabae @therealestpussyeater @kolpvii @sleepykittycx @tojisworm-5 @universallystrangeravenue @catobsessedlady @nico707 @invisible-mori @peqch-pie @dilflover-3 @foliea @honoredalone @goldenglow149 @portgas459ace @sealsu @misorastars @silkija @r0ckst4rjk @ritsatoru @starlostwish @yihona-san06 @mx-mekla @iaminyourfloors @gabi-moureira @thesharkcollector @misorastars @hyori2 @selysixn @miffysoo @lordbugs @mimidonottouch @moonlightazriel @bubybubsters @manyno @rixyaaaa

if you’d like to be added, please do the inbox thing! it’ll make it easier on my part. this is the updated tag list (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[getlostsquidward]

a shot in the darkest dark

pairing: emily prentiss x reader; emily prentiss x andrew mendoza

a/n: pls excuse the rusty writing. it's been almost 2 years since I've written something andddd this is my first time writing for emily teehee :D

warnings: angst, hurt/(a bit of) comfort, canon-typical violence (plot is set between events of 14x15 to 15x2 with some plot changes for self-indulgent purposes), gun violence, gunshot wounds, blood and injury

summary: to save the lives at stake in the hands of an unsub, you dared yourself to reveal your deepest, darkest truth.

Everyone is tensed as the unsub, Casey Pinkner, is forcing Melissa to kill the store manager, eager to prove that she’s just as capable of hurting other people as anybody is. Casey hands Melissa the gun, reminding her that her daughter will be dead if she doesn’t follow.

JJ intervenes. “Come on. She’s got nothing to do with this, okay? Just let her go. She’s not a part of this. You have no reason to hurt her. Just let her go.”

Casey smirks, a new idea seemingly brews in his head. He grabs the gun from Melissa, walks over to JJ, and grabs her hair. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

You and Spencer stay still and silent as you let things unfurl, that is until the unsub pushes the poor store manager away and shoots her.

“Do not move!”

Casey then hands the gun to Melissa again, which she accepts easily this time. “New deal. Now you need to kill one of these three.”

She’s shaking but aims the gun in your direction still.  “Who’s it gonna be?”

Melissa looks the three of you in the eye and pleads, “Please, I don’t want to do this.” 

Looking at your peripheral vision, you know that JJ and Spence have something up their sleeve to avoid having Melissa shoot one of you. Spencer never wavers with his eye contact with Melissa, while JJ looks ahead with a determined look on her face.

“Judge, you’ve got to decide. That’s what you do, right? Decide life or death with a flick of your gavel.”

The judge trembles while aiming the gun at each of you until the shrill ring of the telephone makes all of you jump. Finally, they’ve opened a line of communication with Casey, and you were just hoping that he at least take the call even though you know that he has what he wants and most likely won’t negotiate. 

He lets it ring, contemplating if he should pick it up. Reid encourages him. “Answer it, Casey.”

Casey tells Reid to shut up, further confirming your feeling that he won’t talk to somebody from the outside. He turns to Melissa. “Pull the trigger.”

By this time, Melissa’s gun is aimed at the ground, and you’re currently steeling yourself to what might happen next — until Casey does the unexpected. 

He lets the phone off the receiver but doesn’t pick it up to speak with your team outside. He just…let it in the open, letting everyone hear what’s happening inside.

Huh.

He turns his focus back on Melissa. “Pull the trigger.”

You share a look with JJ and Reid, and before any of them can speak up. You kneeled from your position. “Casey. If Melissa won’t play, I will.”

JJ and Spence looked at you as you tried to settle with the unsub, the blonde shaking her head. You knew JJ was planning to do it as well but you beat her to it.

“Truth or dare. That’s your game, right?” You asked, standing slowly. Casey hesitates but aims his gun at you nonetheless. “I’ll play.”

On the other hand, your team outside has finally accessed the security feed, all the while listening to you. The good thing was even though the camera wasn’t capable of audio, the unsub let them listen through the phone.

“All right, looks like Reid, Y/L/N, and JJ are tied up, and it’s the shop manager that was shot. Right? Look. She’s still moving.”

Simmons studies the feed, and points at the door caught by the camera. By now they’re delegating the police with their positions and Tara asks Garcia to route the video and sound feed to the local police department where Emily is.

“Melissa, the weapon, now!”

“Casey, I know what it’s like, to be wrongly accused, sent to prison for a crime you didn’t commit,” Reid says, trying to empathize with the unsub.

As expected, Casey didn’t buy it even if it was the truth. He then turned his attention to you. “Okay, agent…” 

“Y/L/N.”

“Agent Y/L/N. Truth or dare.”

Without hesitation, you responded. “Truth.”

“If I think you’re lying or stretching the truth in the slightest, I’ll kill these two.”

When you nodded, Casey continued. “You ever shoot anybody before?”

“Yes, I have.”

“You enjoy it?”

“No.”

“Liar!”

“No, no, no. I’m not lying. I had no choice when I shot those people. But I did not enjoy it. I didn’t.” He seems to accept your answer somehow, and when doesn’t follow up, you do. “Okay, you asked, and I told the truth, okay? It’s the truth. So now it’s my turn, right? That’s how this game is played. We take turns. Truth or dare.”

“Truth.”

“What’s it gonna take for all of us to walk out of here alive, for this to end peacefully?” You know it’s a long shot, but it never hurt to try when yours and four other lives are at stake. Casey shatters your hope with his response.

“I ain’t going back to prison. My turn. Truth or dare?”

You still picked truth, knowing that if you chose the other option, he most likely would dare you to kill JJ or Spencer or one of the civilian hostages—or yourself.

“I want you to say something you’re afraid to say, that you’d never tell anybody. And you better make it good, because if it’s not, it’s gonna be the last thing you ever say.”

You nod in understanding, wracking your brain for anything that you can use to say. You gasped as he shot Melissa, cutting you off as he viewed what you said as boring. “Next!”

Your chest is heaving as you think carefully about what to say next, nerves getting the best of you. Knowing very well that time is of the essence, your throat then decides to close up as if it’s physically hurting you to say the words that will come out of your mouth. Casey was having none of it as he dragged you back on your knees. “Last chance. Something you would never say aloud, not even to your partners here. Your deepest, darkest secret. Impress me, or I kill them both.”

You’re so close to hyperventilating as you look at your two teammates with tears in your eyes, and before you pass out and drop the chance to save everyone, you rush the words without thinking anymore.

“Um...I'm seeing someone, a lovely woman, but I'm... still hung up on Emily. My boss,” you chuckled sadly. Looking up as the unsub reaches out for the phone, assuming that he wanted to let your team outside hear what you have to say, you continued. “She and I uh, we kind of had a...I'm not even sure what to call it. We had a thing before she left for London. Of course, we still had communication, but we never got to talk about that. Talk about us, and now the rest is history.”

Back at the station, Emily gulped when her name was mentioned, feeling Luke’s curious eyes on her as he got ready to go to rescue Melissa’s daughter. Her jaw clenched as she kept her features schooled, she could not let her emotions take over her right now. There's a nothing-to-lose unsub with two civilian and three federal agents hostage in closed quarters. An erratic unsub whose gun is pointed at your head, for god's sake. She can deal with that later.

“I thought I'd get over it, you know. But what's that saying? Distance makes the heart grow fonder. That's when I realized that I...” you trailed off, shaking your head. The unsub is having none of it when he reminds you of the gun on your head. “When she came back to the BAU I was prepared to take this feeling down to the grave.”

“Go on, say it. Don't hold back.”

Your eyes darted to the ceiling, searching for any CCTV that could capture your face. There was none, you figured it was placed somewhere out of your line of sight. Relieved that none of the team could see your face, you took a big breath as you finally revealed your deepest secret to everyone. To her.

“I'm in love with you, Emily Prentiss. I always have, and I always will. I was fine without you knowing this, but god I think about what could've been, every waking moment of my life.”

It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your chest as you finally confronted your feelings. You know that you've been in love with Emily for a long time now but you didn't have it in you to put it in words. Confronting your feelings for her made you scared, so much so that you waited for Emily to say something first until case after case passed…until she eventually left to work in Interpol, words left unsaid. Years have passed and you didn't hear a peep about it from the woman, which left you hanging on to your feelings for the BAU Unit Chief. You knew that you should’ve moved on a long time ago, but you just…couldn’t.

“Hot damn,” Casey chuckles. “That’s what I’m talking about. Now those are some last words right there, but not good enough to save your life.”

The relief in saying it out loud almost made you overlook the unsub’s finger onto the trigger until Spencer shot him in the gut. You and JJ turned to him, noticing the gun holster in his ankle. As if on cue, the police then bursts out the door. You let JJ them about the wounded, allowing yourself to ruminate on what just happened.

Once outside, you let the cool night’s air hit your face, hoping that no one talks to you about what happened tonight—though knowing that you’ll have to deal with this confession sooner or later once you return home.

Perhaps it can wait until after Dave and Krystall’s wedding.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The world seems to have given you its grace as Emily didn’t bring Mendoza with her…but you know full well that grace can be and will be recalled anytime as your plus one chat with Penelope, Spencer, and Tara at the bar. 

While Penelope keeps them busy, you give in on doing what you deprived yourself of the past couple of hours—indulging at the sight of Emily, how her off-shoulder dress allows you to drink in the skin of her neck and shoulders, and how you used to—

Nope. Don’t.

Before you can’t help but go down the rabbit hole that is Emily Prentiss, you turn your attention back to the bar. “Pen, can I have double of your fancy drinks?”

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Sophie asks, her hand on your back. 

“Hmm? Nothing, just wanted to feel the bite of ‘The Rossi’,” you smile, and before she can comment on it, you let the drink burn through your throat until there’s nothing left on the glass. 

Emily goes to put her gift on the side, standing next to JJ as she subtly looks around the room to search for you. She spots you at the bar, shaking your head as you set your glass down. Emily makes a mental note to ask for one of those later, knowing that she needs to have liquid courage if she has to watch you with your date all night. She’ll need all the help she can get to talk to you.

She’s yet to speak her side about your confession, deliberately separating yourself from her as you got into the other SUV on the way to the airport that night. As she expected, you’d also kept your distance from her on the jet.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The ceremony was short and simple, but the love between the wedding couple made it so much special. You can’t keep the smile off your face as you watch your friend and father figure to get his second chance with the love of his life.

“Their marriage was in the stars…”

You find yourself mustering all of your resolve to not look at Emily as she gives her toast, so you let her voice lull you back to that rabbit hole again. With your feelings for her out in the open, it was hard not to fall back to the routine where you’ll think back to the nights of passion and words of ardor whispered to each other’s ears only, and soft smiles are exchanged. Moments which you hold very dear to your heart.

“...Twin flames, two souls that are always meant to be together.”

You keep your tears at bay on how beautiful Emily’s toast speech is, and how you can’t help but think that maybe…you wish that there’s a part of her that thinks of you while she utters those words. You wish those words were meant for you, too, because right now, she’s all you can think of. 

“Sometimes it takes time, sometimes it takes a parallel universe or something, but the thing about twin flames is that nothing can keep them apart…”

A sad smile appears on your face. Maybe, in a parallel universe, Emily Prentiss is in love with you too.

“To David and Krystall.”

The crowd’s cheer rouses you out of your deep thoughts, raising your glass to make a toast. You had the full intention of avoiding Emily physically tonight, but alas, the world has had enough of you running away as you find Emily’s dark eyes on you—like you’re the only person in the room.

Emily felt like her heart restarted again when you finally returned her gaze—and kept it. It made her burn inside. So when she spotted you walking to the bar alone, she kept that fire blazing and started up a conversation.

“Hey.”

Emily knew you’d already seen her coming and was glad you didn’t try to escape. “Hey, you,” you replied, a ghost of a smile appearing on your lips. It was fast, but Emily caught it still. She’s thinking carefully about what to say next when you speak again.

“Look, what I said back there, I needed to say something that would get his attention, and I needed to get to say something that would get everyone’s attention, you know, so I uh- I just needed to throw him off balance,” there was a slight waver in your voice which you played off with a nervous chuckle.

Emily knows that…but she needed to confirm something that’s been at the forefront of her mind lately. She needs to hear it, to see it. “Y/N… Truth or dare.”

Her eyes, at this close distance and with the lighting, offer its lucky spectator with the gold specks within her brown eyes. Before you could get yourself lost in it again, you answered. “Truth.”

“Did you mean it?”

You tried your best to convey it with your eyes, though you know she needs to hear it too—but then someone bursts the bubble you and Emily are in, effectively cutting off your trance. “Guys, they’re about to cut the cake," Sophie says, before kissing your cheek and interlacing her fingers with yours. She then turns to Emily. “Can I steal her for a second?” 

Emily nods, letting her whisk you away. Although baby steps were made today, she’s afraid that she might have to live with never hearing your answer.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The wedding allowed everyone to take a short reprieve from the horrors of your job, but the Everett Lynch case has been giving everyone a migraine (Rossi in particular) that sometimes you just want to bash your head in your desk in frustration. You feel for the man and his commitment to catching Lynch, which is why you’re now flooring the pedal on the way to the US Attorney’s Office to make sure Everett doesn’t break his daughter Grace out.

You can’t wait for backup any longer so you, JJ, and Reid split off to cover the underground garages where you can cut Lynch and Grace off. Reid and JJ ran off to the parking in Piedmont and 10th, while you now entered the parking in Trade Plaza as you spotted the father and daughter were about to get into a van. 

“Everett Lynch! FBI! Stop! Drop your weapon and place your hands on your head. Now!”

Lynch slowly puts his gun on the ground and kicks it over, so you order to do the same with her backpack. 

You've been in the same positions enough to know not to take your eyes off the suspects, even for a split second, but you guessed you’re not always lucky as you didn’t anticipate Grace shooting you down. 

It wasn’t in her profile. Like father, like daughter, you mused.

And well, your luck must have run out already, because in all places to have been shot, it’s in a place that’s not covered by your vest. You’re lying on the pool of your blood as the tires of their getaway car squeal out of the parking lot. You try to reach out for your gun in an attempt to shoot it down, but your vision is already blurring at the sides. 

You could faintly hear Spencer’s voice on your earpiece, but you can’t find the strength to answer it as you’re holding on to what remaining energy you have from succumbing to the darkness.

Eventually, you did, and the last thing you know is unfamiliar faces hovering over you, and the harsh lights of the hospital. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Your heart stopped.

Emily’s might as well do, too. 

“If I’d believe you, maybe-”

“No. There’s only one person to blame for this. Everett Lynch. He’s the one who shot Y/N, and he’s the one that we’ll move heaven and earth to bring to justice.”

Rossi reminded Emily that none of this is her fault, but she can’t help her mind going haywire over the thought of you getting hurt. She lets a few tears escape her eyes, before taking a deep breath and joining the others at the round table.

“Y/N’s gotta be okay, right? But what if she’s not okay? What if she’s—”

“Y/N’s strong, and she’s in good hands.”

Emily placed her hands at the back of the chair to keep her grounded, but her trembling hands hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team. “Spence is staying at the hospital. He’s gonna keep us updated. In the meantime, the best thing we can do for Y/N-” her voice falters at your name, but she also has to keep her head in the game as the unit chief. “-Is to find Everett and Grace before they go deep underground.” 

She reads Spencer’s update to the team that you’re now in surgery, and then her heart stutters over the next text she gets.

It’s going to be a while. She’s gonna want to see you too when she wakes up, Emily.

The sun has long been set when Emily couldn’t hold herself back anymore and asks Rossi to take charge in the meantime. The unit chief arrives just in time as the doctor tells Reid that you're out of surgery. “Is she gonna be okay?” She asked with bated breath.

“She’s lost a lot of blood, but she’s currently stable.”

“Can we see her right now?”

The doctor nods and leads the two to your room. Emily lets out the breath that she's been holding as soon as she hears the steady beeping of the monitor. She couldn't help herself as she approached your still sleeping figure, her hand cupping your face, thumb softly caressing the apple of your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were missing sooner,” Spencer whispered.

“You haven't talked with her yet.” He continued, but it’s no longer directed at you.

It's not a question, everybody knows the tension that's been up with the two of you ever since the confession. No one attempted to bring it up—not when the two of you are present, anyway.

You, nor Emily didn’t bring it up anymore after the wedding, either, as both of you didn’t know how to talk about it. Now you’re back to walking on eggshells around each other.

How do you even go back to how you were before?

Emily retracted her hand. “Unless it's about a case, no.”

“Have you ever talked to anyone about it?”

“No.”

Sad would be an understatement for Emily. She's been oceans apart from the team, from you, when she was in London but right now, you've never felt so far. Emily desperately wanted to reach out to you, but she didn't know what to say. There's also the fact that you're keeping her at arm's length, and that drives the two of you even further away from one another.

“You should, right now. The doctor said it’s unlikely that she can hear us, but it’ll be good for you to let it out.” Spencer pats her shoulder as an offer of consolation. “I’ll be right out.”

Unlike before, Emily didn’t bother to collect her thoughts anymore, letting her heart speak instead. “I know things between the two of us have been kind of weird lately…ever since you said you’re in love with me.”

It has been playing in her head since that moment…then there was one night when she’d hit rock bottom, and asked Penelope to get the audio file of your confession sent to her phone. It was the closest thing to ‘bringing it up’ with anyone from the team, but even then when Garcia asked Emily about it when her head was clearer, she shrugged the technical analyst off.

“I heard it, and it’s yet to leave my head, but the truth is I don’t know what to do with that. I mean I know why you said it, but what I’m itching to know is…if you meant it. But now, all of a sudden none of that matters. What matters is that you wake up. Come back to me, so I get to have more time with you.”

Emily sits at the edge of your bed and takes your hand in hers. The feeling of your soft and gentle touches against her skin now felt like a fever dream, something that she was not sure if it had happened with how long ago it was. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it, Y/N. Please don’t leave me.”

She lets out a breath that she’s been holding, taking in the features of your face. How your lashes kiss your skin, the way your brow furrows together as you read case reports, or how your nose scrunches up when you smile.

Emily dreams of you that night.

“Em.”

She only hums in response.

“Emily Prentiss,” you tried again, but she only groaned. “Em.” This time, you take your free hand to her head, because she’s taken your other hand hostage.

Finally, she stirs awake at your touch. “Did you sleep here all night?”

“Huh?”

You chuckled at her groggy features. She’s adorable. “How are you more out of it than I am?”

Emily only laughs softly in return, letting go of your hand as she sputters apologies.

“I’m glad you’re here, Em.”

“You’re my best friend. Where else would I be?”

…Right. I’m your best friend.

When you didn’t answer, Emily stood up. “I should go and let you get some rest.” 

“No. No, not yet,” you racking your brain on what to say next, to prevent Emily from leaving. “I…I’ve missed you.” You’ll just blame it later on the drugs they put you in.

“Me too.”

“It’s my fault that things have been weird between the two of us.” Emily tensed up at that, so you went on. “Yeah, I heard you…Um, we do need to talk about what I said.”

“No, we don’t-”

You grasped Emily’s hand in yours to stop her. She lets you continue. “I needed to say something real, and that’s what came out, and I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I never meant to do that to you…or her, to Sophie. I was prepared to take that secret to the grave, but now it’s out. And I can’t…lie to you and say I didn’t mean it. Because I do. I’m deeply in love with you. I know that’s not fair, springing this onto you when I know you love Andrew, and I want you to be happy…and I just want us to be okay.”

“We are,” Emily smiles, genuinely for the first time in days, also while keeping her tears at bay. She squeezes your hand in assurance.

You’re the first one to let go of her touch, already missing her hand that you think perfectly fits with yours.

Baby steps. 

But this time, maybe, you can let Emily go the same way you’ve always loved her. Silently.

[chelseasdagger]

Restoring Faith

Father Paul Hill x Reader

Summary: You pay Father Paul one of your midnight visits and he finds himself struggling with his sworn devotion

Warnings: religious themes, sacrilege, smut, oral over clothes (m!receiving)

Author’s Note: This is a late birthday present for @chellestrash​ , my true love of my life, and I hope I’ve done this little idea you love justice :’) I’m absolutely positive I didn’t make it sounds as pretty as some of the other fics, but I hope it will be alright :)

Word Count: 4k

The cold air sends a shiver down your spine as the gravel crunches beneath your feet. Wrapping your arms around yourself tighter, you keep your head down to protect your face from the wind. You follow the path that connects the great big church to the smaller house just behind it, the trail only visible due to the moonlight pouring down from above.

You’re no idiot, you’re aware anybody could see your somewhat frequent visits to see him. However, you convinced yourself that it was okay to go, so long as you waited past midnight to take the trip. Whether it was actually a valid excuse was a whole other subject. One you didn’t particularly want to think of and potentially use to talk yourself out of doing this.

Stepping up the old, creaky stairs of the small porch, you give one last glance over your shoulder to the abandoned street the church faces. There’s not a person in sight and you raise your hand to knock on the wooden door.

It opens after a moment and you smile at the sight of the priest in front of you. He’s dressed completely in black, excluding the stark white collar that frames his neck. You can’t help your eyes from giving him a quick once over, taking in the dark button up shirt tucked into the form fitting slacks that drape down his legs. His voice calling your name brings your gaze back to his face.

“How…,” he trails off, craning his neck higher and looking past you, “how can I help you?” His greeting is stiff, and you know he’s worried about curious eyes possibly seeing you here. You can’t fight the way your lips pull into a smirk at the idea of him already getting nervous.

“I just had a question, Father,” you begin to explain, and notice him looking at you with cautious eyes. “Is that not what you said? That we can come to you and seek guidance? Ask questions about our faith?” You can admit that it was slightly unfair using his own words against him, but it works all the same. He bows his head before nodding once, silently stepping aside and allowing you to walk inside.

It’s the same as it always was, with the couch being the only real centerpiece to the room. The curtains are drawn closed on each of the windows and it gives the sense of seclusion from the rest of the small island. The three lamps that line the right wall are all lit, painting everything in a warm glow. You’ll never get over how welcoming his home was, how it provided a safe space when you needed an escape. 

The sound of the door clicking shut makes you turn around to face him. He’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest, slightly hesitant as he stays silent and waits for you to speak first.

“Nobody saw me, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you flash him a cheeky smirk. Paul responds wordlessly with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He steps further into the room, his arm brushing yours as he walks to the small, open kitchen area. 

“I haven’t seen you at Mass,” he finally breaks his silence. You watch as he grabs an empty glass from the drying rack beside the sink before filling it with water from the tap. “Can I get you anything?” he offers with wide eyes, motioning towards the cup in his hand.

“I was sick,” you pick the first thing that comes to mind, “allergy stuff since the weather is changing.” The lie rolls right off your tongue. You watch as he drinks his water down, fixating on the way his Adam's apple moves with each swallow. Giving yourself a mental shake, you answer his earlier question.

“And I’m okay, thanks,” you decline his offer as you lean against the back of the couch. The priest says nothing but gives a solemn look your way.

“I’m… sorry to hear that,” he speaks gently into the quiet room. His dark, brown eyes look sincere, enforcing the truth behind his words. There’s a small pout on his lips and you’re not sure if it’s from your faux illness or if he can somehow sense that you’re not speaking the truth. Either way, he continues with the conversation.

“But I’m glad you’re feeling better. W-What can I do for you?” He sets his glass down on the small counter beside him. “You… um, mentioned seeking guidance? What about?” His eyes are focused onto yours and you find yourself only able to keep eye contact for a few seconds before his stare feels like too much. 

“Well,” you begin with a light laugh under your breath, “I just wanted to have you read to me again.” Your fingers toy with the thick seam of the couch cushion. “Is that okay? It just—it helps, is all.” You’re not certain the explanation makes a ton of sense, but there is truth behind it. His words help; it relaxes you to come and listen to him read, even if you don’t always find yourself secure in the faith you grew up with.

When you look up at him again, Paul is standing with a genuine smile on his face. It’s clear he likes hearing that he can help, and you feel a twinge of guilt shoot through your chest at how he genuinely enjoys what he does. It makes you being here that much worse, knowing how content and devout he is.

“Of course, I-I can do that,” he replies, his voice somehow even quieter than before. “Did you have a certain story you wanted me to read from?”

You think over his question for only a short moment. Deep down, you knew you could listen to him speak about even the most mundane things, including what he had eaten for breakfast. His voice was the thing to calm you, not the words he spoke.

“I don’t really care. Whatever you’d like, whatever we left off with,” you flash him a small smile. The priest nods only once before walking towards his bedroom, disappearing into the shadows of the small corridor leading to the door.

You let out a big breath of air you weren’t even aware you were holding in. Being alone with him felt good, it always did, but you couldn’t deny the guilt once again growing in your chest. Deep down, you knew this was wrong, but it always felt good when the guilt shaped to something else. Something stronger and impossibly difficult to ignore.

There’s only a small moment for self reflection before you hear his footsteps echoing out on the wood floor again. You glance towards the sound and find him returning back into the main room with the Bible wedged between his arm and his side. His fingers are busy, rolling the fabric of his long sleeve up to just above his elbow. As inch after inch of his skin is exposed, you find yourself unable to look away from the veins trailing up the inside of his arm.

He repeats his actions on the opposite side, gazing up at you from under the few strands of hair that have fallen out of place. Your lip finds its way between your teeth subconsciously, your own way of anchoring yourself and ignoring the need to tuck the loose curls back behind his ear.

“In moments where I truly begin to doubt my faith, I…” he trails off, fixing the last roll of his cuff over his forearm. He grabs the Bible and brushes his thumb over the raised letters as he continues, “I like to look back on the story of Job.”

You can’t even stop the exasperated sigh that leaves your body. He looks up at the sound, his head tilted slightly like a confused puppy.

“Job? Really, Father? I’m pretty sure that’s the opposite of restoring faith,” you curl your fingers to create air quotes over the last two words. Paul gives a small smile, lowering his head. He’s dealt with your opinions regarding faith and why God allows things to happen as He does.

“Maybe… maybe to some but I-I find that it’s a reminder,” his voice is quiet and calm, already slipping into his usual pattern of speech when he’s behind the lectern. He steps deeper into the living room and passes by you, making his way to the empty couch.

“A reminder to trust in Him even when we’re not sure of-of the path,” he finishes. You’re thankful he’s behind your back so he doesn’t see the way your eyes roll at his canned response. He must’ve seen the tension in your body though, taking note of the way your arms are still crossed over your chest, because he tries once more to get you to listen.

“You do remember that he was rewarded? In the end?”

“Yeah, but he went through hell to get it… hardly seems fair,” you answer him.

“Well, the Lord, He—,”

“If you say ‘Works in mysterious ways’…” you cut him off with a warning glare as you finally turn to face him.

Paul lets out a breathy laugh, staring down at the thick book in his hands. “I was only going to say that He doesn’t always…” he pauses for a moment, searching for the right words, “reveal His plans to us in a way that makes sense at the time. That’s all,” he finishes with a tight-lipped smile.

There’s a brief moment of silence that hangs in the air as you wait for him to move past this conversation. His quick inhale fills the room as he clears his throat quietly, his arm gesturing towards the couch.

“Shall we?”

“Of course,” you respond softly, your words tucked under your breath. He walks around to the front of the couch, his eyes fixed on you as you follow his path. He sits down as his fingers curl around the blue, knitted blanket that’s sprawled out across the cushion beside him.

“Here, let me—,” he doesn’t finish his sentence before draping it across the back of the couch. There’s a spot for you now, close enough that you knew you’d be touching him if you sat beside him. As tempting as the offer is, you find yourself shaking your head gently.

“Is-is something wrong?” he asks, his big, dark eyes searching yours. They’re wide and innocent, truly worrying that he overstepped. Once again, you’re reminded of how pure the man before you is; you nearly reconsider your original idea that made you seek him out tonight in the first place.

You shake your head as you stand in front of him, silently kneeling down and sitting on the floor. The priest’s expression instantly grows apprehensive. You flash him an innocent smile but his unsure glare never falters.

“I’ll just listen from here,” you tell him, trying to ease his worries. He looks hesitant but eventually swallows before opening the Bible. His long fingers splay out across the thin pages, turning them one after the other before finally stopping on a page.

He opens his mouth to speak, the words flowing effortlessly off of his tongue. His voice falls into the deep, rumbly tone that you only ever hear when he’s reading to you. There’s no audience, no image he has to maintain, and the words are so quiet it seems almost as if he’s reading to himself. You’ve always preferred these moments, when he appeared the most authentic he could be.

The more he reads the more comfortable you feel. Your body begins to relax and an idea strikes up in your mind. As he turns the next page, bringing in a deep inhale to continue the sentence, you let your head rest against his knee.

He immediately stutters over his words, repeating the same sound over and over. He never breaks his concentration though, and eventually pushes through and finishes the sentence. Not before flashing you a warning look as you rest your cheek against his leg, though.

It isn’t entirely inappropriate and would even be seen as a normal, platonic gesture. But given his profession, you knew it was absolutely not appropriate. You don’t pull away however, just keep your body slumped against his leg.

He continues speaking the old words, his pronounced sentences dissipating into muttered whispers the longer he goes on. Admittedly, you felt special that this tone was reserved only for you; there was a faint flare of pride in your chest knowing that you were the only one to hear his words so rumbly it’s as if they never fully left his chest.

At some point though, you begin to grow bored of just sitting there and waiting for him to finish. Usually these late night reads brought your anxiety down enough just to fall asleep on the priest, leaving him in the most awkward position of not knowing how to convince himself any of this was okay. But right now, you’d rather have some fun.

Paul knew something was up the second he saw your hand reaching towards him out of the corner of his eye. The muscles in his leg immediately tense, you feel it from under your skin. But you don’t want to raise his suspicion so soon.

Stretching further towards the Bible in his lap, you spread your fingers and place both palms over each side. Once his view is completely shielded from the printed words, he immediately looks into your mischievous eyes.

“What—what are you doing?” he asks confusedly. His eyebrows are pulled together as he awaits your answer.

“Just wanted to see how much you knew,” you reply genuinely. You knew the man had poured over this book time and time again, searching for meanings deeper than the blatant lessons that were spelled out for the reader. It always sent a conflicting feeling coursing through you, the way he could recite word after word from memory as if he was the one who had conjured them up. Conflicting because you liked the reminder of how devout he was, and isn’t that just a multifaceted guilt trip.

Paul smiles at your youthful game, and mentally accepts the challenge. He parts his lips before the words fall from his tongue.

“And when the days of the feast had run their course, Job would send and sanctify them, and he would rise early in the morning and offer burnt offerings according to the number of them all,” he begins, never looking away from your face as he repeats them with no hesitation.

“For Job said, ‘It may be that my sons have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts.’” The priest can’t stop from chuckling at the end of his sentence, having looked at your own genuine, bright grin. “Thus Job did continually.”

Once he’s finished, he flashes you his own smile before glancing down at your hands covering the pages still. You slowly remove them, giggling under your breath at how he passed your unofficial test.

The priest licks his lips once before clearing his throat gently, continuing again with his reading. As the minutes pass, you find yourself not paying much attention to the actual weight of the words. You just focus on his muttering voice until you're reminded of how sweet his last stutter sounded. And because you just can’t help yourself, you’re determined to hear it again.

Snaking your hand up his thigh, you feel his body grow stiff all over again. That adorable stutter becomes prominent once more, his eyes quickly focusing on your fingers rubbing up the inside of his leg as he attempts to finish the paragraph. Trying to pace your plan, you curl your fingers around his thigh and give him a moment to get used to the feeling.

“What are you doing?” These words are the coldest he’s spoken all night, yet you stay silent and wait. It takes him longer this time to finally react, to give his consent in the smallest agreement possible. It’s so minuscule that anybody else wouldn’t have noticed, but you know him awfully more than you should.

Half a nod. That’s all it takes, and you let your fingers graze lightly over the black slacks. They're taught from how he’s sitting, and you can see the outline of his thigh through the stretched material. His voice shakes now, the tone less steady and sure, as he forces himself to keep reading.

You’ve got to admit he’s doing better than you thought. He doesn’t stop reading, you assume he’s just trying to focus on something else, anything but your hand moving between his thighs. You must’ve hit a sweet spot though, inching near the little alcove where his thigh meets his hip, because the next thing you hear is a shuddering exhale as he halts his reading. 

And there it is only a second later—the outline of his cock showing through the dark dress pants. It never took very long, although this time it seems even quicker than usual. He continues to grow there, until you can see the fabric straining to accommodate for his now swollen head. You’ve barely touched him and he’s already so responsive.

Now that you can physically see the effect you have on him, there’s truly nothing that can stop you. Sure the nagging guilt is still in the back of your mind, telling you that you shouldn’t do this, but you push it away as much as you can. He looks so tempting right now: the loose strands of hair falling into his face, his lip caught between his teeth as he suppresses his groans, the faint twitch his cock gives when he feels your finger lightly drag along the base of his length. You love seeing him this desperate for you.

Your one finger lightly tracing the length of him is truly all it takes for the first twitch to happen in his trousers. The sight makes your mouth nearly water and you finally curl your fingers around him properly. Your grip isn’t too tight considering it’s over two layers of clothes, but it doesn’t stop the choked grunt from finally escaping his lips.

Still you continue, leaning closer until your breath is fanning over the bulge. He feels it, you can tell from the way his fingers clutch the book that’s resting on his other leg. The veins in the back of his hand become more prominent the harder he grabs it. Every part of his body is conflicting itself; he wants it but he knows he shouldn’t.

Still you wait, staring up at him and silently asking again if this is okay. He doesn’t stall as much this time—his eyes squeeze shut tightly before nodding quickly again, forcing another inhale through his nose.

You don’t waste a second and quickly press your tongue flat against the outline of his tip. Slowly licking along the length, you watch his body reel from how hard his stomach clenches at the feeling. He begins to shut the Bible but you grab his wrist before it can close all the way. You shake your head slowly, attempting to convince him to keep it open.

“Y…You know I can’t.”

“I like hearing you, Father,” you mumble quietly in the room. He stares down at you with an expression you can’t quite describe. There’s no emotion on his face, but his eyes look pained, no doubt from the name you referred to him as. He hardly moves except for the shallow breaths that you can only notice because of how close you are to him.

Waiting for his reaction seems to drag on for hours before he finally sighs through his nose and opens the book. You notice the way his fingers shake as he smooths out the page before trying to remember where he left off. Your lips pull into a smile as you hear his strained voice fill the room.

Squeezing the base of his cock tighter, you drag your tongue across his tip again before wrapping your lips around it. The story is cut off with his deep grunt, and you hum around him at the pleasant noise. The priest has his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling as he tries to regain his composure.

You knew this was an awful, sacrilegious act you two were doing, but it doesn’t stop the heat growing between your legs. Leaning closer into him, you work your mouth on him faster, sucking harder through the fabric. His hand closest to you grips the edge of the seat as he seethes through his teeth.

Paul finally looks down at you, staring into your eyes that have never once left his face. You hold his gaze before glancing wordlessly to the book still in his hand. The whimper that he barely slips out is your new favorite sound, replaying it in your head as you shut your eyes.

“A-As long as… m…my breath,” he’s cut off with a shaky inhale. He tries to read aloud, but his voice trembles the entire time.

“Keep going, Father,” you pull your mouth away from the outline in his black trousers to encourage him. There’s a long, dark stripe along the fabric from your tongue, but another wet patch where the head of his cock is straining against the material.

“As long as my-my breath is in me, and t-the spirit of God is in my nostrils—,” he’s finding each word more impossible to speak. You never allow him to give up though, rubbing your hand over his thigh to support him.

“My lips will not speak f…falsehood, and my tongue will not utter deceit.” He manages to finish the paragraph before taking deep breaths, swallowing thickly and trying his damndest to not look at the sinful scene in his lap. But his body betrays him once more, twitching into your mouth when you hum sweetly around him as a reward for finishing what you asked him to.

Pressing your tongue right in the ridge under his swollen head, you hear a new sound escape his pressed lips. It's a guttural, raw twist of your name and it’s unexpected.

“Oh… Oh—Wait,” he tries to warn you but it’s much too late. His release happens without him realizing, his body moving while his mind doesn’t have a chance to catch up. When you feel him pulsing in your mouth you glance up at him and oh, what a sight it is.

He’s completely disheveled, biting down into his hand to muffle the noise he’s ashamed for anyone to hear, and the veins in his neck are protruding just above the edge of his collar. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him like this, but you always make sure to memorize the sight down to those details. To always keep the picture in your mind.

What really catches your attention though, is the stream of white bubbling up through the taught fabric around his sensitive tip. You didn’t realize he would have finished quite this fast, but you definitely don’t mind it. Squeezing the middle of his length tightly, you slowly slide your hand up, determined to get all of it out of him.

Paul’s thighs are beginning to shake from the sensation and you can only imagine how good it must feel for him. You stick your tongue out as you lap up the mess he’s made, and his thighs jolt to close around your body. His sensitivity to your every touch leaves a desire that burns hotly in the bottom of your stomach. You love the feeling of having power over him, admittedly too much.

Once he’s clean, you finally let go of him altogether and sit back on your legs. He’s left panting in awe as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. You wish you could see inside his head, try and understand what he’s thinking. But right now his dark eyes are glossed over and he looks as if he’s somewhere completely else.

“Thank you, Father.”

He scrunches his eyes shut tightly the second the words fill the air. It’s silent except for his panting as you rest your head on his knee once more. This time it is a platonic action, your way of showing him you’re there without words. And there you sit beside your priest in the small, old house behind the great big church, with the weight of everything that just happened.

[kaleidoscopecth]

Why Won’t You Love Me?

MDNI

paring: calum hood x reader

summary: your life is falling apart, and in a desperate attempt to find some semblance of comfort in your chaotic world, you end up at the doorstep of one of your best friends.

warnings: mentions of a toxic relationship with luke, mentions of substance abuse, mentions of rehab, weed usage, safe sex teehee, oral (f receiving), fluffy desperate sex, whimpery calum, slight body worship, angst for days, unrequited love

word count: 5.7k

a/n: this story is really nothing like the ones i have up before truthfully, it’s because it wasn’t meant to be published. i wrote this based on some of my own struggles, but i kinda love how it turned out. quick disclaimer, although i use peoples names in this fic, it’s not a reflection of who i think they are as people. this is all in good fun, not meant to be a serious attack on anybody’s character. anyways, enjoy.

as always, thank u to north for editing this ur the best 🫶

Copyright © 2024 kaleidoscopecth. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You weren’t entirely sure why you had ended up at Calum’s doorstep. Your cheeks burned, chest tight with emotion as you hesitated, then rang the doorbell.

You had run circles around the idea in your head, knowing how complicated it would be to show up here. Calum was Luke’s best friend, his bandmate, and the last person you should’ve turned to. But the weight of everything—the withdrawal, the breakup, the utter mess your life had become—pushed you forward, even as doubt clawed at your resolve.

Would he even want to see you? Would he resent you for the way you ended things with Luke? You had wrestled with those questions all day, replaying every bitter moment of the breakup. You hadn’t meant to be so cruel. It wasn’t your intention to cut so deeply, but the withdrawal had stripped you of any semblance of patience or clarity.

And then, as soon as you were discharged from the hospital, you had gone running back to Luke. Desperate, aching, hoping to salvage what was left.

But then you saw them.

The door opened before you could spiral any further. Calum stood there, his brown eyes scanning you with a mixture of concern and surprise. “Y/N?” he asked, a small, tentative smile tugging at his lips. “You’re still here?”

His smile brought you a fleeting sense of relief, though you had braced herself for rejection. After all, if Luke could hate you, why wouldn’t Calum? Your mind replayed the raw memory of Luke’s anger when you begged for his forgiveness. The sting of seeing him move on so quickly still lingered in your chest.

It had only been two weeks since your overdose, yet he was already in bed with someone else—Sierra, of all people. You had known from the moment her name flashed on his notifications that her intentions weren’t pure. And you’d been right.

“I’m leaving for rehab soon,” you said softly, your voice cracking. “And I don’t want to be alone on my last night.”

Calum’s expression darkened, his sadness unmistakable. Without hesitation, he reached out, taking your hand and pulling you inside.

You had managed to keep things normal between you after you had drunkenly hooked up last year, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed the subtle shift. Calum’s gaze lingered too long whenever you were with Luke, his quiet, intense eyes studying you two with something unspoken and unreadable.

“Wanna go out to the terrace?” Calum asked, his voice soft, a faint smile on his lips.

You nodded, taking his hand as you stepped outside into the cool night air. The breeze was crisp, refreshing, and you relished it as a small reprieve from everything weighing you down.

You curled up on one of the couches, pulling your legs to your chest and resting your chin on your knees. Calum slipped back inside for a moment, returning with a rolling tray and a grinder in hand. You laughed lightly.

“I’m supposed to be sober, you know,” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“From oxy,” he countered, smirking as he sat down across from you. “Isn’t there a thing called ‘California sober’ or whatever?”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “Shut up and roll the joint.”

Calum grinned and got to work, expertly grinding the weed and rolling a joint with practiced ease. He lit the end, taking a long, slow drag before passing it to you. You mirrored his action, inhaling deeply—too deeply—until you erupted into a coughing fit.

“At least I’ll get a decent high,” you wheezed, shaking your head with a small, rueful grin.

“So, rehab,” Calum said, his tone light but tinged with something else—sadness, maybe, or hesitation. His eyes followed yours, searching, as if trying to grasp what wasn’t being said.

You exhaled a plume of smoke, watching it dissolve into the night. “God, don’t remind me,” you muttered, taking another hit before leaning back against the cushions. “Some facility in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, Nebraska. Flight leaves tomorrow.”

The air grew heavy between you, filled with the distant sounds of the city below. You glanced over to find Calum watching you, his brows slightly furrowed.

“I’m gonna miss you,” he said finally, his voice quiet, a casual shrug betraying the weight of his words. “But I guess I’ll see you after?”

Your chest tightened, the lump in your throat rising before you could stop it. You turned to look at him, your voice quieter than you intended.

“Cal,” you began, hesitating for a moment. “I’m moving to London when I get out.”

The words hung heavy in the cool air, their weight settling between you. Calum’s faint smile faded entirely, his expression faltering as your statement sank in.

There was enough space between you that no part of you touched, and for some reason, you hated that.

“You’re leaving?” he asked quietly, his gaze dropping to his shoes. “For good?”

You shook your head, your voice soft. “I’ll be back for filming and work stuff, but I won’t be living in L.A. anymore. I can’t.”

“Because of Luke and Sierra?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You flinched at the name, your stomach twisting with shame and anger. Every mention of Sierra made you feel small, like a fool for ever trusting Luke.

Luke had lied about everything—about seeing Arzaylea before coming to your apartment and claiming to be in love with you, about Sierra, about all of it. If you hadn’t stumbled into his apartment and seen the truth for yourself, you might have still been in the dark.

“Sure,” you sighed, brushing the thought aside. “And my family will be closer. They want to help me stay sober.”

“I could help you.” Calum’s voice was firm, his gaze locked on yours, determined.

Your heart skipped at his words, and unbidden memories of your moments together flashed in your mind—the way you’d gone from indifference to friendship, to that one night that had blurred every line. He’d insisted it remain a one-time thing, but that never stopped him from touching your shoulder softly, or smiling at you like you were the only thing that made the world spin right.

“Cal… no,” you sighed, shaking your head. “I can’t expect that of you.”

A beat of silence passed, heavy and fraught. Then, barely audible, he said, “I’m in love with you.”

You didn’t flinch. You weren't surprised, not really. A sad smile tugged at your lips as you exhaled. “I know,” you murmured. “But this—” you gestured between the two of you, your voice faltering. “How could this ever work?”

He shrugged, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “Luke started screwing Sierra despite the fact that she and Ashton had a thing before. It’s not like this would be new territory for us.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “But it’s new for me.”

“So this is it, then? Our goodbye?” Calum’s voice cracked, anger and defeat mingling as his broad shoulders slumped.

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. You wanted to reach for him, to hold him, but your hands stayed firmly at your sides. A fleeting, reckless thought bloomed in the back of your mind—a glimpse of a life where you could stay, where you could fall asleep next to the boy with warm brown eyes and wake up to him every morning, never feeling the ache of leaving again.

Your throat tightened, the words heavy on your tongue. “I can’t say I love you,” you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of your truth. “But, God, I wish I could.”

The air between you thickened with unspoken longing, a current of electricity passing between your gazes. Calum’s brows furrowed as he took a hesitant step closer, his eyes glimmering with equal parts hurt and hope. “Why not?” he asked softly, his voice trembling.

“Because it’s Luke,” you said, shaking your head. Your voice cracked under the weight of your confession. “You have no idea how badly I wish it could be you. That I could have you in my head every second of every day instead of him. You’ve never hurt me. You love me wholly. You’d never put that love at risk.”

“Then let me be the one in your head,” he pleaded, his voice low and desperate. “Just for tonight.”

Your breath hitched as his words settled in your chest. You looked at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. He was leaning toward you now, his eyes searching yours, desperate.

“Is that really what you want?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“Please, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Let me say goodbye the way I want to.”

Your mouth went dry, and you weren't sure if it was from the weed or the way Calum was looking at you. The idea—the possibility—was strangely appealing.

“Okay,” you breathed.

Slowly, you moved toward him, swinging one leg over his lap to straddle him. You stared at each other for a heartbeat, your hands gently cupping his cold cheeks.

He leaned in first, his eyes fluttering shut as his lips brushed yours, soft and tentative.

The second you registered the kiss, all of your composure unraveled. You sighed against his lips, threading your fingers into his curly hair as the kiss deepened with a fervor that surprised you. His hands slid down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he pulled you closer.

Without breaking the kiss, Calum stood, lifting you effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. His hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you as though you were the only thing grounding him.

He carried you inside with steady determination, the world around you blurring into insignificance. When you finally reached his room, Calum kicked the door shut behind you. The soft rattle set off Duke, who began barking incessantly from somewhere down the hall.

You couldn't help but laugh against his lips, the sound breaking the tension for a moment. Calum pulled back slightly after setting you down in the bed, chuckling as well.

“Duke, calm down,” he called out, his voice amused but firm. Then, turning back to you, a playful smile tugged at his lips. “He always acts up when he knows there's something I want.”

“And what is it that you want?” you whispered, your voice low and teasing as your hands slipped beneath his shirt, your fingers trailing along the hard ridges of his stomach.

Calum's response came in the form of another kiss, deeper and more urgent this time. “You,” he murmured against your lips.

The kiss intensified, your lips moving with a quiet desperation that made your heart race and your stomach flutter. Calum's hands roamed your sides with deliberate care, as if he were memorizing the feel of you.

You matched his fervor, your hands trembling as you tugged at his shirt. This felt different—more intense, more intimate—than the last time. There hadn’t been much hesitation then, just two people driven by pure need, but now, you could feel a semblance of giddy awkwardness in the air.

Calum pulled back just enough to shrug off his shirt, the fabric falling carelessly to the floor. His hands immediately found your face, cupping your cheeks as he brought your lips back to his.

Your hands moved across his bare skin, tracing the curve of his muscles, the lines of his tattoos— a detail you had committed to memory. You tugged him down with you, but he stopped, pulling away slightly with a small smirk.

“Nuh-uh,” he teased, his lips brushing yours. “Your shirt's coming off too, Y/N.”

“Then take it off,” you challenged, your voice breathless and filled with need. “Take everything off. I need you.”

Calum's eyes darkened, his expression shifting from playful to serious in an instant. His hands found the hem of your shirt, and with one swift motion, he pulled it over your head, tossing it aside. One hand cupped the back of your neck, holding you close as his lips claimed yours again.

The other hand moved skillfully to the clasp of your bra, undoing it with ease. The garment slipped away, leaving you bare beneath his touch. Calum's lips moved to your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your skin, his hands sliding down your back and pulling you closer.

His mouth trailed down to your collarbone, grazing the delicate skin with soft nips that made you gasp. Slowly, his lips descended to your chest, capturing your nipple in his mouth with a deliberate tenderness. You let out a quiet moan, your hands tangling in Calum's hair as your eyelids fluttered shut, your breath hitching at the sensation.

“You're so fucking beautiful,” Calum groaned against your skin, his voice filled with awe and desire. His eyes lifted to meet yours, darkened with longing, his pupils blown wide. Slowly, he kissed his way back up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss there before nudging his nose against yours in an intimate gesture that made your chest ache.

But then it hit you—a sudden wave of guilt crashing over you, sharp and cold. What were you doing? Were you just using him? Using his kindness, his patience, and the way he cared about you, all because you didn't want to feel alone? Your body tensed, and you froze, pushing him away slightly.

Calum immediately pulled back, concern flooding his features as his hands cupped your face. “What is it?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you okay?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, your eyes darting across his face, searching for something—anything—that might tell you he wasn't as sure about this as he claimed. “Are you sure you want to do this?” you asked hesitantly. “I mean, I can't—I can't give you what you want, Cal. I won't even be here most of the time, and—”

“Y/N,” he interrupted, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. “Stop. I want this. I want you.”

Your heart clenched, but you still hesitated, guilt and uncertainty gnawing at you. “Cal, I—”

“Please,” he whispered, his voice dropping to something raw and vulnerable. “Let me have this. Let me have tonight. Just... just let me. Let me give you a proper goodbye. Let me give us a proper goodbye.”

His words hung between you, heavy with longing and unspoken emotion. Your breath hitched, your resolve faltering as you looked into his eyes. There was no hesitation there, no doubt—only a fierce, aching need for you. “Would you let me?” His lips brushed against yours ever so carefully. “Please let me.”

Wordlessly, you nodded, swallowing down your fears, worries, and the ache in your chest.

Calum's smile was soft yet radiant, a quiet reassurance that melted some of your hesitation. You could feel him smiling against your lips as he kissed you again, and before you realized it, your own lips curved into a matching smile. His hands roamed your body with reverence, each touch gentle and deliberate, as if you were something sacred.

With practiced care, he began unbuttoning your jeans, his lips trailing away from your mouth to press heated kisses down your jawline. He lingered near your earlobe, nipping it lightly, and you let out a small, contented sigh. Your hips rose instinctively, allowing him to tug the denim down your legs in one smooth motion.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice rough with want. “You have no idea how long l've been waiting for this.” His mouth found yours again, urgent and insistent, his hips pressing down against your thigh while his fingers trailed lightly down your chest, making you shiver. His lips wandered back to your breasts, lingering there with soft kisses and teasing bites that made you gasp.

“What do you want, Calum?” you gasped, your hips bucking upward, seeking friction with an urgency that made your voice crack. “Tell me.”

When he lifted his gaze to meet yours, the intensity in his eyes stole your breath. They were dark, glazed over, and filled with raw need. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, as though the world could crumble around you and he wouldn't care. “I want to touch you,” he murmured, his voice rough, the words muffled by the kisses he pressed down your sternum.

“Then touch me, baby,” you urged, your fingers threading through the damp curls on his forehead, pushing them back. Your tone was soft, but your words were charged, dripping with encouragement. “Make me feel so good.”

The soft groan that escaped his lips felt almost involuntary, a raw reaction to your words. It sent a shiver through you, straight to your core. His hand slipped beneath your underwear, his fingers finding your clit with precision. He moved in slow, deliberate circles, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

When his fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance, he froze for a moment, as though savoring the sensation. Feeling how ready you were for him, he let out a deep, guttural groan, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, his voice heavy with awe, every word tinged with disbelief. “You're already so wet. Fuck, Y/N... you're perfect.”

His words sent heat rushing through you, your back arching as your body responded to his touch. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moan that threatened to spill, but the way he touched you, slow and deliberate yet filled with need, made it impossible.

He didn't wait, slipping a finger inside you with ease, watching your reaction with rapt attention.

You let out a sharp cry, your back arching instinctively as pleasure shot through you. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped, your fingers threading tighter through Calum's hair, holding him close. “Just like that, baby.”

Calum moved with deliberate care, curling his finger inside you, his steady rhythm coaxing soft, breathless moans from your lips.

Every movement seemed calculated to draw you closer to the edge, yet it was laced with tenderness that left you dizzy. The way your body responded to his touch had his lips parting, his breath hitching in admiration as if he couldn't believe what he was witnessing.

“That feels so good,” you sighed, your voice trembling as your nails lightly scraped the nape of his neck. “You're doing so good.”

Your praise sent a shiver through him, and his eyes darkened further, his pupils blown wide with desire. His breath came faster, his hips rutting against you involuntarily as though he needed you even more than you needed him. “You sound so pretty,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with reverence, though there was an edge of desperation to it, almost a whine. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You pulled at his hair, your eyes falling shut in bliss. Calum was working his fingers at a steady pace, moaning as if he too was the one getting off. The fact that he was so worked up by the mere fact that he’d been touching you made a wave of heat rush down your body.

His lips kissed down your torso, leaving no mark of your skin unkissed. “I need to taste you,” he gasped, continuing to inch down your body. He was shaking with anticipation, fingers never faltering. “You’re so wet and so pretty, and it’s all for me. I did that to you.”

You nodded rapidly, another moan falling from your lips. “Need your mouth on me,” Calum’s breath hitched at your words, his kisses down your body growing more sloppy by the second. He didn’t waste any time in pushing your legs open, taking deliberate care to suck at the skin of your hipbone.

You propped yourself on your elbows, watching through half lidded eyes as Calum finally pressed a small kiss to your inner thigh. Already fed up, you let out a frustrated mewl. “Cal, please.”

Calum’s entire body shuddered, and you saw the way his eyes widened momentarily before his mouth latched on to your clit. He let out a moan against you when the taste of you overwhelmed his senses, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes essentially rolled back into his head.

“You’re so dreamy like this,” you gasped, his lips sucking at your sensitive bud enough to make your legs shake around his head. “You make me feel so good— oh, fuck, just like that.”

Calum let out a shaky whine, his hips grinding involuntarily against the mattress as he looked up at you, his wide, awe-filled eyes glistening with unspoken devotion. His movements were uncoordinated, almost frantic, as though he was utterly consumed by you, his tongue lapping and sucking at your clit with an intensity so raw it sent shockwaves through your trembling legs.

“You taste so good,” he panted, his voice unsteady and reverent between his breathless licks. “Your thighs are shaking— fuck, I did that to you. I made you feel like this.”

You bit your lip hard, your eyes squeezing shut as the tidal wave of sensation crashed through you. Every nerve in your body felt alive, strung out on the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you. Calum's hands wandered your torso with a desperation that bordered on worship, gripping your skin tightly, as if grounding himself in the reality of you.

Stars burst behind your eyelids as your body arched into his touch, the sensation cresting to an unbearable peak. The sight of him—his flushed cheeks, his lips glistening with you, his pupils blown wide with adoration—was almost too much. You needed more, needed him closer, needed all of him.

Reaching down, you tangled your fingers gently in his curls, tugging him away from your overstimulated clit. Calum let out a soft, almost pitiful moan of protest, his lips brushing against your skin as though he couldn't bear to let go. Still, he obeyed, letting you guide him back up your body, his warm breath fanning over your skin with each ragged inhale.

Your lips met in a kiss so heated it left you dizzy, your mouths colliding with a fervent need that neither could deny. You could taste yourself on his tongue, a heady reminder of how completely Calum had given himself to you. The realization sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through you, and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you.

Calum let out a broken whimper against your lips, his whole body trembling as though he was barely holding himself together. “Y/N,” he choked out, his voice laced with desperation, his breath coming in shallow pants. “I need you. I need all of you. Please. I don't know how much longer I can wait.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and your heart pounded in your chest as you looked into his wide, awe-stricken eyes. His pupils were blown with need, his lips slightly parted as he hovered over you, waiting for permission like his entire world depended on your answer.

“Fuck me,” you breathed, pulling him down into another kiss that was all heat and urgency. “Don't wait anymore. Just fuck me.”

Calum let out a soft, broken sound, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he nodded, his curls tickling your skin. He kissed the sensitive spot just below your ear, his lips trailing down your neck with a desperation that made your body ache for him even more.

When he sucked hard enough to leave a mark, you arched into him, your hands tangling in his hair, too far gone to care about anything else.

“Y/N,” he gasped, his voice raw and shaking as his hands roamed your body, both frantic and reverent, like he couldn't touch enough of you at once. “You don't understand. I'd do anything for you. Anything. Just say the word.”

Your breath hitched at the sheer devotion in his voice, the weight of his words crashing over you like a wave. You swallowed hard, your hands moving to cradle his face as you met his gaze. “I just need you inside me right now,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside you.

You watched as Calum reached over to his bedside table, pulling out a condom and hardly ripping the packet open with his teeth. Your eyes followed his movements as he rolled the rubber down in his length. Calum let out a shuddering breath, his hands trembling as he positioned himself between your thighs. He hesitated, his gaze flickering up to yours as if silently asking for reassurance. You cupped his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek with a tenderness that made his breath hitch.

“C’mon baby,” you gasped.

With a shaky nod, he sank into you slowly as though he never wanted the moment to end. A whimper escaped Calum’s lips, a sound so deep and guttural that it made you moan. Your nails sank into his back, and Calum’s head fell forward against your shoulder.

Calum was trembling, his breath coming in ragged pants as he pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your shoulder. “You feel so good,” he whispered, his voice tight with strain, barely holding himself together. “I never want this to end.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, the intensity of the moment washing over you as you felt him stretch you in ways that made you gasp.

When he began to move, a sharp hiss escaped your lips, and Calum froze instantly, his entire body going rigid. His head snapped up, wide eyes filled with concern as they searched your face.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent, laced with worry.

You bit your lip, nodding slowly as you forced yourself to take a steadying breath. “Yeah,” you said, your voice airy, cheeks flushed. “It's just... it's been a while, and... you're kinda big.”

For a moment, there was silence, and then Calum let out a soft, startled laugh. The sound was rich and genuine, shaking his entire body as the tension melted from his face. His amusement was contagious, and soon enough, you found yourself laughing with him, the shared moment easing the intensity between you.

Still smiling, you reached up, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging him closer until his forehead rested gently against yours. Your laughter softened into quiet breaths, your noses brushing as you lingered in the intimacy of the moment.

“You can move,” you whispered, your voice steady now, laced with trust and anticipation.

Calum exhaled deeply, his eyes darkening with emotion as he nodded, pressing a tender kiss to your lips before he began to move again. This time, his movements were slow and deliberate, his focus entirely on you, his body attuned to yours as you fell into a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing.

You cried out his name again, your nails digging into his back as your legs tightened around his waist. Calum's movements grew more purposeful, his hips snapping against yours with a need that was almost overwhelming. His eyes never left your face, drinking in every gasp and moan as if they were the only sounds in the world.

“You're so perfect,” he breathed, his voice cracking with emotion. He leaned down, brushing his lips over yours in a tender kiss that contrasted sharply with the intensity of his thrusts. “I don't know how I can-fuck, you feel so good. So perfect, Y/N.”

Your body arched beneath him when he shifted slightly, thrusting deeper and hitting the spot that made your toes curl. A sharp cry tore from your throat, your body trembling from the intensity. “You're doing so good,” you gasped, your praise deliberate as you ran your hands down his sweat-slicked back. “You fuck me so good, Calum. Just like that, baby.”

Calum let out a broken moan, his head dropping against your shoulder as your words seemed to ignite something in him. His hips moved faster now, each thrust harder than the last, as if he was trying to lose himself entirely in you. His hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit. He hesitated for only a moment before pressing against it, rubbing fast, precise circles that made your breath hitch.

“You're amazing,” he panted, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. His voice was wrecked, thick with desperation and adoration. “I just want to make you feel good. Tell me I'm doing it right. Please.”

You let out a whimper, your body seemingly on fire with the intensity of the pleasure. You tangled your fingers in his curls, muttering unintelligible encouragement under your breath. You looked at him, the way his cheeks were flushed with the exertion and desire, and you gave him a breathless smile. “You’re going so good, Cal,” you moaned. “I’m so close.”

Calum’s movements were erratic and eager, desperate to feel you come undone beneath him. His hips stuttered as he tried to maintain the rhythm that had you falling apart beneath him. He was panting hard, moaning your name in breathless pleas. Your nails raked down his back, only spurring Calum on.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his fingers continuing their assault on your clit that made your legs shake uncontrollably. “Please, I need you to come for me. God, I need to feel you clench around me— please baby, fuck. Come on my cock, I can’t hold on much longer.”

Your breath hitched, eyelids fluttering close as you felt the familiar coil begin to tighten in your belly. Sweat was building up on your skin, but you didn’t mind. “Calum— oh my God, please don’t stop.” The combination of his desperation, his eagerness to make you feel good, and the relentless pace of his hips and fingers sent you over the edge.

You came with a loud cry, your lips shaping Calum’s name, your thighs shaking as another shattered moan escaped you. Your vision blurred, your nails digging into Calum’s back as you clung to him, peppering his shoulder with kisses.

“Oh fuck,” Calum groaned, his voice strained with desperation. “You look so pretty falling apart for me, making all my dreams come true.” His thrusts became erratic and messy as he chased his release, his hands gripping your waist like a lifeline as you clenched around him, pulling him deeper.

“Y/N, I'm gonna—” His sentence broke off into a loud whimper, his face burying into the crook of your neck as he feverishly kissed your damp skin.

“Come for me, baby,” you panted, your voice thick with pleasure as your fingers trailed up and down his back before gripping his biceps for support. “You did so good, made me feel so good. Let go for me.”

His body shuddered violently, his hips slamming into yours one last time as he spilled into the condom with a raw, guttural cry. He whispered your name like a prayer, his voice trembling as aftershocks wracked his body.

Shallow, instinctive thrusts carried him through his orgasm, his movements slowly stilling as the tension drained from him.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing. Your bodies were pressed together, skin slick with sweat, and the weight of him above you was grounding, comforting in a way neither of you could fully explain.

Calum finally pulled away with a soft sigh, rolling off you carefully. His hands were gentle as he removed the condom, tying it off and tossing it into the trash can by the bed. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, your gaze tracing the sharp contours of his body, the way the moonlight filtered through the window and illuminated his tattoos in a soft, ethereal glow.

You knew Calum was beautiful—you always had, even when he’d been less than kind to you. But now, there was something different about him, something raw and desperate. You wondered how they had gone from mutual animosity to Calum being so deeply in love with you that he would settle for just one night of your pretending.

But were you pretending?

The thought lingered in your mind, heavy and uncertain.

“You're beautiful, you know that?” you murmured, your voice quiet but full of admiration as your eyes lingered on him.

Calum turned to face you, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He climbed back into bed, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. “I’m the lucky one,” he whispered against your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. His thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone and then the outline of your lips as though memorizing every detail. Your eyes stayed locked on his, searching for something you couldn’t quite name.

“Stay,” he mumbled, his voice heavy with exhaustion and something softer—hope. “Your flight leaves tomorrow. Just stay the night. I’ll take you there.”

You frowned, your hand instinctively coming to cover his. You didn’t answer immediately, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest. This night had been one of the best you’d had in a long time, a reprieve from the chaos in your mind. And yet, that knowledge brought an ache you didn’t want to examine too closely.

“Calum…” you hesitated, your voice softer now, almost unsure. “I don’t know if I should.”

His hand tightened gently against yours as he leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss so tender it stole the air from your lungs. His palm moved to the back of your neck, his touch reverent, urging you closer. Your bare chests pressed together, his other hand settling at the small of your back, anchoring you to him.

When he pulled away, the weight of reality sank between you. You were leaving—leaving this moment, leaving him—and as terrifying as the thought was, it also carried a bittersweet freedom. Leaving Calum meant leaving behind the pain Luke had caused, a fresh start that felt both liberating and heartbreaking.

“Please,” he whispered against your lips, his voice fragile, each word carrying the weight of his longing. He held his breath, his eyes searching yours for even the smallest trace of hope.

You bit your lip, the turmoil in your chest almost too much to bear. You knew what you should do, but you also knew what you wanted—at least for now.

“I’ll stay,” you finally said, your voice steady despite the storm inside you. “Just for tonight.”

Calum exhaled softly, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as relief washed over his features. For now, it was enough. Just tonight, it could be enough.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

i hope you guys enjoyed, and if you sent in a request just know that i saw it and i’m working on it! there are many writing projects that i’ve been juggling so i’m sorry in advance if it takes a little long for it to be posted <33