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ivyues · 20 hours ago

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Reconciling Comfort: pt.2 of Stray Kids' reactions to their S/O refusing a hug

Part 1: Rejected Embraces and Heavy Hearts

Bang Chan

The apartment feels oddly still as you stare at your phone, debating how to text him. You’d assumed Chris had gone to the studio like he planned, leaving the tense air of the argument behind to clear his head. You hate how things were left, hate the way his face crumpled as he turned away.

Finally, you decide to get up. While typing out a message you walk to your living room but out of the corner of your eye you see a silhouette sitting on the couch. Your heart jumps as you glance up.

Your boyfriend is sitting there, headphones on, his laptop balanced on his knees. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his fingers tapping away at the keyboard.

The sight startles you. “Chris?” you blurt out, breaking the silence.

He looks up sharply, pulling his headphones off with one swift motion. “Oh—hey,” he says, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You blink, still processing his presence. “I thought you went to the studio. Why are you still here?”

He rubs the back of his neck, glancing away sheepishly. “I didn’t want to go in case… you wanted to talk to me.” His words come out rushed, like he’s second-guessing every syllable. “But if you don’t – if you want me to leave, I understand. I’ll go right now—.”

He immediatly closed his laptop, as if to pack up, but you stopped him with a quick shake of your hand. “Nonono, I’m glad you stayed,” you said, moving to sit beside him.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, your voice heavy with sincerity. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I know physical affection is important to you, and stepping back like that… I didn’t mean to shut you out like that. I just—” You pause, struggling to find the words. “I wasn’t ready at the moment, but it doesn’t mean I didn’t care.”

His expression softens, a mix of relief and lingering vulnerability. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “That means a lot to me. But… you don’t have to feel obligated, okay? I don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for, even if it’s just a hug. I’m not upset about that, I promise.”

Chris hesitates before continuing, his voice low. “And… I’m sorry too. For the argument. I think I let my emotions get the better of me. I wasn’t trying to put all that pressure on you. I just – sometimes I’m not the best at explaining what I mean.”

Instead of answering, you lean into him, wrapping your arms around him. It’s warm, grounding, and the tension that had built up between you dissolves. Chris lets out a breath he seems to have been holding and hugs you back, his arms encircling you tightly.

Lee Know

An hour passes, the weight of the day easing slightly as you reflect on Lee Know’s words and his quiet presence. You finally gather the courage to seek him out, hoping to mend the small gap left by your earlier rejection. The sound of gentle clatter of utensils lead you to the kitchen.

There he is, focused on the task at hand, the light from the stove casting a warm glow over his side profile. He’s stirring something in a pot, his movements precise yet relaxed.

When he senses your presence, he glances up. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, no words are said. The hurt you feared would linger is replaced by a soft understanding, though his brow lifts in slight surprise.

“Hey,” you say quietly, stepping closer. “I’m sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I needed a bit of time to digest my day.”

His expression softens, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. But before he can respond, your stomach betrays you with a loud grumble.

He blinks in surprise before breaking into a chuckle, the sound warm and genuine. “Well, I guess you’re not just digesting your day – you’re starving too,” he teases, setting down the spoon. “Have you even eaten?”

You shake your head sheepishly, and he lets out a mock sigh of exasperation. “Unbelievable. No wonder you’re feeling down. What am I going to do with you?”

Before you can reply, he grabs a couple of plates and starts dishing out the food he’s prepared. You watch him, the way he moves with care, the way he’s still here, doing this for you, and it makes your chest ache in the best way.

“Thank you,” you say, the words carrying a weight that goes beyond the meal. “I really don’t know what I did to deserve this – to deserve you.”

He pauses, turning to meet your gaze again, his eyes filled with something tender yet teasing. “Oh, don’t get all sappy on me now. Just eat.”

You hesitate, biting your lip. “Actually… before we eat, can I ask you something?”

He tilts his head. “What’s that?”

You step closer, your voice soft. “Are you still up for that hug?”

His lips twitch into a grin, though he narrows his eyes in feigned disapproval. “Now you want one? After I offered earlier? You know my hugs are exclusive, right?”

You roll your eyes, but before you can defend yourself, he’s already pulling you into his arms, wrapping you in warmth and familiarity. The scent of his cologne mixes with the faint aroma of the food, and for the first time that day, you feel like you can truly breathe.

“I missed out earlier,” you whispers, your voice gentle but playful.

Changbin

Hours later, after giving you the space you seemed to need, Changbin cautiously approaches your room. The quiet hum of the house feels heavier than usual. He pushes open the door gently, only to find you sprawled out on the bed, passed out.

Changbin’s expression softens as he steps closer. The tension on your face is still visible even in sleep, and it tugs at his heart. He sits on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb you, and studies your features for a moment. A sigh escapes his lips.

After a while, you stir awake to the dim light form outside. Blinking blearily, you notice Changbin sitting in a nearby chair, scrolling absentmindedly on his phone. He looks up as he senses your movement, offering you a gentle smile.

“You’re awake,” he says softly, setting his phone aside. “Feeling any better?”

“A bit.” You sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes. The weight of the day still lingers, but his presence is grounding. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Binnie,” you say suddenly, your voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to shut you out earlier. You had a tough day too, and instead of being there for you, I made it worse.”

His brow furrows with concern as he shifts to sit beside you. “Hey, no—”

“No, please let me finish,” you interrupt, tears welling up in your eyes. “I just… I’ve been so burned out lately, and I know that’s no reason but I took it out on you. That’s not fair. You deserve so much better than that.”

Your voice falters as you break into quiet sobs, the stress of the day finally overwhelming you. Without hesitation, Changbin pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if to shield you from your own thoughts.

“Shhh,” he whispers soothingly, resting his chin on your head. “It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to carry all of this alone.” His hand strokes your back in slow, comforting circles. “I know you’ve been going through a lot. I just want to help you, not make things harder.”

You cling to him, his warmth melting away some of the heaviness in your chest. “I’m sorry,” you repeat, muffled against his shoulder.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to cup your face in his hands. His thumbs gently wipe away your tears. “I love you, even on the days when it’s hard to show it. And I’ll always be here, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”

Hyunjin

Later that evening, the cool night air brushes against your skin as you sit on the balcony, your gaze lost in the vast sky above, dotted with countless stars. The events of the day weigh heavily on your heart, but the stillness of the night gives you a moment of solitude, a chance to reflect.

The sound of footsteps breaks the silence, and you don’t need to turn around to know who it is. Hyunjin’s presence is unmistakable and you feel the space between you stretch even farther. He stands by the door, as though testing the waters, not wanting to disturb the fragile silence that exists between you two.

“I’ve been thinking,” he finally says, his voice soft and measured. “I don’t want to make you feel like you have to forgive me right away. But I need you to know I’m here, no matter how long it takes.”

You glance at him then, his words tugging at something inside you. The sincerity in his eyes doesn’t erase the hurt, but it reminds you of the person standing before you. Slowly, you lift up the blanket that’s shielding you from the chill of the evening. You shift slightly, creating a space beside you, a silent invitation for him to join you.

Hyunjin hesitates for just a moment before he slides closer, wrapping himself in the blanket with you. The quiet is comfortable now, not as heavy as it once was.

Minutes pass, neither of you speaking, but the tension between you seems to lessen. Eventually, you find yourself leaning closer to him, your head resting on his shoulder as the stars above seem to sparkle brighter in the stillness of the night.

You’re not ready to forgive him – not yet. But as the night stretches on, you realize that the hurt isn’t as sharp as it once was. It hurts more to be apart. Right now, this moment, sitting together in silence, feels like the only step you can take.

Han

Han was pacing quietly in the living room, trying to distract himself from the worry that had been growing in his chest since your refusal to be held. His eyes flickered to where you’d been earlier, feeling like a puppy abandoned by its owner. He couldn't help but wonder what you were thinking, what you were going through.

Then, suddenly, a sharp sound sliced through the quiet. His heart leapt in his chest, and before he could think, he rushed toward the kitchen.

When he burst into the room, his breath caught in his throat. There you were, crouched on the floor amidst the sharp shards of a broken glass. Your expression was a mix of shock and something darker, like the weight of everything inside you had finally spilled over.

"Omg, are you okay?!" Han asked urgently, his voice trembling slightly. His eyes wide, quickly scanned you for any sign of injury, but it wasn’t just the glass that had him panicked – it was the look in your eyes, distant and vacant, like you weren’t fully present.

You shook your head, looking down at the shards scattered around you. "I... I'm fine," you murmured, but the words didn’t sound convincing to him.

Your breath caught, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "I'm such a mess," you said quietly, a shaky exhale following. "I don’t even know why... I just... everything feels so broken right now, and I don’t know how to fix it."

Han’s heart ached for you, and he didn’t hesitate. With a gentle, almost tender tone, he spoke. "It’s okay to be a mess," His eyes never leaving you, he crouched next to you. "You don’t have to have everything together. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere."

You let out a long breath, the tension in your body easing just slightly as you allowed yourself to lean against him. Neither of you spoke for a while, the stillness of the moment offering a rare kind of comfort. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, a quiet support, like he was holding you together.

Eventually, Han reached out with his free hand, carefully pushing the glass shards to the side, making a little space between you and the mess. "We don’t have to clean it up right now," he said softly, his voice gentle. "We can just be here."

For a moment, you just sat there, on your cold kitchen floor surrounded by the shards of one of your favorite glasses, your head resting against his shoulder, letting the quiet soothe the chaos inside your mind. The world outside could wait.

Felix

Felix sat in the airport terminal, his phone clutched tightly in his hands. The din of travelers blurred into white noise around him, but all he could focus on was the blank screen he fiddled in his hands. He had checked it at least ten times in the past minute, hoping for a message from you – a lifeline to soothe the ache that had been growing since your last conversation.

The past few days had been tense, the effortless flow of your texts reduced to short, clipped exchanges.

"Still nothing?" Chan’s voice broke through Felix’s thoughts as the older member settled into the seat beside him.

Felix shook his head, a small, resigned sigh escaping him. "I don’t blame them," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the screen. "I just... I hate leaving like this, you know? I don’t want them to think I don’t care."

Chan placed a reassuring hand on Felix’s shoulder. "They know you care. Sometimes, people just need time to process."

Felix nodded, though the unease remained. He knew Chan was right, but the uncertainty gnawed at him. What if time wasn’t enough?

A soft buzz interrupted his thoughts. His heart leapt as he saw your name flash on the screen. Hesitating for only a second, he opened the message.

"Hey. I hope you have a safe flight. Let me know when you get to the hotel? If you want, we could call."

Felix read the text twice, his chest tightening with a mix of relief and longing. It wasn’t everything, but it was enough. Enough to feel like a small bridge had been built between the two of you.

Chan caught a glimpse of the soft smile spreading across Felix’s face and leaned back in his chair, giving a small nod of approval. He didn’t say anything, but the respect he felt for the bond between you two was evident in the quiet way he patted Felix’s back before standing up.

The flight was long, but the thought of hearing your voice made it bearable. When he finally arrived at the hotel and dropped his bags, he dialed your number without hesitation.

The days passed slowly, but eventually, Felix was home. His heart raced as he opened the door. The familiar scent of the place hit him first, grounding him, but it wasn’t until he heard your footsteps that everything felt real.

You appeared at the edge of the hallway, your expression a mix of hesitation and warmth. Felix froze for a moment, his breath catching as he tried to read your face. Then you smiled – small and shy.

Closing the distance between you, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You held him just as tightly, your fingers threading through his hair. “I missed you too, Lix.”

It wasn’t just a hug; it was a reconnection, a renewal. It felt like the first time all over again – the warmth, the electricity. And in that moment, Felix knew you would both be okay. Even with the heavy talk standing in front of you, he believed that you'd both find your way through it.

Seungmin

The following day, you wake up to the soft light filtering through the blinds, your heart still weighed down from the emotions of yesterday. You go about your day until you find a small, neatly folded note on the kitchen counter, its edges creased from being gently set down. You recognize Seungmin's handwriting immediately.

The words are simple, but their meaning strikes deep:

“I know yesterday was hard. I’m here when you’re ready. Take your time.”

You feel a wave of warmth and gratitude surge through you, but also a familiar pang of guilt. His kindness, his patience – it almost feels too much, yet it's exactly what you need right now. You let out a breath, the tension you didn’t even realize you were holding releasing just a little.

Later, when you meet with Seungmin after his practice, your heart feels lighter but still raw. His usual bright, confident demeanor is softened by something deeper today. You catch his eyes and notice the faint hint of uncertainty behind his smile. He’s waiting for you, allowing you the space you need, just as the note said.

As you both settle into the familiar quiet, the words you’ve been holding back finally spill out, soft but genuine.

"Thank you for giving me space," you say, the gratitude in your voice clear. "I needed it, but I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate you."

Seungmin’s expression softens, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I just want to make sure you're okay," he replies, his tone sincere. "And if you need me to be closer or farther away, I’m fine with either. You don’t have to do anything until you’re ready."

After a moment of silence you ask “So… how would you feel about being a little closer right now?" Your words trailing off as you look at him, hesitant but hopeful. Your eyes search his, a hint of longing behind the question.

Seungmin's smile widens, though his expression remains gentle, and he shakes his head slowly, his eyes warm with understanding. "I think we’re already close enough," he says, his tone teasing but kind.

Without another word, he opens his arms, and you step into his embrace. The hug is quiet, comforting, and without the pressure of anything more.

I.N

You collapse onto the couch, your phone in hand, feeling a growing sense of isolation. The time passes, and you find yourself scrolling mindlessly through social media, trying to distract yourself from the emotional weight pressing on your chest. Each swipe seems to only deepen the discomfort, the posts making you feel even more alone as the world around you continues on without a care.

Your phone buzzes suddenly, and you glance down at the notification. It’s from I.N. The message is a simple meme – a picture of a dog wearing glasses with the caption: "Me when I try to act cool, but I’m actually an emotional mess."

A small chuckle escapes you, your heart lightened just a little by his attempt to cheer you up. It’s just a silly meme, but somehow, his gesture makes everything feel a bit more manageable.

The phone buzzes again, and you read his next message: "If you ever need to vent, I'm here. You don’t have to carry it all alone."

Your fingers hover over the screen for a moment, and you begin typing. "I’m sorry for earlier… I just don’t want to drag you down."

Almost instantly, a reply comes: "You could never drag me down. Let me know if you want a hug. I’m always here for you, okay?" Attached to that message was a GIF of two cartoon animals with big, fluffy arms stretching out in an exaggerated hug.

Your heart softens, the words hitting a place deep inside you that you didn’t realize was aching.

Without a second thought, you push yourself off the couch, phone still in hand, and head towards him. When he sees you standing there, his face brightens, and he opens his arms, welcoming you into a warm embrace.

“I’m sorry I pulled away earlier,” you whisper against his chest, the weight of everything from the day slowly melting away as you allow yourself to lean into his comfort.

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hottiesforhockey · 1 day ago

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naughty or nice ⎜n.hischier

🎄pairings: nico hischier x afab!reader ⎜ platonic jack hughes x afab!reader 🎄genre: smut ⎜romance ⎜ colleagues - to - lovers ⎜fake dating⎜ 🎄warnings: mentions of creepy boss ⎜ inappropriate touching ⎜ car sex ⎜ no mentions of protection - wrap it before you tap it ⎜ nico getting feisty ⎜ 🎄synopsis: You just wanted to avoid your creepy coworker, you didn’t know you would have to rely on an a "stranger" to be your fake boyfriend. 🎄word count: 5.7k 🎄authors note: this is the second last in my christmas special series, it is a rewrite of an old kpop fic I wrote but I hope you all still enjoy - next up is DDD with quinn hughes (not to mention my NYE John Marino fic) I hope you all enjoy, cause I know I did!

“The Christmas party will be held on Friday night at seven o’clock.” You boss begins concluding the meeting, shuffling his own papers into a pile before looking up at the group. “No kids permitted but partners are welcomed.” He adds looking at each of his team leaders, his eyes landing on you at the end of the table, “I look forwards to meeting everyone’s significant others.” Your bosses eye linger for a second too long before he calls your name, “Would you mind staying for a little bit longer?” You nod in response, pretending to organise your papers as your other colleagues shuffle out of the meeting room.

“So, are we going to be expecting your boyfriend to be attending this year?” You boss asks as the last person leaves the meeting room, the door swinging closed. You let out a quiet sigh as you turn towards you boss, a tight smile on your face. “You two have been together for a while now and we’ve never met him.” You boss continues, taking a few long strides till he stand in front of you. “I just find it funny, is all.” He tries to explain.

You take deep breaths as you try to force yourself to stay still, the older man tucking a long piece of hair behind you ear. To him you’re sure the gesture seemed sweet and romantic, but to you it was a threat, a show of power.

“I’ll see what I can do. He works night shifts so it’s hard to rearrange his schedule.” You say lightly, holding your papers tight to your chest, trying your hardest not to watch as your boss gazes over your body.

“Well I expect him to be there…” You boss says, and you let out a breath thinking he would take the hint, but your body tenses again as he leans forwards, his lips pressing just below your ear, “otherwise I’ll have to assume you’re lying to me.” You continue to smile as your boss glances at you one more time before sauntering out of the room, your body falling into one of the table chairs, a shiver running up your spine.

“Maybe I am lying to you, you absolute piece of garbage.” You hiss, wanting to cry out the frustration of your creepy boss. “What kind of disgusting, egotistical maniac think they can touch their employe— oh hey Jack.” You stop yourself short in your rant, only just noticing the stoic faced man who walks into the room.

You feel your cheeks flush as Jack closes the door behind him, his expression unreadable. He’s always been hard to read, but right now, his quiet demeanour feels more intimidating than comforting.

“How long have you been standing there?” you ask, trying to sound casual as you scramble to sit up straighter in your chair. Your voice trembles slightly, betraying your nerves.

Jack doesn’t answer immediately. He moves to the chair across from you and sits down, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. His dark eyes lock onto yours, and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Long enough,” he finally says, his voice low but steady. “What the hell was that about?” You swallow hard, feeling your throat tighten. The last thing you want is to talk about what just happened, but Jack’s not going to let it go. He’s your best friend — well to be honest he’s your only friend — and he knows you too well to believe any excuse you might try to come up with.

“It’s nothing,” you mumble, looking down at your hands as you fiddle with the edge of your stack of papers.

Jack’s jaw tightens. “Don’t lie to me,” he says firmly. “Does he do that often?” You feel your stomach churn as the memory of your boss’s hand brushing against your hair comes rushing back. You hug the papers tighter to your chest, as if they’re a shield that can protect you from the humiliation and fear bubbling inside you.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly. “He’s just overly friendly.” You dismiss, Jack leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He looks frustrated, but there’s something else in his expression—something softer, more vulnerable.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that,” he says after a long pause. “You shouldn’t have to put up with that creep by yourself, maybe you should tell someone about it.”

“I’ve been to HR, he’s my direct supervisor so no one will do anything. He’s my boss, Jack, there is nothing I can do except suck it up.” You rub your face lightly, trying to ignore the way Jack watches you with concern.

“What about Nico?” Jack says softly. You head whipping towards him in surprise.

“What about him?” You ask confused about where he was going with his suggestion.

“People take his opinion pretty seriously and I’m sure if you asked him for help he would do his best.” Everyone and their mother knew that Nico was a good guy, and good guys do everything they can to help anyone they can and you knew Nico had the sway with the higher ups to help you out, but you can’t help the way your head shakes at the suggestion.

“He has bigger things to worry about, than an entry level employee and her boundary crossing boss.” You whine, pushing the hair out of your face before standing from your chair, smiling one last time at your friend, hoping it reaches your eyes enough to convince him.

“I’ll be fine.” You reassure the man, who shakes his head in disbelief but says nothing more, You’re about to keep arguing, to insist that you don’t need anyone’s help, when the door opens again. Your heart jumps, thinking it might be your boss coming back, but it’s not.

It’s Nico.

Like captain of the team, Nico.

Like first overall draft pick, Nico.

Like your secret office crush, Nico.

Like good guy, Nico.

You freeze in place, caught somewhere between dread and disbelief. Nico steps into the room, his tall frame casting a shadow across the carpeted floor. His sharp brown eyes scan the room, landing briefly on Jack before settling on you. The warmth in his gaze feels out of place in the sterile tension hanging in the air.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asks, his voice smooth but tinged with concern.

Jack stands, his chair scraping against the floor as he does. “No, I was just leaving,” he says, giving Nico a pointed look that seems to communicate volumes. He turns back to you. “We’ll talk later,” he murmurs, before slipping out of the room and closing the door behind him.

You’re left alone with Nico, the silence almost suffocating. He takes a step closer, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. You feel a rush of heat creep up your neck as his eyes meet yours.

“You okay?” he asks, his tone gentle but direct. It’s such a simple question, but it’s enough to make your composure wobble.

“I… yeah, I’m fine,” you say, too quickly. You’re not sure if you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

Nico doesn’t look convinced. He tilts his head slightly, studying you like he’s piecing together a puzzle. “You sure? Jack seemed… worried.”

Your heart clenches. You glance away, pretending to straighten your papers on the table. “Jack worries too much. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Nico steps closer, and you feel the air shift around you. “That’s not what it looked like,” he says softly, his voice carrying an undercurrent of steel. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to handle it alone.”

The lump in your throat grows, but you swallow it down. You’ve always been good at bottling things up, at pretending everything’s fine even when it isn’t. But Nico’s earnestness chips away at your defences.

“It’s complicated,” you admit finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I… I don’t want to cause trouble.”

Nico’s brows knit together, and he exhales sharply through his nose. “Trouble?” he repeats, his tone incredulous. “You think standing up for yourself is causing trouble?”

You look up at him, startled by the intensity in his voice. His jaw is tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He’s angry, but not at you—you can see that clearly. It’s a protective kind of anger, one that makes your chest ache in a way you can’t quite explain.

But Nico never got angry.

At anyone.

Ever.

Except maybe now.

“I… I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling suddenly exposed under his gaze. “He’s my boss, Nico. What am I supposed to do? Go up against him? Risk my job?”

Nico takes another step closer, until he’s standing right in front of you. His presence is overwhelming, but not in a bad way. It’s grounding, like an anchor in a storm.

“Yes,” he says firmly. “If that’s what it takes, then yes. You don’t deserve to be treated like that. No one does.” Your eyes sting, and you blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

“You make it sound so easy,” you say, your voice cracking. “Do you know how hard I worked to even get considered for a job here?” Nico’s expression softens, and he reaches out, his hand hovering near your arm. He doesn’t touch you, but the gesture is enough to steady your trembling resolve.

“It’s not easy,” he says gently. “But you’re not alone. You have people who care about you. Jack, the team, me… we’ll have your back.” You look up at him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. But all you see is determination and a quiet kind of kindness that makes your chest tighten.

“Why would you do that?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

Nico’s lips quirk into a small, almost shy smile. “Because it’s the right thing to do,” he says simply. “And because you… you matter.” Your breath catches, and for a moment, you forget how to speak. The vulnerability in his words, the way his eyes hold yours—it’s almost too much to handle.

“Thank you,” you manage to say, your voice thick with emotion.

Nico nods, his smile growing a fraction wider. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says. “Just let me help. Give me something I can do to help.” The idea pops into your head before you can even shake it away.

“Nope, can’t think of anything.”

“You’re lying, I can see that you’re lying.” He lets out a soft chuckle, his arms crossing against his chest in amusement.

“There is no way you can tell, I’ve got a better poker face then anyone here.” You scoff, mirroring Nico’s position but crossing your arms, raising your brow in challenge.

“You bite the inside of your cheek and you blink more when you’re lying.” Nico says quickly, a smile growing on your face as you mouth fall open a little. “Just tell me your idea.”

“No, it’s stupid.”

“I doubt it - I told you I just want to help.” Nico quips back, taking a step forwards his arms loosening as one reaches towards you, pausing before dropping back to his side, “C’mon spit it out.”

“I need a fake boyfriend.”

Nico’s eyebrows shoot up, and for a moment, he looks like he’s trying to process your words. His mouth opens slightly, then closes again, as if he’s weighing the best response.

“A fake boyfriend?” he repeats, his voice laced with cautious amusement.

You nod quickly, your cheeks burning. “Yeah… it’s stupid, I know,” you mumble, fiddling with the corner of your papers again. “But he’s been pressing me about bringing someone to the Christmas dinner, and so last year I just said my boyfriend couldn’t make it, and ever since he insisted on meeting him.” Nico leans back slightly, his arms now loosely crossed as he studies you. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—curiosity. “But I think he’s starting to catch on.” You admit

“And you think a fake boyfriend will… solve this?”

“I think it’ll buy me some breathing room,” you say hurriedly, your words tumbling out before you can stop them. “If he thinks I’m really in a relationship, maybe he’ll back off. At least for a little while.”

Nico doesn’t say anything right away. His eyes search your face, and you feel like he’s looking right through you, seeing every crack in the facade you’ve worked so hard to maintain. Finally, he exhales, running a hand through his hair.

“All right,” he says, his voice calm but decisive.

You blink. “All right… what?”

“All right, I’ll do it,” he says, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “I’ll be your fake boyfriend.” For a moment, you’re sure you’ve misheard him.

“You will?” you stammer, staring at him like he’s grown a second head. Nico shrugs, his expression casual but with a hint of playfulness.

“Why not? You need help, and I’m offering. Besides,” he adds, his smile growing just a little, “it might be fun.” Your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting. You hadn’t actually expected him to agree, let alone so quickly.

“Nico, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupts gently, his gaze steady. “If it helps keep that guy off your back, I’m in.”

You swallow hard, trying to process the turn this conversation has taken. “I don’t know what to say,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Say yes,” Nico replies, his tone light but sincere.

You bite your lip, the weight of his offer settling over you. It feels like a lifeline, and you know you’d be a fool to turn it down. “Okay,” you say finally, your voice shaky but resolute. “Thank you, Nico. Really.”

He grins, and for the first time in what feels like ages, you feel a flicker of hope. “Don’t worry about it.” Nico says quickly, “Besides no harm done in showing up to the party with a pretty girl on my arm.”

The night of the Christmas dinner arrives faster than you anticipated, leaving you both excited and riddled with nerves. Your apartment is quiet, save for the sound of you pacing back and forth in front of your mirror, fussing over the dress you’d picked out weeks ago. It’s nice enough, but it feels lacklustre now that the evening is here.

You’re mid-sigh when a knock sounds at your door, startling you out of your thoughts. Quickly, you toss your robe over your half-zipped dress and shuffle to answer. When you pull the door open, Nico is there, looking so effortlessly put together in a pressed white dress shirt and tailored pin stripe suit that it makes your stomach do an annoying little flip.

“Hey,” he says, offering a small, boyish smile as he steps inside. You catch the faint scent of his cologne as he moves past you, and it takes an extra second to gather your thoughts.

“Hey,” you reply, trying to sound casual. Then you notice the garment bag draped over his arm. “What’s that?” Nico’s smile grows, but there’s something bashful about it, a faint dusting of pink rising to his cheeks. He holds the bag up, almost like he’s presenting you with a peace offering.

“I, uh… I brought you something. For tonight.”

You blink, your eyes shifting between him and the garment bag. “What do you mean? I already have a dress—”

“I know,” he cuts in, scratching the back of his neck as his gaze flickers to the floor. “I just thought… maybe you’d like this one better. I mean, not that your dress isn’t great! I’m sure it’s great. I just—”

“Nico,” you interrupt, trying to hide a laugh. “Take a breath.”

He exhales sharply, a sheepish grin breaking through. “Right. Sorry. Here, just… look at it.” Carefully, he unzips the bag to reveal an absolutely breathtaking gown. It’s emerald green with subtle beading that catches the light just so, giving it a timeless elegance. The fabric flows beautifully, the kind of dress that looks like it belongs in an old Hollywood film.

Your jaw drops. “Nico…” You reach out to touch the dress, your fingers brushing over the soft, luxurious fabric.“This is… stunning. But you didn’t have to do this. This must have cost—”

“Don’t worry about that,” he says quickly, waving off your concern. “It’s… It’s a gift.”

Your heart skips a beat. “A gift?” Nico shifts on his feet, suddenly looking almost boyish in his discomfort. “Yeah. Well, I didn’t pick it out on my own,” he admits, his ears turning pink now.

“I, uh… I called my mum. She’s the one who helped me pick it. She’s good at this kind of thing.”

For a second, you just stare at him, completely floored. “You got your mum involved?”

He rubs the back of his neck again, his smile turning shy. “She was thrilled, honestly. She’s been wanting to meet you since I told her about… well, you know, this whole thing.”

The mention of his mom melts something in your chest. The idea of Nico going out of his way to make sure everything was perfect—and even involving his mom—is almost too much to process.

“Nico, this is…” You pause, swallowing the lump in your throat. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” He looks up at you, something soft and earnest in his eyes.

“You deserve to feel special tonight. And if we’re doing this whole fake couple thing, I figure we should go all in, right?” You just nod at his words, the two of you looking at each other briefly before you step away clearing your throat.

“I’ll…um— go try it on.” You say quickly, turning to leave as Nico nods his head.

“The car will be here in about 15 minutes.” He notes, “But don’t rush.” You just smile to yourself as you close the door to your bedroom, holding the dress tight against your chest as you let out a long breath.

“Can you stop fidgeting?” Nico chastises as you adjust your dress once more as you look at yourself in the mirror. The stunning emerald dress was something Nico has been insistent on you wearing as despite you feeling severely overdressed for a christmas party. The two of you had spent the last few days deciding on the story you would weave to convince your coworkers of your dating history.

“Remember we need to stick to the truth as much as possible, it’ll make things easier.” He had said the night you sat down with pizza to hash out your relationship. “We met through Jack.” He said quickly, the truth.

“We spent christmas break together and decided to seek out something more with each other.” He continued, watching as your wrote it down. “We kept things a secret to avoid any scandals at work but decided after five years it was time to let everyone know.” You nodded as you jotted his words down on the piece of paper.

“I’ll pull some strings with Janet in HR, ask her to play along, pretend there was a contract always filled out.” Nico says quietly and you freeze, your head shooting up to glance at him. “Don’t worry she’s an old friend, she won’t snitch.” His smile eases you and you jot it down on the paper.

“Do you think this will actually work?” You ask turning away from the mirror towards him. His own hands finish smoothing out the vest of his pin stripe suit.

“It will. I’ll make it work.” He assures you, his sunshine grin dampening any concerns that still drifted through your head. “We better head off if we want to get there in time.” You lean over to your bed, picking up the white purse slinging it over your shoulder. You watch him tuck his arms inside the suit jacket, straightening the expensive material.

The work christmas party always involved people dressing to the nines - everyone wanted one day to pretend they were rich and famous, right? Nico has splurged on his suit, claiming “if we are announcing that we’re together I want to leave a good impression.” You had balked at his words, this man was acting as if he was some stranger to the people attending, not the captain of the team they all worked for.

Nico has prepaid a car to take you both to the event and both to your separate homes afterwards, he had spared no expense to make it seem as if you were really dating.

The car ride is filled mainly with the two of you rerunning the story, the plan. You were to enter the building first alone, Nico would come in after and fulfil his duties to the shareholders and management, he would always be within earshot in case you needed anything. He would eventually introduce himself to your boss as your secret boyfriend, as quietly as possible.

Nico gives you a bright grin as his driver opens the car door, offering you a hand to slide out of the car. You return a tight smile back, repeating the words Nico has whispered in your ears as the car pulled up to the venue.

“I will be there the whole time, if you want to leave just squeeze my hand twice.”

Your entrance to the party was easy, you said brief hello’s and gave holiday greeting to the employees that you knew, keeping an eye out for your supervisor amongst the already tipsy guests. You manage to spot Janet from HR in the crowd the woman giving you a wink and a cheeky smile from across the room.

“I feel like you’re going to need this.” Jack whispers in your ear, handing you the glass of champagne. He was aware of the plan with Nico, it felt wrong to leave him out of it. Jack stands a few steps away as he takes in your appearance. “You look amazing by the way.” He mumbles.

The four hundred and fifty dollar gown was swaying around your ankles. It was aline, tight along your bodice, the square neckline resembling a corset of sorts, the skirt of the dress a little more dramatic as it dropped off your hips. Your favourite part was how the dress tied with straps against your bare back, just grazing the base of your spine with the skirt fabric.

The room falls quiet as a presence walks through the door.

Nico somehow managed to look larger in his suit. The three piece pin stripe attire fitting him with perfection, accentuation his broad shoulders and defined waist. The man exuding calmness as he walked in, welcoming everyone with a beaming ‘Merry Christmas’, the party resuming as the first chairman greeted the young captain.

Jack held his glass up in a cheers as the two of you continued your night by the bar, gossiping about the mothers who decided tonight was their night. You had managed to make it two hours into the party before even catching a glimpse of the man you hoped would be too drunk to notice you were even here.

You could feel him finally catch you in the crowd, his eyes darkened as he spots you alone beside Jack. “I’m just going to run to the bathroom.” You say, handing your friend the empty glass of champagne, scuffling through the crowd hoping to escape to the restroom before your supervisor could catch up to you.

“Now where do you think you’re going?” The voice calls from behind you, the hand gripping your forearms and wrenching you away from the bathroom door only a metre away. You let out a surprised yelp as your boss grips your arm pulling you towards him.

“Let go of me.” You hiss as you try to tug your arm free of his grip. You could tell his was drunk, the way his steps stumbled, his eyes were blurred, not to mention the wafting smell of overpriced liquor. The man just laughed at your attempts to free your arm, reaching out with his other hand to secure you other arm as well.

“I must say you look delicious as always.” He croons, his eyes grazing over your body as he takes in the tight bodice of your dress. “I was surprise to see you show up alone, couldn’t convince your boyfriend to tag along?” He teases, a shiver running up your spine as he pulls your closed to him, his breath running along the skin of your neck.

“Please, let me go.” You say again, your voice not wavering as you look around for other passerby’s. “I won’t ask again, this is assault.”

“You know, I’ve always wondered if maybe you just made up your boyfriend, pretended to play hard. You’ve always known how much I’ve wanted you, maybe you’re doing all this to tease me.” His words are slurred as he presses a wet kiss to your neck, your body tensing up.

“Please don’t do this.” You plead, “Just let me go.” You ask one more time. You knew a drunk man was more likely to do things he shouldn’t, and with how brash your boss was sober your doubted he’d show you much professionalism while intoxicated. You tug your arms one more time, hoping to free at least one of them, when a hand reaches out to grip your assailants wrist.

“She asked you three times.” Nico’s voice is dangerously low, he squeezes against the wrist hard, your boss letting out a pained groan as he releases your left arm. You watch in silence as Nico takes a step in front of you, reaching out to take your boss’s other wrist, repeating the action until both your arms are free, Nico having a tight hold of the drunk man’s arms.

“Listen closely, because I will only say it once.” Nico starts, his eyebrows drawn tight as he leans in, “You will be escorted to your office, you will collect your belongings and vacate the building immediately, any resistance and you can sober up at the local police station.” You watch as your boss’s face pales, his eyes darting between you and his boss.

“Don’t look at her.” Nico snaps. “You will be issues with a two week notice on Monday but you are not to return to the building on any circumstances, are we clear?” He says,

“You can’t do this to me.” Your boss screams tugging at his arms still securely in Nico’s grip

“I can and I did — now were my instructions clear enough for you?” Nico continues, his body stepping closer to your boss, his voice barely above a whisper, your ex-supervisor nods furiously as Nico releases his arms, you recognise the large figure that steps up behind up and the security guard in the lobby.

“Take good care of him.” Nico says with a tight nod, the security guard just grins back in response.

You let out a shaky sigh as Nico turns towards you, his hand reaching out for you.

“Did he hurt you?” He questions as he touches your arms gently. So gently you barely feel his fingers smooth the red bruising on your skin.

“I’m okay.” You whisper, watching him look at the redness on your wrists with a frown. “Really, Nico, I’m okay.” You reiterate, his gaze finally snapping up to your face, his warm hands wrapping around your burning wrists, the one gesture soothing the ache.

“I should’ve stayed with you.” He grumbles, his frown still sitting on his face. You smile and shake your head.

You tug on your arms lightly, a clear difference between the man standing before you and the one that had been escorted away. Nico releases you easily, his frown growing as he fears you’ll step away from him. You hands reach out pushing some of his neatly swept hair back into place, the locks having fallen in front of his eyes in his rush to get to you.

“I am okay.” You say one more time, your hands sitting on Nico’s cheeks as you force his to keep eye contact, to ensure he understand that you’re telling the truth. His expression relaxes slightly as he looks down at you, his eyes scanning you for any signs of untruth.

You shake your head with a light laugh as you step forward, stepping up onto your tippy toes as you press a soft kiss to his cheek. “My hero.” You coo, as you fall back to the base of your heels, smiling up at him.

Nico stands stunned for a few minutes before breaking out in a grin. He takes his turn, leaning down slowly, catching your lips with his. The kiss is soft, sweet, his hands gentle against the bare skin of your back as you pulls you to him. You fingers scratch at the base of his skull, fiddling with the hair.

“I don’t know if this is appropriate after what happened.” He whispers against your lips but you just shrug, kissing him again.

“Fuck appropriate.” You huff, pulling your face away from his, “I think you should take me home.”

Nico doesn’t waste time, he steps away from you, grabbing your hand with his, lacing your fingers together as he looks for the quickest escape route. The party is in full swing, as he guides you through the crowd, managing to somehow avoid every drunk colleague that tries to grab him for a conversation. You chuckle, as he side steps one of the sponsors, tugging you after him as he smack the button for the elevator.

“The driver is on his break.” Nico says softly, as the elevator doors open, pulling the SUV’s keys from his jacket pocket. He hadn’t expected to leave for another hours or two and had told his driver to go down the street to get dinner.

The elevator doors close, and you leans up pressing a breezy kiss on the underside of his ears, nipping at the skin lightly with your teeth.

“The car will have to do.” You speak against his flushed skin, the man letting out a shudder as he holds your hand tighter.

The sound of Nico wrenching open the car door brings you back to the moment, the man clambering inside the car, tugging you in after him. The door slams closed as Nico pulls you into his lap, his mouth finding the scented skin of your neck, letting out a long groan as the fresh smell of mango hits his senses.

“This is so fucking wrong.” He swears, as you tug the dress up around your hips, straddling his thick things as he glances over your body. You just smile, your hands reaching for his belt. Nico puts up no resistance as you loosen the faux leather, tugging his button open and pulling down the zipper just as quickly.

“We can do things right later.” You say, “Right now I need your dick inside me.” Nico hisses as your hand reaches into his tight breaches, pulling his hard cock from the restraints of his underwear.

“Are you sure this isn’t some kind of hero complex?” He asks, as you pump his cock a few times, sliding the oozing pre cum down his length. “I heard girls tend to feel like they owe favours when someone helps them.” Nico groans out as your adjust your panties under your dress, shuffling further into his lap as his cock grazes your folds.

“I don’t owe you anything.” You say softly, looking down at him as his cock sinks inside of you. “This is you doing me a favour.” You add, letting out a sigh of relief as Nico’s hand grip your hips, helping you slide down him slowly.

“Can’t argue with that.” He responds, his voice light as you close your eyes the feeling of his thick cock bottoming out inside of you. He leans forwards pressing soft kiss against your shoulders as you rock your hips forwards and back.

“I’m so glad you’re rich.” You whine as Nico sucks harshly against your skin, his gaze shooting to you confused for a moment before his lips reattach to your jaw. “You windows are tinted and no one can see their captain fucking an employee and his teammates best friend.” You coo, the man beneath you bucking his hips up at your words.

“Does that turn you on?” You question with surprise, Nico just nods.

“God, you’re so pretty.” He mumbles as he pushes hair of your shoulder, glancing down at your heaving chest, pressing kisses on any skin that available to him. Your thighs work hard in rising you up slightly, before dropping you back down, your hips bucking forwards every time his pelvis rubs against your clit.

“Say it again.” You mumble, your lip catching between your teeth as he trails soft touches over your skin.

“You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” He says.

“I would give anything to have you like this, on top of me, every night.” He continues, his own hips bucking up to meet you as he feels your thrusts begin to slow.

“I want you to be mine, I want us to be something.” He whispers, tucking hair behind your ear, his hand resting against your cheek. You nuzzle into his hand, pressing a gentle peck against his wrist as he smiles up at you.

“That’s the sex talking.” You hiss at a particularly aggressive thrust.

“No it’s cause you’re perfect.” He says in awe as your thighs clench, your body stopping as you let out a small whimper falling against his chest. His hips thrust up a few times before he’s joining you in a high, heavy gasps the only thing filling the car.

The windows were fogged up, the both of you with a light layer of sweat on your skin.

“Do you think you’re driver will be mad?” You question, tugging a laugh from the tired man under you.

“Probably.” Nico answers, pressing a kiss to your cheek before helping you off of him, adjusting your dress to the best of his abilities. “Guess we’ll both just have to be on the naughty list this year.”

#nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x reader #nhl smut #nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier smut #nico hischier fanfic #christmas special

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wheredafandomat · 2 days ago

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Home

Loki x mum! Reader

18+| contains alcohol, loss, Loki and reader share a child. I’m sorry I haven’t written anything in AGESSS

You quickly turned the radio off as the news reporter reeled off a string of recent burglaries that had happened in your neighbourhood. Grabbing your scarf, you adjusted it around your neck as you glanced at yourself in the mirror, offering a half smile as you tried not to focus on the bags colouring the skin beneath your eyes. You took a breath, your smile widening uncannily as your daughter padded towards you, half of her glove dangling off of her small hand.

“Is daddy going to be there?” She asked excitedly as you knelt down, helping her with her glove.

“No—not today” you hesitated “but one—one day he’ll be home” you rushed out, not believing your own words. The truth was, Loki hadn’t been home in almost a year. You didn’t know when he was going to come back, no one did. Unless they did and were just refusing to tell you. You took a steadying breath, cursing the fact that you no longer had the clearance to find out how the mission was going before doing what you had been doing since the day you lost communication. What you were taught. Assuming the worst. You faked a smile again, composing yourself before leaving.

Once you had come home from shopping, you unpacked before continuing the routine you had adopted since Loki had left. Making dinner, alone. Feeding your daughter, alone. Putting her to bed, alone. Showering, alone. Having a glass of whine, which was a step you had added recently, alone. Going to bed, alone and cuddling a picture of Loki. A tear began to pool in the corner of your eye as you looked at the picture, a memory of him overtaking you.

“If you ever need me, just say my name three times” he assured, squeezing your shoulder.

You closed your eyes, holding the picture against you as his name left your trembling lips. You called it three times. Hoping, praying that he’d hear, that he’d come. But alas. Silence met your awaiting ears.

“Liar” you sniffled through tears before begging sleep to overtake you.

By the time the morning came, the warmish glow of the winter sun had covered your room, waking you up before your daughter did. The morning routine was similar to the night one in the sense that it was done alone now.

“We’re going to see Santa today baby” you smiled, pressing the porcelain mug against your lips as you sipped your coffee.

“Yayyy” she exclaimed, her spoon almost flying out of her hand as she threw her arms in the air.

Two hours and another cup of coffee later, there you were in the mall, the line for Santa's grotto alarmingly long. You took a breath, looking at the workers dressed as elves as they spoke to some of the children further up in the line than you.

“Are you excited to see Santa?” One of them exclaimed, smiling widely at your daughter who answered with the same amount of enthusiasm.

You narrowed your gaze slightly the closer you got to the front of the queue, the elves beginning to look slightly more real. You were no stranger to elves. Loki had taken you on a tour of the nines when you were an agent and Alfheim was one of them. But this wasn’t Alfheim.

“Quit staring lady” one of them interrupted your suspicions as you reached the front of the queue.

“Sorry” you spoke, clearing your throat.

Sitting on Santa’s lap, your daughter began listing the things she wanted for Christmas as you took some pictures before her time was over.

“And what about you?” Santa asked, surprising you.

“What?” You answered just above a whisper.

“What is it you want this Christmas?” He smiled generously, your eyes meeting as all words escaped you.

“I-I don’t—” you began.

“You can’t lie to me” he reminded you, your gazes still connected as you lost yourself in this stare.

“Loki” you finally utter, truthfully. “I want Loki”

“Next” one of the elves called before you could even register what had happened. As if on autopilot, you picked your daughter up before heading home before performing the night routine, however this night, you felt off.

The following day rolled around and you took your daughter to her grandparents house.

“You are looking after yourself right” your mum asked, her eyes darting around your face.

“Yes mum” you huffed.

“You know you are still my baby” she reminded you.

“Yes mum” you answered in a softer tone.

“I’ll be round tomorrow with the angel” she smiled, looking at your daughter “don’t forget to stuff the turkey and preheat the oven to—”

“Yes mum” you quickly interrupted “bye mum.”

Getting home, you poured yourself a glass of wine before you began your food prep. Downing the liquid, you pourned yourself another, almost halfway through the bottle before pouring another. You began feeling what could only be described as tipsy before accidentally burning one of your fingers on the pot.

“Ouch” you yelped, running to the sink before putting it under cold water.

As you covered your finger in water, you looked down at it, unable to help the tears that escaped you, your eyes mirroring the tap. Just before you began to cry even more, you heard a crash upstairs, immediately sobering up as you turned the tap off. Suddenly the thousands you had spent on training to become an agent and the years you had spent on the frontline kicked in as you stealthily walked up the stairs. Whoever had broken in chose the wrong house you thought to yourself, remembering the burglaries. Following the noise, it led you to your bedroom as you carefully pushed open the door before gasping, your heart falling to the ground as your eyes met Loki’s dishevelled body laying in your bed. You honed in on the gash on his forehead, sprinting for gauze before you rushed to his side, clearing the blood. Disbelief shrouded you as you began to shake him awake.

“Lokiii, Lokiii” you called, half wondering how strong that wine was.

“Y/n?” You heard fondly, quietly as he stirred awake, you wrapping your arms around him.

The two of you embraced, no questions needing to be asked as your lips met. No words left either of your lips as you helped Loki into the bathroom, undressing him before turning the shower on. You didn’t leave his side, not wanting this potential mirage to fade into nothingness, not wanting Loki to leave again. As you guided him back into the bedroom, you still asked no questions, they could wait until tomorrow.

Wrapping your arms around one another, you embraced, the warmth of Loki’s arms around you, intoxicating you. Taking a deep breath, you breathed him in, your lips pressing against his exposed chest. You felt his lips on your forehead as you moved closer against one another. Home, you felt home.

Had to take a break from writing my assignment to write something Christmassy. Hope you enjoyed!! And I hope you have a wonderful Christmas if you celebrate ❤️

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#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#loki fanfiction #loki #loki imagines #loki laufeyson imagine #loki marvel #loki oneshot

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formylovetodaryldixon · 2 days ago

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“When you finally came back.” Daryl Dixon Imagine.

After escaping from the saviors, Daryl and you finally meet again to stay together this time. And there, alone, your husband gives you a letter that perhaps expresses a little of what you mean to him.

A/N: This is an imagine I wrote looong time ago. This is literally my second try to write smut, but I don't do it often because I feel i can't express properly how the characters feel :( But I tried, so I hope you like it AND the letter Daryl gives to you. Thank you!

We’ll find a way to get you back. Okay? Just be strong, please. The only thing he can’t take away from you is your strength. So you just have to prove them you are stronger than them.”

With the light steps of a professional hunter, like the most dangerous and silent animal, that predator that doesn't make the slightest noise before catching its prey, Daryl walks through the empty halls, in the middle of those cold and gray walls. The small chance of escaping from that place is shaped as a key, hiding in the pocket of the trousers he stole from Dwight’s room, not without destroying his carved figurines on the table first. Daryl is agile to avoid the saviors, deathly silent as he takes that pipe, running down the last aisle before turning in the right corner to leave the place, hiding his face under a cap.

Finally, Daryl opens the door to get out of the building, running to the first bike on the line full of them.

“What the hell…” Fat Joey looks at Daryl, who looks at him back, holding a calm, but completely threatening look. “Wow. Wow…” Joey drops the half of his sandwich and raises his hands in the air, just to show he is harmless. “It’s cool. I swear…”

Daryl approaches him, slowly, his gaze fixed on the frightened prey in front of him.

“Buddy, you can walk down that back gate there and I won’t say anything to anybody. I’m supposed to be there now, but… listen… I… I’m just trying to get by, just like you… Please…”

But, with a contained fury that surpasses human strength, Daryl lifts the pipe and smashes it into Joey’s head, again and again, and again. He remembers the brutality with which he was treated, the fear, and the anger that explodes inside him right there, letting out all the pain in the most inhuman way possible.

Turning around the corner, Jesus runs to him from behind some trucks, stopping at the bloody commotion.

“Daryl…” Jesus says, but Daryl doesn’t stop while the blood splashes on his clothes and part of his face. “Daryl!”

Like being pulled out of a trance, Daryl finally stops, looking at what is left of Joey.

“He was jus' walkin’ by here… but it ain’t 'bout gettin’ by.” Daryl breathes out, dropping the pipe. Rick’s gun is hanging from Joey’s waist and Daryl takes it, straightening up himself to look at Jesus. “Ya know anythin’ 'bout ma wife?”

“Yeah. Carl said she’s fine so don’t worry. You will be with (Y/N) again very soon.” Jesus looks at Joey quickly before looking back at Daryl, still surprised by what had happened.

Daryl nods absently, thinking about you as he walks again to the bike.

“I got the key. Let’s go.”

As the others enter the Hilltop through the tall wood gates, your owl brooch slips from your shaky hand in the middle of your way. You are nervous, and you stop yourself to pick it up. The brooch has two silver owls sitting on a branch, and it might have been cheesy if you had received it in the old world you used to live in, and although Daryl said that too when he gave it to you, the gift was a reminder of him.

Finally, you walk through the open gates, but stopping yourself again as you hold the brooch a little harder when you see Daryl pulling away from Rick’s hug when he looks at you. Rick smiles before patting his best friend’s back so Daryl can walk to you, without stopping for a single second. You feel the tingling in your chest, something moving inside you, like the flapping of thousands of butterflies. Then, he picks you up from the ground, taking you in a warm embrace as you wrap your legs around his waist, arms around his neck as his strong arms around your back hold you tight. Still holding the brooch, you hide your face in the crook of his neck as you feel a total relief to see him safe.

A breath of air for the times you two stopped breathing, hearts beating again for the times they stopped beating, bodies aching for the time you two were apart.

“I made it, peach.” Daryl says, breathless, pulling apart just a little to look into your eyes. “I made it thanks to ya.”

But you shake your head saying no, pushing his hair away from his eyes.

“You made it because you’re strong.”

Then, Daryl smiles softly, finally in peace before kissing you.

After the failed attempt to convince Gregory to fight against Negan, fighting against the urge to shoot him when he found a polite way to tell you all to go to hell, while using the back door of the Hilltop, you all go to see King Ezekiel looking for help, guided by Jesus and his good intentions, but that doesn’t work either. King Ezekiel wanted to give asylum to Daryl, but he rejected it believing that the lack of strength from the king against the saviors wasn’t going to help you all beat Negan and his sadistic people.

It was a waste of time for Daryl, so with all of you standing in the middle of the street in the Kingdom, he puts his hand on your lower back to make you turn, pulling you with him to get out of there. One by one, the group walk to the exit too, plunging into a new kind of disappointment.

“Hey. Open it up!” Daryl says to the man in charge of the front doors. “We’re gone.”

The gates make a metallic sound and it opens for the group who walk out of there.

“You’re not.” Rick says to Daryl, and in the middle of his confusion, Daryl takes your hand to stop you.

“I ain’t stayin’ here.” He says looking at Rick, his accent getting thick, his voice deep but full of frustration.

“You have to. It’s the smartest play. You know it is.” Rick places his hand on Daryl's shoulder, trying to tell him with words and a kind look that this is what he had to do. “Try to talk to Ezekiel. Whatever it takes. We’ll be back soon.” Rick walks out of the kingdom, looking at you both before the doors closed. “We’ll come back for you two.”

Alone in that unfamiliar place, Morgan guides you two to a room so you both can rest. Your spirit is more tired than your body, so you say thank you before following him, with Daryl taking your hand to let himself be guided as well.

Uneasy with the lack of support, but not wanting to say anything because more negativity is not going to help save the situation, you lie back in bed on your right side, kicking your boots off first, head on the pillow, your disappointed gaze lost in the window. Daryl closes the door, locking it before approaching the bed as well, taking his boots off as well before lying on his side so he could look you in the eyes this time.

"We will going to be okay, right?" You ask, in a small voice.

His hand looks for the warm of your body, your soft skin under your black t-shirt, smiling at the contact he missed so much.

"We will, peach."

The sunlight comes in, the garden is green on the outside, people’s voice passing by the building, thinking they will be safe forever. Even if Daryl doesn’t want to stay there he had to. It was necessary for him to be safe from the saviors. However, now, he seems to enjoy your hand massaging his hair. His eyes are closed, growling softly once in a while every time you touch a good place. Everything seems to be okay when the world is as quiet as it is right now, without the endless grunting of the walkers, nor Negan’s voice that had no mercy.

“Stop thinkin’ 'bout it, peach.” Daryl says softly, opening his eyes again, taking your hand away from his hair to hold it in his. “We’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

He watches the ring in your finger, the place where it belonged to, and then, Daryl finally looks at you for real. This time, for a moment at least, there is not a shred of shame in his gaze, exposing himself completely to you, as he did every time you two were alone, because it was easy for him to be who he really was with you. Your love was the kind of love he never thought he would get, or deserved, but there you are now: loving him like no one else ever did.

“I got somethin’ for ya…” His hand leaves yours, looking in the back pocket of his pants. But suddenly, it is as if a feeling of vulnerability comes over him as Daryl pulls a folded sheet of paper, handing it to you as his blue eyes sparkle with a new kind of shyness. “S’something I wrote for ya… ’bout ya, actually.”

You smile at him before looking at the paper, but without opening it yet. You know Daryl never was good with words, even when there was so much he wanted to tell you, so you understand that he decided to write those feelings down. But they weren't even a quarter of what he really felt for you.

“Can I read it now?” You look at him kindly, giving him the option to be there or not if he wasn't comfortable with it. "If not, I can wait until I'm alone."

“Ya can read it.” He gets closer to you, pushing you softly for you to lay on your back, climbing on you, his nose brushing your skin as he starts kissing your neck, his hand caressing your side. “I'll entertain myself with somethin’ else.”

You love the sudden hot feeling, the tickling between your legs in anticipation, the need to have him close again.

“That’s not fair, you asshole.” You chuckle, trying your best to read the letter.

Daryl loves the aggression, chuckling too against your skin as he pulls himself lower, just to meet your most sensitive and still covered area. His hands look for the bottom and the zipper of your jeans, pushing them out of you with your underwear lock in his fingers. You try very hard to concentrate on reading, trying to understand the messy words on the paper, but when Daryl buries his face into you without a warning, just to devour you completely, earning a moan form your closed lips, it is impossible to do so.

His hot tongue moves against you, kissing and licking and sucking, sending a vibration with the low growl he makes and that travels through your entire body, so intense that you have to hold onto his long hair to keep your balance, so that your bent legs wouldn't give in with everything he’s giving you.

Your back arches, overwhelmed with the thousands of different sensations that hits you right there. The cold air mixes with the heat emanating from his tongue, as hot as your body starts to be, so hot that you think it is hell itself. The view of the roof is replaced with darkness behind your closed eyes, mouth finally open as the pleasure is starting to make you see stars.

For a second, you think he can make you come with just that, just like the previous times he did it, but now it is because it had been a while since you two made love, your body extremely sensitive to his touch. And right there, your sex is throbbing painfully, waiting impatiently for him to be inside you.

“Daryl, please…”

He can hear the plea in your voice, so full of desire that he can feel it right in his hard member. Daryl licks and tastes one more time, his warm hands holding your hips, pulling you closer to his mouth to get you ready. Daryl loved that feeling every time he ate you out, to know only he could take you so high with only his tongue, listening to those sinful sounds from your precious mouth, but as he rises on his knees, his hands catching the buttons of his shirt to remove it, Daryl and his ego love the view of you.

“Take off yer t-shirt.” He says low, and it is not a warning but a promise. “This ain’t over yet, peach.”

You lick your lip but you do as he says, sitting on the bed before taking the t-shirt out of your body, your bra next, with him loving the view of your naked and soft flesh. But as he finishes the last bottoms and while feeling bold, you lean forward, your hands finding the belt of his pants, mouth close but holding an innocent smile as you undo it.

“Only ya can be hot and cute at the same time, woman.” Daryl growls. “Now lay back and lemme feel what I've been missin’ all this time.”

You lay back down, watching your husband take off his pants and his boxers, like the hottest imagine in the whole world. Daryl is hot, with his broad shoulders, the tattoo in his chest, his strong arms, calloused hands that always touch you softly. And when he is completely naked, he lays on top of you, feeling the beating of your heart in his own body, with you bending your legs at each side of his waist and hips, feeling him pushing himself inside of you.

He is thick, and he fills you completely, reaching places you are dying to feel him, and then, your moans and his grunts are silenced when he kisses you, finally moving. Your hips receive the movement of his, pushing himself even deeper, one hand on your cheek, the other holding himself at the side of your body.

You feel his length beating inside you, your walls squeezing around him, making him growl against your parted lips. The feeling inside you intensifies with the minutes, with the swaying of his body and yours, your hands hugging his back, feeling his muscles contract under your touch.

Daryl rests his forehead against yours, breathing through his parted lips.

“That feels good?” He asks, and you nod, drowned in the sensation to form a word. “Lemme feel ya, peach. I really need ya right now.”

He chokes with his own words, looking at you with eyes full of lust, between the strands of hair that fall over his forehead, but when you think that can’t get any hotter, Daryl brings two of his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them before pressing them against your clit, rubbing the area, hard and fast, causing you to cry his name.

And he fucking loves that. He would gladly drown in your voice calling his name.

The sensations and the sounds are making him mad as he feels close to his climax, pressing himself into you even harder, deeper and faster when he feels your inner walls clenching against him. You feel close too, and it takes you seconds to finally cum letting out a cry, feeling him release inside of you with one long push.

Daryl buries his face in your neck, breathing heavily, moving slowly as you two enjoy the hot feeling leaving your bodies. You stroke his hair for a while, just to give him some comfort.

And after a while, he pulls away to look at you, so close you feel his nose brushing yours, with him smiling at the contact. Daryl strokes your cheek softly, making you smile too. His touch is always soft, it is sincere, just like his love for you.

“I love ya, Mrs. Dixon. Yer the only one for me and it’ll be like that for the rest of ma life.”

After saying that, Daryl presses his lips against yours, and it melts you like honey, so sweet like his love for you. He came back to you to stay for real this time, and as he falls sleep on his side after a while, dressed again, pressing his body against yours, you take the letter which was forgotten next to the pillow.

His handwriting was always messy, and you used to tease him about it, but now, it makes you hold the air inside your body as you start reading.

Ma little angel:

Awake or when I can sleep, I’m always dreamin’ about ya. Sometimes, I dream ‘bout meetin’ ya in the old world. I wish I could have found ya there. Our life together wouldn't have been perfect but I’d have worked hard to give ya all the things ya deserved, I’d have done everythin’ to make ya the happiest woman in the world. I know someone like me couldn’t have offered ya much in that world, fuck, I can’t offer ya much in this one either, but I promised ya I’d protect ya from everythin’ and Imma keep ma word, ‘cause now I can’t live without ya. Ya always were a sweet thing to look at, and even when Carol used to make fun of me when she caught me doin’ it, I couldn’t stop. But even now, when in ma mind I see the ring in yer finger, I still can’t believe ya are really ma wife. I never told ya this, but when ya said yes, I promised God I would never let ya go. And now, ya’re stuck with me forever, ‘cause thanks to ya I started livin’ and not jus’ survivin’. So yeah, ya’re ma life, ya are the peace, the sun, the moon and all the fuckin’ stars in the diamond sky as ya call it.

It was nice to find someone who loves me like ya do, even with ma temper. I love ya, peach, so much, and I’m sorry I don’t say it often. Ya know I’m bad with words, but I’ll try to be better.

Yours, Daryl Dixon.

@fluffy-dixon

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon

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unhinged-summer-fun · 3 days ago

Text

edāx (oshamir)

edāx (Latin) greedy, gluttonous, voracious, devourer.

Rating: Explicit (22+)

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x The Stranger "Qimir"

Summary: Osha goes out with Fillik after all, and makes the acquaintance of a dangerous man — if he is a man at all.

Warnings: Vampire AU and all that entails, sexual content. 11k word count deserves a warning.

A/N: This is my gift for @tourmaline-dream for the Oshamir Holiday Gift Exchange 2024! I hope you like ittttt~ And many thanks to @starlightafterastorm for betaing this fic <3

“Would you quit looking at him?” Fillik hissed across the table. Their section of the cantina was loud enough that he didn’t have to whisper, but the quieter reprimand got the point across better than if he’d spoken regularly or even if he’d shouted it. None of the other nearby diners seemed to notice them—but that wasn’t unusual in this end of the galaxy.

Osha returned to herself, snapping from her reverie as if Fillik had poured his fussy little mixed drink on her head. The breath Osha took was ragged, like she’d been holding her breath—or forgotten how to breathe entirely. She avoided responding to the remark, this time gazing in the opposite direction of the man who’d caught her attention.

Her restraint lasted for all of three seconds before she peeked back at the shadier side of the dining area, catching a glimpse of dark hair, pale skin, eyes that glinted crimson—

“Osha,” Fillik said at a normal volume, flapping a sticky menu in her periphery to act as blinders. “You have the subtleness of a bantha, my friend. At least get up and talk to him instead of just gawking.”

“What are you talking about?” she said, breathing out in a slow, controlled exhale that did nothing to calm her nerves. Stars, but that man had rattled her from across the room.

“You’re going to have no chance at picking that guy up if you just stare at him like—”

“Like what?”

“Like he’s going to eat you or something.”

She rolled her eyes and sipped her drink, shaking her head at her friend. “I’m not here to pick anybody up, Fil.” Osha slapped at the flimsi he held up as a privacy barrier. Despite her protests, she checked again.

The man was gone.

Disappointment filled her chest, heavy and cold. The feeling sharply shifted to tension, hairs standing on end when—

“Hello.”

A deep voice, smooth as whiskey and dark as night, cut through all her thoughts with exacting precision. Her mouth went dry despite the taste of her drink still on her tongue, and she turned to look up at the person next to her, up and up and—

Dark hair with eyes to match, pale skin with teeth to match, bared in a half-smile that made some primal side of her soul shiver. Up close, the stranger looked even more fascinating, all cheekbones, lips, and jaw that would have looked ridiculous on any other face—but he wore his features comfortably, not an ounce of insecurity hidden on his person. She only caught a glimpse of his teeth before the smile grew closed-lipped, but she swore she saw something predatory around his canine teeth: too long, that primal soul said. Too sharp. Too dangerous.

But Osha had never let that little voice stop her before. She was a meknek, for fuck’s sake. She took strolls through space and risked her life every other day to distract her from the nightmarish silence of space.

“Hello,” Osha said, feeling a little silly. The stranger’s brown eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Hi,” he said, and damn, there was that flash of a tooth again. It caught her breath, but not before she made an even greater fool of herself.

“Hi.”

Silence rolled in like the tide, awkwardness threatening to overtake their meeting.

“Please join us,” Fillik said, breaking the silence. When he caught her eye, he raised his eyebrows and gave her a look that probably meant, don’t be weird and act like a normal person.

The man slid gracefully into the seat beside Osha, and from this close, she caught a glimpse of long, dark eyelashes. It may have been the harsh lighting of the spaceport’s refectory, but he seemed almost sickly pale were it not for the grace of his movements that spoke to his relatively good health. Fillik cleared his throat, pulling her head out of the nebulae and back to solid ground.

“Um.”

This was going great.

“What’s your name?” the stranger murmured, lips moving only as much as necessary to communicate. It made her lean in, as magnetized to him as her boots were to the outer hulls of starships.

“Osha,” she whispered, even softer than he’d spoken. An amused expression crossed his face, one eyebrow raising so naturally she almost didn’t notice it. She said again, louder, “I’m Osha. This is Fillik.”

Her friend didn’t seem too convinced of her normal person act, but he stifled his teasing in favor of taking on the role of a wingman. “We’re mekneks.”

The stranger hadn’t looked away from Osha once. “How daring,” he commented, the other eyebrow joining the first before his expression relaxed.

Osha’s small-talk abilities fizzled like a dying candle when the stranger didn’t offer his name or profession. “You don’t have a drink,” she said bluntly.

Fillik looked like he wanted to run headfirst into the nearest wall as hard as possible.

But the stranger wasn’t repelled by her awkwardness. The corners of his lips inched upward, and his eyes finally strayed from hers, dipping downward but not scandalously so. No, his eyes seemed more focused on her collarbone, tracing the delicate line of it back and forth with so much intensity it was almost a caress.

“I don’t drink all that much,” he said, still smiling softly, secrets galore held behind his lips.

“A cantina’s kind of a weird place to be, then,” Osha said. She heard Fillik suck in a breath, almost wincing at her observation.

“I was looking for a bite,” he shrugged. “Something smelled good over here.”

For the briefest moment, as his mouth wrapped around the word bite, Osha could have sworn she saw that impossible glint of too-sharp, too-long, dangerous teeth again. But at his affable, easygoing shrug, she stifled that instinctual urge to flee. Heart racing, she didn’t know what to do or say besides sit there and breathe.

“Oh, a menu.”

The stranger reached across the table, his hand glancing over Osha’s wrist. She flinched at the sharp, biting cold of his skin when it brushed hers. It reminded her of the frost that collected on her exo-suit after a long shift. After those shifts, when she stepped into the tepid spray of a shower, her body reacted to the warmth as if it were open flames. She wondered what her skin felt like to him, and watched his expression carefully. He must have felt something when he touched her, but his expression gave nothing away.

“Do you recommend anything?” the stranger asked, acknowledging Fillik. A brief thrill of satisfaction raced through Osha as Fillik straightened up beneath the stranger’s piercing, dark stare.

“What’d you see that smelled good?” he managed to stammer.

The stranger’s eyes flicked to Osha briefly—so briefly that she had to write off the red glint that reflected from behind his irises. Stars, but something about that was familiar. Her poleaxed expression gave way to outright curiosity, but on Osha’s face, it looked more like a glare.

Fillik and the stranger exchanged words, agreeing on what to order. Osha observed the stranger with blatant curiosity. She wasn’t used to this whole flirting thing, as much as Fillik tried to convince her otherwise. Yet, without a single word, she’d seemed to snare this gorgeous man’s attention from across a crowded room. To Osha’s surprise, Fillik rose from the table to get the order—“I wanted to get another round anyway. Be right back.”

She’d never seen him walk so fast.

This left her alone with the stranger, who turned to her as he’d done before. Now that she thought about it, he’d never not been facing her. Even when he spoke to Fillik, he’d only turned his head a little. His entire body seemed trained on her, and she didn’t know what to do with that kind of attention.

“Osha,” he said, drawing her name out like a song and ending it on an almost-whisper. The curling smile on his lips made her wonder if he was addressing her or testing out the feel of her name on his tongue. “Do you like being a meknek?”

Startled by the question, she answered honestly. “I like being paid for it.”

This shocked a laugh out of him—throaty, deep, and warm. With his head tilted back, she got a full view of his teeth, and there was no denying it now.

Those were fangs.

But she’d been a meknek for six years now and seen all kinds of species from all sorts of places. Plenty of species have fangs, she reasoned. Carnivorous species, her instincts added. And how many of them look like humans?

Just one, she thought.

She bit back the question that threatened to spill out of her mouth, content with just watching him enjoy himself, even if she was what amused him so. In all honesty, his laugh and the sight of those fangs made a coil of desire tighten in her gut so quickly that it almost stole her breath. “What’s so funny?” she asked once she regained her composure.

“You,” he said, leaning an elbow on the table and resting his head on his fist. He no longer hid his teeth behind a smile; he grinned widely, showing off the lethal points of his canine teeth. She knew, evolutionarily, that a smile was meant to set people at ease, promising good intentions. On him, however, his smile seemed to promise something far more primal and bloody. “Most would lie or, at the very least, give a neutral answer. You, however, seem to have no problem being honest with a stranger.”

“How do you know I’m not lying? That I’m not harboring a deep passion for thrill-seeking and advanced mechanics?”

His head tilted to the side, eyes sliding back to her collarbones and back up again. She gripped her drink to keep herself from shivering. “I’d know if you were lying,” he said.

“How? Are you—” That damn word stuck in her mouth. Jedi. Even now, the memory still pained her. She shoved it away.

The stranger was kind enough not to make her finish her thought. “Your heartbeat,” he explained. “For many people, especially humans, their heart races when they lie.”

Something about how he phrased it struck a nerve, like an old memory was stirring, vying for her attention.

Just one.

His hand reached out, but he didn’t touch her. His hands were so cold, Osha could feel it from where they hovered just over her skin, just above her pulse. He didn’t need to touch her to know her heart had skipped a beat. Osha got the feeling he was more than aware of her heartbeat, even without reaching out to her.

He continued, “Some humans can fool themselves with their lies, making it harder to tell when they aren’t telling the truth.” Those ice-cold fingertips trailed over her neck, still hovering above her skin. Across her collarbone before he returned his hand to where it rested on the table.

“Then how do you tell if they’re lying?”

“It’s in their eyes.”

She looked up at him again, unaware of her wandering gaze. That crimson glint returned, strengthening and blooming behind his brown irises. In just a few heartbeats, the rich color overtook it entirely. At a glance, his eyes wouldn’t have been anything but dark, but up close like this, they were near-luminous in the way a predator’s eyes would be, lit up from the darkness.

That familiar feeling returned, this time with a name.

“You’re a vampire,” she whispered.

His head tilted back to center, and his face gave nothing away. “Does that scare you?” he asked. She caught no hint of threat or menace in his voice, just open curiosity. It was probably a deliberate choice.

“I don’t think it does,” she said with a breathy laugh. She didn’t sit back, but she didn’t rock forward either—as much as she wanted to.

“You aren’t sure if you’re scared of me?” he said, letting a trickle of amusement back into his tone.

“You say that like you want the answer to be yes,” she countered. She had no idea where this bravery and boldness came from.

“Yes or no, it doesn’t matter,” he shrugged, a mask of indifference settling in over his features.

“It does, though,” Osha insisted.

His eyes sharpened on her, flashing as red as the neon sign some twenty feet behind him. “Then answer the question, Osha. Are you scared of me?”

Her mothers had taught her about all manner of things before they died. Her and Mae’s training with the Thread had only been part of it; although they grew up sheltered, they had not grown up ignorant of the ways of the galaxy.

There are others, Mother Aniseya instructed, who are powerful and feared and hunted, like us. Those who seek power from the night, like us. Those whose power is a right by blood.

Should we fear them too? Mae asked then, inquisitive and eager.

You should fear nothing, my girls, their mother had answered with a smile. When the fearsome things that walk the darkness brush against each other, you will know them, and they will know you. You will not be afraid. The monsters who hide within the sunshine are the ones to be wary of.

She hadn’t explained what that meant at the time, nor could she now, but the look she’d given Osha felt full of meaning that only seemed to make sense at this very second.

“I’m not scared of you,” Osha said, realizing almost after the fact that she was telling the whole truth of it. Her heart still raced; would he think she was lying? The look he gave her was still indecipherable.

Objectively, she knew her mother’s guidance was meant to cultivate a child’s curiosity and encourage open-mindedness but not recklessness. After her death, the Jedi had impressed upon her just the opposite: a deep sense of caution and suspicion toward others. They also stifled her inquisitive nature. Questioning the masters at the Jedi Temple always ended in reprimand. Curious adventures into the restricted section of the Archives resulted in punishments. Her attachment and investment in the family she lost ultimately led to her expulsion from the Order. But six years had passed since, and she’d more than shaken off the rust from a decade’s worth of stifled instincts. That old recklessness had returned.

If playing with fire would burn her, at least she’d die warm.

“Was that not the answer you wanted?” she asked dryly, draining the rest of her drink while she waited for an answer.

His eyes fixated on her throat as she swallowed, giving the gaze a different connotation, but one that didn’t evoke fear—at least not in her. The vampire leaned back, his face still an inscrutable mask. He couldn’t hide his eyes from her, however. The turbulent clouds of red in his irises churned like a maelstrom in a sea of blood.

Maybe she wouldn’t burn. Maybe she’d drown by the end of this.

“I think I like your answer,” he said, allowing half a smirk.

“You only think you like it?” Osha challenged.

He gave her the rest of his smirk. “Well met, Osha.”

They stared at one another for a while, letting silence fall between them even as the crowded cantina chattered away, oblivious to what was happening. She felt a static build-up in those few inches between them—between his hand and hers, where they rested on the table. As a meknek, she was trained to be cautious of electrostatic energy. (As a human, she was taught to be cautious of any creature that wanted her blood.)

“Why did you come over here?” Osha asked.

“Why were you looking at me?” he parried.

“I asked you first.”

“I’m sure they have the same answer,” he said with another sharp grin.

Because you intrigued me. Because I wanted to know more about you. Because I felt like there was no other choice but you.

Osha dropped the matter, running her fingers along the rim of her glass. She wished Fillik would return; she was so damned awkward around strangers—

He spoke so softly that she almost didn’t catch it. “You can call me Qimir.”

A new expression had replaced the intentionally blank face he had before. Now, he looked softer around the edges, more welcoming and trustworthy. Harmless with a touch of the uncanny, but not so much as the wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing smiles he’d given before. How much of this look was real? Was this another ploy to get her guard down? Was he still trying to scare her?

Osha swallowed down her unease, remembering her mother’s advice. You will not be afraid.

So she met his eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, Qimir.”

His eyes crinkled up in the corners as he smiled this time, and a pulse of truth came to her in such a way that she hadn’t felt since... Since…

He wasn’t only a vampire. But the answer of what else he was seemed well out of reach.

This thrilled her even more, but some mysteries were more fun left unsolved—for now. “When you said you were looking for a bite…”

His features took on a boyish tint, teasing and playful. “I wasn’t lying,” he said. “Man’s gotta eat.”

“That he does,” she murmured, allowing herself to look at the rest of him.

His clothes were baggy and misshapen, hanging off of him in a way that hid the powerful, muscular body beneath. From this close (and the brief look she’d gotten of his forearms), he was like a coiled snake, strength radiating off of him in a way that no amount of baggy clothes could hide. Added to how he towered over her just a few minutes ago, he gave off an aura that felt genuinely intimidating. She was confident that if she stood beside him, he would seem even more imposing than before. He’d moved so silently, too; there was no outrunning him.

She pictured him and her in some dark nook of the spaceport, bathed in shadows and intertwined. His mouth at her neck, his hands wherever they wanted to be, her legs around his middle as he drank and fed—

He sucked in a sharp breath, and exhaled in a quiet groan. The noise was so deep that she could feel it in her fingertips. His expression had shifted again, the crimson in his eyes whipping around near-violently. “What?” she asked.

“What are you thinking about right now?” he asked, his voice rough and deep.

“I’m—” Osha’s face flared with heat, and she prepared to lie. But she felt that rush of blood in her ears, her heart rate kicking up—

He smirked, realizing her intent before she did.

“Nothing,” she said, just to cover her ass.

“Liar,” he smirked, one hint of fang flashing from his lips.

The sight, the reminder, brought her imagination to new heights, picturing those fangs sinking into a vein, those lush lips sealing around her skin and sucking, drawing her blood into his mouth—

“Osha,” he rasped, his voice nearly a growl. His hands flexed, and his skin was so pale that even the whites of his knuckles didn’t show. “You don’t want to play this game with me.”

“Why not?” she asked, cursing the breathy quality of her voice.

To anyone else, he would have looked relaxed. To her, she knew his composure was in tatters, that whatever control he had was fraying by the second. A brief flash of concern, of desperation, gusted through his eyes. “I am… perhaps not as well-fed as I should be.” He couldn’t meet her eyes, focusing now on her neck and collarbone.

Her heart did flips in her chest, and her recklessness reached new heights. “Does it… hurt?”

“Does what hurt?” he asked.

The hunger? The restraint? She should have said those things, but they weren’t what she told him. “The bite. Feeding.”

He sucked in a breath, held it. He’d gone so still she almost thought he’d expired right there at the table. Stars, this situation escalated quickly.

“Yes and no.”

“How—”

“In that order.”

“Oh.” Osha blinked. Yes, the bite would hurt. She’d expected so; wounds of any kind were bound to hurt, even ones you were prepared for. But feeding? The act of drinking from another… didn’t hurt? “What do you mean?” she asked, leaning in.

The crimson in his eyes settled into slow, lazy swirls. “I don’t know how it is for others, but I can make it feel like anything you want. Pain. Numbness. Pressure. Pleasure.” He said this last part with his eyes heavily hooded, desire plain on his face. “How would you like it, Osha?”

Osha had no idea what to say to him. She was, of course, curious about exactly what he meant, but some measure of caution still held her back, cold and frowning.

“Would anything happen to me?” she said, avoiding the question.

“You mean, would you turn?” he asked, a husky chuckle following. “No. Vampires are, for the most part, born—or so I know.”

“What do you mean?” she said again, frowning.

“I wasn’t raised around others of my kind. The ones who raised me, they…” A brief flare of some hot emotion gusted through his aura—something like anger. It dissipated as quickly as it came, leaving her confused and a little wary. “They didn’t know what to do with me. I’ve had to learn as I go.”

A pang of sympathy rattled her bones. Osha knew what that was like. The Jedi her age were already well-versed in topics and routines she was unfamiliar with, and it left her feeling more than a little like an outsider to them. And when the Order cast her out? She had to do it all over again, learning to be a meknek to survive.

“So, no,” he said, drawing her attention back. “Nothing would happen to you, bar perhaps symptoms of minor blood loss… among other things.”

“Other things?” she said.

He grinned, fangs out. “Fun things.”

“I don’t know if I should trust your definition of fun, Qimir,” she said, picking up her glass and sighing when she realized it was empty.

He’d frozen in place, and it took her a second to notice. She was about to ask what was wrong when he said, “I like how you say my name. More than is probably appropriate.”

She was going to pass out if her heart kept racing like this. Osha was once again speechless in the face of his brazen want, unfamiliar with the script or steps to follow here. She chewed her lip, and his eyes flicked to the gesture. The heat in her lower half only increased until she felt like she needed to squeeze her thighs together to grab some measure of composure. But that felt like a lifeboat drifting away in a stormy sea. She was going to drown in him, sooner or later.

“I…”

“Yes?”

“How badly do you need to feed?” she asked, the words slipping out almost by accident.

“Very badly,” he said simply. “Why do you ask?”

He was playing with her; he knew exactly why she was asking and was going to make her say it. The rush of embarrassment bloomed right from her cheeks, heating her entire body this time as she fought the shyness stilling her tongue. “Because I…” she swallowed. “I’m curious what it’s like.” There. Safer ground. “And a man’s gotta eat, like you said. Seems we can help each other out.”

He smirked at her but didn’t call her out. His eyes sparkled just the same as they’d done the last time she avoided the truth with him. Liar, his voice echoed in her head. The real answer—that she wanted him as desperately as he seemed to want her—refused to be spoken aloud.

“I don’t think your friend will approve,” he teased.

Oh right. Fillik.

She looked over his shoulder at the bar beyond, where Fillik sat beside someone draped in glowing green fabric. As if sensing her attention, Fillik looked over and made the hand signal for are you okay? They only ever used the code when their communicators shorted out while on jobs, but it worked well here.

Osha signed back, okay. Then, after a moment, she signed, see you later.

Fillik’s grin and double thumbs-up needed no translation.

If only he knew just what Osha was walking away with.

“Fillik’s fine,” Osha said, looking back at Qimir. He seemed oddly… charmed by the exchange.

But his demeanor changed the moment she gave her answer, eyes darkening and going a little wild. She could have sworn the crimson in his irises had bled into the whites of his eyes, but the moment passed after a beat. “Then I think we should find somewhere more private, don’t you think?”

Her heart thumped heavily in her chest, the thrill of danger sparking her senses in a way no meknek job ever would, in a way the Jedi never could. Qimir stood, offering his hand to her. She took it, marveling at the coolness of his skin touching hers. He did not let go as he led her from the cantina.

They didn’t go far, but the sharp twists and turns down the side passages of the spaceport left Osha feeling a little disoriented. When they stopped, she caught sight of a familiar landmark and a sign that would lead her back to her ship when they were finished. He pulled her into a small micro-hotel, but it didn’t look as seedy as the ones she’d seen on-world.

Apparently, he already had a room because they bypassed the reception droid entirely and went to the back. The lights were down-lit around their ankles, making him seem even more dark and imposing than he already was. When he looked at her over his shoulder, his eyes pulsed with a glow that reminded her of sunsets… and lightsabers. It stole her breath.

Then they were in a room. Alone. With no crowd to drown the silence. Just her slightly uneven breathing—and his notable lack thereof.

“You don’t breathe?” she blurted out, trepidation making the words a little louder than she intended. She winced.

Qimir let go of her hand and sat on the bed, letting his hands hang between his knees. Making himself smaller, she observed. Non-threatening. “If I didn’t breathe, I couldn’t speak,” he said, his voice coming a little higher—another tactic to draw in unsuspecting prey or to calm the suspicious. “And I do have a pulse, despite all evidence to the contrary.” He gestured at himself, most likely referring to his cold, pale skin.

“Oh,” Osha said, laughing a little.

He caught her nervousness like one might catch a butterfly from the air. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. You can back out at any time.”

“No, it’s not—okay, it’s a—I’m a little nervous,” she admitted.

He rose to his feet, closing the distance between them. “I’m not so close to the edge that I can’t control myself, Osha,” he murmured, reaching up to tuck a loc of her hair behind her ear. His eyes were everywhere, dancing their phantom touch everywhere from her face to her chest in just a heartbeat. “I know what I am. You know what I am.”

“I do,” she whispered. “And I want this.”

“I think you just need the tension broken,” he said, a teasing smirk on his features. “May I?”

She had no idea what that meant, but she discovered the answer immediately when she nodded. He descended on her, and she held her breath, expecting pain—

But she got a kiss instead. His lips were soft, and though they were cold, they weren’t unpleasant. Her mind unwound itself from the tangled, anxious knot it’d been trapped in. His hands settled on her—one at the nape of her neck, the other resting on her hip. She realized that oh, she should probably be kissing him back, and moved, reaching for him just as he deepened the kiss.

A soft noise escaped her throat when he squeezed her hip, walking her back until her shoulders met the door. He didn’t pin her, per se, but the intent was clear: he’d trapped her. And she’d let him, gladly.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, ending his question on a slight nip of her lower lip. It thrilled her, that reminder of why they were there, of what was coming.

She nodded, feeling much more settled in her skin, even though her heart was still racing. “Um, do I—?” She began to tilt her head to the side for him, but his fingers tightened against the back of her head, stilling her.

“That’s a bit… intense for your first go,” he said, sounding almost awkward about it.

“But I want—” She cut herself off, shame flaring through her veins.

He waited for her to finish her thought, but the bravery couldn’t break through to her again. “You want to know what it’s like?” he inferred. She nearly slumped in relief, nodding. Stars, but he knew just what she needed, and Osha had no idea how much she needed that kind of intuition in a partner until now.

Qimir pressed a kiss over her pulse, which ratcheted up the speed considerably until he pulled away. “So responsive,” he murmured, but she could hardly hear it over the pounding in her ears. He pulled back, and Osha almost whined at the loss of his closeness. “Why don’t I tell you what I’m going to do to you? Would that help?”

She considered it, then nodded. He brought her to the bed, sitting them both down side-by-side. “Thank you,” she said quickly. “And I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about and nothing to thank me for,” he said, leaning back in to kiss her and scatter her thoughts to the stars. “I’m a selfish man, Osha. But I’m not so selfish to look past your discomfort just to get what I want.”

She got the feeling he didn’t offer the same consideration to many others, which made her feel all shivery. A wide, cool hand pressed against her shoulder until she leaned back, laying fully on the bed beside him. He loomed over her, face half-cast in warm shadows from the lone lamp in the small room. “Why am I lying down?”

He seemed to ignore her question as he spoke. “I’m going to bite your arm first,” he said simply, but the casualness of his words made her breath hitch. “Riiight… here.” He traced his fingers over the inside of her forearm, near the elbow.

“Not my wrist?”

He shook his head. “Too many delicate little veins, bones, tendons, nerves.” He flicked a fingertip off the tip of one of his fangs. “These might do some serious damage to your hands if I’m not careful. I’m in control of my urges, but might not be as controlled about how gentle the bite would be.” He lifted her arm up, and for a moment, she thought he was going to bite her right then and there—

He pressed a cold, wet kiss over the spot he indicated, and beneath his kiss, heat rose to the surface. An ache bloomed in her belly, pulling at sensitive parts of her.

“And you’re lying down in case you pass out from the bite. As I told you, it will hurt, but not that much. Your anxiety will only make it worse, especially if it’s not what your body is expecting.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling a little silly.

He kissed her arm again, gentle despite his insistence he could not be. “Next, I’ll—”

“Bite my neck?”

“I will check if you want more,” he said firmly. His eyes flashed bright red again, serious.

The care he exhibited over her choice, her consent, and her safety made her insides feel all warm in a way she wasn’t used to. Master Sol had been concerned for her safety, but where Qimir’s care was warm, Sol’s had often been chilly and uncomfortable.

“Okay,” she whispered, squirming a little on her back. He noticed the movement, a teasing glint returning to his eyes. “What will you do after that?”

“Then, if you’ll allow it…” His hand trailed lower, brushing the side of her breast, passing her ribs, almost tickling her waist, then over her hip to rest on her thigh. “I’d like to feed from here.”

Even though his hand was cold and they had a barrier of clothes between them, she could have sworn his touch left a searing brand against her thigh. “Why there?”

“Some major arteries are down here, very active. And I’m hungry, Osha.” He didn’t elaborate, moving his hand back up her body. He brushed over the fly to her pants, fingers snagging over the bulk of her belt. She gasped and flinched, but he paid it no mind. He traced his fingertips up, up, between her breasts before his cool hand rested at the base of her throat. “And I’m selfish.”

“Wh—how is that selfish?” she asked, fighting between her desire to know and her desire to feel. He leaned down, tracing his nose over the shell of her ear.

“Because when I’m done, you’ll feel the ache in your legs with every,” he kissed her ear, “single,” a nip, “step.”

Osha couldn’t help but moan. It was embarrassingly loud, and he was hardly touching her at all, but she was certain she’d never been more turned on and ready for him.

But Qimir didn’t comment, only looking her over with that heated crimson gaze—like he expected such a reaction.

“Do you want to know what I’m going to do next?”

She nodded, swallowing hard enough to feel the brush of his hand over the base of her throat. “Please.”

At that single whispered word, the energy in the room shifted. Qimir stilled, eyes squeezing shut as a shiver rippled over him. A low groan left his lips, the breath cool against Osha’s temple. “Fuck,” he whispered, taking a ragged breath and shaking his head. His hair fell into his face, out from behind his ears. It gave him a wilder look, eyes half-hidden behind a dark veil. “Fuck,” he repeated, drawing back a little and going still.

Osha didn’t dare move. She already knew Qimir was nearing the last reserves of his control, assurances made or otherwise. But all she’d said was please, and it nearly broke him apart. His arrival at her side in the cantina had made her mouth go dry, but now, it watered—she wanted to taste him, touch him.

“Fuck, Osha,” he said a third time. He got up on his knees and laughed, though there was little humor in it. He sounded doomed from where he sat above her. “You keep thinking whatever you’re thinking right now, and I’m not going to be as gentle or as polite as I would like to be.”

“Why do you keep saying that? Can you—can you read my thoughts or something?”

His face smoothed with forced ease, and he closed his eyes before shaking his head. “A vampire’s sense of smell is very good—and I can taste how aroused you are right now. Without even seeing, without even touching. I can taste how wet you are for me, Osha.”

Her blood oscillated wildly between hot and cold, the realization that his reaction back in the cantina had been because of—? Oh, shit. She was at once mortified by being so laid bare, thrilled by the acknowledgment of his predatory nature, and insanely turned on by his ease in talking about her desire. His were the hands of a dangerous man, but she was in good hands nonetheless.

“Sorry,” she whispered, chewing her lip again.

His hand lifted from her neck for his thumb to press down on her lip, freeing it from her teeth. “That’s my job,” he admonished, surprisingly soft. It made her heart flip in her chest once more. “So—” he took a breath, steadying himself. “Only after I’ve taken from your arm and your thigh, that’s when I’ll take from your neck.”

“Why?”

“The neck is quite the erogenous zone, Osha.” He brushed his fingers over her pulse, which tickled, but more than that, it set her trembling. “The nerves there are much more sensitive than the other places I mentioned. And therefore, the feeling you’d get from me feeding would be… heightened.”

“Heightened?” she asked weakly.

He did not explain. All he did was nod.

Fun things, she remembered him saying. Fun things would happen to her.

“That, and drinking from the neck is one of the most primal things I could do. You baring your neck to me… it both sates and encourages that part of me to give in to those instincts. I could kill you, drain you dry if I drank here first.” He almost sounded saddened by it, which was odd.

Osha brought her hand up to his wrist and wrapped her fingers around it. He watched her, fascinated by her curiosity. Osha traced her thumbs over his hand and pressed his fingers flat and open before she leaned up to kiss the center of his palm.

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay?” He swallowed roughly, eyes flickering over her face again.

“I think I like your plan.”

He smirked. “Oh, you think you—”

“Shut up,” she groaned, reaching up to pull him in by the back of his neck. Their kiss was more heated than before. For all his bloodless skin chilled her, he possessed a fire in his flesh that did not dissipate and did not waver after the initial rush of feeling.

When she was certain her heart wouldn’t beat out of her chest, she said his name. It brought him back up, and she traced how his lips had grown a little darker, the shade of old bruises. He looked obscene like this, truly rumpled and fueled by want. “Yes?” he whispered, breathing quickly.

“Do it.”

His pupils dilated sharply, almost to the point where the crimson in his irises disappeared entirely. A heartbeat passed, then he leaned down and bit her exactly where he said he would.

Instantaneous burning pain slashed at the pleasure his kiss and touch had brought, setting her body rigid on the bed beneath him. He did not stop, even at the tight whimper that escaped her. At the stomach-flipping sensation of him withdrawing his fangs from her, she made another weak noise, wondering if this had all been a mistake—

But then his mouth touched down next, encompassing the bite mark wholly. Both his hands cradled her arm like something precious, something fragile. There was a bit of pressure—then release. She couldn’t help the wild moan at the new sensation, her surprise warring with the wanton waves of pleasure his mouth was giving her. She felt her eyes cross a little until the shock waned. Phew. Don’t pass out.

He remained hunched over her, on all fours across her vulnerable form. Once she steadied her breathing, she could hear the little noises he was trying to hide. Small whimpers and whines, near-animalistic against her skin. His noises rippled through her bones, resonating with her like a tuning fork pressed against her skull. Her hand moved without warning, pushing up through his hair and grabbing hold at the root. He made a small, distressed noise—

But she did not pull him off. She pushed him closer, feeling his lips slip against her arm even as he drank. His whines turned to moans, and his shallow breaths turned to deeper, harsher breaths than before.

Stars, if this was how it felt on her arm, how was it going to feel on her neck?

He seemed to have found himself again after some time—how long, she had no idea. The whole room had gotten a little fuzzy and sparkly, stars dancing against her skin. Qimir dragged his tongue over the bite, which stung a little in the cooler air once he let go.

Because Qimir had grown warmer since drinking from her—or she’d grown cooler. But her first guess was correct. He turned around to face her, and she saw the flush of blood high on his cheekbones, of life in his features.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice wet and raspy. Idly, his thumb brushed over the wound, but she wasn’t focusing on that. She could only see the dark red of her blood staining his teeth, his tongue.

She blinked a few times, processing that he was speaking to her. “Yeah. Holy shit,” she laughed. “I’m okay.”

Something soft and almost distressed fluttered through his features when she laughed, like he didn’t know what to do all of a sudden.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

He seemed just as stunned as she’d been by the question. “Good.”

“Still hungry?” she asked. His eyes traced down her body and rested on the place he’d planned to go next. She went for her belt—

“Let me.” He stilled her hands, and while he wasn’t blazing warm, the difference was notable. “Please.”

Her whole body jerked at that single word, and shit, she understood why he’d been so affected earlier when she said it. The amount of desire that could fit into a single syllable was fucking astounding, and she had no idea why she was so affected. She let her hands fall to the side, wondering what, if anything, she wouldn’t do when he said please like that.

Her belt clinked a little as he undid it, and then the fly of her trousers. She cursed when he tugged them down, only for the blousing straps to get caught in her boots. She leaned up to help and was hit with a wave of dizziness that had the room spinning. “Whoa.”

“Lay back down,” Qimir ordered, planting his hand on her breastbone. She complied, and the dizziness abated. He did the work for her, taking off her boots and pants with shocking gentleness—he’d really meant it when he said he could control himself. That taste he took from her arm had done wonders.

“What does—” she bit off the question she’d been about to ask again. Qimir needed to eat, and she kept delaying that.

“Don’t do that,” he murmured, lips pressing against her knee. His eyes were a much warmer shade now, bright scarlet in the lamplight. She was unable to look away. “You can ask me anything you want, Osha.”

She took a shuddering breath and blamed her courage on the funny feelings his bite had given her.

“What does my blood taste like?”

He traced his nose over her thigh, lost in thought as he considered her answer. “I won’t feed you some bullshit line about it tasting like sunshine and fresh snow,” he said dryly, looking up at her with a half-grin. “Blood tastes like blood.”

“Oh,” she said, about to feel silly again—

“But the warmth of it… it burned at first. Like drinking tea when it’s too hot. Scalding.” His thumb brushed little circles over her thigh, and he sunk down to sit on his heels between her thighs. It felt like an entirely inappropriate place to sit and have a think, but he seemed comfortable, so she didn’t say anything. She leaned up on her elbows as he continued. “And then, the longer I drank, the warmer my body became, and the more I could enjoy it. Enjoy you. And your warmth… it tastes like life. It tastes like the only light in a vast, cold darkness.”

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say more, but instead, he pressed his face against the inside of her thigh. For a few long minutes, he stayed there, just breathing her in. This close to where he knew she was wet and aching, she could only imagine what was running through his mind—or if her scent and taste stilled those thoughts in their tracks.

She put her hand back on his head, threading her fingers through his hair and tugging him forward. “You promised me another bite, and you’re still hungry,” she said. When had her voice gotten so husky and sensual?

He shuddered, moving where she wanted with no resistance. His throat bobbed as she pulled him back, exposing his own neck to her. His eyes sparkled with intrigue, like she was a wonder. “I did. I am.”

“So do something about it.”

“But you’re hungry, too,” he said, fighting her hold so he could level a look at her. She felt like she was wearing nothing beneath that gaze, like his hot stare had incinerated every bit of clothing left on her. “An appetite for something you can’t eat… but can fill you anyway.”

His fingers danced up her inner thigh, rubbing longingly over the darker veins beneath her skin before moving up and up and—

Osha jolted when his thumb pressed against the soaking-wet material of her underwear. “Can I feed you too, Osha?” he asked, that damned thumb moving in slow, precise little circles exactly where she needed from him.

She was seconds from making a mixing business and pleasure joke, but those words caught in her throat, leaving her only able to nod furiously. Qimir’s eyes flicked down to where his hand was splayed over her hip, just his thumb touching her indecently. He turned his hand and teased his fingers beneath the wet fabric. She held back her moan as his knuckles brushed over her aching core, where she needed him most.

“I don’t want to hear you holding back another fucking breath from me, Osha.” His eyes were suddenly ablaze, locked on hers. “Understand?”

She nodded, but at the increased intensity of his stare, she found her words again. “Yes, I understand,” she squeaked.

“Good.”

With that, he dove in. He pulled her underwear to the side, which made everything seem that much dirtier and taboo as he licked and sucked at her with abandon. True to her word, she didn’t hold back, grasping at his hair and practically shouting his name. The pleasure she’d gotten from him feeding on her was a strange, full-body kind of ache, like she was drowning in it. This pleasure, by comparison, was brutal, a crueler death than the other.

Burning and drowning.

He never stopped moving, not when he slipped one of those long, cool fingers inside her and not when her hips couldn’t help but rock up against his hand. She felt unbridled, chasing after an end she couldn’t see. But he guided her there nonetheless, never restraining her even once. He drew back after some time, sucking his finger into his mouth before returning his touch with another finger inside her. Osha moaned, settling into the rhythm and rolling against his hand.

Fuck, this was the best idea ever.

Qimir pressed his cheek against her thigh, just watching how his fingers moved in and out of her, seeing and feeling the way she grew tighter around him when he touched her just right. He was nearly locked in a trance, like he could spend the rest of his life just watching her fall apart from his touch.

She (barely) had the ability to speak a string of words that made any sense. “Qimir… please… c’mon, you said…”

Okay, maybe sense was stretching it.

Qimir caught her meaning, checking with her to make sure she wasn’t at risk of passing out for one reason or another. The bite on her arm wasn’t bleeding for whatever reason, and she wanted to know what it felt like with his teeth so close to where he had his hands. Wordlessly, he drew her leg up and over his shoulder, pressing his face against her thigh again as his attention caught on the way she seized up around his fingers suddenly. “Nervous?” he asked, his voice all throaty and rough.

“I won’t be if you just—”

He struck, sharp fangs sinking into her once more. The burning had felt all-consuming from the bite on her arm, but this time, it warred with the pleasure he was giving her just inches away. Instead of one drowning out the other, they intertwined in a song, leaving her ears ringing as she gasped for breath.

He pulled his fangs out and repeated the process anew, pulling her blood into his mouth with a helpless moan. He rolled his whole body against her, tongue coaxing out more and more of her blood as his fingers took up their rhythm once more. The waning effects of his first bite surged in, cranked to a higher intensity than before. The leg not around his shoulder shook as ecstasy began encroaching on her senses.

“Fuck, fuck—!” Osha’s voice broke when he pulled her over the edge. It felt like nothing she’d tried by herself in the privacy of her bunk and even less like anything she’d tried with a partner. She was certain she was hurting him, pulling at his hair like she was, but nothing could get her to let go until the pleasure abated.

And still, he drank.

She gave a weak whimper. “Fuck,” she said a third time. “You’re so good,” she whined.

Qimir gave a groan in return, and a deeper, subtler rocking motion joined his hand and his mouth. Fuck, he must have been grinding his hips against the side of the bed. She relinquished her hold on his hair to pet him gently, smoothing the strands out of his eyes and holding them back so she could see him better.

Red eyes lolled over to her in his first graceless move of the night. He seemed drunk, caught between watching her, fingering her, and drinking from her thigh. “So good,” she whispered again, brushing her thumb over his temple. His eyes closed, a furrow forming between his brows. She had no time to be concerned before he licked over the bite with his wet tongue. It left a smear of red behind on her skin, which he lapped at repeatedly until all traces of her blood had been consumed.

He gently slipped his fingers from her. That bone-deep ache had been abated somewhat from her orgasm, but his hand was nowhere near enough for what she truly wanted, what she needed. Qimir rested against her thigh again. His hair fell into his eyes, forcing her to focus on his lips. He licked them almost compulsively, like he had to ensure that every drop of her taste was safe behind his teeth.

“You—you okay?” he asked, his breath catching in the middle of his sentence.

She was. There was no wooziness, only the warm embrace of post-orgasm bliss. “I’m perfect,” she said, giving in and running her fingers through his hair again. It was thicker than it looked, and much softer than it had any right to be. He pressed into her hand like a cat, eyes still closed. “Are you alright? You seem…”

“Drunk?” he asked, cracking an eye open. A languid, bloodstained smile crept across his lips as he looked at her. “Yeah. Feels like it, a little. Might be the F—fucking incredible taste of you.” He brushed his thumb over the bite on her thigh before rising up with a soft groan.

His stumbling words almost concerned her were it not for the clearly straining bulge in his pants. Slowly, she sat up before him, nearly face-to-face with his erection.

While he just… stood there. He watched her with a slightly confused look on his face. There it was again, like he was puzzling her out or something.

“What?” she asked, unable to summon the sharp, defensive bite of her words this time.

“Nothing,” he sighed, reaching down to cup her face. His face followed, but he stopped himself just before he kissed her. The hesitation was clear; he didn’t know if she wanted to try the taste of herself—her pleasure or her blood.

Osha decided for him, pulling him in again as they both fell back against the bed. She moaned at the tangy, sharp taste on his lips and tongue. She didn’t feel the same way he did, about the warmth and the light in the darkness. Instead, she only tasted something wild and powerful. He caged himself around her, still fully dressed while she remained naked from the waist down. He probably did so for her comfort, knowing the chill of his body wouldn’t feel very nice. The consideration made her feel… safe. What a paradox to feel safe for the first time in years in the arms of a deadly apex predator.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked after some time, nosing beneath her jaw but making no attempt to continue his plans—that third bite he promised her.

“Nothing,” she sighed. Normally, such an admission would be met with skepticism, as that kind of answer to that kind of question was most often a lie. But this time, it was the truth. Nothing was on Osha’s mind. Not her worries about making ends meet, not her surviving grief over her family, not her remaining anger and frustration at the hand the Jedi dealt her. All that bitterness and anxiety had been safely swept aside. “Nothing at all.”

Qimir chuckled, the sound warm and soul-deep. “I believe you,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. This, of all the kisses and touches he’d given, felt the most intimate of all.

“Am I still bleeding from the… from the bites?” she asked, curious to look but unable to do so with a huge vampire lying atop her.

He shook his head, his hair tickling her nose. She scowled at the feeling and only received a teasing smile in return. “I have some measure of influence over that. More than just how you’d feel from the act, I can control the wound itself. If I wanted you to keep bleeding, you would. But, no. I wanted you to heal.” I wanted to take care of you, she imagined him saying next, though not a single word of that passed his lips.

“Can all vampires do that?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured. “Maybe some.”

“Thank you,” she said, reaching up to trace over the muscles and tendons in his neck. He was truly a masterpiece, and the more she ran her hands over his torso, the more she found she was right. He was absolutely fit beneath those baggy clothes, all rippling muscles and tight skin.

“Don’t mention it,” he said softly. Some emotion flashed through his eyes, and she didn’t know him well enough to even guess at it.

Qimir pressed his forehead against hers, and Osha was startled by how warm he’d gotten. “Do you… how often do you need to feed?” she asked, curious. How long had it been, for him to get to the desperate point he’d been?

He kept his eyes closed as he answered her question. “Ideally? Every two weeks, and just the amount you gave me from your arm.”

Concern lanced through her. Shit, it must have been a long time. She couldn’t imagine starving like that.

“But you don’t need to worry about me, Osha.” He pressed a kiss to her lips again, then gently tilted her head this way and that. “Have a preference for which side?” he asked, playful once more. He reminded her of a big cat, both prowling predator and playful in spades.

“Whichever one seems tastiest,” she said, letting her hand fall from his hair and trace down his spine.

His body stiffened the moment she touched some irregular bump over the deep groove of his spinal column. She withdrew her hand and left it to rest on his shoulder instead, getting the hint easily enough. He relaxed once her hand moved, but he was still all coiled muscle, the predator beneath his skin rising to meet her again.

“They both seem tasty,” he said, pressing his face into the crook of her left shoulder. She shuddered, latent full-body pleasure still coursing through her. It kicked up a notch at the press of his lips to her pulse point.

She didn’t realize what she was doing until Qimir stopped mouthing at her neck and stilled against her. With his thigh between her legs, it proved the perfect place for her to rock back and forth against him. It was firm, unyielding to her desperate search for pleasure.

“Need more, greedy girl?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in his chest. She pictured dark rainclouds, a flash of lightning, rolling thunder. She shuddered and couldn’t even summon the urge to be embarrassed at how she was acting.

“Ple—” He silenced her with a kiss, moving his thigh away to bring his hand back to her center. “No,” she pouted. “I need more than that.”

He looked delighted to hear that. “More?” he asked again. “You sure you can handle more?”

“Yes, damn it,” she said, squirming again.

Suddenly, his hand jerked away, taking with it the shredded remains of her underwear. “Was getting in the way,” he said with a shrug.

Qimir rose up on his knees between her legs, deftly undoing the clasps at his pants and pushing them down. He was rough with himself compared to how gentle he’d been when he took her boots and pants off earlier.

He was hard and thick, and the head of his cock was a blushed, dark pink. Her mouth watered, arousal spiking once more, even after all he’d done to appease her hunger. One-handed, he stroked himself, watching her watch him. “You sure you can handle more?”

She gave him a scathing glare that silenced him but didn’t stop him from grinning at her. Even now, the sight of his fangs still inspired her heart to flip in her chest. Would she ever tire of it?

After tonight, she’d have to. Their ship was set to leave tomorrow, and she had to be there when it did. He didn’t.

Not letting that thought dissuade her from having a good time, she just nodded. “I want it. I want you to fuck me while you feed from my neck.”

A full-body shiver raced up his body, making his shoulders tense somewhat. What she couldn’t see before was now apparent: deep shadows raced beneath his skin, black veins pulsing with some dark energy as he fought it back for control. “Can’t say things like that,” he bit out, swallowing roughly.

“I wouldn’t have to say it if you’d just do it,” she argued.

Crimson eyes met hers, nearly glowing in the low light. The primal survival instinct in the back of her mind was screaming for her to run as fast as she could, but Osha didn’t give a fuck. She had what she wanted right in front of her.

“I’m fed enough to think straight now, but if I do—that, I might snap.”

Osha wondered briefly at what she’d really be losing if she died fucking a sexy vampire. A few knick-knacks in her bunk. A few friends who don’t understand her. Grief. Anger. Sadness. All in all, not much.

“I might snap if you don’t get inside me right fucking now, Qimir.”

He pounced. His hands were suddenly everywhere, just like she imagined back in the cantina. He grabbed at her, pulling her closer and closer into his body until there was no space left between them. It took just a few inches of adjustment for her to get exactly what she wanted from him.

His mouth hung open some when he sank into her, fangs glinting wetly in the low light. “Fuck, Osha,” he gasped, shuddering. Just like his fingers and mouth, his cock was cooler than she was, sending a shocking contrast of feeling through her veins.

Osha moaned, half her body confused by the sensation and the other half eager for him to sink another part of him inside her. She reached for him as he came down, hips starting to roll against her in smooth, deep strokes that had her practically gasping. He was thick, thought-stealingly thick. The noise she made wasn’t remotely coherent, echoing those twin feelings of confusion and lust as he fucked her.

“If I—if I’m taking too much…” he panted, looking down at her with fevered, scarlet eyes. “You fight me. You punch and bite and pull at me. You use whatever—whatever you need to get me off of you.”

She couldn’t form words but nodded at him.

He struck like a viper, fangs sinking into her neck like they were always meant to be there. Osha screamed, half-ecstasy, half-agony. Even when he pulled his fangs out of her and began to feed from her neck, she couldn’t keep quiet. Her moans were almost panicked from how amazing she felt. He was right; this was nothing like when he fed from her arm or even from her thigh. She couldn’t escape it this time, not when he was fucking her this deep and drawing her blood down his throat like it held the answers to the universe.

Her second orgasm took her by surprise. The third, hot on its heels, threatened to devastate her. After that, she lost count, lost in a roiling tide of pleasure as he took and took and took—and wasn’t that all she wanted? To be wanted enough to give herself over like this. Tears ran down the sides of her face, the ecstasy and fulfillment coalescing into an incredible crescendo.

Black and white dots burst in her vision, reminding her of meteor showers and lightspeed. Qimir shuddered against her, groaning into her skin, into her veins. With a sob, she felt another orgasm crash over her, overwhelming and ceaseless. She had no control of herself like this, and for half a second, she truly didn’t care if he drained her dry. Having known this pleasure, she could die right now, happier than she’d ever been in her life.

But he seemed to have found control, licking over the wound in her neck. His hand slid behind her neck to angle her head to him, and he paused just to look at the bite mark, marveling at it and brushing his thumb over it like it’d disappear. While her arm throbbed and her thigh ached like he said it would, her neck seemed to pulse with that lasting heat and pain, juxtaposing the pleasure his bite had brought.

Osha was boneless as he pulled out of her, feeling messy but unable to care at the moment. She closed her eyes as he wiped away her tears, sweat, and any evidence of their pleasure. His motions were so gentle, they were almost sweet. When he lay down beside her, arms curled around her, she had no more tears to cry—but he’d cause no more tears tonight.

His chin rested atop her head as they embraced, and for the longest time, neither moved. Her first words came out as a wretched croak. “You’re warm.”

Qimir chuckled, and she felt it against her cheek. His heart still thudded unnaturally slow behind his ribs, but he was warm and solid and real. That’s what mattered. “Thanks to you.”

He didn’t sound drunk, as he’d been after feeding on her thigh. He instead sounded… level. Satisfied. Full.

He spoke after they rested a while longer. “Don’t do anything too strenuous for a day or two while your body replenishes its blood.”

“Yes, doctor,” she grumbled, laying back down with him.

His laugh was softer now, carrying another feeling that tried to press itself into her mind. The Force had been good at telling her what others felt, but she hadn’t been connected to the Force in some time. It was probably just some post-coital haze.

Qimir murmured something to her, stroking his fingers over her shoulder. But Osha was too comfortable to concentrate, and dozed off.

He was packing up a bag when she woke. He’d put her pants back on, sans underwear, and even laced up her boots for her. He looked over when she stirred, taking inventory of her body. “Feeling okay?” he asked.

She supposed this was where he asked her to leave, yet the embarrassment didn’t rise to her cheeks like it normally would. “Yeah,” she said softly.

Then she cursed, the rest of the galaxy coming crashing back into her awareness at once. “Fuuuuck—” she groaned and checked her chrono. “Oh, thank fuck. I have an hour.”

“Don’t wanna miss movement,” he said, teasing. But he felt a little more closed off than he’d been before. He looked completely different than he’d been when they met. Gone was the deathly pale, starving vampire. Like this, he just looked like… well, a man.

His eyes were brown again. She didn’t know why this was the most disappointing part.

“Yeah,” she said, chewing at her lip.

He was in front of her in a heartbeat, moving so fast she didn’t even have time to flinch before he thumbed her lower lip away from her teeth. “That’s my job,” he said, his voice a quiet, fond murmur. When his hand turned, she pressed her cheek against it.

“Still warm,” she smiled up at him, gladdened by his lack of remorse over this whole… thing.

“Thank you, Osha,” he said, sounding slightly grave. “You’ve done me a great service.”

“Yeah, well. Ditto.” Ah, there was the embarrassment and shyness. Right on schedule. “Uh, if you…”

She trailed off, and he raised an eyebrow at her. She remembered the fervent order he’d given her before.

I don’t want to hear you holding back another fucking breath from me.

Her mouth went dry all at once, desire sparking beneath her skin. “If you wanna catch a bite in a few weeks, just look me up. We’re at this port a lot, I mean.” It felt overly familiar, attached in a way Master Sol would have chastised her for. But Master Sol wasn’t here.

Qimir leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss that stole any remaining thoughts from her mind, leaving nothing but…

Peace.

“I’ll find you,” he said, far too soft for what this was. But Osha allowed it, leaning into his touch until it was gone.

When she opened her eyes, she was alone.

Two weeks later

“I hope you guys can hear me,” Osha said to Pip, waiting for the merchant to hand her the long black shawl.

She had to pretend to be Mae, which was lying, thereabouts. For whatever reason, the racing of her heart felt like an omen. Something else pulsed beneath her skin, a feeling she had avoided acknowledging until then. She’d reached out to the Force back on the prison transport, but that had been fruitless. Even so, the closer she drew to the apothecary, the worse that feeling got, pulsing in three places in particular.

Heart pounding, she stepped in. She didn’t even see the man in the open doorway as she said, “Hello?”

But when he looked up, she felt her mouth go as dry as it’d done the first time he spoke to her.

It looked like she had found him.

Qimir grinned, half-smug and half-dangerous. “Hello.”

masterlist

#unhingery #oshamir #oshamir fanfiction #qimir x osha #the acolyte fanfiction #the acolyte

38 notes · View notes

movingmusically · 2 days ago

Note

Can you do an Austin Butler x Reader imagine where it’s Elvis’s birthday and Austin decides to go to Memphis because he hasn’t been since Lisa’s funeral and the reader has never been. When they get there Austin introduces the reader to Riley, her husband Ben and daughter Tupelo, her twin sisters Harper and Finely , Priscilla, and Jerry. Riley decides to hold a dinner at Graceland (after hours) and they all catch up with Austin since it’s there first time seeing them since Lisa’s passing. The reader and the twins immediately become best friends (let’s say it’s years from now and all of them are 23). They all spend time hanging out and driving the golf carts on the Graceland lawn greeting the fans. The next day, it’s finally Elvis’s birthday and they all gather at Graceland for the celebration and because it’s Austin’s first time in a long time and the readers first time ever Riley lets them cut the cake.

Author’s Note:

Thank you for the request, my knowledge of Elvis/the Presley family is limited to the movie, Austin’s interviews and the new Netflix documentary so apologies for any mistakes! I also included the social media elements you wanted-I hope I did it right!

Word Count: 3,181

Masterlist

Back to Graceland

The hum of the car engine filled the quiet air as Memphis loomed closer on the horizon. Austin’s hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than usual, his knuckles faintly white, but his face remained calm—almost too calm. You knew him well enough to see through it. This trip meant more to him than he let on.

It had been Riley’s invitation that brought you both here. Because it would’ve been Elvis’ 90th birthday, she had decided to host celebrations at Graceland, inviting family and close friends to gather. She’d made it clear that she wanted Austin there. It was a special occasion, and Riley knew how much Graceland meant to him—how much her grandfather’s legacy still lived on in his heart.

But this was Austin’s first time returning since Lisa Marie’s funeral. That day had been heavy and devastating for everyone, and in the time since, Austin had kept a quiet distance from the place, choosing instead to remember it as it had been during happier times. Now, though, the invitation—and the milestone—felt too important to decline.

He’d said as much when you sat beside him on the couch earlier in the week, scrolling through Riley’s message. “It’s been too long,” he admitted quietly, more to himself than to you. “I can’t miss this.”

And now, here you were.

You glanced at Austin, the early afternoon sun casting soft light on his profile. His sunglasses shielded his eyes, but you could still sense his focus, his thoughts somewhere far away. You reached over, placing your hand gently on his knee. “You doing okay?”

His lips twitched into a small, grateful smile as he looked at you briefly. “Yeah. Just… a lot to process, you know? Haven’t been back since…” He trailed off, his fingers flexing against the wheel before he let out a quiet breath. “But it’s the right thing to do. And I’m glad you’re here with me.”

You smiled softly, giving his knee a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not doing this alone. And I can’t wait to see it all—the house, the stories, the history. I feel like I’ve heard so much about it, but it’ll be different seeing it in person.”

You were trying to sound upbeat, but truthfully, you were a little nervous yourself. You had never been to Graceland, and while the idea of seeing such a legendary place thrilled you, you couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place. You were meeting Austin’s extended “family”—Riley, Priscilla, Jerry, and the twins—for the first time. These were people who had been part of Austin’s journey during his portrayal of Elvis, people who carried their own memories, grief, and love for Lisa Marie and Elvis.

What if they didn’t like you? What if you said the wrong thing?

“You’ll love them,” Austin said suddenly, as if reading your mind. He reached over and took your hand, bringing it to his lips briefly before resting it on the centre console, intertwined with his. “Riley’s amazing, and the twins? You’ll love them too. They’re wild but in the best way.”

“I just hope they like me,” you admitted quietly.

Austin’s eyebrows shot up behind his sunglasses, and he scoffed. “Like you? Are you serious? They’re going to adore you. I promise. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

You smiled despite yourself, his confidence in you easing some of your nerves.

The closer you got to Memphis, the more the landscape seemed to shift, the familiar streets turning into something softer, richer with history. As the signs for Graceland came into view, a sense of awe washed over you. Even from the road, you could see the wrought-iron gates adorned with musical notes, the flowers and tributes left by fans spilling onto the pavement outside.

“Wow,” you breathed, pressing your forehead to the window slightly as you looked out. “There’s already so many people here.”

Austin smiled faintly. “It’s like this every year, especially on his birthday. People come from all over the world. It’s kind of incredible.”

You turned back to him, watching the way his expression softened as he took in the sight. For a moment, you could see the deep connection he had to all of this—to Elvis, to the family, and to the people who still loved the man behind the legend.

“Ready?” you asked gently.

He exhaled, a small, determined smile breaking through. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

As you pulled through the gates, fans caught sight of the car and began waving excitedly, their faces lighting up. Austin gave a small wave in return, his usual easygoing charm flickering back into place.

“Here we go,” he murmured, slipping off his sunglasses and shooting you a look that was part nervous, part hopeful.

You reached for his hand again, squeezing it tightly. “We’ve got this.”

And with that, the car rolled to a stop in front of Graceland, the iconic house standing tall and proud, waiting to welcome you both home.

The house was quiet when you first stepped inside—quieter than you expected for a place so legendary. The air felt heavy but not sad, more like it carried the weight of decades of love and memories.

Riley greeted you both almost immediately, her warm, welcoming smile making you feel at ease. She wrapped Austin in a tight hug, her voice soft as she murmured, “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, Riles,” Austin replied, his voice equally low, as though they both knew how significant this moment was.

When Riley turned to you, her smile widened. “And this must be the one Austin’s been telling us about.”

You laughed lightly, a bit flustered, as you shook her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you and your family.”

“Only the good stuff, I hope,” she teased, her blue eyes sparkling in a way that reminded you of Lisa Marie. She didn’t linger on pleasantries, though, and soon you were swept further into the house, where everyone was gathered.

Priscilla was next to greet you, looking as poised and elegant as ever. “Welcome,” she said kindly, shaking your hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” you replied sincerely, feeling Austin’s reassuring presence just a step behind you.

Jerry Schilling, a longtime friend of Elvis and the family, followed suit, his grin warm and familiar as he clapped Austin on the back. “It’s good to see you again, Austin. And welcome Y/N,” he added to you with a nod.

Before you could even respond, a pair of voices interrupted. “Are you her?”

You turned to see two faces staring at you with open curiosity—Harper and Finley. Both of them were stunning, with the same mischievous glint in their eyes that told you they were troublemakers in the best way.

“Uh… I think so?” you replied playfully, already warming to them.

Harper rolled her eyes and turned to Austin. “Why didn’t you bring her sooner? She looks cool.”

“Because I knew you’d scare her off immediately,” Austin shot back, smirking as he looped an arm around your shoulders.

“We’re not that bad,” Finley insisted, grinning. “We’ve decided we like you already, so you’re stuck with us now.”

You laughed, any lingering nerves quickly melting away. “I think I can handle that.”

Austin shot you a knowing look. “Told you.”

The introductions were rounded out by Riley’s husband, Ben, who gave you a friendly hug, and their daughter, Tupelo—a sweet, wide-eyed little girl who clung to her father’s leg but waved shyly at you. “She’s a little star,” Austin said with affection as he crouched down to say hello to her, making her giggle.

Riley had outdone herself. The dining room at Graceland had been beautifully set for a private family dinner. The house felt different at night, quieter and more intimate. It didn’t feel like a museum anymore—it felt like a home.

You sat beside Austin at the long dining table, the soft glow of candles dancing across everyone’s faces. The food was southern comfort at its finest: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, biscuits, and dishes that felt like they belonged on a family table rather than in a historic house.

Priscilla sat at one end of the table, a gracious matriarch keeping everyone engaged with her stories of Elvis, while Jerry chimed in with his own memories. They were stories that made you laugh, stories that tugged at your heart, and you could see how deeply they resonated with Austin.

“Your first time here, huh?” Harper asked, nudging you lightly from across the table as Finley buttered her fifth biscuit.

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling. “It’s incredible—everything I imagined and more.”

“You’ve gotta see it all tomorrow,” Finley added enthusiastically. “The lawn, the cars, the golf carts. You’re riding with us.”

Austin chuckled beside you. “Just don’t let them drive too fast. They’re a menace in those carts.”

Harper feigned offence. “We’re efficient. Big difference.”

You grinned, already feeling like you were part of the group. The twins’ energy was infectious, and Riley’s warm glances across the table told you she was glad you were here.

As dinner stretched on, you caught glimpses of Austin relaxing, laughing freely with Riley and Jerry, even teasing the twins. He looked at home here, as if the love in this place outweighed the grief that sometimes lingered.

Riley eventually leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. “It’s so good to have you back, Austin. It’s been too long.”

Austin glanced around the table, his hand finding yours beneath the tablecloth. “It feels good to be back. Thanks for this, Riles.”

“You’ve got to stop thanking me,” she replied softly, her eyes kind. “You’re family. And this is home. Always.”

As the plates were cleared and conversation began to quiet, Jerry’s voice broke through the lull. “You know, it wouldn’t be a visit to Graceland without a little music.”

Austin looked up from his seat, caught slightly off guard. “Oh, I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on,” Harper chimed in, grinning as she leaned back in her chair. “You’re not getting out of this, Butler.”

Finley nodded, already on her feet. “I’ll grab the guitar.”

It didn’t take long for her to return, cradling one of Elvis’ most famous guitars like it was a treasure—because it was. She handed it to Austin carefully, and the room fell into an expectant hush as he adjusted it in his lap, running his fingers over the strings. The sight of him there, in Graceland, holding Elvis Presley’s guitar, sent a shiver down your spine.

“You sure about this?” Austin murmured, looking at Priscilla for confirmation.

She gave him a soft nod, her smile filled with approval. “Play something for us, Austin.”

The room was still as Austin settled himself, his focus sharpening. He strummed the guitar gently, the rich sound reverberating through the room like it belonged here—timeless and familiar. Each note seemed to carry a weight, a quiet reverence that filled the space. His movements were deliberate, his fingers gliding over the strings with care, like he was playing for more than just the people in the room—like he was honouring something bigger.

You watched him, completely captivated. The way his head bowed slightly, his fingers moving with precision and care, the quiet way he poured his heart into each note—it was everything.

When the song ended, the room was silent for a moment before applause broke out, led by Jerry. Riley smiled softly, her eyes glassy as she clapped. Priscilla looked both proud and wistful, while the twins practically bounced in their seats.

You couldn’t stop staring, the swell of love and admiration you felt practically overwhelming. Austin caught your gaze, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile as he set the guitar down gently.

“Are you swooning over there?” Harper teased, nudging you with her elbow.

Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t deny it. “Can you blame me?”

Austin chuckled, reaching for your hand as he stood. “Come on, baby. You’re making me blush.”

“Good,” you replied softly, squeezing his hand. “You deserve it.”

Instagram Post – @rileykeough:

📍Graceland

Family dinner where it all feels right again. 💙

@austinbutler: Thanks for bringing us all together, Riles.

@harperpresley: That song, though. Butler’s got skills. 🎸

@yourusername: Pretty sure I fell in love all over again. 💭

@finleypresley: We already adopted her, @yourusername. Hope you don’t mind.

@yourusername: I think I’m in the best hands. 🩵

Sunlight poured through the windows of Graceland, filtering through the curtains in soft golden streaks. You stirred awake to the sound of soft footsteps, blinking as you realised Austin was already up. He stood by the window, looking out onto the sprawling lawn, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you murmured, your voice still thick with sleep.

Austin turned, his lips curving into a gentle smile as he crossed the room and sat beside you on the bed. “Not really. Just… taking it all in.”

You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw, still rough with morning stubble. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he admitted softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “It’s a big day. I thought I’d show you around before everything kicks off.”

After breakfast—fresh biscuits and coffee prepared lovingly by the kitchen staff—Austin took your hand and guided you through Graceland. The house felt alive this morning, buzzing with energy as preparations for Elvis’ birthday celebration took place outside.

Austin led you room by room, his voice low as he told you stories about the making of the Elvis movie.

“This was where I spent hours just… trying to absorb it all,” he said as you stepped into the famous Jungle Room. The green shag carpet under your feet and the exotic decor made the space feel frozen in time.

You smiled, watching as Austin’s gaze softened. “Is it weird being back here?”

“A little,” he admitted, turning toward you. “But it’s good, too. This place meant so much to him, and I feel like it still does, even now.”

You both lingered there for a while before he led you outside, stopping by Elvis’ pink Cadillac. Austin ran a hand along the shiny paint, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“We shot a scene with a replica of this car,” he said. “But seeing the real thing? Nothing compares.”

“You know, I can’t even imagine what it must’ve felt like playing him,” you said softly, taking in the sight of the car and the house that loomed behind it.

Austin turned to look at you, his blue eyes warm as they met yours. “I just wanted to do him justice. For his family, for his fans. Standing here again… I feel like I can finally let some of that weight go.”

You stepped closer, slipping your hand into his. “You did more than justice, Austin. You made people see him as a person again, not just a legend. I think he’d be proud of you.”

Austin squeezed your hand, brushing a kiss to your temple. “I hope so.”

As the morning drifted into early afternoon, the family gathered on the lawn, the sounds of laughter carrying across the property. Fans had begun arriving outside the gates, leaving flowers, cards, and memorabilia to honour Elvis.

Harper and Finley wasted no time dragging you toward the golf carts. “C’mon, Y/N,” Harper called over her shoulder. “We’ve got fans to greet!”

“Don’t let them run you over!” Austin called with a grin, shaking his head as the twins bundled you into the back of a cart.

You laughed as Harper took the wheel, Finley sitting beside her, both of them grinning like mischievous devils. The cart lurched forward, zipping across the Graceland lawn, and you held on to the edge for dear life.

“Do you two have a licence for this thing?” you joked, laughing as the twins waved dramatically to the fans lined outside the gates.

“Golf carts don’t need licences!” Finley declared triumphantly, throwing up a peace sign to a group of cheering fans.

The energy was contagious. Some fans recognised you and waved excitedly, but most were focused on the twins, who were practically celebrities themselves. You waved alongside them, grinning as Harper slowed the cart to a stop so a little girl holding a bouquet of flowers could hand them to Finley.

“Thank you!” Finley called with a bright smile before turning to you. “See? They love us.”

You shot her an amused look. “You two are definitely trouble.”

“Good trouble,” Harper corrected, starting the cart again with a jerk that made you squeal.

From the lawn, you caught a glimpse of Austin standing beside Riley and Jerry, watching you with a fond expression. He shook his head with a smile, clearly entertained by the scene unfolding in front of him.

Later that afternoon, as the family gathered under the tented area set up on the lawn, Riley took the microphone. The crowd hushed, fans standing outside the gates peeking in through the openings.

“Thank you all for being here today,” Riley began, her voice warm but steady. “It means so much to us that we can celebrate my grandfather’s 90th birthday together. It’s a reminder of how much he was loved—and still is.”

The crowd applauded, and Riley turned to Austin with a smile. “It’s been a while since Austin’s been back, and it’s Y/N’s first time here. So, in honour of that, I think it’s only right they get to cut the birthday cake.”

You blinked, glancing at Austin as the crowd clapped. “Us?” you whispered.

Austin grinned, brushing a hand down your back as he stood. “Looks like we’re up, baby.”

Together, you walked to the table where the massive birthday cake—a beautiful, multi-tiered masterpiece—sat waiting. Austin picked up the knife, placing his hand over yours as the crowd watched eagerly.

“Ready?” he murmured, smiling down at you.

You nodded, your heart full as you both cut the first slice together. The crowd erupted into cheers, fans outside clapping and waving excitedly as cameras flashed.

Austin leaned in close, his voice soft. “Thanks for being here with me.”

You looked up at him, a warm smile spreading across your face. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

As the slice of cake was lifted, Harper’s voice broke through the moment: “Save some for us!”

You and Austin both laughed, the weight of the day replaced by love, laughter, and the unshakable feeling that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Instagram Post – @austinbutler:

📍Graceland

“Honouring the King on what would’ve been his 90th birthday. Thank you, Riley, for bringing us all together again. 🖤”

@yourusername: Couldn’t have asked for a more special day. 💙

@harperpresley: That cake better have my name on the next slice.

Instagram Story – @yourusername:

“Graceland chauffeurs of the year, obviously.”

Reply from @austinbutler: And menaces to society.

#austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #fan fiction #fanfic #fiction #imagine

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obxfavssss · 2 days ago

Text

Still us.

jj maybank

This is my first time writing. i hope you like it!!! As someone with anxiety, i tried putting in how i actually feel when i start getting it

Warnings- anxiety

Her and JJ had broken up a month ago after a fight. They both had a school trip and found out they were sharing a room, and her anxiety flared up in the room.

Y/N sat quietly at the back of the bus, staring out the window as the landscape blurred by. The school trip to the Outer Banks was supposed to be a fun break from the usual routine, but for her, it felt like another hurdle to overcome. Since her breakup with JJ Maybank a few months ago, things had been different. She’d been on edge, trying to focus on school and life in general, but his absence left a hole she couldn’t fill.

The breakup was messy, one of those fights that ended with words neither of them meant. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. JJ had always been the one to calm her when her anxiety would spiral, the one who knew exactly what to say and how to hold her when everything felt like too much.

The sound of the bus doors opening brought her back to the present. The students piled out, excited for the weekend ahead. Y/N stayed back, watching her classmates scatter in different directions. She couldn’t help but notice the familiar, wild blonde hair of JJ as he hopped out, his usual carefree grin on his face. But it wasn’t the same anymore. They were strangers now, after everything that had happened.

When they reached the hotel and the chaperones handed out room assignments, Y/N felt a knot in her stomach. She scanned the paper and froze. Of all the rooms in the hotel, she was paired with none other than JJ.

She thought about protesting. She thought about saying something, but she didn’t want to make a scene. Not here. Not now. With a deep sigh, she took the key from the chaperone and made her way up to the room.

The door creaked open, revealing a simple hotel room with two beds. JJ was already sitting on one, his feet propped up on the edge, a textbook in hand—though it was clear he wasn’t really reading it.

He looked up when she entered. His expression softened for a moment, but there was hesitation in his eyes. "Hey," he said, his voice unusually quiet.

"Hey," Y/N replied, setting her bag down. The awkward silence hung between them like a thick fog, neither one knowing what to say. They hadn't really spoken since the breakup.

"I—uh, guess we’ll have to deal with this," JJ muttered, breaking the silence. "Roommates for the weekend."

Y/N gave a small nod, trying to keep her composure. But internally, her anxiety was already starting to flare up. Being in close proximity to JJ, the one person who knew all her triggers, was not helping.

Her breathing started to quicken, her chest tightening. She sat on the edge of the other bed, doing her best to calm herself, but the panic crept in faster than she could control. She felt like something was pushing on her chest. Her heart felt like it was about to jump out of it. Her head started spinning, and she felt like she was gonna throw up, which didn't help in the slightest as she wad afraid of being sick.

JJ noticed it right away. He set his book aside and leaned forward, his eyes narrowing in concern. "Y/N?"

She tried to wave him off, but her hands were shaking, her heart hammering in her chest. "I’m fine," she managed, though it was clear she wasn’t.

"Hey," JJ said, standing up and crossing the room in a few strides. He gently took her hand, his touch grounding her like it always had. "You’re not fine. Look at me."

She didn’t want to. She didn’t want him to see her like this, but the softness in his voice made her meet his gaze. JJ’s face was full of concern, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

"Just breathe with me, okay?" He instructed gently, squeezing her hand. "In through your nose, out through your mouth. Focus on me."

Y/N obeyed, her breath shaky at first, but slowly falling into rhythm with his. JJ’s presence was calming, like it always had been. He knew exactly how to help her find her center, how to spot her head from spinning around. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the world around them, focusing on his steady breaths and the feel of his hand in hers.

"That’s it," he murmured. "You’re doing great."

The anxiety started to loosen its grip on her, her body relaxing in small increments. When she finally opened her eyes again, JJ was still holding her hand, his expression softer than she’d ever seen it.

"I—I don’t know what to say," Y/N whispered, the lump in her throat threatening to choke her up. "I don’t know how to be around you anymore."

JJ exhaled slowly, his thumb gently rubbing the back of her hand. "I know," he said quietly. "It’s been hard for me too."

Y/N’s chest tightened at his words. She hadn’t realized how much she still missed him, how much she still cared. Despite everything, she still felt that pull toward him—the one she couldn’t explain, the one that made her heart race whenever he was close.

"I didn’t want to hurt you, Y/N," JJ continued, his voice a little hoarse. "I just… I didn’t know how to deal with everything. I was a mess. And I didn’t want to drag you into it."

Y/N felt a tear slip down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. "I was always there for you, JJ. You didn’t have to push me away."

He looked down, guilt clouding his features. "I know," he whispered. "I messed up. But I’m still here, if you want me to be."

Her heart clenched. She wanted him. She always had. But there were so many things left unsaid between them. The past few months had been a painful reminder of the distance they had created. Yet, in that moment, she felt something shift—something familiar and comforting.

Y/N hesitated, then spoke, her voice quieter than usual. "Do you think... we could try again? I don’t know if I’m ready to jump back into everything, but maybe we could start with being friends again?"

JJ gave her a small, hopeful smile. "I’d like that. I really would."

They sat there in the quiet, the tension between them still lingering but starting to ease. For the first time in months, Y/N felt like she could breathe again, knowing that the one person who knew her better than anyone was sitting right beside her. And maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other. Slowly. But surely.

As the night settled in, the two of them talked—about the trip, about the past, and about what might come next. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. And for the first time in a long while, Y/N felt a flicker of hope that things could be okay again.

They weren’t just strangers anymore. They were still *them*—and that was all that mattered.

#jj maybank #obx #outer banks

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argentinesunshine · 1 year ago

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#crush commissioned some twitch emotes from me 😊#except they're for someone else? it's been a weird process #he also sent me $ to renew my driver's license #which would enable me to sell my ds and games at a resale store #(bc i desperately need the money)#but when i thanked him he...didn't know what i was referring to?#even tho he must have looked up the exact amt needed #did he donate to my ko-fi while drunk #i'll take that w #why must he be like this #vette!crush #still hoping to meet up with him but not holding my breath #personal

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sonarspace · 1 month ago

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NO NUT NOVEMBER ?

꒰ synopsis. no nut november or nut november. who knows.. ft. sukuna. choso. nanami. toji. geto. gojo. (separate) warnings. thigh riding. tittyfūcking. chōking. slightly rough sėx. unprōtected. 69. öral. a/n. back again (maybe).. hope you all have a wonderful week!

✧ SUKUNA

it’s only been four days, and sukuna’s already scoffing at the whole idea of no nut november. ridiculous, he thinks. restraint has never been an issue for him—especially not with you. but tonight, with the way you’re straddling his lap, that teasing glint in your eyes, he feels the beginnings of a crack.

you’re barely moving, just a subtle shift of your hips as you sit on his throne, looking every bit like you belong there. his gaze hardens, watching as you lean in close, your fingers tracing the lines of his chest. even as he fights it, his breathing hitches, his grip on your hips tightening.

“you’re really gonna test me like this?” he murmurs, voice low and dangerous. there’s a smirk on his face, but it’s more forced than usual, as if he’s already starting to lose his grip.

“oh, i’m sorry—is this getting to you?” you whisper, voice soft, teasing, that wicked little smirk of yours barely hidden.

his jaw clenches, and you see that familiar spark in his eyes. “you think you’re funny, don’t you?” he mutters, tone dark. “testing me, here, of all places.” there’s a slight growl in his voice, but you can tell he’s barely holding it together.

he lets out a low growl, and without breaking eye contact, his voice sharpens as he commands, “out. all of you.” the quiet shuffle of footsteps fades quickly as the doors shut, leaving the room silent and thick with tension.

the second you’re alone, his hands are on you, pulling you closer, his lips hovering just over yours as he growls, “now… let’s see how long that attitude lasts.”

one of his hands drifts up, finding the tie of your robe and giving it a slow, deliberate tug. the fabric slips loose, sliding off your shoulders, and he watches with a dark gleam in his eyes as it falls to the base of the throne, leaving you completely exposed to him.

“you wanted my attention, huh?” he murmurs, his voice a low, dangerous whisper against your ear. “well, now you’ve got it.”

he pulls you up, positioning himself, and with one powerful thrust, he’s inside you, filling you completely. a shiver runs through him, and his smirk returns, fierce and possessive as his hands move to grip your hips, holding you steady. “don’t think for a second you’re in control,” he mutters, his gaze fierce, unrelenting.

he leans in close, his lips brushing your neck as he begins to move, each thrust rougher, deeper, driving him further from the restraint he swore he’d keep. “you feel that?” he growls, his voice barely more than a whisper. “that’s me claiming every part of you… reminding you who you belong to.”

his hands tighten on your hips, guiding you to meet his rhythm, his breath hot against your skin as he loses himself in the moment. the intensity in his gaze is almost overwhelming, his usual confidence giving way to something darker, something that borders on need as he pulls you closer, deeper.

“look at me,” he demands, his voice low, ragged. “i want to see the way you fall apart. just like this… just for me.”

you lock eyes with him, the intensity of his gaze almost overwhelming, but you hold your ground, meeting him thrust for thrust. “sukuna,” you breathe out, barely a whisper, your voice catching on each of his movements.

“say it again,” he murmurs, his voice low, ragged, his usual control slipping. “say my name.”

when you do, a shiver runs through him, and his movements grow desperate, his grip bruising on your hips as he drives you both to the edge, each thrust more intense until he finally lets himself go, pulling you close as he shudders, his breath hot against your skin.

as he pulls back, chest heaving, there’s a satisfied smirk on his face, his gaze still dark and possessive. “don’t forget… you asked for this,” he murmurs.

but the glint in his eyes tells you he’s far from done.

✧ CHOSO

choso lasted exactly two weeks, longer than anyone expected—including himself. his quiet, focused nature kept him in control, but tonight, you can see his resolve wavering. he’s watching you as you get ready for bed, his gaze lingering as you slip your shirt off, his breath catching when he realizes you aren’t wearing a bra.

his eyes widen, and a blush spreads across his cheeks as he tries to look away. “a-are you… doing this on purpose?” he stammers, voice barely above a whisper, struggling to keep his composure.

you step closer, a playful smile on your lips as you look at him, tilting your head. “is it working?”

he nods, swallowing hard, his gaze reluctantly drifting back to your chest. “i… yeah. it’s… it’s definitely working,” he admits, his voice soft, almost reverent.

you move in front of him, leaning close so he can see every inch, and his hands come up without thinking, fingers brushing over your skin. he lets out a soft, shaky breath as his hands settle on your boobs, his eyes filling with a raw, almost worshipful hunger as he strokes your skin, feeling the warmth beneath his fingers.

without even realizing it, he leans in, his face pressing into your chest, his lips brushing over your skin. his hands tremble as they slide over your boobs, and he lets out a quiet, desperate sound, his mouth pressing against your skin, his eyes fluttering closed as he loses himself completely.

his tongue flicks over your nipple, his breath hot and unsteady as he nuzzles deeper, barely holding himself together as he finally indulges in the softness he’s been craving. “so perfect…” he murmurs, voice barely more than a breath, as if he’s talking to himself.

you gently push him back, sinking down onto your knees, and his eyes flutter open, his breathing ragged as you help him out of his pants. he watches you, lips parted, as you wrap your hand around his length, guiding him toward your chest.

pressing the head of his cock against your nipple, you let him feel the warmth and softness, watching as his eyes go hazy, his lips parting in a soft moan. his hips jerk forward instinctively, grinding into your chest as his head falls back, completely lost in the sensation.

“oh… god,” he whispers, his voice barely more than a breath as you press him between your boobs, holding him there. his eyes roll back, a deep, unsteady moan slipping from his lips as he watches, entirely undone by the moment.

“does that feel good?” you murmur, and he nods frantically, his body trembling as he begins to move, each slide of his length sending a shiver through him, his hands gripping your shoulders as if he needs to hold on.

“yes… please, don’t stop,” he breathes, his voice filled with awe and need. “i… i can’t hold back,” he whispers, his gaze darkening with raw, desperate want.

“then don’t,” you reply, holding him close, guiding his movements as he lets out soft, needy sounds, his breathing growing more ragged with every slide, his whole body tensing as he loses control.

as he reaches his peak, his body shudders, and he lets go completely, painting your chest and stomach in white, his eyes widening as he gazes at you, breathless and in awe. he’s silent for a moment, taking in the sight of you, then, unable to stop himself, he gently pushes you back onto the floor, hovering over you as his hand trails down your body. his voice is low, almost pleading, as he whispers, “please… let me feel you. i need you.”

✧ NANAMI

nanami had lasted ten days into november, his natural discipline keeping him steady, even as you spent the morning testing his patience. during breakfast, you’d nudged his foot under the table, let your fingers brush his a little too long, your playful glances lingering. he brushed it off with his usual calm, but now, as you slip into his office just after his last meeting, he’s holding onto his control by a thread.

he looks up at you, his gaze lingering, something dark and intense flashing in his eyes. “come here for a minute,” he says, his voice steady, but with an edge that makes your pulse quicken.

you step closer, dressed in a soft, silk nightgown that flows against your skin, and before you can say a word, he catches your wrist, pulling you close. in one swift movement, he turns you around, pressing your wrists behind your back, his grip firm as he holds you in place. his breath is hot against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine as he murmurs, “you’ve been testing me all day. and now… you’re going to see exactly what that gets you.”

he reaches for his belt, looping it around your wrists, securing them firmly, his fingers lingering just long enough to make you tremble. his other hand slides down, pressing you flat against the desk, the cool surface meeting your skin as he pushes the silk nightgown up over your hips. with one quick motion, he slips your underwear down, letting it fall to the floor with a soft rustle.

you feel him press against you, his hand pressing into the small of your back as he positions himself. he takes a breath, and you feel the head of his cock brush against you, firm and thick, making you catch your breath. he guides himself in slowly, letting you feel every inch as he stretches you, filling you completely. a low, rough sound escapes his lips, and his hands tighten on your waist as he holds you there, his restraint unraveling with each second.

the desk creaks beneath you as he begins to move, his thrusts steady but intense, each one pressing you deeper against the hard surface. papers slip from the edge, fluttering to the floor as the table rocks beneath his rhythm, the soft creak and the shuffle of falling papers mingling with his ragged breathing.

“all day…” he mutters, voice strained, his hand gripping your waist with possessiveness . “you’ve been pushing me… testing my patience.” each word is punctuated by a deep thrust, the stretch leaving you breathless, his length filling you to the brim

his rhythm grows more desperate, his pace quickening as his control slips further, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, “you feel incredible.” his tone is low, rough, filled with raw need.

the sound of the desk creaking beneath you fills the room as he drives deeper, harder, the intensity building as he loses himself completely. his hand slides up, pressing firmly into your lower back as he pulls you closer, each thrust sending a shock of pleasure through you. “you have no idea how close i was,” he whispers, his voice barely more than a growl, “to doing this hours ago… right here.” his movements grow more urgent, his grip tightening as he lets out a low, guttural sound.

as he finally shudders, burying himself fully, he lets out a deep groan, his breathing ragged, his hand still pressing you down as he reaches his peak. even as he catches his breath, his grip on you lingers, fingers tracing over your skin as he glances at the scattered papers, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

before you can fully recover, he lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you toward the bedroom. his voice is low, a hint of mischief coloring his usual calm tone. “oh, we’re far from done,” he murmurs, as he sees the look of slight confusion your face. “i think it’s only fair that i tease and edge you, just like you’ve been doing to me for the past ten days.”

✧ TOJI

toji lasted one day. just one. patience was never his strong suit, and especially not with you. by the time you get home from work, he’s already at his breaking point, practically pacing, anticipation coiling tight as he’s waited to see you all day.

the second you walk through the door, he’s on you, gaze dark and hungry as it roams over you, taking in every inch like he can’t believe you’re finally here. “took you long enough,” he mutters, voice rough, barely restrained.

before you even get a word out, he closes the distance, hands grabbing onto you and pulling you close, his lips crashing into yours, all impatience and need. his hands roam down to your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes, and with one swift, impulsive motion, he grabs hold and tears it off, the sound of ripping fabric filling the room.

“toji!” you huff, exasperated at yet another ruined outfit, but he just chuckles, his smirk widening as he leans in, voice a low, teasing murmur. “shouldn’t have worn anything, then,” he mutters, his hands moving over your bare skin, possessive and rough.

he presses you back against the wall, his body pinning you there, heat radiating off him as he takes in the sight of you, his gaze lingering. he lips you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and you feel the thick, hard length of him pressing into you, making your breath hitch.

you’re already soaked, your arousal slick between your thighs, and he wastes no time, lining himself up. in one powerful thrust, he pushes into you, filling you completely, and a low, rough groan slips from his lips as he feels you stretch around him. his cock is thick, stretching you just enough to leave you gasping, clutching onto him as he bottoms out.

the wall behind you creaks with every thrust as he sets a relentless pace, his cock sliding in and out of you, each movement making you slicker, the sound of your bodies joining filling the room. his hand slides up to your throat, fingers pressing just enough to keep you focused on him, grounding you as he takes you harder. the way he fills you has your walls fluttering around him, each thrust hitting deep, brushing spots that leave you gasping and clinging to him.

“one day…” he growls against your neck, voice rough and strained, his fingers tightening slightly around your throat, making you gasp. “that’s all i could last. one. damn. day.”

he thrusts harder, each movement more intense, your arousal coating him, easing his rough pace, his cock thick and heavy inside you. each time he pulls back and thrusts in again, you feel yourself tighten around him, your walls clenching with each push. “you feel so good… so tight around me. you’re gonna remember this every time you tease me, every single time.”

his breathing becomes uneven, his grip on your throat and waist tightening as he pulls you close, thrusting deep until he’s fully seated within you, pushing against your most sensitive spot. with one final, thrust, he pauses, buried as far as he can go, and you feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your most sensitive spot, making an indent as he holds you there.

he shudders, his hold on you tightening, and a deep groan slips from his lips as he finally lets go, his release spilling into you in waves. his cock twitches, pulsing with each spasm, savoring every second of how tightly you’re wrapped around him, his body tense, completely overwhelmed.

as he catches his breath, his hand slowly eases off your throat, and he pauses, his gaze softening as he notices the faint mark his fingers left. without a word, he leans in, pressing gentle, lingering kisses over the sensitive skin, his lips warm and tender against where he’d held you. his smirk is gone, replaced by a quieter satisfaction as he looks at you, voice low and soft. “next time…” he murmurs, “don’t make me wait. one day was already too damn long.”

✧ GETO

geto kept a calendar next to his bed, marking off each day of the month, like keeping count would somehow make it easier to get through. day 19 stared back at him, almost mocking him—no matter how many days he marked off, the restraint wasn’t getting any easier.

tonight, as you settled into his lap to watch a movie, pressing your weight into him, he could feel every shift of your hips and smell that soft, intoxicating scent that told him you were ovulating. his jaw tightened, fingers digging into the cushion as he tried to keep his breathing steady, fighting to hold his composure.

and then you whispered, low and pleading, “screw no nut november, suguru… i want you.”

his hand flexed against your hip, and he closed his eyes, inhaling slowly, trying to keep his calm. “it’s almost over,” he murmured, voice calm, though his eyes betrayed the struggle. “just a few more days. you can be patient.”

“please…” you murmured, voice breathless, pressing closer, testing every last bit of his resolve.

he shook his head, voice strained. “if you need it that badly… then get yourself off.” he positioned you over his lap, hands guiding you to straddle his thigh, pressing you down so you could feel the firm, sculpted muscle beneath you. his thigh flexed, the intricate snake tattoo winding down his leg, every line a reminder of him. but he stayed still, just watching, his gaze dark, waiting.

you pouted, shifting against him, letting out a frustrated huff. “i want you, not just this,” you murmured, grinding down against his thigh, your hands braced on his shoulders, fingers digging into him, trying to break through that last bit of control.

his breathing grew heavier, his gaze flickering down to where you moved against him, your arousal slick against his thigh. each roll of your hips tested his patience, the feeling of your heat soaking through his clothes, your soft whimpers as you tried to get closer.

“just a little longer,” he murmured, though his voice had a rough edge to it, the words catching in his throat. but the way you looked up at him, eyes pleading, breath coming faster, was enough to start cracking his resolve.

finally, he let his hands grip your hips firmly, holding you in place as he lifted you slightly, positioning you so he could slide beneath you. with a smirk, he shifted you, guiding you so you were hovering above his face, your legs on either side of him. “if you’re going to make me lose control,” he murmured, voice dark with intent, “then i’m going to make it worth it.”

before you could respond, he pulled you down, his mouth meeting your center, his tongue pressing flat against your clit, sending a shiver up your spine. he lingered there, savoring the taste of you, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate circles, making you gasp. his hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you exactly where he wanted, guiding you to move just enough to deepen the contact, his tongue slipping lower, teasing your entrance before sliding inside, his movements slow, unhurried, as he tasted you.

you couldn’t help but moan, your fingers tangling in his long hair, gripping tightly as he worked, his mouth and tongue relentless, flicking, tasting, his lips closing around your clit as he sucked gently, sending waves of pleasure through you. your walls pulsed around his tongue, each sensation building, making your grip on him tighten as you struggled to keep your balance, overwhelmed by the way he devoured you.

unable to resist, you shifted, turning so you could settle over his face fully, leaning down to free his cock, feeling the heavy, aching heat of him against your palm. he groaned into you as you wrapped your fingers around him, his cock flushed and hard, a deep shade that matched the warmth on his cheeks.

leaning forward, you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling over the tip, tasting the salty hint of his arousal. his hips twitched beneath you, a low, muffled sound escaping him as his grip on your hips tightened, but his focus never wavered, his mouth and tongue working against you, your bodies moving in sync as you both gave in to each other completely.

✧ GOJO

it only took six days for gojo to break, though he’d never admit that it was because of you. every little brush of your fingers, every flirtatious smile—it was killing him. now, with him just back from a mission, that need has become almost painful, and he can’t hide it.

“you’re really going to make me keep waiting?” he asks, his voice low and playful but with a hint of something darker as he watches you, gaze intense.

you give him a teasing smile, taking a step back. “come on, satoru… it’s only been six days.”

he laughs, stepping closer, his smile turning into a smirk. “six days too many,” he murmurs, reaching out, his fingers brushing along your waist, pulling you in close. his lips hover near your ear, his voice a soft murmur. “haven’t you missed me?”

you feel a shiver run through you, but you keep your composure, smiling up at him. “maybe,” you tease, “but it is no nut november, you know..”

he chuckles, his grip on your waist tightening as he leans in, pressing his lips to your neck. “hmm, don't really care for it,” he murmurs, his mouth hot against your skin, his hands roaming over your body as he pulls you closer.

you try to keep up the teasing, but his touch is making it impossible to think. “satoru…” you whisper, your voice barely steady.

“yeah?” he breathes, his gaze darkening as he studies you, his blue eyes filled with that familiar glint. “why don’t you just say it? you want me just as much as i want you, don’t you?”

before you can answer, his lips crash against yours, all teasing replaced by a fierce urgency as he pulls you against him, his hands sliding up to tangle in your hair, keeping you close. his kiss is deep, almost dizzying, as his fingers trail down, finding the hem of your shirt and tugging it off with a skillful ease.

he sits back onto the edge of the bed, taking you with him as he pulls you into his lap, his hands gripping your waist, guiding you to straddle him. he looks up, his eyes filled with that playful, almost wicked spark. “if we’re breaking rules,” he murmurs, “we might as well do it right.”

he presses you down, letting you feel him hard against you, and a soft, satisfied groan escapes his lips as he watches your reaction. his hands slide over your thighs, fingers pressing firmly into your skin as he tilts his head back, smirking. “see? this feels a lot better than no nut november, don’t you think?”

you roll your hips against him, feeling him throb beneath you, and his breath catches, his grip tightening as he lets out a low, ragged laugh. “you’re really going to make me work for this, aren’t you?” he murmurs, voice dropping.

without warning, he shifts, pulling you down so he can lean in, his mouth finding your neck as he kisses down, his tongue flicking against your pulse. his hands roam over your body, tugging off the last of your clothes, his mouth following every inch of bare skin he reveals. finally, he leans back, hands on your hips as he positions you over him, his gaze never leaving yours as he pulls you down onto him.

he looks down, smirking as he brushes his finger along your entrance, teasing you. “did she miss me?” he murmurs, his voice thick, and before you can respond, he pushes in, letting out a deep groan as he fills you completely. “yeah, sweetness,” he breathes, his voice low and rough, “i’ve missed you too.”

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

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lostfracturess · 2 months ago

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seven minutes of misunderstanding — satoru gojo

of all the ridiculous situations you've found yourself in, being trapped in a closet with satoru gojo has to top the list. especially when you're convinced he's dating his best friend.

Of all the places you expected to end up tonight, being crammed in a tiny closet with Satoru Gojo wasn't one of them.

A stupid campus party game had somehow led to this moment—you, him, and about fifteen winter coats in a space barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

You're painfully aware of every point where your bodies touch — your back against his chest as you try to avoid the hanging coats, his breath tickling your neck, his hand awkwardly hovering somewhere near your waist like he's not sure where to put it.

The closet is so small that when you attempt to turn around to face him (because somehow facing him seems less intimate than having his breath on your neck), your chest brushes against his.

You hear his sharp intake of breath, feel the way his body tenses against yours. You're so close to him in a way it makes your skin tingle, and you're grateful for the darkness hiding your blush.

"So..." Satoru drawls. "Come here often?"

"Did you seriously just—" You try to gesture incredulously and end up elbowing him in the ribs with enough force to make him grunt. "Shit, sorry!"

You try to put some distance between you but that only results in you stepping on his foot. "Oh god, I'm so sorry! Again!"

"Just—don't move," he says, his hands finally finding your shoulders to hold you still. You feel the warmth of his palms through your shirt as he clears his throat. "We could just... not do anything. Nothing has to happen if you don't want it to. We can just wait it out."

The consideration in his voice surprises you. You try to see his face in the darkness and end up with a mouthful of fuzzy coat. After spitting out what you hope isn't synthetic fur, you say, "That's really sweet of you. And like, I get it. This must be super awkward for you too."

"Awkward?" He sounds puzzled.

"Yeah, I mean... being stuck in here with a girl when you're..."

"When I'm what?"

"You know..." You wave your hand vaguely in the narrow space. "I just meant, like, with you and Geto..."

There's a moment of complete silence, and then Satoru starts laughing so hard you can feel him shaking against you. "You think— me and Suguru? Oh my god, is that why you turned me down for lunch last month?"

"Wait, what? I thought you were just being nice! You're always hanging all over Geto—"

"Because he's my best friend."

"And that time I saw you feeding him—"

"He had a broken arm!"

"The couples' costume at Halloween—"

"We were Mario and Luigi! They are brothers."

Every explanation makes you want to dissolve into the floor more. "Oh my god," you say. "You know everyone on campus thinks you're gay—not that there's anything wrong with that! I totally support you two, you're so cute together and—"

"Can you please stop," he interrupts, pressing a finger to your lips to silence you. "I am very, very interested in women."

Your heart skips. "Oh, really?"

"Yes." His voice drops lower as he removes his finger from your lips. "One woman in particular, actually." You can feel him lean closer. "And she's currently pressed up against me in a very small closet."

"Oh," is all you can manage, your brain short-circuiting as you process his words. You try to lean back slightly, but there's nowhere to go, and suddenly his face is very close to yours.

Then he asks a question you never thought Satoru Gojo would ever ask you. "Can I kiss you?"

The question is soft, almost vulnerable—so unlike the usual Satoru you know. When you don't immediately respond, too shocked to form words, his hand comes up to gently cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze in the darkness. "Can I kiss you?" he asks again, his thumb brushing across your lower lip.

A breathless "yes" escapes your lips before you can overthink it.

The first brush of his lips against yours is gentle, questioning, like he's afraid you might change your mind.

Then you grab his shirt and pull him closer, and gentle goes right out the window. He kisses like he's trying to prove a point, like he's been thinking about this for ages, and oh — maybe he has been.

His hands slide from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he deepens the kiss. You gasp against his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to sweep his tongue against yours, drawing a small sound from your throat that makes him grip you tighter.

"Still think I'm gay?" he says against your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck that make your knees weak.

"Not sure," you tease him, even as your head tilts back to give him better access. "Might need more convincing."

You feel him smile against your neck. "More convincing, huh?"

In one fluid motion, he presses you more firmly against the wall, his body completely flush against yours. One of his hands slides into your hair while the other grips your hip, thumb stroking the strip of skin where your shirt has ridden up.

"Let me be very clear then." He punctuates each word with a kiss. "I am very—" kiss "—very—" kiss "—interested—" kiss "—in you."

His hand tightens in your hair as his tongue sweeps against yours, drawing a small whimper from your throat that makes him groan in response.

"God," he breathes against your lips, pulling back just enough to speak. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do this?"

You can't form a coherent response because he's already kissing you again, harder this time, more desperate. Something falls off a nearby shelf as you shift against him, but neither of you care.

You're so lost in each other that you don't hear the warning knock. The door flies open, flooding the space with light and the sounds of party chaos.

"God, finally!" Geto's voice breaks through the stunned silence. "Do you know how long I've had to watch him pine over you?"

"Suguru, I will literally murder you," Satoru growls, but he doesn't let go of you. Instead, he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Wanna leave this party?"

And oh, you do.

tags. @fayuki @starmapz @saurondriell @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna

@cocomanga @nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @shervinss @chiyokoemilia

@janbannan

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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rafestify · 1 month ago

Note

need a rafe fic please where reader is part of the pogues, her and rafe have been on and off for forever obviously due to everything he’s done but deep down he’s so down bad for reader and maybe she’s pregnant instead of sarah and he doesn’t find out until morocco because the pogues are hovering over her idk angst fluff whatever you feel!!!

Two lines — Rafe Cameron

Summary : Fem!Reader is pregnant with Rafe’s baby, but he doesn't know until pope accidentally mentions her baby (season 4 ep 10 spoilers!! ⚠️)

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings : mentions of vomiting & language (english is not my first language)

A/N : as requested 😉 hope u like it anon!

Two lines, and the father was long gone, off doing god knows what. Rafe was the last guy I'd hooked up with, and even after we broke up, we somehow kept finding our way back to each other, especially after the Kildare Enduro. He knew no one else could satisfy me the way he did, and so it became this endless cycle, break up, hook up, make up. What Rafe didn’t know was that I was pregnant. I hadn’t planned on telling him, at least not until we made up.

There I was, back on Rafe’s boat with my friends, setting off to Morocco in search of the Blue Crown and Chandler Groff. My friends had locked Rafe up, tying him up in a small room, just in case. We all knew better than to trust Rafe Cameron, not after everything he’d done.

I walked into the dimly lit room, carrying a tray with a glass of water, a plate of food, and a couple of aspirin for his black eye. The sight of him, bruised, tugged at something deep inside me.

“Here,” I murmured, setting the tray down on the table beside him. “I brought some aspirin, just in case you’re feeling dizzy or something…”

He snorted, cutting me off. “What? You’re just gonna throw it in my mouth like I’m a fuckin' seal?” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but his sharp tone made me bristle. “Nobody trusts you, Rafe,” I replied, my voice steady. “Not after what you did.”

His jaw tightened, and a flash of anger sparked in his eyes. “I saved your asses!” he shot back, his face flushing with frustration. “And not even a thank you was said.”

I took a slow breath, steadying myself. “I know, Rafe. I know,” I said softly. “Thank you, really.” I offered him a small, sincere smile.

He looked at me for a moment, his gaze softening just slightly. “You trust me, right?” he asked, his voice quieter, a bit more vulnerable. I bit down on my lip, feeling the pull he always seemed to have on me.

“Yeah,” I admitted, almost reluctantly. God, he knew exactly how to get to me.

He looked at the ropes binding his wrists and nodded toward them. “Then untie me. Get this shit off me.”

I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt but holding my ground. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my resolve. “Just… eat the food. We wouldn’t want you dying in here.” With that, I turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind me, leaving me with a sigh that I didn’t even realize I’d been holding back.

As I stepped out of the room, I was met by Kiara’s anxious expression, her arms folded tightly as she waited. The moment she saw me, her face softened slightly, though worry still flickered in her eyes.

"How’d it go?" she asked quietly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

I shrugged, trying to mask the mixture of emotions stirring inside me. "Same old Rafe," I replied, keeping my tone light, but my gaze drifted, unable to meet hers directly.

Kiara studied me for a moment before speaking again. "Soo... did you tell him?"

I frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Tell him what?"

She raised an eyebrow, giving me a pointed look. "That you’re pregnant, with his child."

Oh, right. That one.

I swallowed, feeling a sudden knot in my stomach. "Uh—no, not yet," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I just… I don’t know how he’d react." My hands found each other, my fingers nervously fidgeting as I tried to imagine how that conversation would even go. "What if he doesn’t want to keep the baby?"

Kiara sighed softly and reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Her warmth grounded me, pulling me back from my spiraling thoughts. "Look," she said firmly, her gaze locking onto mine. "You have us. We’ll help you through every single part of this. That’s what friends are for, right?"

I looked at her, the tension in my chest easing slightly. Her words held a strength that I so desperately needed. "Yeah," I whispered, a small smile breaking through my worry. "Thank you, Kie."

She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug, and for a moment, the uncertainty and fear faded. In her embrace, I felt a flicker of hope—a reminder that I wouldn’t have to face this alone.

After battling fierce winds and waves, we finally arrived in Essaouira. The coastal city spread before us, its whitewashed buildings with blue shutters gleaming under softened storm light. Narrow streets twisted through the medina, lined with shops selling handmade crafts and drenched in a timeless, rustic charm.

The Atlantic crashed against the ancient medina walls, sturdy and weathered, while blue fishing boats bobbed in the harbor—just like the skiffs in the Outer Banks. The salty air and easy warmth of the locals, the slow rhythm of the sea, and the hum of daily life brought back memories of home, as if Essaouira was a Moroccan echo of the Outer Banks.

We continued to wander through the narrow streets of Essaouira, the sound of bustling market vendors and the distant call of seagulls filling the air. John B and Sarah led the way, their steps light and carefree, like they had no care in the world. Following behind them was Cleo, Pope, and Kiara, their conversations flowing easily as they walked, with JJ and I bringing up the rear. But it was Rafe who trailed behind, his presence almost ghostlike, like a lost puppy, following silently in our wake.

As we strolled through the maze of alleyways, I felt a sudden, sharp wave of nausea hit me. It was sudden, and intense, as if something in my stomach was threatening to rise up. I let out a soft huff, pressing my hand to my stomach, trying to hold back the overwhelming feeling of sickness.

JJ, who had been walking beside me, must've noticed the change in my posture because he looked at me with concern. "Y/N?" he called, his voice laced with worry.

"Oh god," I muttered under my breath, the nausea worsening, my head spinning.

"What's wrong? You okay?" JJ asked, his voice low, concern evident on his face.

I shook my head, barely able to focus on him. "No... I need to sit," I said, my voice strained. I felt like I was going to collapse if I didn’t stop moving.

JJ quickly guided me to a pile of carpets that were stacked outside a shop. The soft fabric felt like a relief under me as I sat down, trying to steady my breathing. The rest of the group quickly noticed, and soon I was surrounded by their concerned faces. Kiara dropped to her knees in front of me, her eyes searching mine, her hand resting on my knee in a comforting gesture.

"What's up? What are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

"I'm really nauseous," I managed to answer, my hand covering my mouth, just in case. I didn’t trust myself to hold it down any longer.

Cleo, who had been standing off to the side, stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest. "She probably needs food. It’s been like two days..or what?" she said, her voice tinged with practicality.

"Yeah, the baby’s probably hungry too," Pope added, offering a casual shrug, as if it was just an obvious conclusion.

I froze, my stomach twisting. The mention of "the baby" caught me off guard, and suddenly, all eyes turned to me. Rafe, who had been hanging back, still distant, looked like he was suddenly paying attention. His gaze shifted from me to Pope and then back to me, his brow furrowing.

"What baby?" Rafe asked, his voice sharp, as if something about the situation didn't sit right with him.

Oh god, here we go.

Pope went silent, and I could feel the tension rise in the air, thickening around us. I glanced up at Rafe, who was now standing a few feet away, looking at me with an expression that was hard to read. His eyes narrowed as if trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

"No, seriously, what baby?" he repeated, his voice insistent, even stern now.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. There was no easy way to say it, but it had to be said. "I’m pregnant, Rafe," I said quietly, locking eyes with him. "With your baby."

The words hung in the air between us, like they were too heavy to carry. For a long moment, Rafe didn’t say anything. He just stood there, silent, his expression unreadable. The others were watching him closely, waiting for a reaction, but he remained eerily still.

I could feel the tension growing, an awkwardness settling in the space around us, as if everything had just shifted. My hands were shaking slightly, not from the nausea anymore, but from the weight of what had just been revealed. And Rafe, he was just staring at me, his mouth slightly parted but no words coming out.

"Go get her something to eat," Rafe suddenly snapped, his voice cutting through the tension that still hung thick in the air.

Without another word, he dug through his small waist bag, the leather creaking under his movements. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but then, with a small grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out a wad of cash—several bills, all stacked neatly together. As he unfolded them, I saw that he had about $400 in his hand, a small fortune for street vendors in Essaouira.

"Wait what?" JJ’s voice broke the moment of disbelief. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "They don’t take dollars, you idiot—"

"I said go," Rafe interrupted sharply, his tone hardening. There was no room for argument, no sign of hesitation in his voice. It was almost as if he was trying to regain some control over the situation, and in doing so, he completely dismissed JJ’s protests. His words were a command, not a suggestion.

The rest of us exchanged uneasy glances, the shift in Rafe’s demeanor catching everyone off guard. But without further discussion, John B, Sarah, Cleo, Pope, and Kiara reluctantly turned to start walking back toward the market, their steps unsure but obedient. JJ hesitated for a moment, clearly frustrated by Rafe’s abruptness, but eventually followed along as well.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on me for a second, his expression unreadable. He stood still for a moment longer, his gaze momentarily drifting over to the group before returning to me. He didn’t say anything else. His words had been clear, and I could tell that something about the situation had shifted for him.

"I don’t care whether you want the baby or not, but I’m keeping them," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. The truth was, I had made up my mind. I had to keep the baby, and nothing anyone said or did would change that. Not even Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes widened at my declaration, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at me, his face unreadable. Then, he kneeled down, and he let out a sharp breath. "Hey, hey, hey—who said I don’t want to keep the baby?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension to it, as if my words had hit a nerve.

I blinked, caught off guard by his response. The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and I wasn’t sure what to say next. His eyes were fixed on me now, intense, searching. It felt like something was shifting between us, and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it.

"We’ll take care of them," Rafe continued, his tone softening just a fraction. "I’ll be with you throughout the whole journey, Y/N. You’re not doing this alone." His voice held a kind of resolve, as if he had already decided, as if he was offering something that felt almost too good to be true.

For a split second, it felt like the world around me had stopped moving. The noise from the market faded into the background, and all I could hear was the steady beat of my own heart. The words he said felt surreal, like they were echoing in my head. "I’ll be with you, 'aight?"

I blinked again, almost feeling like I was in a dream, like I had slipped into some alternate reality where everything suddenly made sense. But when I looked at Rafe, his gaze never wavering from mine, I felt a wave of disbelief wash over me. It felt like a nap dream, a momentary illusion that would disappear when I woke up.

"What?" I said, my voice coming out in a whisper of disbelief. "Sorry—"

Rafe seemed unbothered by my shock. He placed his hands on my knees, his movements deliberate. "You heard me, Y/N." His words were firm, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in them.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken thoughts, and I could feel the weight of what he had just said settle in my chest. It was almost too much to process. I had always expected Rafe to pull away, to make this harder for me. But here he was, standing before me with something I hadn’t expected, a promise. A promise to be there. A promise to face this together.

My mind spun, trying to make sense of it. I glanced away for a moment, as if hoping the world would shift and reveal the truth. But when I looked back at him, his expression hadn’t changed. He was still looking at me with those steady, unwavering eyes.

"You’re serious," I murmured more to myself than to him.

Rafe didn’t flinch. "Yeah," he said simply, as if there was nothing more to discuss, as if the decision had already been made. "I’ll be there for you. For us."

For the first time, I didn’t know what to say. My heart was still racing, but for a different reason now. There was a part of me that wanted to believe him, to hold on to this moment, to trust that things might actually be okay. But there was also a part of me that was terrified of what this all meant, of how my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t predict.

I stared at him in utter disbelief, barely able to process the reality unfolding before me. It felt like some kind of miracle. My vision began to blur as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the emotions welling up and spilling over, probably caused by the pregnancy hormones, but I couldn’t stop them. I tried to blink them away, but they only gathered faster, until a warm tear rolled down my cheek.

Rafe’s expression softened when he noticed, his gaze never leaving mine. He reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close in a way that felt so natural, so steady. He didn’t hesitate for a second, and his embrace was warm, reassuring, holding me together when I felt like I was on the edge of falling apart, and God, it felt good to be back in his arms.

His hand rubbed gentle circles on my back as he murmured, “We’re gonna be parents.” His voice was soft, filled with awe and disbelief, as if he was speaking the words for the first time and couldn’t quite believe them either.

I nodded against his chest, clutching onto him as tightly as I could. The weight of his words settled over us, the reality of what lay ahead, and as much as I wanted to be brave, I couldn’t shake the fear that started to consume my mind. I let out a shaky breath, my voice coming out in a whisper, “I’m scared, Rafe.” The words felt small, vulnerable, but they were the truth.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands gently cupping my face as his thumbs brushed away the stray tears still slipping down my cheeks. “I know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I am scared too.” There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored my own, a glimmer of uncertainty about the unknown future that lay ahead.

“But we’re in this together,” he continued, his voice growing stronger, as if he was convincing himself as much as he was reassuring me. “I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t know what’s coming… but I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned down and rested his forehead against mine, closing the space between us. “I’ll be there every step of the way.”

His words washed over me, filling some hollow place I hadn’t realized was empty. In that moment, his presence felt like a lifeline, pulling me out of my fears, giving me a glimpse of something that felt almost like hope. The future was terrifying, yes, but it felt a little less daunting with him by my side.

I looked up at him, my voice steadying as I replied, “I’m glad it’s you.” And as I said the words, I realized just how much I meant them.

He offered me a small, crooked smile, a warmth in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. “We’re gonna figure this out together,” he promised. “One step at a time.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. And in that moment, held in his arms, I felt a little less afraid.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the rest of the group appeared, each carrying an assortment of food and drinks. It was almost comical, watching them return all at once, each of them holding something different, John B with a handful of pita bread, Cleo balancing a bowl of yogurt, JJ carrying bottled water, and Sarah clutching a small bag of fruit, including a shiny red apple that she immediately extended toward me.

“Here,” Sarah said softly, her face easing with relief as she offered the apple. I took it gratefully, feeling the cool skin of the fruit in my hand, and took a tentative bite. The crisp, sweet flavor flooded my senses, soothing the nausea that had been twisting in my stomach. They watched with eager anticipation, and as they saw me begin to nibble, their worried expressions started to relax.

“Feeling better now?” Pope asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern as he studied my face.

I swallowed another bite and nodded, a smile creeping onto my face. “Yeah, yeah… thank you,” I replied, glancing at each of them.

They exchanged glances, visibly relieved, and a sense of warmth spread through me as I looked around at their familiar faces, each one showing their own brand of care. I realized then just how much I’d come to rely on them, not just as friends, but as family. I felt a comforting wave of gratitude for each of them, knowing they’d been there for me without question, supporting me in ways I hadn’t even thought possible.

As I took another sip of water, Rafe moved a little closer to me, his hand resting gently on my thigh. His touch was subtle, but the gesture was enough to let me know he was still there, holding his promise to stay by my side. There was something calming in his presence now, something steadying that I hadn’t noticed before.

The others began chatting among themselves, sharing their own stories of haggling with the vendors, laughing about who’d paid the most for what they’d brought. They were giving Rafe and me a moment, I realized, a chance to talk without the pogues’ attention fixed on us.

Rafe leaned down slightly, his face level with mine, his voice low and steady. “You really okay?” he asked, his hand still warm on my thigh.

I took a deep breath, the initial dizziness and nausea fading, leaving behind a feeling of clarity I hadn’t expected. “Yeah, I think so." I paused, looking up into his eyes.

He smiled, a soft, almost vulnerable expression, and for a moment, he seemed like a different Rafe—one who wasn’t weighed down by pride or bravado. “That's good” His voice was filled with a sincerity that softened something inside me. "Don't want our little one and her mommy to starve, do we?" He smiled making me let out a low chuckle.

In this quiet moment, I knew, deep down, that I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the father of my child. Everything just felt right. Despite all the chaos, the ups and downs, there was a steady comfort in knowing me and Rafe would face it together.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! 🐇

>゜))彡 taglist — @rafecamerons-national-anthem @ts1mp0ne @vheavxly @enjoymyloves @tv-girllover07 @husherstan @smthabsolutelyunhinged @multisection @onlyrealjoy @hoelesslyt @nina357

#outer banks #rafe cameron #netflix #drew starkey #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff

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tinystarbites · 3 months ago

Text

accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops pt.II The Reckoning /j, this is basically just 10k words of porn with feelings yikes

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst (still Spencer feeling he isn't good enough 😔), EMOTIONSSS, Spencer STILL loves you so much, he gets a hug, and so much more!, talk about sex, detailed asking for CONSENT (be safe people), sex (piv), some frottage, uhhh what else, dirty talk, some dom/sub understones (sub!Spencer ofc), little bit allusion to subspace, Spencer discovers so many kinks in this awww we're so proud of you bby (mentioned kinks: praise kink, squint of liking being embarrassed, tiiny bit of a voyeristic thing), also I made him a virgin whoops so virgin!Spencer, proofread but prolly not perfect lol. Tell me if I'm missing any tags I am so tired

(also, Spencer will be bisexual in all of my Spencer fics because I am not a coward like the writers were and I will honour Spencer the way he was intended to)

HERE you can read pt. I, I do recommend it to have context and all but do whatever you want lmao I'm not your mother anyway have fun being completely wrecked like I was while writing this!! also thanks so so MUCH for 400 followers and almost 2k likes on the first part, you guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this fic as a thanks!!<333

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

Spencer almost breaks his neck with how fast he whips his head down to look at you again. A strangled noise escapes him without permission and what. What.

“Because, that would actually explain so much, especially the way you’ve been acting and really, that’s probably on me because I’ve always been telling myself to put them behind a password block but I somehow always manage to forget that because apparently I have only one braincell left that’s stuck spinning on the deep-fried version of Funky Town and well, I guess I’m glad it was you that found them and not someone else and-“

“What? No, no, I didn’t- What- that’s not- what-“, Spencer cuts off your rambling with a horrified, screeched version of a protest because how- how could you have guessed what’s going on with just one try? Is Spencer so- so absolutely besotted with you that he’s so obvious? Spencer is so very confused and overwhelmed with whatever the hell is going on, he kind of misses the slight twitching of your mouth.

“Come on, Spencer. I said it’s fine and basically my own fault. Uh- well, actually… sorry. Because, well, that’s probably not very work-appropriate… I will pay for your therapy session, just send me the bill.”

Spencer thought he’d reached the limits of confusion seconds ago but apparently, he hadn’t. What. What are you even saying?

“Therapy sessions?”

You just- ignore him.

“Oh, also, please don’t tell Hotch? He’ll be pissed, despite me literally just doing hot-girl shit, y’know-“

Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.

He says your name and, “Stop, please, please, just-“

You snap your mouth shut, pulling your lips between your teeth and Spencer definitely doesn’t miss the way you have to force your mouth to stay still this time.

“Are you- is this a joke?”, Spencer asks, frazzled and desperate and so confused he just wants to bury his head under the duvet and never come out again. Because if you don’t actually know but- are just joking around, oh Spencer is overwhelmed, alright.

Your expression changes into something panicked then. “No, no, Spencer, sorry. I’m- sorry. Of course I’m not joking, I’m so sorry. It’s just a little bit too easy to tease you. Sorry.” You actually look apologetic now, lips downturned and frowning slightly.

“Not joking- so… so, you know?”, there’s something big and anxious pressing inside of Spencer’s chest. The urge to hide away and never face daylight again intensifies tenfold. He’s flushing before he realizes, hands trembling and breathing a bit too fast to be considered normal. Oh god, you know, you actually know, you’re going to- you’re never going to speak with him again you are probably here to tell him how weird and- and-

You must’ve noticed the frenzy he is thinking himself into, because you reach out with one hand and gently nudge his thigh with one knuckle. “Spencer”, you say, voice serious and steady and not the slightest bit disgusted or harsh and it snaps him out of his anxiety spiral.

“I knew the second I walked back into that room after you basically fled the precinct. I am, really, genuinely, sorry for making you uncomfortable. Like, it wasn’t actually my intention for you to see them. And then, after I realized what… I just wanted to wait and see what you’d do, if you came to talk to me or, well…”

You sigh, the hand that nudged him ruffling through your hair.

“I didn’t handle this situation very well. I’m really sorry. So… “, you trail off, scrunching your nose in that adorable way of yours that makes Spencer want to kiss it until it scrunches even further because you’d laugh and try to fight him off.

“We can just- forget about this. Forget that it ever happened, or-“, you hesitate again.

Spencer feels suddenly breathless. Like he stands in front of a cliff face, seconds before taking the step to send himself careening towards something immeasurably great or devastatingly fatal.

“Or…?”, he breathes, voice small and unsure.

You meet his eyes again after what feels like hours. There’s something intense in them, burning, and it’s like an electric shock to Spencer’s system. He’d give anything for you to keep looking at him like that forever.

“Or”, your hand returns to his thigh, but this time you let your fingers travel along the shape of it and Spencer whimpers. The burning in your eyes intensifies and Spencer feels hot, suddenly, so hot he’s burning with it. “Or we can do something else.”

“Something else?”, Spencer basically croaks because his throat is so dry and it’s difficult for his body to function properly when you are touching him like that.

You hum in agreement. “Whatever you want. You can tell m-“

“You.”

You look a bit startled when he cuts you off with that one, desperate syllable. Startled but also endlessly amused and Spencer just- his mind is apparently turned off, what the-

You laugh quietly, and your eyes soften, and it does something to Spencer that leaves an ach-y feeling in his chest. Oh, he loves you so much he can’t take it.

“Sure. You can have me”, you say simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for you to admit, “Tell me what exactly you want, because I’d give you the world if you asked.”

And suddenly there’s hot pressure behind Spencer’s eyes, at the back of his throat. You’re just- just- amazing and so lovely and so kind to him, no one has ever said something like that to him, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Spencer blinks up to the ceiling, desperately willing these stupid unwelcome tears away because crying about you treating him kindly is so on the bottom of the list of acting casual about this, so he rather feels than sees you sitting up next to him. Your hand slips from his legs and he feels the loss of your touch as if someone sucked the marrow from his bones. Before he can say something embarrassing like ‘please touch me again’ he feels your hand covering his. It fills him with a heady kind of courage.

“I want…”, Spencer starts, feeling entirely too uncomfortable with having to state his deepest and darkest desires. There’s the old familiar urge to start picking at his nails nagging at him, but you just interlace your fingers with his and start tracing random patterns into the skin there with your thumb. Spencer melts against you and tenses up at the same time because it’s just so- so nice. It feels so nice and Spencer never thought he’d ever get to have things like that with you but you’re here. You’re here, with him, and basically offering Spencer the entire world on a silver platter but it’s still so so unfathomably difficult just saying what he so badly wants.

“You want…?”, you hum slightly, voice soft and so tender as you continue painting patterns on his skin and Spencer would literally die for you. And that’s the entire problem. Spencer doesn’t know if you’d do the same. Well. Maybe not die die for him but. He can’t just sleep with you, and it not meaning anything to you. It would kill him. It would kill him, if after you give him tenderness and pleasure and acceptance in a way he’s never dreamed of receiving, you would go back to normal. Always politely distanced, close, but never close enough and it already twists his chest just thinking of that possibility.

“I just-“, he tries again, but when the words are stuck in his throat, sticky molten sugar that tastes like bile and fear, he pulls out of your grip and buries his face in his hands. He’s so bad at this. He’s the worst. No wonder he’s never had- had something like Morgan has, one night stand after one night stand (not that he particularly wants that, god no, but just-) because Spencer is just so bad at spilling all of the things that plague his gut and keep his thoughts in overdrive at night. No wonder he’s never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before.

“Hey, hey, Spencer”, he feels your hands cupping his own, still over his face. Not taking them away, but just – there. “It’s alright, penguin, we can always come back to this another time. I’ll wait.”

Spencer’s face crumples and his breath hitches a little because- penguin. That’s the frankly ridiculous nickname you’ve been using for him ever since he apparently once looked like one, with that white scarf and knee-length black coat he wore during one of your cases where a blizzard surprised not only the team, but also the unsub. Spencer, like most of you, wasn’t prepared and thus, had to make do with what the helpful officers provided them with. And well, Spencer drew the penguin stick it seemed.

It’s ridiculous but sweet and it always makes him feel so loved, loved by you, because it’s adorable and theirs and he just loves it irrationally much, okay? And also, penguins are just really fascinating because-

“Did you know that most penguins live monogamously? The Emperor penguin is actually one of the only ones that mate seasonally, they only have one mate per breeding season. But most others have a mate for life, like, like swans and bald eagles.”

Before Spencer even opened his mouth, he was aware of the fact he was going to ramble on about some unimportant stuff. It’s always like this, it always feels like a breath he’s been holding in for too long, like an itch somewhere in his weird brain that only stops when he opens his mouth and infodumps and he cannot stop it. No matter how consciously he is telling himself to cut it out or screaming at himself to shut the fuck up you weirdo, it’s unavoidable. As soon as his brain latches onto a statistic or a fact it is reminded of, it’s an unstoppable force.

Like now. He is kicking himself. Why, oh why can’t he ever be normal? He feels himself flushing bright red from embarrassment and shame and frustration. He can’t believe he is rambling about birds while- while whatever the hell you two are doing right now. While in the middle of a conversation that started out with you confronting him about him seeing your nudes, jesus christ.

Spencer is about to suffocate himself with a pillow when you let out a graceless snort.

It confuses Spencer so much he lowers his hands to look at you and- oh.

Your eyes are shining with something that looks so close to what he would call affection, and it makes him want to bawl his eyes out and at the same time, smile so hard there’ll be laugh lines on his cheeks for the rest of the week.

“Well, that fits perfectly then”, you say, and Spencer doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean?”

You smile just a little wider, a little more teasingly but in a nice way, in a kind way and it leaves Spencer’s chest blooming with warmth.

“If you’re my penguin, I’ll be your penguin.”

Youryouryouryouryour-

Spencer feels entirely braindead. Only the fact that you called him yours registers. Because yes. Yes. Spencer is so yours he’d gladly let you make every decision for him from now on in his life and yes. That’s not exactly a very normal thing to think. Or to want. Spencer doesn’t care. He’s never felt normal about you for a day in his life and he definitely won’t start now.

“You- you mean- like, as, as mates?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust. “If you want to call us that, I think I’ll take back my offer.”

It punches a giggle out of Spencer, sudden and kind of light-headed. He watches your face break into a wide grin.

“But you- you’d like that?” You’d like me?

You pull a face, sniffing in a nonchalant way, direct your face to your nails in fake disinterest.

“Sure. Whatever.”

And Spencer can’t help himself. He sobs out a laugh- laughs out a sob or, whatever that weird noise he makes is, because you’re so ridiculous and he loves you more than anything in the world.

You roll your eyes, fondly, shake your head slightly.

“Of course, Spencer. I’d like that very much because I like you a very unnormal amount. Literally. On my knees, crying, screaming etcetera”, you say just like that, smiling just like that.

Spencer feels like he’s dreaming. He must be. There’s no other explanation for it. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you could like him. You. You’re so, so lovely and amazing and you deserve everything good in this world and Spencer is just. Spencer.

“You- you like me? Me?”, Spencer can’t hide the incredulous tone that seeps into his questions because you like him?

There’s no traces of humour in your eyes anymore. Your eyes look painfully honest, face suddenly serious, and it steals Spencer’s breath away.

You lean closer to him again, grabbing his hands with yours. Your gaze bores itself into his, intense and steady and he can’t look away. “Spencer. I know it’s- I know life has been hard on you for way too long. And that leaves its marks on you. That’s fine. It’s human. But. You do not deserve any less love because of that, do you understand me? Of course I like you, what isn’t there to like? You’re kind and funny and sweet and just so- Spencer. You’re so lovable and it kills me to know that you don’t see how you are so worthy of being loved.”

Oh.

You can’t just- can’t just say things like that and expect him to not cry a little. Can’t expect him to act completely nonchalant and cool about all of this when you say things like that to him. Are you trying to kill him? Because it sure does feel like that.

Spencer is so completely at a loss. He doesn’t know what to say to that- not to mention what to do. How do you always do this? How can you see straight to the hidden, bruised core of him, littered with all these ugly and bad things and. Just. Figure out what to say to strike him exactly there.

It should scare him, being known so deeply. It should, but it doesn’t because it’s you. You are warmth and acceptance like his favourite place in front of a fireplace, book in hand and rain gently knocking against windows. You are quiet mornings at work, you are soft rays of sunlight in his hair, you are gentle hands helping you up when you fall and bruise your knees. You are –

A touch to his cheek startles him. He opens his eyes – when did he close them? – to your fingers brushing some stray tears away, so softly as if he’s something precious, something to be held delicately. That thought sends new tears spilling down his cheek. He can’t believe this is affecting him so much, so completely he simultaneously feels like he is going to shatter and be stitched back together again.

He never knew he needed this so much.

“Sorry for making you cry, penguin. I didn’t think this discussion about my lack of nude etiquette would get this emotionally damaging”, you say, voice hushed in the big silence of the room, a small smile on your lips and eyes so kind.

Spencer snorts, despite himself. This has really been a very bizarre evening. He feels almost drunk on the weirdness of it all, on the rollercoaster that his emotions have ridden all evening. That’s probably why he does what he does next.

“Neither did I, especially after you interrupted me while I wa-“

Spencer shuts his mouth so fast he clicks his teeth together, eyes wide and suddenly horrified. He- what-

Why?

Why can’t Spencer ever keep his big mouth shut? Is he completely and utterly insane?

There’re alarm bells going off somewhere in Spencer’s head and a concerning warmth settling deep in his stomach when your grin takes on a slightly devilish edge, one he knows all too well and. And. Oh. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Why did he have to say that?

“After I interrupted you while?”, you prompt him, eyes electric and hot and oh god-

Spencer is so dumb. An idiot. Of the highest order. High IQ, where?

“Nothing”, he says, voice high-pitched and rushed and he curses himself and his ability to act everything else but nonchalant. He’d be the worst actor of all time.

“Spencer.”

The tone of your voice rearranges something in his neurons. He can feel himself sit up just that little bit straighter, can feel his mind buzz at the edges. He’s never felt like this before.

He loves it.

“Hmm?”, is all he gets out. Trouble, so much trouble.

Suddenly you’re standing up, away from him and Spencer wants to whine because you should stay there next to him, forever fixed to his side. He doesn’t have to despair long, because you take one of your knees and gently nudge his legs apart with it and okay. Okay. That definitely didn’t just send Spencer’s mind reeling. That wasn’t just totally the hottest thing that ever happened to him.

You slot yourself between his legs as if you own that space and. In his humble opinion, you do. You so do. Spencer is willing to give you a map of his entire body and a marker and tell you to please demarcate every part of him you want. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

He is looking up at you, at your burning eyes that still hold something so soft in them that makes the lump in his throat bigger again. And by god, Spencer just needs to hear you say it again-

“You like me?”

You move closer to him, lifting one hand and placing it underneath his chin. Your thumb traces along his jaw and Spencer feels like he is going to burst into a million embarrassed pieces.

“Yes”, you say simply, but the way you say it. Spencer can’t help but shiver and exhale shakily. He feels so warm, everywhere. His skin burns where your fingers are touching him. He never wants this to stop.

“You- You want me?”

Your hand grips his face a little stronger, your other fingers splaying over and down his throat and there’s a high noise coming from somewhere and there’s goosebumps on his body everywhere and oh, wait- it’s him. The noise. Well, how embarrassing but. He doesn’t care. Nope. Not at all.

…Okay maybe a little. His face feels warm, suddenly, warmer than the rest of him and yes. He’s blushing, okay?

“Spencer”, the way you say his name it- god, “I want you. I said it before, but. I will give you anything. Tell me what you want, Spencer, and you will get it from me.”

Your eyes are so dark and your voice so low and Spencer actually whines and. He’s hard again, so hard, because he didn’t come before and now, he’s even more pent-up and his thoughts are a mess, but you haven’t even touched him more than this and he’s already so worked up from you just saying these things to him-

“I want you”, Spencer pants, currently finding no other English words in the dictionary of his mind. And well. Emily was right about him. IQ slashed to zero when pretty person do thing.

He watches you take a deep breath, as if to steady yourself, as if this whole thing is affecting you as much as it affects him but that’s- ridiculous. Impossible. Because. Have you seen yourself?

“I know that, Spencer. But what do you want from me? Do you want me to kiss you?”, you ask, face suddenly so close to his Spencer feels your breath fan over his skin, and he whimpers because yes he wants that wants that- “Do you want me to touch you more?”, your other hand grabs his side, gentle but just a little bit roughly and Spencer is suddenly vividly reminded of the fact how strong you are and he feels kind of lightheaded-

“Do you want me to fuck you, Spencer?”

Spencer is going to pass out. And die. And moan and say, “Please yes yes yes”. Maybe not in that particular order.

“Okay, angel, anything you want”, you say, smiling softly at him as if he’s the best thing in the world and angel. Angel. Angel.

Before he’s even started to process you calling him angel, he sees a glint in your eyes, that edge in your smile again and before he knows what’s happening, you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing him and it’s- everything.

Your mouth is soft against his, and Spencer’s insides twist and flutter and his brain is kind of lagging behind, but he wants to be closerclosercloser-

It’s so good Spencer completely blanks on everything. There’s nothing in his mind except the feel of your lips moving against his. There’s no insecurity, no embarrassment tainting this moment even though this is literally like, only the sixth kiss or so of Spencer’s life and he has no idea what he is doing. But it’s so good.

A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him when you lick into his mouth and Spencer’s soul almost leaves his body. He feels you shudder where you are pressed together, chest to chest.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe against his lips, in between wet, hot, kisses. You rub your nose against his, eyes closed.

“Hmm?”, he hums, his voice somewhere in Canada or wherever. His mouth is too busy smiling so wide it hurts, anyways. No time for articulating anything.

“You’re amazing, Spencer, amazing.”

And he wants to shake his head, no, because the only one amazing here is you. But it’s impossible to disagree with you when your mouth has returned to his in a way that is probably ruining him for anyone else. (He’s okay with that.)

You peck him on the lips once, twice more, before you press your lips against his jaw, exactly where you had your fingers before. Your hands are basically the only thing holding Spencer up in a sitting position, because he feels like molten chocolate in your hands. Muscles apparently forgetting to do their job and well. Who can blame them? Spencer has stopped thinking in proper sentences the moment you had walked into his life, so. Only a matter of time until you broke the rest of him as well.

You kiss his neck and Spencer gasps. It’s really been a hot minute - three years, one hundred, twenty-one days and twenty hours to be exact – the last time he made out with someone. Everything feels heightened on his heated skin, especially you opening your mouth against him and licking him oh god-

It almost feels like a reward when you gently bite at his skin next. Spencer almost screams.

“So good, so so good for me”, he hears you whisper into the skin of his neck and this time, Spencer does make a noise. Because yes. He wants that. Be good for you. That’s the only thing in his fuzzy mind that feels clear, that feels graspable.

He can see your pupils dilate. Can see the wicked lilt to your lips. “You like being good for me, don’t you, angel?”

ANGEL. Spencer is nodding his head before he knows he does so. “Yes, yes.”

“Fuck”, he hears you breathe against him and it’s strange, seeing the effect he has on you. Did really he do that? “I can’t believe how incredible you are, sweetheart.”

And you need to stop. If you keep calling Spencer these things- he’s pretty sure he won’t survive this. The team would need to find another genius to solve cases with. His cactus Greg would dry out and wilt and die. You and Penelope would need to find another victim to send confusing memes to.

“Did you like my pictures, Spencer?”, you then ask and that’s so not fair. You can’t just ask him that while he’s so utterly in your hands that he’s sure he’d tell you about every little fantasy he’s had about you ever if you asked.

Because Spencer wants to be good, feels that need so deeply in his bones, he nods frantically. “Yes, I- I liked them.”

At the same time the words leave his mouth, something feels wrong. There’s an ugly thing twisting in his stomach, so unpleasant it momentarily occludes the high-octane bliss-fuzz fogging up his mind.

You notice the shift in mood almost immediately. “What’s wrong, angel?”

And well. It’s just- that guilt. Of not saying anything to you about Spencer seeing your nudes, of just ogling you like that without your permission. That wasn’t very good of him. Actually, the opposite. He’s been bad and he hates that. Hates that so severely that there’s suddenly tears on his cheeks and oh no. That’s mortifying. Who cries before sex? Jesus Christ he’s such a virgin it is genuinely embarrassing.

“I’m- I’m sorry”, he stutters, a little bit hysterical, creating distance between you, arms slung around himself, “I should’ve, should’ve said something, I’m so so sorry, I’m the worst friend and now I’m- I’m crying, oh god, I’m so sorry-“

“Hey, hey hey whoa. Spencer, darling. Penguin. Look at me, please?”

But he shakes his head. He doesn’t deserve to look at you again. What was he even thinking? He was- so creepy and now- now-

Two warm hands grab his face and then Spencer is looking into your eyes again. He squeezes his own shut, but all that it does is send more tears spilling over his cheeks and he’s so fucking stupid-

“Baby, please.”

Spencer sobs.

Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. That’s the best thing he has ever heard but he doesn’t deserve these things.

“Of course you deserve it, silly goose”, you say and oh. He’s said that out loud.

Your thumbs brush over his cheeks and Spencer can’t not lean into your touch, despite everything. Because that’s just the way it always is. He’s drawn to your warmth and tenderness like a moon revolves around its planet.

“I thought we’d established that it was an accident? And if it was someone’s fault, then mine, because no password, remember?”

Spencer opens his eyes. The deep affection swimming in yours makes him sob again. He’s a mess. A crying, horny mess and Spencer definitely fucked this up. Why does Spencer always ruin the few good things in his life?

“Spencer, Spencer. Hey. It’s okay, I promise you. We wouldn’t be doing this, if it wasn’t, okay?”, you kiss his nose. “Do you want to lay down, maybe?”

He nods, not really thinking clearly. He moves up the bed, under the covers and curls up on his side. He waits for you to get up from the bed, for you to walk over to the door and leave. To say that this was a mistake, he was a mistake. To say that you take back everything you said to him in the last half hour.

He’s not just a little surprised to feel your weight dip the mattress, to feel even more sudden warmth engulf him when you spoon him from behind. You start tracing swirly patterns over the skin of his arm and he feels goosebumps spread all over his body.

Some minutes tick by, you still holding him, when his tears have finally dried up. He doesn’t remember crying so much in one day. Spencer feels miserable.

“Do you still like me?”, he asks, and yes, it’s pathetic and stupid but. He doesn’t care if you never have sex or if you’re not going to be more than his friend now. Because the thought of you not being in his life in any capacity anymore- just no.

He can feel you freeze and take in a sharp breath. “Wha- Spencer. Of course, I still like you. I don’t care what we do, I just want to be with you. In any way you’ll have me.”

You sound so understanding and sincere and actually confused about his fear as if you’d never even think of not liking him anymore and and and-

And something in him just- snaps. He wants you, needs you so much he’s going to die if he doesn’t-

He shuffles and turns in your arms until he’s face to face with you. You look at him, eyebrow raised in question but so beautiful and lovely and you still like him-

“I want you so bad”, he says and then he presses his lips against yours again.

You respond immediately, low moan escaping you and Spencer is greedy, he wants to hear more, feel more, feel everything with you.

He’s kissing you as if he’s going to die if he ever stopped, which, yes, he absolutely would, and you kiss him back as if you can’t live without him. It makes everything become hazy again, like before, and every bad feeling suddenly feels eons away. Like he’s underwater, floaty and relaxed. Safe, he feels safe in the way you kiss him and hold him. Like you always do.

You move your kisses to his neck, sucking and biting and Spencer is moaning and moaning and can’t stop and then suddenly, you’re gone, what –

“Spencer, Spencer, wait”, you pant, out of breath and flushed and he wants to cry again, “Sorry, sorry I just-“

You frame his face in your hands, a little bit roughly. “I’m so sorry for making this so hard, you’re being so good for me, but Spencer. Have you done this before?”

Somewhere in the fog that is his minds, Spencer finds his voice. It’s high and airy but he doesn’t care. “No, no, I haven’t.”

He watches you take a deep breath, feels your fingers digging into his skin a little bit more.

“Tell me. Do you want this, Spencer?”, your voice is shaking as if you need to keep yourself in check and Spencer can’t believe he’s getting to see you like this.

“Yes”, he says because he can’t ever want anything else, and, “Please make me feel good.”

You inhale sharply, your grip on his face bordering on painful. “Spencer, you’re incredible, amazing, the best- I’ll make you feel good, okay? I’ll make you feel so good because you deserve it.”

“Yes”, Spencer is not ashamed of how whiny he sounds. No. He’s owning it now. This is his thing now, okay? He’ll gladly be your pathetic wet cat, or whatever the term was that you sometimes use to describe him with. Whatever it even means.

“Good”, you grin, and then you push on his shoulder hard and he’s on his back. And you. Sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of him. Straddling him exactly where he wants you most and he exhales a needy ‘ah’. His hypothesis of liking being manhandled is… yet to be disproven. He’s discovering so many things about himself today.

Pleasure radiates in waves from where you’re passively giving pressure to his hard cock and yeah okay. This is good. Amazing. He’s never felt better. But-

“Please.”

“Please what, angel?”

“More?”

“More what?”

Your fingers trailing along his throat and jaw, down his chest and teasing ghost-like over his nipples are not really helpful in finding the right words to what he wants. You take pity on him.

“More touch?”

Spencer nods his head, so fast he almost gets dizzy because he’s at that point again where everything feels liquid, hazy, a little bit unreal. So, speaking is already quite the task.

You smile at him as if he just solved the most difficult equation. “Doing so good, Spencer. Incredible.”

He moans. Okay. Another hypothesis to add to his ever-growing list of scientific discoveries today.

“Where do you want touch, Spencer? Here?”, there’s hands in his hair. He shakes his head.

“Hmm… Here?”, fingers drawing circles on his chest and yes, that feels nice, so nice but he wants-

“Here?”, you ground your hips down and jesus-

“Yes!”, Spencer almost chokes on the sound. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he whimpers. “Please.”

You exhale shakily, looking flush. “Okay. Because you ask so nicely.” There’re two little taps on his lower stomach through his shirt. “Do you want to take this off first? Or no?”

The way you give him the chance to say no- the way you respect his autonomy so deeply-

It’s basic human decency, yes, but it’s also the hottest thing and Spencer feels so valued and understood and safe that he’s not even hesitating when he mutters a quiet yes.

You help him sit up because he’s currently not really heir over his body like he usually is. Help his head out of the shirt and thread his arms out. And then, he’s half naked in front of you and suddenly, the doubt and insecurity that’ve been so quiet so far are back with a vengeance.

The urge to cover himself is so big it’s impossible to stop his arms from wrapping around himself.

Spencer knows he’s not ugly. He’s not that bad looking actually. Can’t be too bad if Morgan keeps insisting on calling him pretty boy, even though Spencer sometimes still has the sneaking suspicion that he’s teasing him. But his friend wouldn’t be so cruel.

But other people like to be. Pipe-cleaner, leek, straw, big-eyes. He’s heard it all before. He has matured enough and grown into himself so that these things don’t bother him like they used to. But still. Still. These things are arduous to scrub from under his skin.

Your gaze on him though- he’s never felt so, cleaned from all of these mean words before. You look- you look reverent while mapping his skin and maybe that’s the reason why he lowers his arms again.

“Spencer. You’re a dream”, you say, almost in trance. Almost as if you’re hypnotized by him, and he’s flushing. But. Being watched so intently, being admired like that. He feels his dick give an indigent twitch against your clothed core. Another thing for the list.

“So impatient”, you tut and Spencer flushes more. He thinks he’s waited long enough for this. But he doesn’t say that. If you stopped now- he would definitely combust spontaneously.

You lean down, over him. Hands trailing along his sides like you did earlier, but without any clothes between your skin and his. It’s almost too much. And not enough. He feels electrified, where you touch him. His heart is hammering against his ribs so hard you must be able to feel it. His stomach is in knots, fluttery. He’s never felt more alive.

You connect your lips to his throat, placing kiss after kiss along the arched length of it. Follow the same path with your tongue and Spencer whines, curves up against you a little. Everything feels so good Spencer is floating in it.

You shift your attention to his collarbones next, kissing but then gently biting and Spencer feels the indents of your teeth all the way through to his back and he hopes, wants, you to sink them into him so deep they’ll leave marks. So that he carries the evidence of this with him for the rest of this case, so that there’s absolutely no more doubt to who he belongs to. That thought alone makes him whimper, makes him feel that tiny little bit more lost in you.

You start kissing along his chest, down his stomach. Open mouthed, wet kisses and Spencer shivers when the places you put them feel cold after because of your spit. The lower you get, the noisier he becomes and at one point, Spencer would’ve been embarrassed. Well, he kind of is, but he’s also so turned on that the embarrassment doesn’t feel as stifling like usual. Rather, in a weird way, it makes everything hotter, and he does not own enough brain capacity right now to decipher that. But he does add it to the list.

When your face is dangerously close to the waistband of his pyjama, Spencer tenses, holds his breath. Being shirtless is one thing, but… well.

“It’s okay, Spencer. We only do as much as you feel comfortable with”, you murmur, giving a small peck to the left of his belly button. You calmingly follow his sides with your hands, smiling at him with so much affection in your eyes that Spencer feels speechless, breathless, until the tension releases his muscles again and he melts into the sheets.

“’m just…”, he tries, he really tries so hard to tell you that he wants this more than anything he’s ever wanted but that he just feels… insecure.

You kiss his stomach again. “How about we only take off the pyjama? For now? If you want to take off your underwear too later, we can still do that.”

That… that’s actually a good idea. So, he nods.

“Words, angel.”

“Yes, yes. That’s- good.”

You look so proud of him. “You’re so good, Spencer. Perfect.”

He moans embarrassingly loud. He really should be more concerned about this. About how you are basically pulling him apart, thread by thread and he just lets you, willingly. How you know which threads to pull to reduce him to a sweaty mess in what felt like 0.2 seconds.

There’s a finger dipping beneath the waistband, moving back and forth along the newly exposed skin. Your eyes watch him intently, almost predator-like. A question is in there somewhere as well and Spencer nods again.

You help him lift his hips, help him pull down the pants. Spencer is kind of busy kicking his legs a little to shake them off completely but when he looks back and down himself to where you are hyper-focused on the outline of his cock through the thin fabric he blushes.

Even more when he notices the big, dark blue splotch in front of his underwear. That’s definitely never happened before. How embarrassing.

When you look up at him again, you’re also flushed. Eyes dark, wide, voice kind of unsteady. “Spencer, Spencer, can I?”

“Please”, and then you palm him with your hand, and it feels so good it takes all of his concentration to not come on the spot. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive this until you arrive to the main thing.

It’s not the first time someone has touched him like that, but it is the first time you are doing it, and it already feels better than anything he’s ever felt before. You’re either a wizard or Spencer is just biased because he thinks everything you do is ten times better than the same thing done by someone else.

Probably the first reason.

He has his head angled back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes. If he looked at you now, he’s pretty sure, he’d come. Visual stimulation on top of physical would probably be the end of him. It’s already too much, just feeling your hand move up and down his dick in various pressures. Almost as if you are testing what he likes best, and Spencer is definitely here for it. Definitely. He’s happy to just let you experiment with him until you know all the different ways to drive him mad with pleasure with just a few moves.

Which, you apparently already figured out, judging by the way Spencer can’t form a single coherent thought anymore. It’s already, so good, so freaking good holy shit, and you’re still not touching him. Still a layer of fabric between your hand and him and he kind of- just-

“Take it off?”

You still your hand, looking up at him. You look kind of crazed, almost a little pained. It takes two deep breaths for you to process what he just asked, eyes a little unfocused before they fix Spencer to the bed with an intensity that makes him feel unfocused. “You sure, angel?”

Spencer literally can’t do anything but nod. You stay in your position for some moments longer, before you sigh out a long breath, mumbling something that suspiciously resembles you’re gonna be the death of me. Spencer misses your warmth on top of him the second you hoist yourself up. It’s kind of crazy and destitute of him. You are literally right there but he’s waited for this for so long it feels like he’s suffocating without your weight pressing him down. Which is ironic and also, insane.

Your fingers are gentle, when they move under the stretchy fabric of his underwear. Even gentler when they pull down and down and down until Spencer is entirely naked in front of you.

Oh, he feels so exposed. While he has been the recipient of a mediocre hand job before, it’s been in his trousers. This is kind of the first time someone sees him naked like that, because school locker rooms and his mother don’t count.

He doesn’t dare look at you. If there’s anything akin to disappointment, not to mention disgust on your face- Spencer probably would have to jump out the window, stat. His gaze is frozen on his cock, steadily leaking precum on his stomach (which, embarrassing). He’s abashedly trying to insert himself into your point of view, tries to imagine what you think about seeing him like this. What you might think about his dick, if it’s too short or too thin or if it looks weird, if he should’ve shaved. If his legs look strange and too gangly now, or if his stomach connects to his pubic area wrong or-

“Holy shit”, you say, and Spencer is too curious for his own damn good sometimes, because he can’t force his gaze to stay away from you.

You look at him- like before. Reverent but more, so much more. He almost feels like a deity, the way you look at him. Someone to be awed by, someone that should be worshipped. Spencer feels his already in overdrive heartbeat quicken even more, blood flushing his cheeks so much it leaks down his throat, to his chest.

Spencer would literally kill to have you look at him like this for the rest of his life.

“Holy shit, Spencer”, you repeat, eyes now meeting his, “You’re like- a literal fucking dream. I cannot believe- you’re so beautiful, how are you so beautiful everywhere?”

Spencer whimpers and he needs you to touch him kiss him fuck him anything please now or he will absolutely die from heart palpitations.

Some of his despairing thoughts must’ve come through to you, because the next thing you do is moan, which is the best thing he’s ever heard. Then, you take off your sweater. Second to go is your cropped tank top and you aren’t wearing a bra and good heavens.

Pictures could never compare. Not even Botticelli could’ve adequately committed you to canvas.

Spencer must’ve taken some brain damage from seeing you half naked. He doesn’t remember you taking off the remainder of your clothes, nor does he remember you straddling him again. But, fuck.

Spencer kind of doesn’t use the f-word that often but-

fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-

You’re warm against him, and wet, so freaking wet, and it feels so mind-blowingly good- it’s a miracle he’s still holding on. But-

“Won’t last long”, he gets out, breathy and whiny and just so goddamn fuzzy from pleasure. The world could literally perish right now, and he wouldn’t care. He can’t care, because this is the best thing that ever happened to him and he won’t ever care about anything else ever again other than feeling you, you you you you, against him.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe, gasp, and fuck, the way you keep using his name. “Are you okay? Do you still want this?”

It’s ridiculous you even ask. But the warmth in his chest, the feeling of comfort and safety and ease – because everything with you is so easy, so natural - he feels with the way you look after him-

He feels your thumbs caressing his wet cheeks. You put small, sweet kisses all over his face. Take the time to brush away some of his sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. Place kisses there too. You end with a drawn out, gentle kiss to his lips.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

There’s really only one way for him to answer that. He trusts you. Plain and simple. There’s no one else he could ever do this with.

“Yes, I want. Please.”

You kiss him again. “So good Spencer, you’re so fucking good to me. I can’t believe you are trusting me with this. You are incredible, angel.”

Spencer doesn’t know how it’s anatomically possible, but he blushes even harder. Also, feels his cock twitch against you because he apparently likes to be called good almost as much as he likes being good. For you. Only you. Jesus Christ.

“Do you have a condom?”, you ask and ah. Well.

“Suitcase”, and wow. First word with more than one syllable since you straddled him the first time. He’s being so brave right now. He deserves a medal. Proof of Being Able to Speak Polysyllabic Words While Getting Fucked (Almost).

There’s humour glistening in your eyes, when you hide a fake gasp behind your hand and say, “Oh my god, Spencer you dog. Can’t believe you planned this entire thing.”

Spencer almost chokes on his own spit. “N-no! I just- uh, like being prepared.”

You grind down a snort, drive your teeth into your lower lip. “In case you accidentally saw your coworker’s nudes and them being down to fuck you about it?"

Oh my god, you’re the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. He can’t stop himself from grinning because seeing you trying to keep your laughter at bay-

“Yes. That.”

“But what if- what if it was Rossi instead of you seeing them? How would’ve your plan worked out then, huh?”, you wheeze, shaking from literal suppressed laughter and Spencer makes a sound like a dying horse.

“Rossi? Rossi?”

“Oh my god, imagine it would’ve been Hotch. He would’ve probably fired me so hard and then called me a week later to disappointed-dad-talk me to come back but to please, refrain from bringing personal files to work in the future.”

Spencer laughs. He’s still rock-hard underneath you, but he’s laughing because that’s what you always do. Being so absurd and silly that he’s shocked to laughter.

He adores you with every fibre of his being.

“What the fuck?”, you ask, incredulous but laughing yourself, “Is my misery amusing to you?”

And Spencer feels like being a little bit of a brat. “Very.”

You flick his nose. Grumble something like I’ll show you misery and then you move your hips against his and Spencer sees stars. Let’s out an embarrassingly high whine.

Ah well. It was still worth it.

“Don’t move”, you order, when you climb down from him to retrieve a condom. Spencer watches you, lets himself look at you. All the times he’s wondered how it would be, how it would feel like, being in this kind of situation with you. He’s never in a million years thought it would feel so familiar. Like you’ve done this before, so many times that it’s just become something normal between you two. He’s actually relaxed. So turned on it feels like he’s going to burst any second, but he’s calm. He feels comfortable, so much so that it doesn’t even matter that it’s the first time he’s doing this and he’s so clueless about all of this.

But he knows, if it’s with you, he never ever has to worry about anything.

“Do you have lube as well?”, you ask, rifling through his suitcase and distracting him from his sappy thoughts.

“Hmm. No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, angel”, you say while returning to Spencer, and the nickname kind of switches something off again in his brain. Perfect. He’s never going to be able to be normal again about that word.

“We’ll have to get some, for next time. Always feels better with it.”

Spencer hasn’t really registered more than next time next time next time-

He’s pulled out of his daze of knowing your intentions of this not only being a one-off thing, when you straddle him again, a bit lower on his legs. Spencer moans, loud and high, when you grab him by the base and god, fuck, his skin is tingling with anticipation.

With your other hand, you grab the condom and then use your teeth to open the packet, and his cock jumps in your hand. How are you so hot. How does everything you do turn him on so much, what.

He watches you take out the plastic ring as if he’s watching from above, out of his body. He watches as you position the condom over his tip and then pull it down, down and Spencer’s brain must be lagging because he feels everything with at least a two second delay and shit, god, son of a-

“You ready, baby?”

He makes a noise between a sob and a whine. He’s losing his mind. “Please please please-“

“Fuck, Spencer”, you whine, lift yourself up a bit with your legs and then you are sinking down on him, inch by agonizing inch.

It’s so good, it’s so good, you are so warm, so hot, and Spencer can’t stop making noises until your hips are flush to his and he’s inside you.

You let out a loud, drawn-out moan above him. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer. You feel so fucking good, holy shit.”

He feels like he’s one move away from coming. God, oh god, it feels so incredible.

“Can I move? Spencer, please?”, your voice is wrecked, you’re flushed down to your navel, and you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Please please please please”, it’s the only word he remembers how to pronounce.

“Fuck”, you almost sob, lifting yourself almost completely off him. You lower yourself back down again, one swift move, and you both moan.

You pick up the pace a little, fucking him with still languid but purposeful thrusts. Every time his cock sinks back into you, Spencer feels bits and pieces of his sanity crumbling away. He can’t think, can’t speak, his mind so fogged up and fuzzy he’s having troubles remembering who he is. He’s so completely at your mercy he’d let you do anything to him.

That turns him on a worryingly huge amount. List, something about a list somewhere.

“Oh, god, look at you. Spencer, baby, angel. You feel so good inside of me, so good.”

He keens, grabs at your strong thighs bracketing his slim hips. Arches up into you, closerclosercloser-

“You like being good for me, right angel?”, you ask, hips slowing down to a gentle grinding that absolutely drives Spencer insane and he’s too far gone to even nod, “It suits you. Being so wrecked for me, moaning and shaking. God, fuck, you’re divine, Spencer, fuck.”

The pressure behind his cock, low in his stomach, that’s been building all evening, all week, holy shit, it’s too much. Spencer feels delirious, feels your hotness around him, feels your hands pressing his chest down into the bed. He’s going to die it feels so good.

“You going to come for me, Spencer? You gonna be good for me and come inside of me?”

Please please please please- it’s all he can think, all he can feel, because because-

You give a particularly hard thrust and-

Spencer’s coming, moaning and moaning, shaking everywhere. He’s coming and it feels so good, so fucking good. He’s never come so hard in his life before.

He might have blacked out a little. The next time he’s aware of something, it’s you cleaning him with a wet washcloth. Slow, and gentle and Jesus.

“What?”, is the first thing he manages to say, and you snicker beside him. You caress his face, hand running through his hair, down his chest. Peck his lips. You’re both still naked.

“Feeling good?”, you ask and what kind of question even is that. You just fucked the soul from his body, and you ask him-

“I almost died”, he says, tagging your name at the end with an incredulous tint to it.

You snort, setting the washcloth on the nightstand behind you. You lie down close to him, cuddling into his side. “That was the plan.”

“Killing me with sex?”

“Yep. That’s for ogling my nudes without my permission, you creep.”

He says your name again, exasperated but so fucking fond it’s a miracle you’ve never noticed his pining before. You shrug, pull a ‘what can you do face’. Spencer rolls his eyes and then, unceremoniously, flops on top of you.

“Uffff”, you press out. “You’re smothering me, penguin.”

Spencer shrugs and copies the expression you just did. You bark out a laugh.

“Ha! Didn’t know post-sex Spencer is such a cheeky little shit. I’ve created a monster.”

He can’t entirely control his face, some parts of a smile slipping into his features. He does manage to poke out his tongue at you though, before he buries his face in your neck.

Some minutes tick by, you both enjoying the other’s presence and warmth and idleness, before something in his brain-

“Wait-“, Spencer splutters, pushing himself away from you so that he can look at you. “Did you- did you even finish?”

He’s kind of horrified. He was so focused on his pleasure- he- how did he forget? He doesn’t remember you coming and oh no, he’s such an asshole, who doesn’t make sure the other person has come as well and-

“Spencer, Spencer”, you shush him, fingers trailing along his back, and he shivers, eyes rolling back.

“I made myself come right after, don’t worry. You were kind of busy in your post-orgasm, pussy-drunk coma.”

Spencer flushes. “But I wanted to…”

You laugh softly. “You can do whatever to me, next time, sweets. This was about you. We’ll go on a date as soon as we’re back home. Fucking Florida is driving me nuts.”

Oh, he suddenly feels shy. A date? You want to go on a date with him?

“Really?”, he asks, and he hates how insecure he sounds.

You send him an unbelieving look. “Uh, what about the last hour makes you think otherwise? Seriously, Spencer, we need to work on your confidence.”

“Okay”, he mutters, a little bit pout-y and you scoff, pulling him down on top of your chest again.

There, with your hands painting patterns on his back and him completely lost in your warmth and familiarity, Spencer thinks that maybe, Florida isn’t that bad.

Bonus

“So, then. Made any scientific discoveries last night, pretty boy?”

Spencer chokes on his coffee.

“What?”

“Nothing”, his ‘friend’ says, smirking and leaning against his table, “You just seem to have figured out that little problem that’s been keeping that pretty head of yours all messed up.”

Spencer feels himself flush. Stupid body and stupid involuntary, physiological reactions. Morgan picks up on it, of course.

“Ohhhhh, want to share with the class what those discoveries were?”

Briefly, so very briefly, Spencer thinks of his self-compiled list but- no no no no.

“Shut up, Morgan.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @wasitforrevenge @wannabewolf @tommorecommendedfics @winterhi09 @theoraekenslover @chaewondrful @okeyhoezayy @busy-buzzing @laurakirsten0502 @redros3y @trashxqueen @kitty-kei @so-long-daisymay @hayleythecannibal @jsnsnsnszjzj @reeidsluv @kayane28 @moonysreid @desperately-seeking-serotonin @munsonslunchbox @tul1p-mimi @anuttellaa @pinkgomie @elizabethmidnight2017 @evrmorets @cyanidebitsg @bangchansdog @pinterestwhore145 @some-one-yiu-dont-kno @emma-e-a

i hope these work lmao, also let me know if you wanna be on my eternal tag list for any future Spencer fic ;)

#tinywrites #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader fanfic #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #tinywrites:accidents #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #criminal minds x reader

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ikeuverse · 4 months ago

Text

I HATE YOU — l.heeseung

PAIRING: best friend's brother!heeseung x fem!reader GENRES: fluff, humor, smut WC: 10.7k+

WARNINGS: lots of swearing, arguments, mention of drinking, parties. reports of sex scenes, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex (use caution and protection).

SYNOPSIS: you and your best friend's brother hated each other, almost as a matter of course between the two of you. but something changes when you wake up in his bed at the weekend.

NOTES: i think this story has been in my subconscious for so long, idk why it took me so long to write it. it smells a lot like heeseung to me, so nothing was more fitting than doing it for him. i hope you like it!

masterlist

The rule of life is clear when you have a best friend and she has an older brother. Either you fall in love with him, or you don't get along with him and you both hate each other. In your case, more specifically, the second option would fit like a perfect glove. It was like a combo in your background to be best friends with Dahyun, and hate Heeseung, her brother. Not that you'd do it alone, he contributed to every ounce of your body boiling with rage for him.

As if he had been born to unleash the purest feeling of rage in your heart just by entering the room and breathing. But it wasn't as if you nurtured that alone either. Heeseung had the same great anger towards you because, according to him, it was because of you that Dahyun stopped being the innocent little girl she was.

It wasn't a good excuse compared to the times he'd taken you seriously. Still, even so, Heeseung felt angry just being in your presence and knowing that you went to his house and he couldn't do anything but make you angry until he heard you swear at him or try to throw something in his direction. Dahyun was the balance bridge to try to maintain an ounce of harmony between the two of you while you were all together, although it was almost impossible to maintain a pleasant atmosphere whenever you and Heeseung were in the same environment. Which was practically all day long.

There wasn't a single moment when you could get rid of him or he of you, because unfortunately – or fortunately – you were Dahyun's best friend. You met her before you even knew that your best friend had a completely asshole brother. He swore that Dahyun having a friendship would be a quiet thing because she was never one to have many friends. Heeseung would be lying to say that he wasn't looking forward to meeting the first person his younger sister had befriended after entering university.

He just didn't expect you to be introduced to him when Dahyun had her first binge at the frat party, with you holding her hair and introducing yourself as her best friend.

So it's this crazy girl who's my sister's friend? Heeseung's anger may have started first, but you certainly felt it more intensely as the months went by.

Heeseung always found you with Dahyun at insane moments, like the pool party where you lent your best friend your most revealing bikini. That night you threw him into the pool because you two argued, but before you could regret it, he pulled you in with him, getting you wet before you could show off your hours of hard work to maintain the beautiful, wavy hair that took so long to make.

War had been declared, and at every party you and Heeseung attended, something always happened to emphasize how the two of you couldn't stay on the same radar and in the same environment for so long.

Not this last time.

The remnants of last night invaded your mind like a little dream, where you knew it was far from a fantasyland. Friday night was party day at some frat house or at some rich person's house who could afford to buy drinks for a bunch of horny, partying college kids. You and Dahyun always went together, because at the end of the night, you would sleep at her house. And of course that happened. You just didn't expect to be in another Lee's bed.

You took a deep breath after you realized what had happened, remembering the exact moment when you argued with Heeseung. Nothing new for the two of you. But that night something seemed different about the way you and he argued about absolutely everything, like the amount of drink he poured himself. Or how you had accepted a drink from a guy who had handed you a glass because he was going to play and didn't want to drink anymore, Heeseung had scolded you for being reckless and, even if you were, if that had made him angry, then you had done the right thing.

But why were his eyes dark and shiny when he cornered you in the kitchen to swear at you? And why did you lean too far towards him when he tried to take the glass from your hand? The reason was canonized at that moment, with you wrapped in Heeseung's sheets.

The memory of his lips pressing down hard on yours to shut you up, your body almost turning to porridge when he softened to kiss you properly. And why on earth did you give in? Why did you kiss him back looking like you needed it? Your mind knew you did, but never, under any circumstances, would the two of you say that that need was blatant and that you were both waiting for what had happened.

Your thoughts were soon interrupted when a weight slid around your waist. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you close. You effortlessly felt Heeseung's chest pressing against your back. Your whole body stiffened for a few seconds but relaxed – without any explanation – when his hand rested on your stomach and his breath hit the back of your neck.

That breath you felt against your lips after he kissed you, as he whispered one last curse when he took you to his car and then brought you to his house. Heeseung's breath against your skin with every touch he made, with every kiss, sent shivers down your spine. You didn't want to think about the effects he had caused in just one night, while all those months later the only thing you felt for him was anger and disgust. But no, last night it was anything but that that you felt for each other.

You began to wonder how you were going to get out of there. Or worse, how you were going to bump into Dahyun and explain to her that, strangely enough, you had ended up in her brother's bed. It couldn't have been an accident because neither of you got drunk enough to blame it on alcohol, so what? What would you say when asked why you slept with Heeseung?

An involuntary sigh left your lips when he moved again, pressing you a little closer and nestling his face in the crook of your neck. Inhaling all your scent as if it were normal and he'd done it a million times before.

“It's not possible that you're actually doing this” your voice came out without thinking, not at all cordial or subtle as he continued to inhale your scent. You wanted to curse yourself even more as soon as you heard Heeseung's morning laugh. Rude, low, a real sin for your poor body that was processing everything that was still going on.

“What? I don't even get a good morning?” he asked in the same tone as the laugh and every word coming out of his mouth was truly a sin. You'd seen Heeseung after waking up countless times, but it wasn't as if you saw him seconds later as was happening now. Usually, it was a while later, his voice was normal at least, although his face was puffy from sleep and his hair slightly mussed. But it was nothing compared to what you were hearing at that moment.

“You're an idiot, you little shit” your hand went over his hand that was still on your stomach, trying to pull it away “I hate you, now let me go.”

As expected, Heeseung did the opposite of what you asked. Pulling you closer to him and, with the strength he was holding you with, he managed to turn you around and make your body face him.

“You hated moaning my name last night” he smiled with half-lidded eyes “Now why are you playing hard to get?” there was the Heeseung you remembered hating, even though he was so hot in a sleepy, lazy way. You held back with your hands to pull his face in and kiss him, messing up his hair even more and getting lost in those lips that were claimed as yours last night.

“Because—” your voice died right there, you had no answer to that. You didn't know why you were playing hard to get after having slept with him of your own free will.

The victorious smile on Heeseung's lips made you slap his chest, feeling the skin beneath your fingers. Remembering how you touched him and how he felt every shiver go through him every time your fingers slid across him and interspersed with your nails. Heeseung knew that some part of his body was marked by you, but he honestly didn't care.

Your eyes rolled down as soon as you noticed that he was shirtless, looking under the covers as much as you could. He wasn't wearing anything over it and didn't even seem to care about covering his chest when your eyes locked on the spot, your hands still gripping his chest ready to slap it again in case any silly jokes were made. But your face heated up when you noticed that, if he wasn't wearing a T-shirt, you were wearing his.

Heeseung noticed the way you recorded it all, and although it was amusing, he remembered how hot you had looked after putting on his T-shirt to sleep. With nothing underneath, just his clothes covering the curves of your body that he touched, kissed, and marked. And he'd be a dead man if he confessed that he wanted to do it all over again.

“You didn't like wearing my shirt?” he asked, breaking the silence that had settled between the two of you “Just take it off, I remember you're not wearing anything underneath anyway.”

“I hate you!” you let out a shriek, hitting him in the chest again before pulling the covers off your body so you could get out of bed in search of your clothes.

“Right, if it makes you sleep better at night, then I hate you too” he muttered, rolling his body across the bed to lie where you had been seconds before. Secretly smelling your scent on his pillow, as you searched for your clothes on his bedroom floor at that moment.

Hearing about the fine line between modern and contemporary art history was wonderful for you, one of your favorite classes. The grace with which the professor explained it so passionately, highlighting important points that you made a point of writing down in your notebook with a lilac-colored pen that Dahyun had lent you at the beginning of the class. It took up most of your thoughts from the moment you arrived on campus, taking your focus away from the fact that a few days ago you were lying on Heeseung's bed. And now you were sitting next to his sister sharing one of your classes.

Your thoughts traveled to another subject now… Did Dahyun know that you and Heeseung had had sex? It wouldn't be something to hide from your best friend, having heard from her a few times that the two of you had some kind of repressed hard-on. Of course, that made you and Heeseung even angrier, but it turned out to be true last weekend.

Dahyun was right, after all, and you didn't want her to be. Or did you?

“Y/n” she called your name in a whisper, making you turn your head to face her “The boys are waiting for us in the study room, do you want to go now or do you want to stop by for coffee?”

Back to the normal schedule where you would have to live with Heeseung and try to put aside what had happened between the two of you. Or at least try to. Carry on with your routine and chores and not pay attention to him like you always did.

Class ended and you felt your body dragging alongside Dahyun through the corridors to the campus cafeteria. It wasn't a long way, but dividing your energy between the class and the thoughts that flooded your mind had left you tired. The salted caramel coffee you always ordered might have some effect on your body right now.

And you were more than right.

After paying for the drink and some treats, the straw rolled around your lips as you sipped the drink that was your comfort. You could hear Dahyun's laughter every time the taste of coffee impregnated your tongue and you moaned with satisfaction. The whole way to the study room was filled with these moments that the two of you shared as you sipped your drinks and tried to balance the takeaway bags.

“Am I seeing a mirage or did you bring food?” Jay almost knelt to thank you and Dahyun when you entered the study room.

“Are you guys hungry or something?” she asked, stepping in front and placing the bag of food on the small table around some cushioned armchairs.

“Our class finished early and someone forgot to stop by the convenience store” Sunghoon sat down on the floor, legs crossed and his face almost shoved into one of the bags to look for something that interested him. Finding a filled brownie, he took it without asking permission, even though he didn't need to.

“He's in over his head, isn't he?” Jake nudged Heeseung, who had been quiet the whole time since you and Dahyun arrived.

Looking at your best friend, you saw her sit down next to Jake as if it were something mechanized as if she had to be there without any kind of effort. It was cute how close the two of them always were. But your mind went into overdrive because as she sat next to him, the only seat left was next to Heeseung.

“What?” he asked, shaking his body at the slight shock Jake had caused him. Adjusting his posture in the armchair, Heeseung swallowed as soon as he felt a weight next to him, indicating that you had sat there.

“You forgot to stop by the convenience store to pick up some food” Jay grumbled “What are you thinking, man? You haven't answered us since you came to class today.”

Playing the misunderstood had been a mutual agreement with everyone in the room. They had seen you and Heeseung leave together, but if neither of you had mentioned anything, none of them would do it. Playing the game of not knowing anything about you and him was the best thing. At least until that moment.

“I'm just sleepy, don't fight me” Heeseung grumbled, stretching more than usual so that he could annoy you, as he had done ever since the two of you met. He could hear you taking a deep breath next to him, holding back a little so as not to swear at him before the study session even started.

Heeseung mentally thanked his friends for the lame excuse he'd given, because they all started to engage in side conversations as he slipped a glance in your direction. Your fingers held the coffee cup with a certain lightness, your thumb circling the cardboard that was possibly warm against his skin. Heeseung suppressed a smile, thinking about how your fingers had touched his body a few days ago.

He didn't want to think about anything involving the night you two had spent together, but even though it was recent, seeing you so close hit him hard. It was as if his mind betrayed him the very moment you sat down next to him and did the bare minimum to be noticed. There was no way Heeseung could think of anything other than you. The way you brought the cup to your lips and drank the coffee, for example. It made him think of your mouth kissing him, how easily your lips turned red as the kiss got more and more intense. How your mouth looked like the perfect shape of his cock when you wrapped it around you and sucked it, giving him the best blowjob of his life.

Fuck Heeseung, stop thinking about it. He told himself, or he'd get turned on just associating every single thing you did with the way he had you in his room, under his body, and in his bed.

The only way to make his thoughts go away and him not think like that was to irritate you, bring up the atmosphere of the argument you had with him, and thus get his friends to intervene and completely change the course of Heeseung's thoughts. And the way he thought was by taking the coffee cup from your hand, bringing it to his lips, and taking the last sip.

“Hey” you said loudly enough, trying not to shout because the study room was next to the university library “You ruined my coffee, you idiot.”

“I was thirsty, sorry” Heeseung pouted his lips, feeling the taste of salted caramel all over his tongue. He ran the tip of his tongue between his lips to wipe away any coffee residue. He just didn't expect your attention to be on his mouth. Without hesitation, your eyes traced the path of his mouth and the way his tongue traced his lower lip. That sparked something inside Heeseung because it showed that you were thinking along the same lines as he was.

“You're a real idiot” you said quietly this time, trying to look away as Heeseung bit his lower lip.

He leaned in a little but didn't manage to get close enough to tease you because he felt the famous slap on the chest that you gave him when he said something stupid. Ever since that morning in his bed.

“Ouch, that hurt” he cringed, dodging the next slap you'd give him. For the first time, the dynamic between you and Heeseung was a little closer and more physical. Usually, the two of you didn't sit near each other or you couldn't get there in time to hit him, Jay or Sunghoon always managed to hold you back first.

“Hey, stop it, you two” Jake broke off from an interesting conversation he was having with Jay, sharing a packet of sweets with Sunghoon in the process.

“It's not like you guys had sex at the weekend” Dahyun yawned, throwing the full weight of her head on Jake's shoulder.

“What?” you and Heeseung shouted at the same time.

Their eyes widened, their breathing quickened and their faces heated up as they looked at the four of them sitting in front of them. So they knew, but how? You and he had tried to be discreet the whole time, and you hadn't said anything to Dahyun, considering Heeseung's astonishment, showing that he hadn't said anything to his friends either.

“Come on, we saw you two leaving the party together” Jay sighed “We agreed not to say anything until one of you spoke.”

“But you're still fighting” Jake pouted.

“By the way” Dahyun squeezed the cup between her fingers, the coffee long since finished and she just needed something to munch on while she talked to Jake “I could hear you two when we got home” she looked at Jake for a few seconds, then at you and Heeseung. They exchanged frightened, embarrassed glances.

A hole could be dug right there that you wanted to bury yourself in and never get out of. There was no escaping it and no escape from your friends' looks and playful smiles. There was also no way you could face Heeseung after everything you'd heard, so your only way out was to make an excuse that you needed to go to the library to get a book to start studying. You left the room as quickly as you could and entered the door at the end of the corridor.

At least it was quiet there and you wouldn't hear any of your friends talking about you and Heeseung having sex, or about how they knew all along and didn't tell either of you. It hadn't been long since it happened, but you'd been with Dahyun all morning and Heeseung had probably spent a lot of it with some of the boys he shared a class with. So they waited for you to give them a break to say it out loud?

“Holy shit” you whispered to yourself, leaning on one of the shelves in a vast aisle of encyclopedias. Nothing there was of interest to you and you didn't necessarily need any of those books, but it had been the first aisle you'd found to enter and browse the various shelves in search of clearing your mind.

“It really is shit” the voice settled in your ears and went straight to your skin, sending shivers down your spine and making your heart race. Your heartbeat accelerated more than usual when you turned around and noticed Heeseung just a few steps away.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Go away!” you whispered at him, turning to one of the shelves to pick up any stupid books. If you'd never read encyclopedias before, that day could be your first. Then you'd be too busy reading and not paying attention to the boy who was slowly approaching you.

“I had to leave too, I couldn't stand that embarrassment alone” he said in the same tone as yours, stopping right behind you as he noticed your feat in trying to open a heavy book that had nothing to do with the classes you were attending “Besides, I came to tease you for being too scandalous” Heeseung's breath hitched against your ear, his lips almost kissing your skin.

You turned sharply, the book wobbling in your hands from the weight of it and the force with which you turned. But your reflexes were good enough to hold it steady while you stared at it.

“Me? Scandalous?” your indignation was palpable, along with your anger that was beginning to grow inside your chest at him and the arrogant smile he had “What do you mean?”

“That you moaned so loudly that my sister heard!”

“Motherfucker” you almost forgot you were in the library, wanting to scream in his face and curse him with every swear word you could think of “I didn't moan that loud.”

“Yes, you did” he said.

“No, I didn't” you answered back, not realizing that you had taken a step forward and leaned your body against his. Heeseung took the opportunity to take the book from your hands, the weight shifting to his arms as he put it back on the shelf. Now having full access to you and your body in front of him.

He knew you hadn't moaned out loud, not least because he managed to shut you up every time. Making you moan against his mouth or listening closely when your mouth was close to his ear, having the most beautiful moan Heeseung had ever heard in his entire life.

“On a scale of zero to ten, if I say you moan scandalously…” Heeseung began, his speech somewhat meek “How angry will you be?”

“Ten, obviously” you hadn't even hesitated to answer, regretting it the second he smiled.

“So you moan too scandalously” such a simple sentence, but one that practically tore away the last bit of calm you had with Heeseung. Not that it ever really existed, but at least you tried inside the library.

As if it was the right thing to do, you raised your hand to hit him as you had been doing so often in the last few moments, but he acted quickly. So fast that neither of you could process it. Heeseung's long fingers wrapped around your wrist and he pulled you against his chest, wrapping his free arm around your waist to press you down and give you no chance to escape. The warmth of his fingers against your skin made you hold your breath and close your eyes, almost like a memory of what was about to happen.

It was the perfect cue for Heeseung to lean towards you and touch the tip of his nose to yours. His breaths mingled and his eyes closed to revel in the sensation of being so close to you again.

He wanted to touch your mouth, kiss you, and be able to leave with you. To remember the softness of your lips and how perfectly your mouths fit together as if the two of you had learned everything from each other. Even though the two of you shared hurried, slow kisses, none of them were disproportionate or out of rhythm. You and Heeseung managed to find harmony and synchronicity in every movement.

“Oh, shit” Jay's voice made you and Heeseung break apart quickly, startled by the closeness and realizing that if the brunette hadn't arrived, you and he would have kissed right then “Sorry, I—”

“You owe me lunch for a week” Dahyun appeared beside him, smiling openly as her eyes landed on you and Heeseung. He didn't need to look at you to know that you also shared a confused, albeit frightened, expression as to why Jay and his sister were there in the library.

“What did you two bet?” Heeseung asked the dreaded question, opening and closing his fists and holding back the urge to touch you again, even if it was in front of the two who were still there.

“That you and Y/n would be kissing” Jay said “But the two of them never actually kissed, so I don't owe you anything.”

“Yes, you do!” Dahyun protested, pushing Jay out of the hallway and leaving you and Heeseung completely unresponsive.

It would have been a smart idea to avoid going to any parties after what happened, in case you both regretted it. But that wasn't exactly it.

As the week went by, the teasing between Heeseung and you continued with a little more intensity, adding to the spice of what had happened between you, and now things had become a little more physical. Like him having to get too close to you and touch your hair after getting on your nerves, or how your hand wrapped around his arm – unnecessarily – so you could avoid Heeseung when he was near the kitchen counter teasing you before you left and went to his sister's room.

Things were getting heated and neither of you made any move to actually stop or that it wasn't affecting you anymore, quite the opposite. As the touching persisted or you paid too much attention to each other's actions, things got more and more complicated.

That was why Heeseung now found himself with a red glass in his hand, bringing it to his lips and feeling the bitter taste of alcohol go down his throat. He could have refused to go to that party after Sunghoon insisted, with the excuse that the class had been terrible. Even though he had slept through most of it. At least they were at Yeonjun's parent's house, the rich boy and Jake's friend who always gave up his house when the fraternities hadn't recovered after a few parties over a short period.

At least there was somewhere to sit, a room without too many people and the music wasn't too loud. The pool room that the boys usually went to when they wanted to escape the crowds, but didn't want to leave the party completely.

“Man, I love it when we’re here” Yeonjun sighed, sitting across from Heeseung and next to Jay “I wanted to run away from Stacy all night.”

“Is she annoying you?” Jay held back a laugh.

Talking about girls was the main topic when Yeonjun was around, and it wasn’t such a bad thing. Sharing experiences and even talking about how their current relationships were going, just as Jake made a point of praising Dahyun and how the two of them were getting along better and better. At some point in the conversation, Heeseung didn’t even bother to share anything, feeling shy for the first time. You had been the last girl he slept with, and talking about it, about the intimacy you two shared made him embarrassed. It wasn’t that he would brag every time he got with someone, on the contrary, the poor boy was the most teased because he rarely kissed a unit on the mouth at a party.

Maybe it was his chance to say that he had finally kissed someone after so long. But he wanted to keep it all to himself as if he felt jealous of sharing every detail about you.

“And you, Heeseung” Yeonjun called him as if he could read his thoughts. “Did you finally have sex?”

Sunghoon choked on his half-drunk drink, biting the plastic cup as he looked at his friend and noticed the shocked expression on his face. Yeonjun didn’t know anything about what had happened, especially since he wasn’t that close to you and Dahyun. He knew you two by sight and exchanged a few words because you were always around, but it’s not like he knew everything about you.

“He definitely had sex” Jake bit his lips to keep from smiling “Guess who?”

There wasn’t a single name that crossed Yeonjun’s mind, it was so difficult to associate Heeseung with anyone. Just like they associated Jake with Dahyun or Yeonjun with Stacy. Heeseung didn't have anyone on his radar, and the boys didn't know which girl had ever mentioned his name as a possible sexual companion.

A short period of silence fell over the room, and Jay's impatience quickly cut through.

"Y/n" he said.

“What?” it was Yeonjun’s turn to almost choke on his drink when he decided to take a sip of his beer. “Don’t you two, like, hate each other more than anything in the universe?”

I thought so, Heeseung had that answer on the tip of his tongue, almost wanting to say it out loud.

“So our dear Lee has a powerful dick” Yeonjun joked.

“Dude, we can ask Y/n if he has a small dick or not” Jay suggested.

“That’s cute, we’re finally going to know about his dick” Jake faked a cute voice, pouting and everything to get in on the joke.

“I don’t have a small dick, you idiots” Heeseung wanted to sound angry, although that joke was always there. Talking like that or about sexual performance with some girl… It would be disgusting if it was a conversation that happened often, but it wasn’t. It was just at times when they all wanted to escape from everything, to be in a universe where only boys existed and they could talk about anything.

A laugh filled the room before Heeseung or any of the boys could respond. Turning to the door, there you were. Standing with your hand on the doorknob and the other holding the plastic cup.

“Y/n!” Jay called out to you excitedly.

“Hey Y/n, is it true that Heeseung—” Yeonjun was interrupted by a flying plastic cup, hitting him in the chest as Heeseung threw it.

You had heard the entire conversation before entering the wrong room, looking for a bathroom to pee in. Your eyes scanned the room, seeing how relaxed and happy the boys were, far from those people you were starting to get bored with.

“Wrong door, sorry, boys” you waved and smiled at all of them, stopping your eyes on Heeseung for a long moment. Analyzing every inch of his body. Every piece of clothing adorned that man’s curves very well. Wide pants, white tank top, and leather jacket. A cardinal sin was that his hair was slicked back and the silver chain showing well above the collar of the tank top he was wearing. Luckily for you, the music was loud enough that no one could hear the force with which you swallowed when you noticed Heeseung’s collarbone was more exposed than usual. Waving to all of them, you closed the door as quickly as you opened it.

He tried to process what had just happened. Did your laughter indicate that you had heard the conversation, giving the boys room to think that he had a small dick? It wasn't possible… Heeseung couldn't believe it, even though it was true as he started to hear his friends making fun of your reaction.

If she laughed, it was because she agreed.

Does he really have a small dick?

Shit, Heeseung, she's teasing you.

He didn't want to hear anything from his friends anymore, the small flame of anger consuming him for teasing him like that in front of his friends. It wouldn't stay like this. Heeseung wouldn't let you get away with it, just like you almost didn't let him get away with it on library day.

Without time for goodbyes or small talk, Heeseung left the room in a hurry, opening the door and closing it without giving time for protests or for any of the boys to follow him. Now, in the middle of the small crowd in the hallway, he dodged some dancing and sweaty bodies, looking everywhere in search of you or his sister who, perhaps, could know where you were. Heeseung had a small spark of hope that he could find you before you went somewhere he couldn't find anymore. Or worse, that you started to feel tired and drunk enough to want to leave.

Running down the stairs, he reached the ground floor in record time, even with some people getting in his way. Heeseung walked from one room to the other, his eyes increasingly attentive to the people, scanning the place until he finally found you. Standing at one end of the table with glasses piled up in front of you, while his sister was at the other end with a few more girls.

“My turn to play,” one of them said, excited enough to grab the ball and throw it before it fell into one of the cups. She and Dahyun celebrated that you would have to drink, and from the look on your face, it wasn’t that good.

Heeseung took hurried steps towards the table, watching you take the ball out of the cup and drink all the contents inside.

“How disgusting” you stuck your tongue out, making a fake vomit sound before discarding the empty cup right next to you. “Now it’s my turn” but your turn didn’t come. Before you could even throw the ball into one of the cups in front of Dahyun and the other girl, Heeseung grabbed your arm and slid his fingers through your hand until he took the ball out. “What the fuck—”

“I need to talk to you” he said.

“Oh, that’s our girl, finally Y/n!” you wanted to ignore those comments, especially because Heeseung’s eyes were so intense and focused only on you. He didn’t care that the girls were joking about that situation, or how Dahyun was saying some teasing things in a playful tone. As if his gaze was capable of erasing everything around him and leaving only the two of you in the center of everything.

“Heeseung.”

“I said I need to talk to you, let’s go” he threw the ball to Dahyun, grabbing your arm again to get you out of there as quickly as possible.

Strangely you didn’t protest, just accepting the boy in front of you leading the way out of the party and through the front door. The air that hit your skin almost made you shiver, but Heeseung’s touch was capable of warming everything in your body without giving you a chance to feel the cold outside environment.

He stopped walking as soon as the two of you passed through the entire front yard, the sidewalk almost devoid of anyone around. Everyone was lying on the lawn or the porch, except for the excessive amount that was already inside Yeonjun's parents' huge house.

“What do you need to talk to me about?” you finally asked, letting your voice be heard by Heeseung after a while of silence between the two of you. He then let go of your arm, turning towards you to face you. Looking around a little, he wanted to make sure that he wouldn't be interrupted or, worse still, that someone would hear your conversation. People had a slight impression that you and Heeseung always argued, but the only ones who listened attentively to this were your friends and his sister. Heeseung didn't want anyone else to know about these little details.

“You heard the boys’ conversation upstairs, didn’t you?” he asked you. His tone was usually serious, but with a hint of anger that was always directed at you.

“Wanting to know if you have a small dick? Yeah, I heard you” you laughed a little, regretting it the second Heeseung approached you. His eyes were glazed over anywhere on your face, at least you knew where he was looking. His chest rose and fell in a rapid breath as he leaned in enough to be able to look you in the eyes without losing your attention.

“Do you find this funny, Y/n?” his low tone of voice never had any effect on you, on the contrary, it always instigated you even more to tease him. Smiling now and then, pushing Heeseung’s buttons when he seemed mad at you. But this time it was different, his voice seemed to fade away as he said things to you that way. The look still in your eyes, now falling to your lips “So you think I have a small dick?”

“I didn’t say anything about that—” you were quickly interrupted.

“Answer my question” he said “Do you think I have a small dick?” Heeseung’s hand touched your waist, pressing his fingers tightly against the spot before pulling you against his body.

You swallowed any sound that could come out of your lips so as not to give him the satisfaction of seeing the effect he was having on you. Your pride spoke louder at least at that moment.

Thinking of all the possibilities that could answer his question, something popped into your mind. The instinct of rivalry and fight between the two of you couldn’t end so soon, and you knew that a remnant of the old Y/n that started all this with Heeseung still lived inside you. So you did the right thing by whispering those words.

“On a scale of zero to ten, how angry will you be if I say yes?”

Heeseung felt like an idiot for letting a smile appear on his lips so easily, especially because of you.

“We’re going home right now, tell my sister to go with Jake” he said, not taking his hands off your waist until he took you to the car and they left that party.

You were both experiencing a little deja vu from the first night you were together, but something at that moment seemed to be a little slower. You arrived at the apartment without much of a rush because Heeseung drove carefully; the city streets at that time were not a safe place to speed, even if he was in a hurry. The silence in the building's elevator was not uncomfortable, much less the rustling of the keys when he opened the apartment door.

The path to his room was led by him, with dragging and slightly nervous steps – which you didn't notice and he was grateful – because you were equally nervous. The last time you made this path, you were in Heeseung's arms and with your mouth glued to his. Shy giggles and messy words were said as the two of you tried to balance each other until you entered his room.

When you entered the room again, the smell of Heeseung's cologne was still in the air. The same smell he had all over his clothes and inside the car, showing that when he had put on perfume a few hours before going to the party, the smell still lingered in the air. Your eyes searched around in search of some recognition, mentally cursing yourself for remembering practically everything. The shelf with trophies he had won, video games stacked perfectly next to each other, some dolls and superheroes. Nerd stuff that you had played with him for so long outside of that environment, but being in Heeseung's personal space and taking a good look at it was something new for you.

At that moment your thoughts flew to the boy in front of you who, delicately, wrapped his hands around your waist this time. The tender touch was a total opposite of what the two of you had been having lately, about everything that involved you and him. Heeseung pulled you closer, his forehead slowly touching yours, while one of his hands left your waist to touch your face. The touch of his fingers against your skin immediately made you close your eyes.

“Do you miss being here?” he asked in a playful tone, but the softness of that question made you wonder if you really missed being there. Even though it was the second time you had stepped into Heeseung's room under those circumstances.

“You're the one who misses having me here” you teased.

“Maybe so” he shrugged, smiling when you seemed surprised by his sudden confession, but you didn’t dare open your eyes. Shy enough not to be able to look at Heeseung while he was still caressing your face.

You had both consumed a little more alcohol than the last time you did this, but still, neither of you managed to get to the point of getting drunk. There was no way you could tell him that you drank too much at the games with Dahyun and the girls, and much less could Heeseung use the excuse that he was drunk with the boys. Again, you were both in that situation because you wanted to be.

“Y/n” he whispered your name, taking you out of the little trance where you could only hear your calm breathing and your heartbeats against each other due to the proximity of your body to his.

“Yeah” you answered.

“Can I kiss you again?” the first time he didn’t ask for permission in that scenario, Heeseung’s lips were simply against yours. But now, there inside his room, everything seemed different. All the tenderness and calm that you were strangely enjoying, while he didn't know exactly why he was caressing you so lovingly and asking permission for something he had already done.

“Yes, please” your answer surprised him more than it surprised you. You even said please, something that had never happened to him. Usually the only thank you you gave Heeseung or the only word of cordiality you said to each other was the famous good morning, and when Dahyun still insisted on the two of you.

Finally, Heeseung's lips pressed against yours, the soft touch of his mouth sliding over yours before he opened his mouth and urged you to do the same. Heeseung's chin slowly pressed against yours to keep your mouth open and enter his tongue into your cave, searching for your tongue and intertwining the two gently.

Although there was urgency in each touch, in how he wanted to kiss you and how you wanted to be kissed by him, something unsaid – but understood – was that you both wanted to enjoy that strangely pleasurable moment for both of you. Your hands went up to make contact with the collar of the jacket he wore, running your thin fingers under the leather before grabbing Heeseung's shoulders. Your skin against his made him sigh during the kiss, bringing you closer and walking with you towards the bed. Stopping only when his calf touched the wood indicating that he had reached where he wanted.

He was the first to stop kissing you, placing small kisses on your chin until he reached your jaw, where he lightly scraped his teeth and smiled when he saw the skin on your neck start to get goosebumps. You didn't want to be left behind, so your hands forced themselves on his shoulders to loosen his jacket and make it fall halfway down his arms. Heeseung grew impatient with that piece of cloth and soon got rid of the jacket, not bothering to throw it on the bedroom floor, wrapping his arms around your body again.

Heeseung returned with his lips against your skin, brushing whenever he could on every little spot before alternating with the tip of his tongue a short path down to below your ear. His breath so close was enough to make you go a little crazy more.

“We can—”

“We can do whatever you want” he told you, kissing the spot below your ear and returning to position his face aligned with yours. Foreheads together and feeling her breath hit his lips “Tell me and I will do it.”

It was your turn to kiss Heeseung, your hands holding his face to keep him close while his tongue wrapped around yours again. The perfect fit of your mouths and how the two of you, despite your need, didn't let go and didn't make a mess of it. Yet.

Heeseung picked you up just to lay you down on his bed, snuggling his body between your legs without taking his mouth off yours. He pulled away momentarily to breathe before kissing you again with even more desire. At that point you felt like you needed him even more, your legs wrapping around Heeseung's hips who, you could tell, was holding back from making any risky moves. Even though you both wanted that. But it was impossible to hold back any longer because of the way the kiss started to get sloppy and lazy. You didn't know that you could get even more excited by the way Heeseung's tongue moved against yours or how the softness of his lips remained even after you abused them for so long.

Involuntarily your hips rocked, feeling Heeseung's erection rub against your clothed pussy, making you both moan in sync.

“Fuck” he moaned into your mouth, swallowing another moan of yours as he pressed his hips against you so you could feel a little more of his cock.

“Heeseung” your hands ran down his arms, your nails making a reddish path against his skin as you marked him.

“Are you going to moan loudly now?” he teased, lifting his head to look at you. It would be typical of Lee Heeseung to comment on that while he had a hard-on and was between your legs, you should have imagined that.

“I think you need to keep your mouth busy and stop talking shit” you rolled your eyes at him, holding yourself back so that your arousal wouldn't turn into anger and you would hit the boy.

“Your wish is my command, ma'am” Heeseung smiled so seductively that you asked yourself countless questions at that moment.

As he slid down your body, taking off each piece of your clothing without your protest, you wondered. Heeseung always smiled mischievously at you, although the effects were always the opposite of what was happening. Maybe the vulnerability in which you and he found each other at that moment made you with your senses heightened, paying a little more attention than necessary. Of course, you saw Heeseung up close, in his most intimate form, just as he saw you too. So that would be a good explanation for why you felt strange when he, at that moment, directed the smiles that you knew so well, at you.

Looking down at the exact second that Heeseung took off your panties, you noticed how lost in thought you were at that moment. Did he undress you so quickly or were you thinking too much about his smile to notice that now you were both naked? It didn’t matter, the job was done and now you fought against your racing heartbeat as Heeseung’s face lowered to be level with your pussy.

As if asking permission with a glance directed at your face, you nodded slowly as he adjusted himself between your legs and placed a kiss on your thigh. His lips tickled your skin before sliding down to your groin and finally finding your pussy.

“Heeseung— shit” you held back a moan between your lips as the tip of his tongue touched your clit. Swollen and in need of his full attention which he was more than willing to give.

Heeseung wrapped one hand around your thigh, bringing the other to your pussy to part your labia and spread all your wetness on his fingertips. It was a sight he didn’t think he would ever see, but one he couldn’t stop seeing now. He needed to be in that position at least once a day, if possible. Heeseung’s fingers made their way across your pussy lips until they reached your hole, circling it before pushing in. He looked up, his face fucking gorgeous as you fought the urge to open your eyes.

He wrapped his lips around your clit to suck on your bundle of nerves at the same time his finger was inserted into your hole. The two sensations flooded you as you let out the most beautiful moan. It wasn't scandalous at all, on the contrary, it was low and sensual. A reminder of how Heeseung was making you feel with just a few seconds of giving your pussy proper attention.

Moving his finger inside you, he included another and the two began working in and out of your hole. The wet sound of his fingers fucking you along with the moans you were letting out made his cock throb. Heeseung felt himself getting harder and harder, aching and wanting to be inside you as soon as possible.

“Hee” you moaned that nickname that had been heard only a few times, but that was enough to make him want to hear it again. This seemed to motivate you a little more, because Heeseung inserted the third finger into your pussy and, leaning down again, he went back to kissing your clit and any other place his mouth could reach.

It seemed like the way he kissed your mouth, kissing your pussy so perfectly that you were going crazy. Your hands found their way into his hair, tangling a few strands without having enough strength to pull them out. You focused as much as possible on how well Heeseung was fucking you and his fingers curling inside your warm walls. It was the second time you had sex, but it seemed like he knew every spot on your body and how you should be touched.

Heeseung felt your hole tighten against his fingers, licking your clit more slowly, although the intrusion of his fingers into your hole wasn't that slow. He smiled against your pussy, lifting his face from there and crawling until his face was flush with yours. His fingers didn't stop fucking you even though his mouth was far from your pussy.

“Are you going to cum?” he asked in a deep and hoarse whisper, making you open your eyes and almost actually cum at that moment. His chin was covered in saliva and your wetness, making Heeseung even hotter than he looked.

You nodded quickly to him, bringing one of your hands to Heeseung's chin and sliding your thumb over the spots on his skin to clean it. Any other time this would have been kind of cute, warming both of your hearts with the act. Although he appreciated your care even if he didn't mind having a little bit of you stuck to his chin.

“I want you to cum looking into my eyes” he whispered “Can you do that?”

You had no way of knowing if you were capable of it, especially when his fingers started fucking you again so slowly, but so intensely. He made sure to go all the way to his knuckles, rotating and scissoring inside you with precision. Wanting to feel your warm walls enveloping them as he penetrated you. A scream burst from your throat when his thumb touched your clit, where his lips had been minutes ago. You moved your hips to match the movements of his fingers and that made Heeseung almost go crazy.

Your hands went back to touching his hair, one of them going to the back of his neck to pull his face close to yours. Heeseung kissed you to share a little of your taste on his tongue, to show you how addictive you were not only to the kiss but to the taste of your pussy that he was already starting to get addicted to. This was starting to get too much for you, the way he moved his tongue around as he kissed you to muffle your moans and the way his fingers filled you up nicely. A few more small strokes and a particularly hard press on your clit and you came undone, cumming all over his fingers and squeezing them like Heeseung remembered your pussy being capable of.

He held you throughout your orgasm, his fingers still inside you until your walls stopped convulsing and tightening. Slowly sliding out with all of your cum running down your fingers and into the palm of your hand.

“That was…” your words slowly faded as you noticed him pull away a little, enough for him to be able to place his hand between your face and his. The glow of your essence covering every little part of Heeseung’s fingers made your face heat up. It wasn’t the first time you had cum with him, but seeing it so close made you feel shy… You came all that and only on his fingers?

With an air of pride for having been the cause of it, Heeseung smiled before bringing his fingers to his lips and sucking every little drop of you. Fucking hot. He licked it all up with determination, just like he had done on your pussy until there was nothing left for him to clean.

“That was what?” he turned his attention back to you, a small smile on his lips as he leaned in again and now Heeseung's hips were pressed against yours.

Your pussy was still sensitive as his throbbing cock made contact with your folds. He let out a hiss, low and whimpering at the warm sensation that hadn't yet enveloped him. You wanted to surprise him just like he did to you, so slowly your lips enveloped his. A slow kiss to calm your heart that was still racing from the post-orgasm, but preparing yourself for what was on your mind as you felt him melt into your lips.

It was the calmness of Heeseung kissing you and the way you took his lips at that moment. Feeling the attention you gave to each caress, when your hands slid over his body… He just didn't count on how fast it was when you grabbed his dick and slid the red and sensitive head into your entrance.

“Y/n… Fuck, holy shit” he moaned. Being taken by surprise by the sensation, but unable to contain himself when he felt your hot hole envelop him. Quickly his hips pushed forward as if he was trained to do it, as if Heeseung needed to do it without thinking, just being close to your pussy like something magnetic to his dick.

In a quick movement, his entire dick was inside you, and you both moaned at the same second. You because you felt filled by his dick, killing the longing that was to have him inside you. That would never be admitted out loud. While he felt the warmth and sponginess of your walls enveloping every inch of his dick. A hot embrace that he needed more than ever. Another thing that wouldn't be admitted out loud either.

Heeseung adjusted himself, one hand resting on the side of your head while the other found its way to your hip. Supporting himself and squeezing the flesh of your skin as he rested his forehead against yours, looking deep into your eyes before starting to move.

You remember that the first time you two had sex, Heeseung practically fucked you. The force with which his cock entered and left you, the way he ate you out and you sucked him. It was an almost angry but needy sex, where the two of you poured out teasing and moaning. But this time was different. He also remembered the way you and he gave yourselves to each other the first time. How his hips tortured yours as his cock went in and out, hearing you moan his name so much that Heeseung could think it was devotion to him.

But this time he moved masterfully. Slowly and carefully, but each time his dick entered, Heeseung went intensely to the bottom, putting just enough force to make his dick enter you completely and reach the limit that was being in your pussy, reaching your deepest point. His dick slid perfectly inside you, combining his pre-cum with your fluids and the cum from the previous orgasm, all combined with the way he moved.

To add even more intensity to the sex, Heeseung remained with his gaze fixed on your eyes. His hand on your hip tightened as he managed to reach the bottom of your pussy or when your walls squeezed him at a certain point. He was on cloud nine every time your hole swallowed him and he felt your walls being slid by every inch of him.

“Y/n” the whisper of his voice made you mumble softly, as if answering his call and telling him that you were listening. Not wanting to say too much or simply interrupt what he wanted to say to you “That’s amazing” he slowly kissed your lips, the hand on your hip sliding down to grip your thigh “You’re amazing.”

He didn’t even care if it had been said that way or how you would react. By the way your eyes were soft on him, your mouth half open letting moans escape, Heeseung could tell you felt the same way.

“You’re an idiot” you whispered “But you’re amazing too, Heeseung” he chuckled against your lips as he kissed you again.

The sharing of each movement of your tongues as they danced in sync with his hips that were still moving against yours. His cock throbbed inside your pussy indicating that he wouldn't last much longer than that, although your pussy was addictive and he could fuck you all night. But Heeseung wasn't that strong when it came to you – at least not in the last week that he discovered what sex with you was like – so cumming was more than a necessity for him at that moment.

He quickened the pace of his thrusts, the sound of his pelvis hitting against your thighs quickly in search of the apex to share a little more intimacy. Heeseung thrust his cock into you fast, but with a certain care that made your chest heat up. And that was a combination of the overwhelming sensations that the two of you were sharing. His cock went to the limit, touching your cervix as he started and going a little harder and faster to fuck you with a little more need.

Heeseung rested his forehead against yours again, a silent plea that he wanted to see you cum with him or simply see your expression when the two of you came together. And with a few more strokes you felt the burning in the pit of your stomach. Your hands ran to hold his face, afraid that the two of you would turn away and you wouldn't be able to look at him while you came undone on his cock.

“Hee” you called him before moaning close to his mouth, sharing accelerated breaths before your walls closed around his cock, cumming hard. More than the first time on his fingers.

That was too much for Heeseung to handle, he wouldn't be able to hold back the feeling of your walls convulsing around his cock. Your cum slid all over his length and hitting against his pelvis. Heeseung felt his balls ache as he continued to pound his cock into you until he finally came. The hot and long jets of cum inside your pussy, hitting your insides hard. He moaned your name tirelessly as he continued to move in search of prolonging both orgasms.

For a long moment, the two of you remained in that position, trying to normalize your breathing, which was still more than accelerated. Heeseung held you as if his life depended on it, and so did you. Little by little, after your pussy stopped squeezing him and his cock stopped twitching, he slowly raised his hips to pull out of you. Both of you moaning together were almost no longer connected as before, he threw himself next to you on the bed.

“Don’t move” Heeseung whispered, although he knew you didn’t have the strength to do it. With great difficulty, he got up and made the well-known path to the bathroom outside the room. Thankfully, no one had arrived from the party yet, having the apartment just for the two of you. When Heeseung returned to the room, he had a small smile on his lips as he lay down next to you again, bending over you.

“What…” he seemed to have the power to interrupt you on the strangest occasions, catching you by surprise with unexpected actions. He cleaned you carefully, leaving no trace of the two of you between your legs, just like he had done in the bathroom with himself a few seconds ago. Heeseung discarded the damp paper in the trash next to the computer table, lying down next to you again and wrapping his arm around your waist. Just like he had done the first night you and he slept together.

But this time it didn’t seem so strange to you. What was strange was that you liked the feeling of having him so close like this, facing him and resting your hands on Heeseung’s exposed chest.

“So you…”

“Don’t say anything to provoke me now or I’ll hit you” it was your turn to interrupt him, making Heeseung laugh as he pulled you closer and hid his face in the crook of your neck. You didn't know what happened to you after Heeseung touched you, because every little thing he did made your whole body shiver.

“I was just going to say…” he whispered, his lips close to your ear, but with a subtle tone that was rarely – if ever – used with you “If you still think you hate me.”

“I do” you answered quickly. Heeseung laughed against your ear, lifting his face so he could look at you.

“Then I hate you too” he said back, pressing his lips against yours, but not kissing them like he always did when he was close enough to you. “Can we hate each other like we did today, then?”

It was your turn to laugh, making Heeseung feel strange now. His heart skipped a beat at the brightness in your eyes and the way you frowned when you were smiling like that. Was he paying too much attention or were the two of you close enough that he couldn't notice anything other than you and what you were doing? He wasn't sure.

“I think we can hate each other like this” you replied, seeing the small hint of happiness in his eyes and in the smile he gave you.

Pressing his lips slowly to yours, you let him kiss you so subtly like you never thought would happen. Because after all, you and Heeseung hated each other.

And you would hate each other the same way you did in his bed.

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