#that venue is SO gorgeous I can’t fucking wait

[louisloulouie]

Me the past few months: constantly searching if any good artists are performing at the Hartford Arena in Bridgeport

Niall today: announces that’s exactly where he’s gonna perform on his next tour

[rafesangelita]

⊹₊⟡⋆♡ “have you ever tried this one?” in which kook!sweetheart!reader convinces rafe to take her to go see one of her favorite artists, and as a ‘thank you’ she and rafe have to do whatever position sabrina demo’s for her song “juno”..

warnings: fluff, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, breeding kink (?)

a/n: so sad because i didn’t get to see sabrina on tour, and she has had me in the meanest chokehold lately :( click this link to see what position i’m referring to <3

when the dates dropped for sabrina’s ‘short n’ sweet’ tour, rafe wasted no time in buying you two tickets. of course, you didn’t know this and begged him for weeks until he finally told you yes, your flight and hotel room already booked for a nice little weekend getaway. rafe helped you make your concert outfit, both of you spending hours on the whole ensemble. the end result was absolutely stunning and rafe couldn’t stop taking pictures of you.

he posted one on the night of the concert, captioning it ‘my little popstar princess <3’ and you two were off to the stadium. while you knew wearing sparkly white platform boots wouldn’t be the best choice to walk in, you stuck it through, and as soon as the lights dimmed and the music started, any kind of discomfort you felt had melted away as you were far too distracted singing along to every song that boomed through the venue.

babydoll lingerie top with pink fluffy trim, dedazzled stockings, glittery makeup, your hair freshly done, rafe swore you never looked prettier. even though he was against wearing anything that sparkled, he decided to wear a plain pink t-shirt to match with you in his own little way. he kept his arms wrapped around your waist as you two sung, having learned the lyrics to every song since you insisted on being in charge of the aux cord whenever you two were in his truck.

eventually, you two were swaying softly, rafe’s chin resting in the curve of your neck as you stroked the skin of his arm. “thank you for bringing me here.” you smiled up at him, connecting your lips as the intro to ‘juno’ started playing. rafe hummed, leaning down so you could hear him. “you know i had to bring you, baby.. what do you say you thank me another way when we get back to our room?” your cheeks heated as you laughed softly.

“yeah, i’d like that,” you pecked his cheek, “how about we do the position she does for the song?” rafe smiled, both of you fixing your attention on the stage. you waited with anticipation, your heart beating in your ears when she bent over and touched her toes. rafe cheered, making you laugh as he couldn’t wait to get you back to the hotel. luckily for him, there was only a few more songs left before the show ended and the two of you rushed out of there.

it wasn’t long after you two walked through the door that rafe had your boots thrown in a forgotten corner, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips as he took you roughly from behind. you struggled to keep your hands placed on your perfectly pedicured toes, your knees threatening to give out from under you while rafe thrusted into you at an unforgiving pace. “holy fuck, you’re taking it so fuckin’ good, gorgeous, ‘might just let you get off your tippy toes and put you on your back instead.”

you cried out, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as his pelvis smacked against the back of your ass. “can’t, rafe!” you shrieked, nearly doubling over before your boyfriend reached down and grabbed your arms, holding you by your wrists as you hung helplessly from his grip. he was fucking you stupid, and your lack of thoughts was proof of it. you couldn’t think, the feeling of rafe’s cock stroking that soft gummy spot inside of you made you whimper pathetically.

finally, you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, your knees meeting the carpeted floor. rafe picked you up, cursing under his breath as he encouraged you to get back in position. “promise i’ll have you in bed soon, pretty, you could hold out for me, yeah?” you shuddered, looking at him from behind your shoulder with that fucked-out gaze he loved so much. you had tears in your eyes, your body glitter still sparkling under the soft lighting.

giving him a little nod, you reached down once again, holding onto your ankles for dear life as rafe circled an arm under your hips, holding you up as his fingers started working on your clit. “oh!” you were in hysterics, your blood rushing to your head as he landed a harsh smack to your backside. “come on, baby, ‘wanna feel this pussy squeeze around me.” you moaned at his words, your orgasm just in arm’s reach as rafe’s thrusts grew uncalculated. “rafe?” you could barely speak, the band in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.

“talk to me.” he groaned, teetering the edge of pure euphoria. “make me juno?” you giggled for a split second, the insinuation only turning rafe on even more. “fuck, yeah? ‘want me to fill you up, give you a baby?” you let out a distorted “mhmm!’, the two of you gasping when your highs took you both to cloud nine. rafe pulled you back up, your chest rising and falling while your legs shook with your orgasm. pressing wet kisses to your neck, rafe did exactly as he said, his hips stuttering as hot, thick ropes of cum painted your velvety walls.

you two stayed like this, pressed against one another until your breathing slowed, the aftershocks subsiding before rafe laid you both down in bed. “we should have a ‘short n’ sweet’ themed baby shower.. we could serve espressos.” rafe laughed, draping an arm over your tummy. “we’ll see.” he hummed. your eyes fluttered shut as you breathed him in, his cologne still heavy on his skin. “you know what we should try when we get back home?” rafe traced shapes into your side, mumbling a ‘what’s that?’

“pink fuzzy handcuffs.”

[emchant3d]

modern au, exes to lovers, transfem stevie harrington

Stevie Harrington is not having a good day.

By all accounts, she should be. Robin woke her right on time by pressing a perfectly made brown sugar shaken espresso into her hand. Nancy and Chrissy got to the venue earlier than expected. The hair and makeup people were on schedule. Their boozy charcuterie brunch during their prep time was perfectly served, the mimosas delicious and the food fresh and light enough to put on her nervous stomach. 

Everything’s gone off without a hitch. She looks gorgeous. She’s got her something old, her something new, her something borrowed, and even her something blue. Her hair’s done in a soft blowout, framing her face but out of the way, ready for the combs of her veil to slip into. Her makeup is elegant, not too showy and not too dramatic, neutral and warm and sweet. And her dress. It’s what she always dreamed of, clingy and silky with a dramatic leg slit and a long train, off the shoulders, perfectly white. She’s staring at herself in the mirror knowing that in forty-five minutes, she’s going to hold the world’s most beautiful wedding bouquet and walk down the most perfectly decorated aisle in the quaintest, sweetest church she could find, and she’ll stand across from her fiancé and take his hands and say “I do” and all of her dreams will come true.

So she should be having a good day.

Because it’s her wedding day, and Stevie Harrington is about to become Stefania Hagan.

Maybe that brunch wasn’t so perfect after all, because she thinks she’s about to puke.

“I can’t do this,” she says, but her voice is so soft it’s barely a whisper and the girls don’t even glance at her. “I can’t do this,” she repeats, and Robin - bless her, her favorite person in the world, her soulmate, her other half, her maid of honor - glances up. 

“What’s that, Evie?” she asks, and the others look over at her, and Stevie stands there beneath their gazes and knows if she just says it again, says I can’t do this, don’t make me marry him, get me out of here, all three of them would drag her to an exit and get her the fuck out.

They don’t even like Tommy. Robin actively hates him, actually, and that should have been enough for Stevie to never look at him twice.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t enough.

She thinks back to a few days ago, drunk in a bar with a white sash wrapped around her torso, a tiara on her head, and mascara running down her face as she desperately sobbed on Robin’s shoulder during her bachelorette party. That little meltdown wasn’t enough. And she thinks back further, to when Tommy proposed - in public, at a fucking baseball game, on the goddamn jumbotron. Dread had settled in her chest at the sight of the ring (huge, gaudy, she hated it on sight) even as she pasted on a smile and said yes. That hadn’t been enough.

But somehow standing here done up head to toe, about to walk down the aisle in her absolute dream wedding - that’s enough. Because everything about today is right. Everything’s in place. Everything’s gorgeous and going to plan and she should be so, so happy - but it’s the wrong man waiting for her at the end of all of it.

She can’t do this. 

She looks up and meets Robin’s eyes and forces a smile. “I said I need to get my veil,” she lies, and she slips into her shoes (red bottoms, a gift from Tommy’s mother, perfectly white and pointed and it’s her dream day, how can she be throwing this away?) and walks into the other room where her garment bag is hanging, and her veil is there with its delicate detail and it’s scalloped edges and it’s all so fucking perfect she’s going to scream, she wants to rip it to pieces and she wants to tear this dress off and she wants to sob, she doesn’t want to do this, she doesn’t want to get married - not to him. Not to Tommy. 

She could ask for help. Robin would have her out of here in five minutes flat, Nancy would craft an excuse to tell everyone, and Chrissy would cause a distraction. But even that’s too long of a wait. Even that’s too much attention, too much suspicion. She needs to move faster than that. She needs out now.

She quickens her pace as she crosses the room, dress dragging along the carpet, and she snags her phone where it’s sitting on the end table next to an overstuffed love seat, and in three long strides she’s out the door and in the hall and the church has been busy and packed all day but somehow, miraculously, there’s no one here.

No one sees Stevie as she gathers up the fabric of her dress in her hands and starts to walk towards the exit. No one sees as her walk speeds to a jog, and then a run, and then she slams out of a side door and she’s on the sidewalk and she’s sprinting, her heels are going to get scuffed by the pavement but she can’t care, she’s running as fast as she can and dodging people on the sidewalk as they turn and gawk at her and she cannot give them a thought, cannot focus on them even a little bit because she has to get away, escape is the only thought on her mind as she gasps for air, her dress is so heavy and it’s not made for running that’s for goddamn sure, and the last few years with Tommy flash through her mind - every time he’s undermined her or given her a backhanded compliment or policed her, told her she wasn’t feminine enough, told her she wasn’t trying hard enough to pass, told her to just keep it all to herself so no one would know she wasn’t cis, wouldn’t embarrass him by making a scene, all the times that come together to a glaringly obvious conclusion that he doesn’t really love her and she kind of hates him a little actually, and obviously she can’t fucking marry him and–

There. 

A beat-up four-door with an Uber sticker in the window. 

That’ll do, she thinks, and she changes course, shoulder-checking a man and not apologizing for it as she makes a beeline for the car. She pops off an acrylic wrenching the door open and tossing herself into the backseat, and she yells “DRIVE!” at the top of her lungs and somehow, through some miracle, they listen, swerving into traffic with a loud curse and a myriad of honking horns and a quaint, sweet little church growing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

She’s gasping for breath, chest heaving, staring out the back window like she’s waiting for someone to follow her - and maybe she is, maybe Tommy is hot on her trail, or maybe Robin is coming to kill her for not including her in her mad dash to freedom and instead jumping in a stranger’s car going God knows where.

“So uh,” a voice says, and she whips around, staring wide-eyed at the brown eyes fixed on her in the mirror, and no, no fucking way– “where to, ma’am?” 

“Um,” she says, and her voice is shaky, cracking a little, she brushes her hair out of her face and stares and– wait.

There’s a beat. The driver’s eyes widen. Recognition flashes over his face at the same time it registers for Stevie. 

“Stevie?” Eddie Munson, her ex-boyfriend of several years, the man she hasn’t spoken to since that fateful night they went their separate ways, is staring at her in shock, not even looking at the road, and the only thing she can think is how he’s just as averse to road safety now as he’d been way back when.

“Eddie,” she croaks out. 

Too many emotions are overwhelming her at once and it feels like the biggest cliché in the world, but honestly, Stevie feels like she’s entitled to some dramatics. It’s her goddamn wedding day, after all.

Her failed wedding day.

Where she just left her fiancé at the altar.

“Oh god,” she manages. Her lower lip wobbles. Her vision blurs.

“Stevie,” Eddie says again, like a warning, and that’s enough to push her over.

She bursts into tears in his backseat.

“Hey hey hey!” he says like she’s a fucking spooked horse or something, which only makes her cry more, ugly sobs that shake her shoulders and drip tear drops onto her dress. “Stevie, honey–”

“Do NOT call me honey right now!” she manages, and he raises a hand in surrender before flipping on a turn signal and finding a parking lot to pull over in. 

“Okay, okay! No comforting pet names, you got it,” he agrees, and he shuts the car off, turning in his seat to look at her, concern painted all over his face and that’s just really not fair, she thinks, that he still looks so earnest and sweet and fucking worried about her.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, urgent and serious, and she shakes her head quickly.

“No! No, I’m - I’m fine, really,” she insists and he proves that he is a gentleman after all, because he doesn’t call her out on the blatant lie.

“Okay,” he says, level, his hand hovering in the space between them like he wants to touch her. “What do you need?” he asks, and she wipes at her face with her hands, swallowing down yet another sob.

“Get me out of here,” she pleads, and he searches her face for - something, she doesn’t know what, because she’s sure all she’s showing him is how much of a fucking mess she is, but he must find whatever he’s looking for.

He gives her a sharp nod. “Anywhere in particular, sweetheart?” he asks, turning to start the car again. She doesn’t call him out on the pet name this time.

“Anywhere but here,” she says, and he puts the car in reverse, pulling back onto the road.

“You got it,” he says, and some of that old charm must kick in - he winks at her in the rearview. She resolutely ignores the spike of emotion it gives her. 

Then she takes a deep, shuddery breath, and opens the group chat to break the news to her wedding party.

part 2

[kkami-writes]

waiting for us — chapter fifty one. the wedding cw. smut!, semi-public sex (bathroom), piv, protected sex (shout out to condoms) wc. 1,965 + 4 ss a/n: THIS IS UNEDITED. I FINALLY FUCKING FINISHED THIS MY GOD. I'm so sorry this took forever...that's my bad <3 hopefully the motivation keeps rolling and i'll finally finish this fic.

The ceremony had been perfect, something right out of the pages of a fairy tale. The venue had been small since they had kept it to close family and friends but it still had been breathtaking. Minghao had made you his best “man” and there was no place you’d rather be than next to your best friend on the most important day of his life. (and if you cried while they were reciting their vows, you’d never tell. Though Minghao had taken plenty of pictures of you ugly crying to store in his blackmail folder.)

It was probably inappropriate to daydream during a wedding, but Jeongin couldn’t help himself. You were standing up there, looking absolutely breathtaking, it was hardly his fault that his mind had wondered what you would look like, dressed in all white at their own wedding.

If he was honest, he never expected to get married. Well, he supposed that’s wrong. While he does in fact plan on getting married eventually to all his soulmates, before you had come into the picture that had agreed that a ceremony between eight people would be a little hectic. He didn’t need some grand ceremony to show his love but for now, he could dream of seeing you in a wedding dress for now.

The reception is just as gorgeous as the actual wedding, with lavish decorations and a crystal chandelier.

Currently you were being dragged from table to table, both Minghao and Jun introducing you to people like you were their child. (though Minghao would argue that him and Jun were indeed your dads).

From across the room you can feel a pair of eyes on you, practically burning a hole into your flesh from his heated gaze. Jeongin was sat at your assigned table, a drink forgotten in front of him while he stared you down. His gaze is enough to set you aflame, cheeks reddened from how intense his eyes felt against you, not so subtly running along your body. The boy was practically eye fucking you from across the room, not a shameful bone in his body. It was quite distracting as you tried to introduce yourself to Jun’s grandmother.

The two of you make eye contact and it’s impossible to look away, his deep chocolate eyes captivating you. Jeongin’s tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, your eyes following the movement and the cheeky fucker smirks, knowing he’s caught you in his web. With a subtle nod towards the bathrooms, he gets up, suddenly paying you no mind before striding in the direction he directed you to. It leaves you a little mystified, blinking and frozen in place. You clear your throat, turning to Jun with a small smile.

“Excuse me Junnie,” You mumble before escaping the male’s grasp, but he lets you go easily enough, too caught up in a different conversation.

As you make your way towards the bathrooms there’s a sense of heat that starts to fill your lower belly, a wave on anticipation for whatever Jeongin has up his sleeve. It fills you with excitement, hands practically shaking as you open the door.

The bathrooms are one of those fancy single ones, lights dim and fancy expensive soap. You don’t have time to admire the decore as Jeongin pins you back against the door, the tell tale click of the door being locked. He doesn’t hesitate to press his lips to yours, practically devouring you. It’s all teeth and tongue, groaning into your mouth desperately. The sound goes straight to your pussy.

Jeongin presses against you, already hard in his slacks, hips rutting up against you.

“Fuck. Do you even know how good you look?” His voice is raspy and deep, sounding already so gone. You can’t help but giggle, rather enjoying the effect you have on the boy.

“Mm, I have no idea,” You singsong. “Maybe you should tell me,” Your words illicit another groan from the boy before he’s picking you up and carrying you over to the counter and setting you down there. Perhaps the way he had lifted you up like it was nothing turned you on further, it would seem your baby bread has been accompaning his hyungs to the gym more often.

Jeongin runs his hands up until they’re splayed across your thighs, easy access thanks to the slit in your dress. His lips are on yours again, this time much softer, taking his time to savor your taste. Meanwhile his hands grope and squish at the soft flesh of your thighs, fingers running up until they hook under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to your ankles.

You let out a gasp as his long fingers make contact with your wet core and Jeongin takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your awaiting mouth. You’re completely at his mercy, deft fingers circling your clit and his tongue stealing your breath away.

“So wet,” His voice is deep, slightly gruff as he nips at your now swollen tiers. “Eager are we?” The cocky tone makes you want to roll your eyes at him, but they’re rolling to the back of your head anyway as he easily slides a digit into your core, a whine falling from your lips. “Look so good like this for me,”

You can vaguely hear the sound of the music that’s blasting in the venue, the walls of the bathroom muting it but even then, the sound of your slick echoes lewdly in your ear and it heats your body up.

Jeongin is so content like this, watching you fall apart on the counter, soft moans filtering from your lips as he’s lazily thrusts his fingers into you. As much as he would love to take his time with you, his cock is starting to ache, still trapped in the confines of his slacks.

“Can I fuck you baby?” He asks against your ear, pressing soft kisses to your earlobe and trailing them down your neck. You nod your head, probably a little too eagerly but there’s pretty much nothing on your mind besides Jeongin’s cock splitting you in half. But then you remember something important and it makes you whine.

“Innie…you don’t have a condom do you?”

The question makes him freeze and if he wasn’t literally two fingers deep in your cunt you would have laughed at his bewildered facial expression. But then suddenly he’s pulling out of you, a whimper leaving your lips at the loss of his fingers filling you up. Jeongin is frantically patting at his slacks, as if searching for something, leaving you slightly baffled at the sight. Finally he pulls his wallet out and from it, produces a singular condom.

“Seungminnie hyung said I should keep one in my wallet just in case…never really thought anything about it. I’m gonna kiss that man later,” His words make you snort, shaking your head at how silly he is. But if you were honest, you’d probably kiss Seungmin later for the same reason.

The two of you don’t waste anymore time, remembering you are in a public space, at your best friends wedding for goodness sake. In your defense, your brain is no longer working, especially when Jeongin is bending you over the (very nice) counter, moving the skirt of your dress aside and slipping your panties down your legs.

You arch your back just slightly, legs spreading to give the boy a peak at your glistening folds and Jeongin swears he could probably cum in his pants. He’s quick to slide the condom over his almost painful erection, coming close to press his chest to your back, trailing kisses along your shoulder. He ruts his cock against your soaked core before positioning in front of your entrance. With how aroused you are, it’s an easily glide in, just a slight stretch that feels all too good.

Jeongin lets out a borderline pornographic moan when he bottoms out, your wet warm heat squeezing his cock feels heavenly and he already knows he’s not gonna last very long. He shudders against your body as he holds you tightly, large hands splayed across your torso.

“Fuck- You feel so fucking good,” He groans, needing just a second to calm himself down before he blows his load already. You can barely register his words, not faring any better. The sensation of being so full, of having your soulmates cock buried inside your heat is a feeling you don’t think you’ll ever get used to.

The two of you simply relish in the moment for a second and while maybe Jeongin might have jumped the gun on your first time together, he promises that the next time he’ll take his time to savor you. For now he just wants to feel you coming apart on his cock.

He moves his hips rather expertly, rocking into you with strong thrusts and you feel yourself further melting into the cool counter, the drag of Jeongin’s cock against your gummy walls feels too fucking good. Any and all thoughts are leaving your head, the only thing you care about is the heady pleasure that builds steadily in the pit of your stomach.

Jeongin is pressed flush against your back, sucking marks into your skin and whispering sweet dirty words into your ear and you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your peak.

“Such a good girl, hm? Taking my cock so well. You feel so good baby…I’m not gonna last long,” He nips at the back of your ear and you nod your head in agreement.

“Innie! I-Innie…” You’re mumbling his name over and over like a chant, your walls clenching around his length sporatically. “I’m so close…gonna, gonna cum,” You gasp out, the rubber band threatening to snap each time the tip of his cock hits that spot deep inside of you. He brings a finger to your clit, rubbing the swollen button in circles.

“Go ahead baby, cum all over my cock,” He says with a grunt, thrusts somehow getting even harsher and the sound of skin slapping reverberates against the walls.

It doesn’t take much longer before you’re gushing around his cock, coming with a whimper. Jeongin does his best to fuck you through your orgasm but with the way your walls clench around him has him spilling into the condom not too far after you. Both of you need a moment to catch your breath, slowly coming down from the euphoria of such an act. Jeongin seems to collect himself before you, not even noticing him pulling out. You only finally come out of your haze when you feel something damp against your skin.

Jeongin is cleaning you up, even if he didn’t cum inside, you can still feel your own release against your thighs. Slowly, he also helps you pull your panties back up before picking you up to settle you on the counter. He fusses over you, smoothing your hair down and fixing your dress and your heart flutters in your chest at how attentive the younger boy is after having just dicked you down. You giggle before wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a sweet kiss, one that he happily melts into.

When you two pull away, he’s giving you that bright fox-like smile, dimples practically blinding you as he helps you off the counter.

“C’mon baby. Let’s go dance and hope that your friends didn’t notice your disappearance,” You snort.

“Even if they didn’t, I think the hickies speak for themselves,” Jeongin has the gall to blush, his tongue running along his teeth.

“Sorry, not sorry,”

“You are such a brat,”

“Guilty!”

You roll your eyes, spanking him before moving towards the door.

“Let’s go dance baby bread,”

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[ghostbustting]

╰┈➤“𝑻𝑨𝑲𝑬 𝑨 𝑷𝑰𝑪„ ๋࣭⭑

From the 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 series

Early 90's!James Hetfield x Reader

Contains Smut.

For as far as I could remember, they were supposed to send me here with someone else, but that fucking dickhead decided to catch a flu all of a sudden. I barely know shit.. Hell, I’m new to this job.

So here I am, looking dumb as ever as I try to make my way through the venue of the Metallica concert, clutching my camera tightly in one hand, my other hand clutching my photographer ID, completely forgetting the fact that both of those items had straps on them that are currently around my neck. Oh but what can an overthinker like me say? Anyone could snatch them in a flash of light.

My nervous habits told me to chew on my lips, but obviously I couldn’t risk the chance of ruining my lipstick, got to keep the good image, right? So instead, I just chew on the inside of my cheek as I make my way past people and people and people. Pretty sure I saw a girl half naked back there. But- eh, it’s the rock n’ roll life I suppose.

Eventually, I found the way to the backstage, having to show my ID to the security. There were loads of people and rooms there, my mind fills with the thought of where the members could be since I was supposed to be taking pictures of them. The smell.. I can’t tell whether someone has brought a lot of booze or those are sweats of the roadie walking around me. Probably both.

Walking, I peek through every room in case any of the members were indeed in there. Which, is a complete fail. Honestly, I need a human tracker for these men, I’m almost 75% sure at least one of them is inside a groupie at this very moment.

With each steps I take, the more nervous and impatient I get. I can’t wait to just skedaddle out of here at the end of the night.

Hopeless, I decided to approach one of the roadies. I clear my throat before poking his shoulder with my finger, “Excuse me?” My voice came out a little small and soft, “Do you know where the band is?"

I completely forgot how loud it is here, so all I could catch from his answer was to keep walking straight. Perhaps I should take a break from all those loud music, my ears really aren’t it for this shit.

And so I walk.. walk.. walk.. Still not a single member came across my path. I huff, feeling clueless and lost. That is.. until my eyes caught two doors with the signs: “METALLICA” on both of them. One of them had the names “Ulrich - Newsted” and the other door had “Hetfield - Hammett”. Bingo.

I decided to take a visit the vocalist and guitarist’s room first, gently knocking on the closed door before opening it and taking a step in, my steps cautious. The room seemed quiet compared to the other rooms and the chaotic condition outside. I gulped, “Hello?” I whisper in a hushed voice to the empty room, closing the door behind me.

Or rather- what I thought was an empty room.

"Hello to you too, miss."

I flinch a little, spinning around due to the sudden deep voice that greeted me back. My eyes were met by the unreal sight of James Hetfield, leaning against the doorframe to the toilet with a gorgeous smirk planted on his lips that many girls probably dream of kissing out there, a halfway finished bear in his grasp. Took my system quite awhile to realize that the blue eyed blond in front of me is shirtless, only in jeans that probably hugged his ass.

Closing my panicked yet ‘blessed by the sight’ eyes with my hands almost in an instant, I turn around, “I’m so sorry!” I walk towards the door with still a blind sight, only when I bumped into the door that I remembered I had closed it. “Ah shit-” I held my hurt forehead with one hand and the other moved to the door handle to open it with a push.

I was in fact, supposed to pull it.

Before I could try to pull the door and make my way out, a hand slammed itself on the door and pushed it back closed. I slowly turn around, finding myself being towered over by James. A small chuckle leaves his lips, “It’s okay,” His eyes went to my camera, “cam girl, are you?” He asked, his voice low yet gentle.

I clear my throat, “Photographer.” I correct him, my voice small and nervous, trying to ignore the proximity between the both of us. He chuckle once more and nod, “A smart one it seems.” At that moment, I feel like his eyes were seeing through my skin and directly into my soul, and that fact made me feel my cheeks heating up.

Not only his eyes, it’s the way he licks his lips, the way he towers over me, the way his bare chest is so close to meeting my clothed one, and also the fact that he’s James fucking Hetfield. Everything about him intrigued everyone.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” He spoke up once more. Seeing me struggling with my words, his hand reach down to grab my ID, pulling it up to his face, due to the ID’s strap around my neck, I was also pulled close, bumping into his bare torso, but he looked like he could care less and focused on my ID.

I can hear him mumble my name once he read it. The way my name rolled off his tongue is surely something I’d want to hear again and again and again.

“You okay?” His voice snapped me out of the short trance I’m in.

“H-huh?"

He smirked, his teeth peeking out just the slightest. My eyes watch cautiously as his hand reach out to lay on my chest, right where my heart would be beating hard, fast, and loud. Oh, that doesn’t sound right. But it truly is what’s going on with my heart, and I can’t tell why. “Your little heart’s beating a little too loud there, sweets.” His voice sounds playful as those words escaped his mouth in a whisper.

My mind blanked out while I try to find the perfect answer, “I- i-” I would protest, but the sight of my chest heaving up and down would simply proof my statement wrong.

Even if I wanted to speak, I’d cut myself off in surprise as his hand slowly make it’s way across my chest and towards one of my clothed breasts, talk about being subtle.. I sucked in deep breath when he suddenly squeezed and groped it gently.

I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back whatever noise that was urging to slip past my lips, I try to speak, “W-we shouldn’t—”

Too late. Cause before I could finish my sentence, he press his lips onto mine and at that moment.. I can feel all the self respect and professionality in me float away and evaporate into thin air as I press my lips against him back, locked in a desperate kiss.

His hand was still groping at my chest while his other one trails to wrap around my waist and pull me even closer, my arms coming up to wrap around his neck, practically clinging onto him like a koala on a tree, my fingers climbing up to run through his blond hair.

Our lips just continued rubbing together, his tongue eventually coming to meet mine between our now red lips due to my lipstick. I can feel his hands tugging on my shirt and pants and unbuttoning them one by one while walking us to the couch in the room, all while our tongues still meet in the sloppy desperate kiss.

Everything goes so fast. Well, that is what happens when it’s something fun that’s going on. Time can be painfully slow yet annoyingly fast sometimes.

Next thing I knew, I was thrown onto the couch, every single fabric that once covered me thrown away. I took deep breaths from the kiss and watch as he lean down to take my camera that previously fell onto the floor.

My heart beats faster as he approach me and grab me by my hair harshly, I gasp and wince while he is pulling my face forward to the camera. I didn’t know what’s going on until a flash from the camera blinded my eyes.

A smirk once again is seen on the face of James Hetfield in satisfaction before putting the camera strap around his neck, my camera now dangling from him. Like an obedient pet, I sit there and watch every move makes carefully, waiting for what’s next.

His hand meets my cheek, I can feel his slightly rough finger pads stroking my heated red skin, “Such a good girl..” He whispers, his other hand coming down to unbuckle his belt.

My eyes widens in surprise, yet there’s also a hint of excitement behind all of those nervousness as a another fabric is discarded and join the floor. The only thing keeping me from what would be his cock is his boxers, yet that didn’t even help hide how hard and strained little James is.

I look up at him, our eyes meeting while I search for a sign of permission as my hand slowly make it’s way to his boxers, causing his eyes to gaze down at it instead. Hooking my finger on the waistband, I slowly pull it down until it joins the jeans on the floor.

A sigh left James as the cold air meets his beautiful length. My hand reached for it and slowly stroke it up and down, feeling every veins move under my palm. I was unsure of how I was doing, but the way his hips bucked up proves an answer.

“Use your mouth. Make me proud, yea?”

And that’s what I did. My lips wrap around the tip of his length, licking the salty precum dripping out in beads. My tongue slowly trail to the underside of his length, carefully but surely.

Then slowly, my head starts to bob up and down his length with my cheeks hollowed, sucking hard like a true slut.

My hazy eyes look up at him as I please him with the warmth of my mouth, only to be greeted by another flash of the camera, capturing a perfect picture of my vulnerable position. He groans at the sight and I went even faster.

His other hand went to my hair and guided me. Though I did choke a few times, my saliva coating his length even more. Tears starts to build up in my eyes, my vision becoming blurry while my throat fight to make him proud. My moans muffled around his length while his groans are delivered clearly.

Not long, I could tell he was close. I suppose that’s why he then pull his length out of my mouth, my jaw aching just a bit. I pant for breath as he sit down on the couch and grab me, pulling me up on his lap with my body weak.

He place my hair out of my face and kissed my lips for a second, “Ready to be filled? Hmm?” His cock was right underneath my bare pussy, I whine at the sensation, hands on his shoulder as I look down, grinding on him a little. “Hips up, sweets.”

I did as he told me, lifting my hips as he position his length. Slowly, I begin to sink down.. moaning in unison with the blond man that’s currently buried inside me.

His length was way thicker than I thought, stretching me out and making me a whining mess before even moving. That fucking sly smirk is still on his face as he place his hands firmly on my hips, “Move baby, move.”

“I-” I try to protest but words seems to find their way out difficult. So I slowly lift my hips up and sink back down, repeating the same move over and over again till I found the ability to accelerate my move.

Moans leave my lips like a sinful melody, my body bouncing up and down on his length like a forbidden dance. Yet I’m enjoying every second of this. And by his groans and expression, I can tell it’s mutual.

Another flash of the camera blinded me, capturing a picture of me on him with my breasts bouncing from how fast I was moving. I whimper and bury my face in his neck, my hot breath meeting his skin and causing his hips to buck up and meet mine.

Eventually, my ability to move with that same pleasuring speed starts to disappear as vulnerability starts to get to me more and more, my body becoming weak and all the senses I have intoxicated with how good he feel in me. “I- I can’t.. f-fuck..” I cried, shaking my head.

With a chuckle, James simply manhandled me once more and slammed my body down on the couch, he then held my legs and put them up on his shoulder.

Suddenly, his hips starts ramming into me in an unbelievable speed, making my moans even more louder and high pitched. "Fuck!!"

Whatever possessed this man I will never know, cause a sex like this is a sex I can only think of in the middle of a lonely night, my thoughts would be saying it’s unreal and that I'm delusional.

But here I am, stuffed with James fucking Hetfield.

“J-James..” My voice whispered in gasps for him, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as tears continue to roll out of my eyes.

Another flash of the camera. This time, capturing the sight of my tearful and vulnerable face. Then another flash. And another. And another. Shit, this man is gonna make me lose my job..

“So good.. fuck.. Hang in there, sweetheart..” He groaned and speed up even more making me gasp even louder, “James!!” I screamed. He thrusts so oddly well, hitting every single spot that he knew would make my toes curl.

But then, the moment his fingers greeted my clit by rubbing harsh circles on it, I knew I wouldn’t last any longer. “I can’t..! P-please..” I beg, as if I wanted this to end while knowing damn well I don’t.

My body squirms underneath him, like a leech that’s been poured salt on. I grabbed onto a pillow on the couch and press it on my face, crying into it.

“Show your face. Now!” He lift my hips up, still thrusting, then his palm meets my ass in a harsh spank, causing me to flinch and obediently abandon the pillow. My eyes met his and I can’t even tell what expression he had on because of my blurry eyes.

My chest rises up and falls down, panting for breath. “…’M close.. James, I’m close..” I whimpered, gripping onto the couch.

“I know baby, me too..” He groans and his hips’ movement starts to falter, “Let go, sweetheart..”

I took deep breaths and gasp once the knot in my stomach released and white fluids starts to drip out of my pussy, around his length. I whined at the sensation and bite my lip.

Then, James pulled out and starts to pump his length with his hand, shooting his load on my stomach and chest, groaning. He took out the camera once more and took a picture of my dripping cunt and my cum-painted body.

I try to relax and breathe normally again, my hand reaching up to lightly touch the cum of James fucking Hetfield on my chest, only to flinch when James suddenly wrap his hand around my throat and lean his face close to me.

His eyes were sharp and his voice was deep, “You listen and you listen carefully,” He started, taking off the camera and putting it close to my face, “When you go home, I want you to print these pictures and copies of them. I want you to keep them and remember me. I want you to go to our next concert, meet me backstage, and give me the fucking copies so I can have a little souvenir, yea?” His voice was stern, almost similar to the voice he use onstage.

“Understand?”

“Y-yes..—”

“Louder!” He lightly slapped my cheek.

“Yes, James!”

And like that, the James Hetfield smirk returns to his face and he press a kiss onto my forehead, “Good girl.. Now c’mon, get dressed. I’ll find the boys for you.” He winked and stood up, picking his boxers and jeans up. I slowly sat up as well, sniffling and wiping my tears. I look down at the camera roll and find.. rather sinful pictures of me.

I’m never quitting my job.

[whore4abby]

could you do a abby x model reader i could just imagine abby being at our runways and just thinking about she’s gonna do to us after our show (i love ur writings btw!!!)

driver roll up the partition please; abby anderson x runway model!reader

warnings; smut - semi-public sex (back of a chauffeured car), fingering + cunnilingus (r!receiving), nipple play, mentions of a strap-on, tiny mention of a daddy kink, mdni

wc; 1.2k

as the night draws to a close, you walk out gracefully onto the runway for your final appearance of the night. your hips swaying side-to-side as you make your way down the cat-walk, creating a hypnotising rhythm that matches the beat of the music in the background.

the delicate material of your skimpy lingerie is almost see-through, your tits visible beneath the thin lace. the hem just barely covering your nipples as well as your ass also being on display as the lacy panties are cut into a minuscule thong.

the front row seats are so close to the runway, giving your wife an unobstructed view, letting her see every detail of your body. abby subtly leans forward to get a better look at you as you walk past, her thighs spread and her eyes glued to you as she drinks in the sight of your gorgeous body.

you make the conscious decision to put on a little show for her. walking with a bit more sass than usual, hips swaying with confidence. you look back over your shoulder, letting her really get a good look at you. she tries shifting in her seat but it does little to alleviate the mounting arousal she feels. her eyes are glued to your body, never once taking her eyes off her beautiful girl.

you finish the show feeling exhausted but so, so proud of yourself for all the hard work that's led up to this very night. the applause still ringing in your ears as you step down from the runway and hastily make your way backstage, desperate to see your wife, but before you can even start to search for her amidst the rush of people, you feel a familiar hand caressing your bare waist. “hi pretty girl~” she whispers and leans in to kiss your cheek softly.

“hi abs…” you smile at her, resting your hands on her forearms and feeling her muscles flexing due to her fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. the heat and desire between you is so intense that you feel like you might burst at any moment. she tugs on your arm, her fingers digging into your skin. “c'mon….i can’t wait any longer~” she growls into your ear, moving a hand down to grope your ass before pulling it back up to rest on the small of your back.

she throws your trench coat over your shoulders, you quickly slip your arms into it and wrap it tight around your exposed body, fingers fumbling to haphazardly do up a couple of buttons around your midsection. shouting a quick half-assed apology to your stylist as abby quite literally drags you away. “would you fuckin slow down!?” you scowl, stumbling behind her on your stupidly tall stilettos.

as you walk out of the venue, multiple flashes go off, fans are calling out to you for pictures, but abby keeps her massive arms around you and tries to shield you from any rogue questions and the horny comments from the onslaught of paparazzi.

you both finally make it to your designated car, abby shoves you in, not wasting a second before she she quickly follows suit, clambering in behind you and swiftly locking the door behind her. she mumbles briefly to the chauffer and slams down the partition just as the car starts to pull away from the sidewalk. the sound of soft music and the rumbling of the engine filling the small space between the two of you.

you feel her hands travel along your spine, pulling you under her and she leans in to catch your lips with hers, abby’s tongue pressing up against your lips before it slides into your mouth. her hands instinctively unbuttoning your coat and throwing it into the footwell.

abby takes your hand and places it on the bulge in her pants. of course. of-fucking-course she's wearing the strap-on. “you feel that….? imma have you creaming down my cock when we get home~” she growls into your ear.

your breath comes out in rapid pants as her hand slides between your legs, rubbing and teasing at your inner thighs as she whispers in your ear, biting your earlobe as she grinds against you. “you’re so fuckin sexy~”

she pulls away and starts popping the clasp at the back of your bra and yanks it down your shoulders, your tits spilling out. she gazes at your exposed chest, licking her lips before reaching out to tweak and pinch your nipples. “god i love these tits~” she gives them a firm tug, rubbing over them with her thumbs. you squeak out in surprise and she laughs at you in pity, moving to grip your ass with her rough hands, slapping the squishy fat and making you cry out. “abby…mmm fuck~”

“these little panties are cute at all, but they have to go…” you whine as her hands start to travel down, slipping her fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down your legs. she curses under her breath as she gets a look at your pussy, wet and desperately waiting for her fingers.

her fingers slip over your slick entrance and she slides her middle finger inside, stretching and preparing you for more. “so eager for my fingers…you really are a slut for me…” she taunts, sliding her ring finger in beside it, scissoring her fingers teasingly. you moan loudly at the sensation, praying the music mutes any of your noises.

she thrusts in and out slowly, rubbing against that sweet spot inside you that always makes you cum hard. “ohhh abs….feels so good~” the cold silver of her wedding band repeatedly coming into contact with your hot pussy has your back arching into her. “you like having daddy’s hand here?”

“mhm~” you whimper, biting your lip and looking down to watch her fingers disappear into your cunt before reappearing again, covered in your syrupy juices.

she kisses her way down your body, stopping for a couple seconds to lick at your hard nipples before trailing her lips down your tummy and down between your spread legs. abby smirks and leans down, swirling her tongue around your clit before moving to slurp at your slit. “fuck….can never get enough of this sweet cunt~” she tilts her head back and moans at the taste of your juices, closing her eyes to wholly focus on licking and teasing your pussy.

she lets out muffled moans and gasps as she tastes you, her fingers still rubbing and teasing your g-spot. you watch as beads of sticky sweat drip down her neck and disappear down into the collar of her dress shirt as you reach back and place a hand on the foggy glass to steady yourself as abby continues her sloppy assault on your cunt.

she continues to lap up your juices, curling her fingers inside you simultaneously until she has you cumming on her tongue, “nnngghhh….abby~!” you weave your trembling fingers into her hair as she keeps messily eating you out long after you’ve already cum. she eventually slows down and drags her fingers out of you and comes back up to be face-to-face with you.

you giggle lazily, eyes half-lidded as you gaze at her, “mmm, look at you~” she groans as she takes in the sight of you. all fucked out, laying against the leather seats of the bentley, panties round your ankles and your pussy absolutely soaked with your own slick and her saliva.

an; anon thank u sm for this request i had LOTS of fun writing it😵‍💫😵‍💫 and thank u for the nice words about my writing, it means a lot !!!!

[harlowtales]

Jack is jealous when Y/N goes crazy for another rapper 😡

18 PLUS ONLY - ADULT CONTENT

(Unedited)

“You ready baby? Happy Birthday to my girl. Are you excited?” Jack said holding you from behind and kissing your neck as you checked yourself out in the full length mirror.

“Baby you’re wrinkling me!” You said smoothing out where he had bunched up your dress wrapping his arms around you. “But thank you baby I can’t wait!”

“If I was a bad bitch I’d wanna fuck me too!” You said jumping up and down as if you were already at NLE’s show in the front row. Jack surprised you with tickets and because he knew NLE you were going to meet him. Jack just looked at you and walked away. He was a bit jealous if he was being honest. This was all you talked about since you found out like you weren’t dating an even more famous rapper.

“Hey, calm down and don’t you think you should wear something that covers you more baby? What about this jeans and hoodie? It’s just a concert.” Jack tried to reason to make himself feel better. You looked gorgeous and that was the problem. NLE was as funny and charming as Jack was.

“Um no thanks I like this dress but maybe next time.” You said unknowingly kissing him on the cheek. “Let’s go!!!”

“Can we listen to NLE on the way there?” You begged as Jack didn’t like noise when he was driving.

“We’re going to the show isn’t that over kill?” He said starting to get annoyed.

“We’ll listen to older stuff he might not play tonight. PLLLLLEASE” you said pouting.

“Ok fine.” He relented kissing your forehead. You were adorable when you begged.

“Going down a narrow ro oh oh oad, going down a narrow road oh oh oad!!!” You sang NLE’s earlier hit Narrow Road at the top of your lungs with the roof open. Jack was already regretting buying you these tickets. He had to make you go to Gazebo Fest and you complained the entire time of being too hot, hungry, and tired.

Jack wasn’t much for concerts and when he went he usually sat higher up in box seats but because he knew you wanted front row you got front row. Baby gets what baby wants. This was a smaller venue anyway so Jack didn’t have much of a choice. You let out a squeal when you grabbed the barricade and Jack rolled his eyes taking his guarded boyfriend stance firmly behind you where he planned to be the entire time. He looked around and he felt old. NLE’s crowd was about 16-25 so he grumpily put up with pushing and shoving as the crowd built up.

“Yo!!! Oh shit Jack Harlow is here!” He was hearing around him as cell phones quickly came out of pockets and flashed before he could say anything. He wanted a date night feeling with no security and was beginning to regret it. You on the other hand were chatting away with someone beside you about how funny NLE was and his latest shenanigans on IG.

“Girl that red see through top and red leather pants at Fashion Week??? OMG!! He looked SO GOOD!” She gushed to which you nodded and Jack pretended not to hear. That’s when the lights went down a few opening acts you didn’t care much about came on. Jack was concerned you were bored.

“You ok baby? You’re barely dancing” he observed sweetly as he held you tighter. He was bracing himself for your reaction to the main event.

“Just waiting for my man is all.” You said “Saving my energy.” You didn’t yet know you were going to meet NLE afterwards.

After a brief intermission and endless people coming up to Jack the lights dimmed and you started screaming. “He ain’t even on yet.” Jack said dryly and slightly embarrassed.

Then it got pitch black and smoke filled the stage. Through the mist NLE emerged with his signature look shirtless, tatted from head to toe, low riding black jeans. He directed a megawatt, diamond grilled smile to you and winked. “Jack Harlow done brought his girl to see me y’all!!!” NLE said playfully as he darted to the other end of the stage. Jack smiled back but the joke irked him. You on the other hand were mesmerized.

Then NLE did the Slut Me Out trilogy it was a wrap. By this time Jack was hiding how mad he was. NLE had you. He jumped down from the stage drenched in sweat and as he went by the front row he kissed your hand like a perfect gentleman. You sang along just as loud as in the car then it happened. NLE pulled you up on stage and walked around you like his prey as he rapped “Is we fucking or what?” and made his famous humping gestures in the air. You were escorted back to Jack who just stood there in disbelief.

“Having a good time now?” Jack said angrily

“Baby I…Baby it’s all just fun.” You apologized thinking because Jack and NLE knew each other and both always joked around it was all fine. You tried to kiss him but he dogged it.

“I have a surprise for you that unfortunately we can’t back out of now or I’ll look like a punk.” Jack explained as the crowd thinned out after the show and he led you to the backstage area following security that came to get you.

“Wait what’s happening???” You asked incredulously as you were now standing in the hallway in front of NLE’s dressing room door. Jack just stood there not saying a word.

“Baby I am so sorry if I acted way over the top and made you feel bad.” You said as you titled your head up to kiss him. Jack couldn’t resist and felt your butt as his tongue met yours.

“You owe me after this” Jack said giving your butt a light but stinging tap that served as a warning.

“You’re a lucky man legend” you heard a voice say in a thick Memphis drawl. You turned around and there he was. NLE standing there freshly showered with grey sweatpants on and a towel on his head.

You tried not to appear remotely interested in looking down at the package NLE was toting. Jack’s eyes were on you.

“You must be y/n so honoured to meet the princess of Kentucky” he said holding your hand too long for Jack’s liking.

You shyly replied “Um that’s me” fixing hair behind your ear. All mannerisms that Jack didn’t like.

“Oh fuck now she getting all SHY??” He said seething in his mind.

“Sup.” He said to NLE and dapped him up not showing how agitated his was as he felt NLE poured it on thick during his show.

“I hope you don’t mind me bringing this gorgeous prize on stage. I just wanted to make her birthday unforgettable.” NLE said eyeing you

“Preciate you man.” Jack replied stiffly in complete bro mode.

“Oh boy Jack is acting all hard he is PISSED.” You said to yourself. Him and Jack talked shop for a bit off to the side recounting the XXL freshman class they were both in. Jack seemed to loosen up and was smiling and laughing to which you breathed a sigh of relief.

On the way home he was silent in the car and you didn’t ask to play any music especially NLE’s. You reached over and felt his bulge and he responded immediately shifting in his seat as he stared at the road. “That’s right, you know how to make everything up to me birthday girl.”

“Pull over.” You ordered “Imma take care of you like it’s YOUR birthday.”

@itsyagirljaz @jackharlow502

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter XII : Venus

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: I realized shortly after posting chapter 11 that I’d made a small mistake in the timeline I’m intending this to follow. I included a line from Din saying Paz had already tried to take the Darksaber from him and failed, but where we’re at now, chapter 5 of The Book of Boba Fett hasn’t happened just yet. So I’ve gone back and deleted that small detail from the previous chapter, and why am I even telling you this, idk, but if you guy could do me a solid and pretend to forget my fuck up, I’d love you forever for it. 

Writing Star Wars is hard

Also, the indomitable @dirtysouvenir has rendered the most gorgeous artwork imaginable of Din and Sithy, and I still can’t quite believe my eyes every time I look at it. Everyone please go show Jonis all the love and praise she deserves. 

Anyways… like always, forgive me for the wait. I love you all for being so patient with me. And shout out to chapter four of Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband which served as inspiration for this. You will always be famous to me!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

Tip Jar

CHAPTER XII : VENUS

What are we doing here, and why are our hearts invisible?

Anne Carson, Kinds of Water

“Just like that, yes. Good girl–keep doing what you’re doing.” His hand slides to circle your wrist, leather and the thick weave of your tunic, the slight shake of your nerves caught between. “Grip it firmly, but squeeze it gently. Yes– yes, good. You’re doing so well.”

You suck in a trembling breath, too hyper aware of the feel of his chest plate brushing against your back, the cap of his left knee gently bumping the back of your own, his arms wrapped in a loose and careful cage around your frame where he’s helping you direct the blaster at the target he’d set up several meters away for practicing. He’s got one of your wrists wrapped in the leather of his fist, the other cupping the underside of your elbow to keep your shaking arms steady. 

“I don’t know why I’ve never been very good at this,” you whisper over the sound of the burning desert winds lashing you in the brow. “It’s just never come very easy.”

“That’s alright. That’s why we’re practicing again.” The hand cupping your elbow moves slowly to your waist, all his handling of you these past few days has been so intentional, cautious and patient and aware of himself and you and your reactions. Your heart beats, thumps and thumps hard enough to make you a little dizzy, a little sick. “Keep your right arm firm, but fluid. Try not to lock your elbow, let the recoil move through you steadily.”

He’d covered your hair and face in soft white linen wraps to keep you from being scorched by the sun and sand, and his voice is so deep, head pitched low so that the modulator is vibrating right at the level of your ear, the sounds of him sluicing through the linen to curl around your ear. You shiver again, squeezing your fist too tight around the butt of the blaster. You’d asked him if he’d help you practice just before you’d made planet fall a few hours ago, and now here the two of you are. A few clicks outside of Mos Eisley, he’d found a cluster of sandstacks to land the Crest amidst for a couple hours of target practice—near an area he’d told you is called Beggar’s Canyon. 

You’re not sure if it’s just an excuse to have him touch you, but here you are now, in the circle of his arms, shivering with nerves and heat and want. The sun burns, but the places where he grips you burn worse, and your heart rings in your skull. 

“Focus your gaze between the eyeline, eventually, it’ll come naturally, your aim, but for now, use the field the blaster sets. Squeeze gentle–” He grips your now healed elbow firmly, anchoring your arm, the hand holding your wrist moves to your waist, securing you in his hold so that when you pull the trigger, the zing of the blaster bolt leaving its chamber moves through your limb, into your chest cavity, electrifying your heart, and his hold is steadying all the way through. He’s there to keep you up, keep you strong, and so it’s almost thoughtless when you do it, a gut instinct or some muscle inside your brain desperate to flex and stretch or come awake because faster than you can blink or think, you take hold of that bolt of plasma with your mind, freezing it midway between where the two of you stand and the target he’d set. 

You feel his hands flex around you, but he keeps still and silent, watching, waiting for what you’ll do next. And your heart beats faster and faster, the bright of the sun gleaming and nauseating, refracting off the sand, the plasma, your eyes. The bolt screeches and writhes and defies the laws of nature by your hand, and it does not feel good, but it does feel right. 

The first time you’ve really wielded the Force since the night you escaped. 

There’s something painful and uncomfortable and familiar about it coming back to you. Your breath goes fast within your chest, the taste of the desert on your tongue and the grit of sand sneaking beneath your clothes, sweaty line of anxiety down your spine, and his steady, calm breaths up against your back every other moment, this power inside of you that’s always been the cause of everything bad and only some things good. It vibrates in everything, moves through all living things, the Force, within you, within him. 

“Let it go, cyare. It’s okay if you miss.” You shut your eyes and let it fall away and now it’s not the Force or you or anything else, it’s only him keeping you up against the rest of everything. 

The two of you, like grief and the mountain. 

-

“How did you meet this woman again?” You ask for about the third time, seemingly unable to keep your mouth shut and your nerves to yourself. 

“She’s been keeping up maintenance on the Crest for a while now. And she helped out with the kid, watched him for me a couple times—I trust her.”

“Peli,” you repeat the name contemplatively, taking in the sight of him as he checks the pre-landing codes, flipping switches and punching toggles a little too roughly. He’s agitated, covered and swathed in it. You know he’s worried about you, the way you’ll feel being around someone else, scared you’re still feeling fragile or tired or weak. And you’re accepting it for now because you are. You are tired and you do feel fragile and you do need taking care of. If only for the time being, if only for a little bit longer. A sort of end feels very near, and you’re still working out what that such end is going to be. 

“Peli,” he sighs, hitting the last button and finally swiveling in his chair to face you, and you eye him suspiciously, you know that sigh and head tilt. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Not tired?”

“No.”

“Your shoulder?”

Hurts. “Fine.”

“Cyar’ika.”

“Din.” Another sigh. Another shake of his head. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes at you beneath that stupid lug of metal he wears on his fat head. But you hope that he’s smiling too, and you give him a soft, small one of your own, twisting your fingers together tightly in your lap. You want to reach out for him, to go to him and sit with him and kiss him again like the other day. But you don’t feel ready again. Again, fragile, tired, a weakness of heart within you that you can’t understand the source of, or you can, but you don’t want to accept it, you want to be able to move on, to get over it, to be like you once were. But that you also know he’ll let you feel for as long as you need to.

“I promise I feel okay, and that I’ll tell you if I don’t.” The target practice had left you tired and awake, and there is something moving inside of you—a recognition of sorts you can’t pinpoint exactly, but which you know is going to show or tell you something about yourself soon, the Force, the things you’d done or the things you’d do. And there’s patience too, a waiting, a readiness to receive whatever this would be without pressure or urgency. You feel entirely strung tight, a knot about to be set loose, entirely at ease, as well. Something strange about the anxiety you carry within yourself, like it doesn’t really matter much anymore and is only waiting for the right moment to be expelled. 

He gives a soft grunt and turns back to face the control panel. The rolling golden sands of Tatooine like an ocean before you, and then there in the distance, the littered smattering of sand blighted little buildings that make up the spaceport of Mos Eisley. He directs the Razor Crest towards Hangar three-five, the ship jostling with the lowering of the landing gear. 

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You ask nervously, following him down the ladder once he’s eased the ship into the landing bay, fretting over this ordeal of having to meet someone else from his life, a friend, which wasn’t even something you were aware he knew how to have. You hear the heavy thud of his boots against the durasteel, and then his hands are circling your waist and pulling you down the rest of the way, paying no mind to your indignant squawking. 

He’d been strange with his touch, as well. As if he couldn’t help himself some moments, overcome by habit and familiarity, and then afraid and cautious in others. And you can’t understand how you feel about this either. Grateful, a sort of soft that makes your eyes smart and your cheeks bleed with heat. He’s so aware of you, so aware of what you might want or need, but then overcome, as well, needing you, wanting you. And you feel so afraid you won’t be able to give him those things—the ones he wants or needs, that you won't be able to find your way back to the way things had been between the two of you before. 

“You’ll be fine,” he says, little compassion to be found for your fretting. You stick your tongue out at the back of his head, rolling your eyes and steeling yourself as he lowers the hatch, and a chirpy little voice calls, Mando!

The plank lowers, and lowers, and lowers, and finally, a mess of springy dark curls come into view. The small woman, Peli, claps her hands excitedly and spreads her arms in wide welcome of him, and something in your heart throbs. 

A friend, indeed. 

“Peli,” he greets her, heavy, swaying gate stomping down the gangplank, voice serious and not all matching her enthusiasm. You roll your eyes at him again as the reverberations of his steps tickle your feet through the soles of your boots. 

“Hey, look everyone! It’s Mando,” she says to the chittering droids whirring around her. You follow him slowly, slinking directly behind him so that the breadth of his shoulders conceals you for a second longer before, “And who do we have here? Another unlikely companion?” 

He pivots, letting you step into full view and brave shyness, a hand coming up to hover around your waist, urging you forward, but not actually touching you. The sound of your name rings in tune to the thump of your heart through the modulator. Careful, so careful, and it makes you hurt at your own self. Wanting to touch you one moment, unable to stop himself from ripping you into his arms; another, afraid, feeling like he can’t even put a gently motioning hand on your body, and how will you ever fix this? How are you going to ever be able to get the two of you back to where you were? 

You take a hurt little step away from him, swallowing the heat in your throat several times before you can force a smile onto your face. 

His body shifts and sways towards your retreating one. 

But the small woman steps towards you, pit droids spinning and skittering frantically around her, and she claps a work hewn hand on your shoulder. “Let Peli take a good look at you.” Her gaze is cheerful, full of a youthfulness that belies her age and an even more cheerful, gap toothed smile. “Pretty girlfriend, Mando.” She waggles her bushy brows up at him. “Brought me another set of bright eyes, didn’t’cha?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peli.” Your throat feels humiliatingly tight when she takes your hand in her smaller one, giving it a swift shake, no gentleness about the way she handles you, and there’s something comforting about the forsaking of the kid gloves. Your fracture isn’t obvious for the whole world to see, there’s still normalcy to be found for you. 

She looks up at Din as you avoid his burning gaze, laughing scowl on her sunny face. “Who woulda thought you had it in, ya, huh?” She thumps a fist on his chest plate, shaking her head and moves to take a look at the Crest. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Chasing down some elusive bounty? Carbon scoring’s worse than last time.'' She chatters a million miles a minute, pulling out some sort of electric scanner, assessing the old gunship. 

“We had a long trip,” he sighs, hands fisted on his hips as he watches her impatiently, turning his gaze back to your face every few moments. You want to bare your teeth at him in a snarl and tell him to stop fucking worrying. You want him to take you into his arms or hold your hand. 

“Long trip, sure. That’s what he always says,” she tells you over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes. “Turns out it’s usually a gun fight or something just as idiotic.”

You snicker, enjoying the easy way she handles your Mandalorian’s surliness, grateful for the cheerful buffer she provides between your own internal angst and his overzealous worrying. “It was a long trip this time, I swear. We’re coming from the Core,” he grumbles, and the two of you follow her while she inspects the damage on the ship, and in a moment of bravery or desperation for normalcy or closeness or just him, you reach up to grip two of his thick fingers in your fist. His hand immediately adjusts and curves to wrap around yours, intertwining your fingers and taking you securely in his grip. You feel him turn to look down at you questioningly, but you refuse to look back. This is normal, this is how it should be, this is what feels right even if you need the barrier of his gloves to feel like you can breathe. 

“The Core! Long way’s.” Hmm, she muses as she goes. “Got a fuel leak.” Again. He huffs. “Taking a vacation now?” She turns back with another smarmy smirk. 

“Something like that.”

“Nice little honeymoon?” She teases. “I could use one of those myself.” She scans something else, and the pit droids chatter and chirp around her, almost full her height, she’s so small. 

“Peli–” he grumbles. Your grumpy, shy boy; you wonder if he ever blushes under that thing, squeezing his hand in yours as tight as you can. 

“Yeah, yeah. No droids, I know. When are you gonna get over that nonsense, huh Mando? It’s about time, you know!” She bends to inspect something closer near the landing gear, covered in carbon scoring here too, examines her scanner again, then clips it back to her utility belt. “Alright, here’s the deal–” But he cuts her off, pivoting while pulling his blaster in one fluid motion to shoot at a poor little droid that's gotten too close. “Hey! Hey! What’ve I said before? You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” She shouts. 

“Din–” you scold, gripping the thick of his arm to pull the weapon down. 

“What’ve I told you?” He barks. 

“No droids. No droids. Blah, blah. You have got to get over that! I’m tryn’a make a deal with you here, ya womp rat.”

He jerks aggressively towards another little droid that wanders too close, sending it skittering away in terror, and you pinch his arm beneath the thick duraweave, frowning up at him, be nice, when he looks down at you, giving him a jut of your eyebrow and thrusting your chin at Peli. He groans, cursing low and grumpy in Mando’a. “Fine. What’s the deal?”

“If you let them work on the Crest–” She jerks her chin at the little pit droids quivering behind the crates strewn about the hangar in abject terror of the mean Mandalorian. 

“No,” he cuts her off, stubbornness in every line of his frame. 

“Din!” You scold again, bumping your hip into his. 

“Come on, Mando! I’ll charge you half price–”

“Deal,” he cuts her off again immediately, the cheapskate. 

“Ha!” She hoots and claps loudly. “Droids! Get to work on this lovely man’s ship. Lemme see the cash.” She holds out a grubby palm, wiggling her fingers. “He’s pretty easy, you ever notice that?” She says to you conspiratorially. 

“Constantly,” you can’t help the laugh in your voice. Your first laugh in what seems like years. 

“Loose knickered is what they used to call it back in my day.” And you have to turn your face into his arm to muffle your cackling, listening to him start up another string of curses beneath the helmet.

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that before, ever,” he mutters sullenly. 

“Well, you’re young.”

“Not that young,” you provide helpfully, big cheesy smile that feels slightly unnatural and rusted spreading across your face. 

“Whoopee, Mando! I like this one! You really do know how to pick ‘em.” She claps him roughly on the shoulder, her little paw slapping loudly against his pauldron. “Anyway, I’ve got somewhere to be for the next couple of days, you see. I’m dating that Jawa again—the one I’d told you about,” she announces, proud as anything, big smile across her leathery face.

“A Jawa?” You repeat, making sure you heard right. 

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, bright eyes. They’re quite furry… very furry, but…” She clicks her teeth together, “You know…” Grins. 

You look up at Din, squeezing his arm in your grip. “Guess I gotta try it.” You’re pretty sure you hear him grumble something to the effect of over my dead body, before he’s agreeing to Peli’s deal with a clap and a shake, and the promise of two hundred and fifty Imperial credits and absolutely no harm done to her droids while she’s gone and they work on the Crest. 

“Treadwell, get in there!” She shouts, and the little pit droid chirps fretfully, trembling behind an R5 unit. “You can’t say no, you’re a droid. Oh, he’s not going to shoot you. Stop being a coward! What is this, a democracy all of a sudden?” Losing the fight, the droid wheels forward to get to work. “Yeah, thought so.” She turns back to you and Din. “You two can stay here, look after the shop while I’m gone? It’ll only be a few days.”

“We have some resupplying to do, but we’ll stay until you’re back,” he promises.

“And you’re not going to shoot my droids?”

“And I’m not going to shoot your droids,” he agrees, but later, you catch the too rough nudge he gives one of the little droids with his boot when he thinks no one’s watching. This man and his droid complex, you roll your eyes. 

“How’s the N-1 keeping up?” He asks as she’s packing up to go. 

“Just how you left her. That honey’s faster than a fathier. You should take her out while you’re here, give that baby a spin. Oh! And I added that turbonic venturi power assimilator I’d mentioned before. Remember? S’how I reconnected with my Jawa,” she nudges you with a wink. “You’re gonna be the fastest ship on the Outer Rim.” 

“You got a new ship?” You ask curiously.

“Just a side project we took up while I had some spare time.” But the way he says it is a little strange, making you pause to look up and try to read the blank face of his helmet. Ah, and he smooths that same hovering hand from before along the line of your spine, an attempt to soothe or quell your curiosity without actually giving you the gift of his touch.  

Peli leaves a few hours later, and she really does have a Jawa lover. The little critter comes to collect her right before the suns set, off to catch the sandcrawler before it journeys off into the desert, leaving you alone with only Din and the little pit droids for company. 

And suddenly, that shyness from earlier is back for some reason. The distraction of travel and the buzz of hyperspace lost to the calm silence of the quiet spaceport as the suns set over the horizon and night settles in, cool winds coming in on the sand gusts from deep in the desert. After hours of work, Din posing as the menacing overlord barking orders and complaints, intruding on their work when it isn’t up to his ridiculous standards, the droids finish up for the night, and Din engages the hangar security system, and then the ship’s, locking the two of you in safely for the night. 

“Dinner?” He asks as he moves slowly around the hull, pulling the cloak from his shoulders, a river of sand sluicing in a rain sheet onto the steel floor. The sound of it has a shiver moving through you as you lower yourself to the floor, crossing your legs beneath you at the edge of your makeshift bed. You desperately want to crawl between the covers without a shower and find the peace of evasion through sleep, secure in the knowledge that he won’t follow you into bed. He’d refused since you’d reunited, even though you’d invited him several times to share the much more comfortable pile of blankets than what you know his pilot’s chair or bunk provide. He’d not taken you up on the offer yet, and right now, fluttering heart and hot eyes and sweating nape, you’re glad for it. 

You don’t know what’s wrong with you—or you do. You’re overwhelmed with want and fear, of him, of his touch, of having lost what the two of you had before. And as you watch him start to pull his armor from his body, first one pauldron, then a vambrace, then a thigh guard, no sense of congruity to the pattern with which he divests himself of his Creed, it’s suddenly like he’s standing right in front of you, and yet you miss him anyway. Miss him in a way that makes you sick and devastated. 

You must make some sort of sound, a funny look on your face or a change in your breathing because he turns suddenly, a too worried, “What’s wrong?” on his tongue. 

“Nothing.” You look up at him from your spot on the ground, head falling back on your neck, and you can feel the wet of your eyes, trying to force yourself not to blink so that they won’t fall—the tears. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He comes to a slow crouch before you, long legs folding down, down. “What is it? Tell me.” Half missing his armor as he poses now, it’s like he’s half him, half yours, half only-man, half Mandalorian. A little bit like what you feel yourself; half, half, half. 

Pulling one glove from his hand, he lifts it, palm spread towards you, showing you his intention before he carefully cups the side of your face; thumb at your pulse, pointer and middle fingers giving your temple a soft pressure, pinky poised at the bridge of your nose. Your lashes brush against his index every time you blink, and his skin is smooth and rough at the same time, and warm—sun-hearted man. 

You press your face harder into his palm, letting him support the weight of your head, nuzzling against the rough of his calluses, blaster blister scratchy against your carotid, and heat pulses all through you from the crown of your head, sliding down the length of your, still yet, too long hair, the back of your neck, your chest, pooling to settle deep in the pit of your belly. 

And yet there’s something missing or different or off, like you feel empty but too full of trepidation to conjure up that old desire you’d always had, that need for him to fill, fill, fill you. Like the heat is there, but it’s remembered, not necessarily present. It all makes you want to cry and scream and go to sleep. 

The truth, and plainly: you’re terrified of anything that might hurt, can’t fathom the idea of it. 

Your heart beats in your throat, you taste it on your tongue, and it mixes with the sad when you say: “Do you remember when we were on Kashyyyk—when we sparred?”

“I remember,” he says, voice deep and low—through the modulator. You hate his helmet. You wish you could get beneath. You wish you were brave enough. The feeling of it coming on sudden and unexpected, thought, bitter and foul and not something you’d necessarily felt before, certainly not so viciously. It’s just that you hate that all this has happened—you want to feel the press of his lips at the crown of your head and the wash of his breath like heat moving through your hair—that you are not in the same place you once were, that you’re too afraid to move forward. 

“When we switched weapons—”

He hums: “Yes.”

“It was so green there.” You turn your face further into him so that you’re speaking into his palm now, words pooling there in the cup of it like a well of truths and fears. 

“It was.” The pointer and index stroke your temple, press once, twice, thrice—harder on the latter. It feels good, it feels real and reminding. He lets a heavy silence pass for a moment, he’s thinking of something, contemplating a push. “Do you remember—” He passes a swallow you can hear the thickness of, “Do you remember how I had you in the dirt—like a fucking animal? How you let me do whatever I wanted, however I wanted.” He gives the hardest press he’s given yet, at your temple, you think you feel the press against your brain, and you open your mouth to let the edge of your teeth dig hard into the meat of his palm. He growls a rough sound, a hungry sound, a sound like one he’d have made when he had you in the dirt like a fucking animal. 

You drag your teeth along the hill of his palm, closing your mouth at the end. You don’t give him the wet of your tongue, you don’t feel ready to taste his skin like that just yet—an assimilation of violence.

“Yes,” you finally say, realizing that he understands what you were thinking without having to say it, or knowing how to, that you’re full of memories of past desires and how badly you want them back and how out of reach that all feels, but also, that suddenly now, in a single blink, the heat in your belly isn’t remembered, but present, alive, awake. That you’re cunt clenches once, twice, thrice around nothing—harder, hungrier on the latter. That you’re wet for him. “I remember.”

“Good. I remember every single thing we’ve ever done.” You roll your face in his palm so that you can look up at him now, feeling something like brave. “Every word, every breath, I remember all of it. Alright?”

“Alright,” you say quietly. 

“And if you need me to help you remember too, then I will.”

“Alright.” And then: “What if I can’t, though?... What if we can’t ever have that again? What if I can’t remember? What if I can never give you that again?” A tear slides over the bridge of your nose, and now it’s not only truths and fears cupped in the palm of his hand but the saltwater of grief too.  

“Then we’ll find something new. A new way, a different way. We’ll do it however you want now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, cyar’ika.” It’s very much a promise, a new Creed being established here. 

“Okay.”

He nods, “Okay.”

-

The water is warm verging on hot verging on scalding. It feels incredible slithering over your tired and sore muscles, the ligatures in your arms still trembling from the blaster practice earlier today, from your overwhelm of emotions. 

You hate that you’re not good at it, that the only weapon that seems to become you is a lightsaber. 

The suds of his earthy smelling soap slide through your hair, slipping down your spine, over your ass and along your legs to pool around your feet and disappear down the drain. You shiver once, as though letting something fall away as you slide your hand down, over the swell of your belly, to cup the palmful of your cunt, wedging your hand between your thighs. You pet slowly at the wet curls there, realizing some of it is also the sticky slick of your desire. You were right, you’re wet for him and your clit pulses, slightly swollen and wanting. Your body is awake and hungry for him for the first time in what feels like eons. 

You explore slowly, your cunt slightly trembling at the feeling of being prodded and touched for the first time in you can’t remember how long. Moaning softly, you pull your fingers from between your legs, hands sliding up now to cup the weights of your breasts in each palm and squeeze tightly. Oh, you want him, you want him, you’re afraid. Your head falls back on a thump against the fresher wall, loud enough that you hear his lurking voice through the door, you okay in there? And instead of being annoyed at his overbearing caution, his hovering, you shiver again, something coming back to you now. 

Your desire. 

You shut the water off, grabbing one of the soft linens he’d slung over the warm pipe for you to wrap yourself in. He knocks a knuckle against the wobbly little door, “Cyar’ika?” 

Looking at yourself in front of the steamy mirror, too long, naiad hair, bright, strange eyes, you want him, you want him, you want to feel alive, awake, anything. You can’t deny your shortcomings, fears, whatever they might be called, but there is yet still a soft place inside of you that they’d not snuffed out, that wants Din still. 

You turn to slide the fresher door open just as he’s readying to knock again. 

He’d showered before you, after he’d fed you your soup and your disgusting fake bread he’d promised he’d find a real substitution for soon enough, and you’d needed a moment alone to sit in your grime and silence, digest your feelings. He’s clad now in one of his soft, dark undershirts, his flight pants and the helmet, opposite your towel and water dewed skin, steaming from the hot fresher. 

You watch a swallow pass through his throat, words caught, slow and heavy. He clears it once, twice, tilts his head down to take in the state of you, before he says, “You alright?”

You nod, wide eyed awake. He’s standing right in front of you and you miss him and you want to shock him wide eyed awake too. “The water was too hot. I got dizzy,” you lie, swaying towards him a little, letting your lashes flutter dramatically. 

Not all the way, but enough, just a little, as much as you can bear, that’s what you want from him right now. 

His hands come up to grip the sides of your arms immediately, his bare hands, soaking up the wet of your skin. He pulls you into himself, pressing you carefully against his chest, and you shiver and shake against him, teeth rattling with a sound entirely lacking temperance. Your blood feels like it’s boiling, there’s desire alive and writhing in your tummy, and you squeeze your thighs together tightly, shifting from one foot to another while you drip a puddle onto the cold floor. 

“Come here, sit down,” he murmurs, gently moving you to your bed, easing you down onto it slowly. “You need to take it easy,” he clucks over you, gripping your elbow to let you down carefully, keeping his hands on your bare skin until the last moment. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re still tired, you’re still recovering. And you never listen. You have to listen to me when I’m trying to take care of you. You don’t eat enough, and I know your shoulder still hurts, little liar. Your elbow is barely better, and I saw you making strange faces when you were walking up the plank the other day. Your hip hurts doesn't it? Or your knee, something. No, don’t answer. I know you’ll just say no.” He talks and talks and talks, and you love him and you think that— 

There’s a name for this…

He’d told you he loved you and he’d not said it again, neither had you, it felt too huge a thing to talk about again just yet while there was still so much left to discuss and bridge, but what does it matter if your body sings or screams in pain when you have the love of this beskar titan? What could you care for all the rest of everything?

Yes, Din. Yes, Din. Whatever you say, Din, as he huffs and puffs and arranges you, brings another pillow and blanket from the bunk, his only one in there, not that he cares, lovely man. 

And it’s not only that you feel like you need to give him the things he wants or needs, because of course you do. You love him, you need to be able to give him things, everything, you want to be able to give him the whole galaxy. But it’s also that you want to. That to give him what he desires is to feed yourself, to live together, to be together, to give each other the things you need to stay alive. 

You let yourself fall back onto the soft blankets slowly, this nest where you’ve always felt so safe and so protected and so loved, even when neither of you knew it was love that was holding you here. And you watch him for a few anxious moments as he pulls the covers this way and that, tucking them here and there, trying to avoid looking at the bare expanse of your dew damp legs. But then, taking hold of his hand, you still his nervous movements, and he finally looks up at your face, letting go of his fretting, taking hold of the bravery in the palm of your hand. 

Shy—but brave. Brave—and wanting. 

“We’ll take care of each other, won’t we?” You want to tell him you love him again, but there’s something slightly terrifying, gloriously intimate and fragile about the words. 

“Always.”

“And we’ll keep each other alive?” Maker, I hope we keep each other alive. 

“Yes.”

You take hold of the edge of the linen covering you, revealing your naked body to him slowly, exposing your soft underbelly. You hear his breath hitch, exhale on a groan that sounds like dying. His grip on your hand goes tight to the point of bone crushing pain for one brief, brief moment before he remembers himself and gentles again. You shiver at the pain, belly swooping and quivering with fear and nausea and lust. 

You wish you could see his eyes, his face, his want. 

“You—” he stutters, swallows, “You don’t have to, my love.” My love. He doesn’t need to say it out loud again now with teeth and tongue, he says it in all the things he does. 

“You have to know that I want you so much. That I want you more than anything, Din.”

“I do know,” he says immediately. “I’ve never doubted that.” 

“I want to show you.”

“You don’t have to. I know—” His other hand comes up to grip yours with both of his, caging your limb within the strength of his fists—to keep himself from touching you anywhere else, you think. But you can feel the intensity of his gaze along your skin, over your bare breasts, quivering with your hitching breaths, water droplets translating the frantic beat of your heart in their trembling on the surface of your skin. The line of your belly, the slope downward to the soft place between your thighs. 

He’d seen the scarring on your hand, it was inevitable as much as you’d wished you could hide the deformity they’d left. As much as you wish you could’ve kept it from him, held an illusion for the rest of your lives together to spare him from the reminder of the things that’d been done, happened, chosen. But now… now he is to be subjected to the whole truth of it. Scars like cobwebs, strangely shimmering in silver lights beneath the surface of your skin—they’d been clever and ingenious in their torture—covering the whole circumference of your left hand up to your elbow. But also, from the lowest point of your last rib, over your right hip, traversing lower down the contours of your skin to wrap around the uppermost swell of your thigh. 

They’d left their mark like they’d intended, and it wasn't something you could ever hide from him, the reality of what’d been done, what you’d chosen. It was obvious in everything, etched into your skin, a chasm in the still present distance between the two of you. 

You feel like a bruise; tender, vulnerable, incongruously desperate to press on it harder and feel that dull throb, dark and ugly and on display. 

His hands go tight around yours again for a moment, before he’s snatching them back to grip his bent knee, white knuckled, silent anger on display when his eyes reach the scarring. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, smoothing a hand over your hip down to your thigh to grip yourself there, digging your fingertips lightly into the plush softness. Your skin vibrates. “It doesn't hurt now.”

“What did they do?” His voice is like gravel, restrained fire-full fury. 

“They wanted to see what it’d take to leave a mark. They figured it out.” The helmet turns away sharply, a short, brutal curse spit from his mouth. The tongue of his mother, beautiful despite his violence. 

“It’s okay, Din.” You take hold of your thigh, pulling it up and apart, spreading yourself for him. Brave, wanting heart, be brave. He turns back immediately. “I want you to see how much I want you,” you whisper. “How much I still need you.” 

You let your fingertips flutter lightly over your swollen, needy sex, and you can hear the obscene, sucking sound of your wet lips spreading apart when you part your legs wide enough for your sex to bloom. Cunt hungry and weeping for him. 

Fuck, he spits, leaning closer, and his hand snaps forward to grip your ankle all the way around, pulling your foot up onto the uncompromising muscle of his thigh—your only point of contact. 

“Show me, cyar’ika. Show me how much that pretty cunt missed me,” he growls. 

You start slow, wide eyes fixed on the dark tee of his vizor, fingertips swirling around your clit slowly, it pulses and throbs and beats to the rhythm you can feel his own heart beating at within his own chest. But you pet it slowly, teasing both of you, and then feel lower down to the clenching mouth of your cunt—fuck, he spits again—slicking your fingers in your sticky wet. You start to rock your hips against the flat of your hand, the sound of your cunt, loud in the quiet hull, nothing to interrupt but the too desperate sound of your mutual panting. His fingers around your ankle are so tight they’ll leave a sore spot, and you can't think of the later hurt now, afraid it'll scare you out of this, all you can focus on is the beat of your cunt, the way it cries for him. 

You swirl your fingertips at your opening, again, again, “Put them inside. Let me see you fuck yourself.” And it’s a demand. 

You start with one, slow and tentative, a little, shocked gasp as you probe shallowly within the tight, little hole. Then further, wiggling inside until you’re impaling yourself with your own small finger, the first thing inside of you in so long, and suddenly, you wish it was him. Your eyes fill with tears at the thought, spilling over at the wish that he could’ve been the first thing inside of you after all this time, but the reality that you’re just not ready for it yet. The salted proof of your inevitable shortcomings slide back along your cheeks to drip into your ears. 

“Another,” he demands. “Oh, it sounds so pretty, little one. Give it another.” You pull your single finger out, sucking, wet-cunt sound that he groans in tune with, to press another one in, mewling at the pinch and stretch of it, the slick slide. Yes, just like that. You’re doing so well, he says, a mirror of his earlier words to you today during target practice. “Roll your hips, ride your hand.” You hitch another sob, “Don’t fucking cry,” he grits, pressing your heel hard into the meat of his thigh. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re going to come for me, you’re going to let me see it.” He spreads his thighs wider in his kneeling crouch, pushing his hips forward into nothing, drawing your gaze to the heavy bulge behind the plaquette of his flight pants. He’s so hard. 

You crook your fingers inside yourself, hill of your palm against the swell of your engorged clit, fingertips against the spongey ridge at the front of your cunt, rolling your hips faster, chasing the orgasm you need to give him. Your foot feels numb in his grip, your cunt, on fire, so tight it hurts. Your belly hitches and heaves, open mouth gasping and you cry his name, moaning and writhing wantonly, your stomach slick and glistening again with sweat now instead of water. One of your palms reaches up to take hold of your breast, nipple caught between your fingers, squeezing tight, tight, tight. And suddenly he’s surging forward, letting go of your ankle to lean over you and rip his pants open, freeing his furious erection. The tip is red-purple and swollen fat, drooling a thick string of sloppy, white precum, and he wraps one massive fist around the angry thing. Din, Din, Din. He beats at his cock furiously, the sound of your name, the slick thwack, thwack, thwack of it sends you spilling into your orgasm, belly pulling tight, cunt twisting even tighter. 

“Fuck, fucking come—fucking come,” he snarls as he twists his fist cruelly around the head and the thick white viscosity of his semen starts to spill from the fat head, bubbling up and over his fist and between his fingers, splattering heavy and hot onto your spasming cunt, coating your fingers so that you’re pushing the thick of his come into yourself, slicking you further. “Yes, yes, yes, like that. Let me fucking see it…Look at what you do to me.” And there's so much furious want in his voice, and he’s so big, long and thick, and you know it’s going to hurt when he puts it inside of you for the first time again—you remember how it hurt before, how you loved it—and you’re afraid you’re not going to be able to handle any sort of pain ever again, not even the sort you’d been so hungry for before. 

But your womb pulls tight, pulses and throbs, and suddenly your two skinny fingers arent enough, you want the thick heft of his cock fucking hard and fast and deep inside of you, punching at the deepest spot within you.

His orgasm ends on a fierce groan, panting, thick chest heaving, his head hangs low between his shoulders. You pull your shaking fingers from your clenching hole, and he gives a few last lazy strokes, squeezing the last drops of come from the slick tip to splatter against your pussy. “I fucking missed this—your cunt covered in me.” His dripping cock bobs so close, and you have the sudden insane thought of him just shoving it in, holding you down prone and fucking all of his spend into your sloppy cunt, forcing you to take it and be his again. “I can’t wait to eat it. I can’t wait to fill it with my come again and eat it out of you.” There’s a part of you that might want it, that might wish for it. 

“Maker, Din…” you moan, rubbing the thick semen into your overstimulated clit, your mound, up the curve of your belly, slicking yourself in him.

 If you can’t have his touch, this is enough, and you bring your sticky, soaking fingers up to your mouth, sucking the come from them. He groans, not fair, sitting back on his knees, spent cock hanging obscenely from his open pants, wet and glistening. He reaches behind his head to tug his shirt up and off, leaving his sweaty chest bare and gleaming. Your eyes flutter shut, cupping your cunt in the palm of your hand, covering the slick curve of it, and you arch your back, spreading your thighs further, putting yourself on display for him. 

“Gorgeous, cyar’ika,” he says between pants. “So pretty, my love.” He reaches down to squeeze his half hard cock once more. “I can be patient for you, I promise. You’re so worth it.”

-

He lays beside you in the dark, stretched out long and entirely clothed, but here with you, forced and convinced to share your bed with a line of pillows as a protective moat between the two of you at his own insistence.

You’re on your side, hands folded beneath your smushed cheek, wide eyes searching fruitlessly for the shape of him in the pitch dark. You want to say something else. You want to tell him you love him again, to hear the words fall from your tongue. 

“What are you thinking?” He asks.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” You hum a barely breathed laugh. And then, “I know you’re scared or regretful or worried that we’ll not get back to where we were,” he reads you.

“Yes.”

There’s a name for this…

He sighs long, goes quiet for longer, and then finally: “What’s happened’s happened, which is an expression of faith in the mechanics of the galaxy.”

“Fate?” You muse, a little unbelieving.

Dark red—

“Call it what you want. We met, we separated…you were—gone. We waited. Now we’re here again. It’s meaningful, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You believe in this—fate?” I didn’t think I believed in anything anymore. But I believe in you.

“Call it what you want, but yes.”

—String. 

There’s something about this that you need to consider, chew on. The fact that you’d felt, all your life, cursed to know how a thing would happen, be, end, always. Something like fate, perhaps, the whisper of it making a home for itself within the shell of your ear, and now the truth that he too believes in this thing you’ve always lived with. Destiny, what have you—you believe in the same things, you believe in each other. 

“Will you hold my hand?”

He turns over, reaching to twine his fingers through yours; large, rough palm against small, soft palm. You want to tell him you love him again, you want to hear the words for him, but they feel trapped, tender, timid. 

You’d always thought your destiny fixed, poised, on the tip of your tongue. A thing was what it was birthed unto the galaxy in perpetuity, and no amount of desire could absolve you of its sunken teeth. But this—this desire is like the creation of myth, that dark red thread that goes by the name of fate being pulled taught, humming in accord with a frequency heard only by the two of you. 

Now: “Will you kiss me?” A beat of silence, his fingers around yours going tight, tight. 

“Come here,” his voice blends with the darkness, and tugging you into himself, protective border between your bodies and his hand around your jaw, he slips a kiss onto your tongue. His mouth holds the hot recollection of being alive; the drag of his teeth against your bottom lip, the taste, your fingers weaving through his hair, your names sounding together, a pair because they belong on the same breath. 

You pull back, and it’s only a small brevity, but it’s enough, and that confusion from earlier, that shiver of letting something go or taking it back into yourself, settles. 

You’re afraid or regretful or both, yes, sure. You also find yourself to be, suddenly, forgiving, full of empathy. You won’t be able to have him unless you take possession of yourself first, and on the tail end of a comet breaking across the sky: I love him, but I must also love myself. He deserves someone who loves themself, but more than that, I deserve it too. To be able to give him the things he wants and needs: I deserve to be in love with myself. 

You let the Tartarian memory become nothing.

 Love manifests itself primarily in forgiveness.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

[mellowswriting]

the big day

pairing || Javier Peña x fem!Reader

word count || 1.3k 

summary || it isn’t until the reception that it finally hits him. you’re his wife. he can’t help but show you just how lucky he feels. 

content || SMUT, unprotected sex, kinda public sex (they fuck at their wedding reception (typical)), idiots in love, husband!Javi is fuckin SCRUMPTIOUS lemme tell ya, the beginnings of Javi’s housewife kink 🙏🏻, this man is in loooove

a/n || i truly cannot stop writing about husband!Javier. inject him straight into my veins PLS (obligatory @theorganasolo​ tag, as always)

Javier Masterlist  |  Main Masterlist 

Javier can’t believe that you’re actually his. His wife. The entire day has been such a whirlwind from beginning to end that the surrealness is only just wearing off. As he watches you laugh, dance, and drink with him and everyone else you love, he realizes… you’re his. Forever. He gets to spend the rest of his life with this beautiful, intelligent, fiery woman every single day. He was never a particularly traditional man but he can’t deny the allure of the life he gets to lead with you. Soft. Warm. Domestic. He never thought he would have this kind of life - or that it would make his dick so fucking hard. 

It takes good timing. The two of you are the center of attention, after all. Slipping off unnoticed won’t be easy but Javier is nothing if not a man with a plan. He waits, albeit impatiently, until enough alcohol has flowed and the guests are sufficiently distracted by music and food to whisk you away into some back room of the venue with a lockable door. You knew what he was up to more than an hour ago. The need that burns in his eyes is one you have seen far too many times to count. So when he suddenly appears beside you and tugs impatiently at your waist, you’re a more than willing captive. 

Javier whirls you down a hallway, around a corner, and into a random room he must have scoped out for this exact reason. The moment the door closes behind you, he pulls you close and kisses you with a hunger that has you melting into him. You let him guide you further into the room, blindly trusting him to lead you back and lift you onto the edge of a table. The skirt of your pretty little reception dress bunches up at your waist under his eager hands. The sight of you in a gorgeous white dress with his ring on your finger, officially his wife… fuck, he just can’t stop himself. 

His eyes flash up to yours as his fingers rub your lace-covered pussy, reveling in your little gasp and the fevered way you whisper his name. He isn’t the only one who’s been thinking about this. Javier yanks your underwear off and stashes the wet fabric in his pocket. You can’t help but tease him for being a dirty little thief, even as you eagerly undo his belt before tugging him closer by it. 

“We’re finally married… Can you believe it?” There’s an earnestness to your voice that makes his heart flutter in his chest. Your eyes are shiny with love and lust, and Javier swears he’s never been more in love with you. Then again, he thinks that every time he lays eyes on you. You smile at him and whisper, “I’m your wife, Javi.”

“Fuck yeah, you are. My amazing, kickass wife. All mine…” Javier damn near growls. His cock twitches against the confining fabric of his boxers at the pure reverence in your voice. Your thighs spread for him as he presses closer, eager to let him grind against your pussy. It’s hard to resist his usual temptations. Javier wants to hitch your thighs over his shoulders and eat you out until you soak his face. He wants to work you open on his fingers and suck marks into your delicate skin. 

But there isn’t enough time for that. It won’t take long for the guests to begin wondering where the two of you disappeared off to. Two weeks, Javier reminds himself. After tonight, he will have two weeks in a tropical paradise to take you apart for him over and over again.

“We have to be quick, hermosa.” Javier shoves his pants and briefs down to his mid-thigh and yanks you down by your hips. “Gotta fuck my pretty little wife before anyone comes lookin’ for us.” 

Javier doesn’t waste any time. He clamps his hand over your mouth as he buries himself inside of you, muffling the indecent cry that falls from your lips. The hot vice of your pussy forces a broken sound from him and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself quiet. It’s rushed and sloppy and so full of love that he aches with it. One hand flies back to brace yourself against his thrusts and the other wraps around his wrist, your manicured nails leaving little crescent marks in his skin. You barely manage to pry his hand away to let a sweet little plea escape your lips. 

“Kiss me?” You whisper.  

Javier gives in to you without a second thought, without a second of hesitation. He cradles the back of your head with his huge hand and draws you up into a breathtaking kiss. The sweet little moan he draws from you only encourages his greed. When it comes to your pleasure, he always needs more. He needs to have you trembling beneath him. Crying out his name as he draws you to a devastating orgasm. Looking up at him with that delicious fucked-out expression on your beautiful face. 

“Thaaat’s it…” He encourages, his voice gruff and needy. He shoves his hand beneath your dress and finds your clit with familiar ease. He watches with bated breath as your face as your eyes flutter shut and your head tips back in pleasure. The sight never fails to send a spark of pride simmering through his veins. “Takin’ my cock like a good girl, aren’t you?” 

“Javi,” You whisper his name like a prayer. “I’m - fuck! I’m close, so fuckin’ close… please!” 

Javier knows exactly what you need. He shifts you both just slightly until his hips roll down with each thrust. It’s all it takes to have you quivering around him, both hands digging into his shoulders, clinging to him for support. Javier presses his forehead to yours and drinks in the sight of you falling apart for him. A shudder wracks through your entire body as you cry his name into his shoulder. 

Everything else melts away. The venue, the expectant guests, all of it. All that exists in this moment is you. The woman he loves. The woman he is lucky enough to have by his side for the rest of his life. His wife. Coming with his cock buried as deep as you can take him. Every pulse drags him closer to his inevitable end but it's your voice that finally does it. That sweet, fucked-out voice whispering, “I love you” over and over again like they’re the only three words left in your head. You whimper with every harsh jerk of his hips. Such a pretty little sound that only ignites that deeply ingrained need to take care of you. 

Javier kisses you softly. Your smile is so big that he can barely keep it up, so he lets his lips trail over your jaw and down your neck. You’re all too eager to tilt your head for more, fingers tangling in his hair with a happy little hum. He murmurs his praise, his love, into your skin as if he can etch the words right into your DNA. 

It isn’t until two short knocks come from the door that Javier comes back to himself. 

“I can only stall for you two lovebirds for so long, ya know?” Comes Murphy’s amused voice from the other side. 

Javier groans as his head falls into the crook of your shoulder. You thank Steve with a giggle that never fails to bring a smile to your husband’s face. He’s reluctant to pull away from you but he knows he has no choice. Besides, he wants to dance with his bride. Javier cleans you up with gentle swipes of your now-ruined underwear, while you meticulously fix his tuxedo. 

He carefully brushes your hair out of your face, returning it to a somewhat presentable state. His hands come to rest on your cheeks. “I’m gonna make you so happy, mi amor. I swear it.” 

[sheerfreesia007]

Sway

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Word count: 2,212

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: While at a charity event Jisung is absolutely enchanted by you to the point that you steal him away from his date. What happens when you leave him hanging at the end of the night?

The large expansive manor that was the venue for tonight’s charity event was absolutely stunning and as Jisung looked around the room he couldn’t stop himself from imagining himself in this manor. His eyes darted around the room silently as he took in the dark wood shelves that were inlaid in the walls which were wallpapered with jeweled tones, it all held a decadent rich feel and he felt himself grow envious and full of want. 

“Han, can we go?” Comes the high pitched nasally voice of his date tonight. His eyes move away from the room they’re in to her, she’s standing next to him with her arms wrapped tightly around his as she pushes her chest into the outside of his arm trying to entice him.

”Not yet, sweetheart. I’d like to see more of the manor.” Han says softly as he gently pats her long manicured hands just as they tighten on his arm. 

”But Han, it’s just a manor. Just buy it if you like it so much. I know something else that we can do that would be much more fun.” She whines into his ear and Han grimaces as he flinches away from her as she tries to lean in close to him.

Sighing softly Han pats her hands gently once more before turning back to the room. He ignores her loud disgruntled huff as his eyes dart back to the shelving and he smiles softly as he notices the dimly lit wall sconces and how the metal design on them pairs perfectly with the wallpaper and dark wood.

There’s a soft twinkling sound that catches his attention and his eyes immediately dart over to the far corner of the room. A large crowd has gathered around something that’s blocked by people trying to jockey for a better look at whatever is in the middle of the crowd.

Just then there’s a break between the people in the crowd and Han gets a look at what has everyone’s attention. You’re standing in the middle of the crowd holding a wine glass as you laugh at something one of the women in the crowd says. You’re absolutely gorgeous, your hair is pulled back from your face and your makeup compliments your features perfectly. And that dress, it’s deep maroon color and compliments the manor perfectly as if you were meant to live here.

His eyes track you as if you are the most captivating thing on earth, and to him you are. He watches as you excitedly turn to a man nearby and rest your hand gently against his arm as you nod your head to what he’s saying. Jisung glares at the man darkly silently wishing that he was in his place with your sole attention on him. Just as you tilt your head back to laugh again Jisung’s date speaks up.

”Han, I’m bored.” She whines loudly and he grits his teeth aggravated as her whine had covered the sound of your laughter. He whips his head to glare at her and she huffs softly at him while rolling her eyes. 

“Well darling, if you’re so bored why don’t you go wait in the car and I’ll be out when I’m done here.” He says in a soft hiss and she pouts at him.

”But that will take hours!” She cries loudly and Jisung grits his teeth once more. “Why can’t we just go home and fuck each other like the other night?” She whines into his ear loudly before nipping it with her teeth. Jisung flinches away from her as his lips curl in disgust while watching others look over at the two of them with judging looks.

His eyes dart across the room and find you slipping through the open doorway leading into another room away from the crowd and he feels his chance to approach you vanishing from his grasp. He looks to the side where his right hand man is waiting in the darkened corner and he nods his head at the behemoth of a man. 

Slipping his arm out of his date’s tight grip he smoothly begins to walk away from her as his man gently takes a hold of her shoulders and begins to guide her away and out of the manor. Jisung follows your path through the open doorway and the new room nearly captures his full attention until he sees a flash of maroon out of the corner of his eyes.

Turning he spots you idly walking through the large open doorway of the room while you gaze along the walls at the sconces and wallpaper. He smiles wickedly as he realizes that you’re also entranced by the extravagantly decorated manor like him. His steps are quick now as he continues to follow you a few steps behind.

When you both come to the end of the long hallway an intricately carved door has captured your attention and you’re standing in front of it tracing the carvings adorning it. Jisung comes up to lean against the wall next to the door and you look up at him with a mischievous grin on your face. He’s temporarily stunned silent at the grin on your lips and the sparkle in your eyes as your fingertips press against the door.

”How much trouble do you think I’d get in if I slipped inside this room?” You ask him in an excited whisper and he grins wickedly at you before leaning towards you.

”I swear not to tell.” He promises and your grin widens wickedly before your hand hurriedly grabs the doorknob and turns it before you’re slipping inside the room. Jisung is shocked when your hand darts back out and grips his hand and drags him inside with you.

He’s panting with bated breath as you press his back against the door while letting it softly click shut. You look up at him still with that wicked grin and sparkle in your eye before you turn from him to gaze around the room.

”Oh wow.” You gasp out in awe. Jisung darts his eyes around the room and he has to agree with you. The room is absolutely magnificent, it’s a solar system themed room. The deep navy blue wallpaper has gold line work that maps out the star systems of the galaxy, there’s a large dark wooden desk in the middle of the room with a large golden telescope sitting prettily next to it. The room has shelves in the walls like the other room and they are filled with every type of book about space, stars, and the galaxy.

”I really need to buy this manor.” Jisung says softly and you turn and stare at him shocked.

”If you do, you can’t change a thing about it. And you have to invite me to come visit.” You tell him adamantly as you take a step towards him holding up your index finger at him. Jisung grins while holding his hands up in faux surrender as he nods his head.

”Wouldn’t even dream of changing anything in this place. It’s too perfect.” He says in agreement with you before he smirks at you while leaning closer to you. “And you can come over anytime beautiful.” He husks out. He watches delightedly as you jerk back at his pet name for you and you blink a few times before a pretty blush colors your cheeks.

”I meant just for the house, not because of you.” You timidly tell him and he smirks even wider at your turn around in attitude.

”Are you sure about that?” He asks softly as he takes a step closer to you and you take one step back. Just then the sound of the live orchestral band in the main ballroom playing “Sway” can be heard through the vents in the floor and Jisung watches as your movement back mirrors his movement forward. He quickly catches you in his arms and tugs you closer before he begins to dance around the room with you.

You gasp softly as your body falls gently against his during a turn and he smirks again at the feeling of your body against his, it was intoxicating and he wanted more. Your hand slips to his shoulder and he grabs the other one before you both fall into a lively dance around the room. A smile starts to blossom on your face as your eyes slip shut while the music grows in volume through the vent.

Jisung is absolutely swept up in the magic of the dance as his eyes drink you in hungrily. Your steps are sure and match his perfectly as he leads you through the dance. Your eyes sparkle with delight at how easily the two of you dance together and a bright delighted smile slips onto your face that makes Jisung want to lean forward and kiss it slowly off your face.

At the end of the song he wraps his arm around your waist and dips you low towards the ground as your hands grip him tightly. When he pulls you back up slowly and with finesse you’re breathing slightly faster causing him to grin happily at being able to affect you so.

”That was amazing.” You gasp out at him and he grips your hips just a bit tighter before he steps back a step and steadies you.

”I couldn’t help it, the magic was just there.” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

”Well thank you Mr. Han for the wonderful dance in this magical room.” You thank him and he’s taken aback that you know who he is. You grin at him cheekily and he can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of his mouth.

”You know who I am.” He says doubtfully and you nod your head at his words.

”I’ve been warned against you.” You tell him with a shrug of your shoulders and he’s instantly intrigued as to why and who warned you. “Though can’t say I see why.” You drawl out and he laughs once again at your brazen attitude, you were standing before one of the most cutthroat mafia bosses in the city eyeing him as if he wasn’t much to look at. It made his heart race and his blood pump heavily in his veins.

”I can show you why if you’d like.” He husks out as he steps closer to you to tower over you. You look up at him with your own smirk adorning your face and he feels shock jolt through him.

”Maybe another time.” You tell him as you pat his chest gently. “I have to get going now.”

”Let me walk you out.” He suggests and you look at him silently before nodding your head once. He swiftly turns, guiding your hand to the inside of his elbow before leading you out of the room.

The trek back to the front of the manor doesn’t take very long and Jisung is saddened that his time with you is coming to a close so soon. When he begins to walk you down the large marbled gray steps of the manor his eyes land on the dark tinted sports car that’s waiting for you at the bottom with the valet attendant standing next to the car.

”So remember if you buy this place, you have to let me come visit so I go through all the rooms. And no changing anything.” You tell him sternly and he grins at you as he walks you to the driver’s side door. He chuckles softly as he realizes something and you tilt your head at him curiously. “What is it?” You ask.

”I’ve never had a woman effectively steal me away from a date that I came to an event with.” He said slightly in awe and you smirk at him before shrugging your shoulders as you begin to turn into your car.

”And I’ve never danced under the stars while in a manor.” You tell him cheekily before you lean forward and press a quick kiss to his cheek. “And I’m so serious about getting to go through all the rooms in that manor if you buy it.” You say softly and he chuckles at your insistence.

”Don’t worry you’ll be the first person I invite over.” He says softly to you and watches as your eyes widen with excitement. He steps back and lets you climb into your car and shut the door before you roll down your window and hold out a business card for him between your index and middle finger.

”Call me when you make the purchase!” You call out to him before grinning and then pulling away from the steps. He looks down at the business card and smirks when he recognizes the name on it before looking up to watch your tail lights drive down the long winding driveway.

”Boss, you ready to leave?” Asks his right hand man and Jisung shakes his head before he begins to slowly walk back up the stone steps of the manor.

”No, I need to go meet with the homeowner and purchase his manor from him.” Jisung says smugly as he continues up the steps towards the front door of the manor.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin

[alwaysonthemend]

Author’s Note: Josh lane come get y'all juice!!

This fic has been sitting in my drafts for a hot sec and I’ve finally finished it! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Sorry for any typos/mistakes!

Summary: Good things come to those who wait. And our sweet Josh is about to find out just how good those things can be. 

Content Warnings: Oral (m and f rec.) fingering, pegging, slight edging. Needless to say, 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 4961 

-----------------------

You can’t help but leer at him as the two of you make your way into the venue from the parking lot. Josh always looks gorgeous, but tonight you find yourself wishing that the two of you had just stayed home. 

“Enjoying the view?” Josh asks, turning to catch you staring at his ass with a cocky smirk.

“Meh. I’ve seen better.” 

“Have you now?” Josh stops, allowing you to catch up with him. Grabbing your wrists, he pulls you into him so that your chests are flush against one another. 

“Oh ya. Way better.” You tell him, grinning as he places his hands on your hips. 

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” He says, cocking a brow at you and giving you a mischievous smile.

“She doth protest too much because she has not the words to describe such beauty.” You say, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and looping your arms around his shoulders. 

“Ethereal. Divine. Transcendent. Such lofty words that still fall short.” You continue, giving a mock frown. 

“Not to ruin the vibe here, babe.” he tells you with a sideways grin, “but it makes my dick hard when you talk about me like that.” 

“Literally shut the fuck up.” You slap his chest playfully. “You better behave tonight.” 

“No promises. I still think we should have just stayed in tonight.” 

You just roll your eyes, pulling away from him to enter the venue. 

-🌻🌻🌻🌻-

“Baby?” 

The sound of Josh’s sweet voice makes it to your ears over the sounds of the bar, drawing your attention away from your conversation with another friend of yours. 

“Yeah?” You ask him, swiveling in your high top chair at the bar to see him taking a seat in the one next to you. He’s got an odd look about him, and his cheeks are flushed from the alcohol. 

He leans in closer to you, tilting his head downwards so that his lips hover just above your ear – it’s loud in the bar, but not so loud to warrant his pretty lips coming so close to you in order for you to hear him. 

“Can we go home, baby?” The words slip from his lips, accent slightly more prominent since he’s been drinking, and there’s just a tiny hint of a whine in his words. “Please?” 

He’s been extra clingy all night. He’s always touchy, but tonight he’s turned the touchiness up to 11. You’re not really complaining – his obvious desire for you makes you feel extra special tonight.  

“We just got here.” You tell him, furrowing your brows at his sudden lack of interest in parties. Normally, you’re the one that has to drag him away from an event like this. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. Just wanna be…” he trials off, raising a brow in a way that’s so ridiculously attractive you almost choke, “alone with you.” 

You bite your lip – the neediness of his words affecting you in a way that, perhaps, they shouldn’t be. Certainly, in a way that isn’t appropriate for a social gathering such as this. Especially when he’s sitting in front of you looking so delectable in his tan suit and white turtleneck. The outfit looks better on him than any article of clothing has a right to, and there’s a large part of you that would be more than happy to just go home and tear it off him. But you’re enjoying yourself, too. You haven’t seen some of these people in ages, and you want to spend a little more time with them before leaving. 

Not to mention, there’s another little part of you that loves how much Josh wants to go home – solely to be with you. You want to soak up the feeling as much as you can. Why not draw it out? It just makes the reward that much more enjoyable.  

“We’ll go home soon, babe.” You say, waving your hand dismissively, “Just be patient.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, sarcasm dripping off him, “have you met me before?”

“Patience, Josh. Or I’ll make you stay here much longer than either of us really want to be.” 

That shuts him up, and you watch in humor as he slinks away, turning back only once to give you a bratty look before disappearing back into the crowd. 

You mix and mingle for a while longer, catching up with old friends as you flit about the room. Occasionally, you’ll catch Josh’s eye and he’ll give you a pleading look – one that normally would have you falling to your knees and giving him whatever he wants. But tonight, there’s a fire within your veins that renders his magical puppy dog eyes useless on you. 

As the revelry of the night ensues, you find yourself tucking away in a corner with a few of your closer friends, lounging on the leather sofas and catching up. It doesn’t take long for Josh to come and find you though, and he settles next to you – so close you can feel the warmth of him as he presses his thigh against yours. 

“Now?” He whispers, once again leaning in close to your ear. 

“No.” You tell him, taking a sip of your drink. 

“Babe…” He sighs, shoulders slumping, “I want you so bad. Please can we go?”

“Josh,” you place your glass down on the table and turn your body to face him more fully, “I’m enjoying spending time with my friends. You can wait.” 

He sticks his bottom lip out and looks at you through his pretty lashes. 

“Laying it on thick, huh Joshy?” You bat your own lashes at him in response. 

He shrugs. 

“And why do you have to be so mean?” He’s not serious, but he is losing patience. 

You raise a brow at him and sit up a little straighter. 

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” 

“Have you seen you?” He asks you, raking his eyes up and down your form. “Your dress is going to kill me one of these days. A happy death, no doubt. But a tragedy nonetheless.” 

You roll your eyes at him playfully, chest warming with affection for the ridiculous man in front of you. 

“Are you really that desperate for it?” 

He just nods at you, soft curls bouncing where they rest on his forehead. 

“Too bad.” You tell him simply, reaching your hand over to rub his thigh softly with your fingertips. You stifle a gasp when you feel him, half hard, through his pants. 

He whines quietly as your fingers brush over his clothed cock, rocking his hips delicately forward. 

“Please.” He whispers, cutting his honey brown eyes to look back at you. His cheeks have become a dark red and his chest heaves with each breath. You’ve never seen him look so ravished without having even done anything to him yet. 

“Patience, Josh.” Is all you give him, stroking his length through his pants one more time before you turn away, jumping right back into the conversation with your friends. 

You hear him stifle a groan as he shifts next to you, clearly uncomfortable. You feel slightly bad for him, imagining how he must be feeling – popping a boner in public like a teenager. But that’s as far as your sympathy goes. You’re not ready to give up the game yet. 

After a while, he calms down enough that he can rise from the sofa. He gives you a frustrated glare as he retreats, and you can’t help but to smile into your drink as you watch him go. 

-🌻🌻🌻🌻-

Eventually, the dull ache between your own thigh becomes too much, and you rise from your seat to go in search of your lovely partner. Weaving in and out of the crowd of people, you find him quickly, and his eyes practically sparkle as he sees you. 

He walks over to you in quick strides, a bashful smile on his face. 

“Are we leaving?” 

“Yes, baby.” You tell him, heart alight with affection as he grins widely at you and laces his fingers with yours. “Let’s go home.” 

“Fucking finally.” 

The drive back to yours and Josh’s shared home isn’t particularly a long one, but it feels like years have passed before you’re finally pulling into the driveway. Josh had been silent in the passenger seat, hands clenched into fists at his sides and his plush bottom lip between his teeth. 

You climb out of the car, and the two of you make your way to the front door. Josh walks in front of you, opening the door for you like the gentlemen that he is. 

“Thank you, baby.” You tell him, stepping inside and immediately slipping your heels off. Breathing a sigh of relief, you walk further into the house. Josh follows behind as you make your way up to the bedroom. 

Entering the room lit only by a salt lamp and a floor lamp, you sit on the edge of the bed, watching as Josh makes his way into the room. 

He walks over to the middle of the room, arms hanging loosely at his sides, and a fire in his eyes as he looks at you. 

“Something you need, Josh?” You ask him, a coy smile painting your lips. Why not tease him a little more?

“Babe, you know what I want.” He mutters, walking over to the side of the bed where you’re sitting and slotting himself between your legs. “Been wanting it all night.” 

“Yeah?” Your question lilts out in a breathless whisper. 

“Yeah.” He confirms, splaying his warm hands out on your thighs. 

“How bad?” 

“So bad, mama. So bad.” 

“You were so patient for me.” You tell him, running your hands up his sides. “Take your clothes off, Josh. I want to see you.” 

Obediently, he steps back and begins to strip. You watch in rapt attention as he undresses, until he’s standing there – naked and glorious, before you. 

You allow yourself a moment to stare at him. You admire the way his slim waist is accentuated by the dim light, and your mouth waters as your eyes rake up to his sharp jawline and gorgeous lips. 

He’s looking at you in that way that only he can – like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He’s looking at you in awe, almost as if he doesn’t feel worthy enough to gaze upon you. He’s more than worthy, a fact which you have, on numerous occasions, tried to convince him of. But in his mind, no one is worthy enough for you – not even him. 

At last, you allow your gaze to fall on his pretty cock, hard as a rock and leaking already. The tip rests just below his belly button, curving just slightly and flushed red with need. 

“It hurts.” He tells you, lip sticking out in a pout. 

“I know, baby.” You say in sympathy, noting the way his entire body seems to tremble – tensed and eager to fulfill whatever command you give him. The power you hold over him in this moment makes your core weep and throb with want. 

You rip your dress over your head, tossing it to the floor before turning your attention back to Josh. His eyes have come to rest on your breasts, eyeing them through the lace of your bra. 

“You’ve been such a good boy tonight, Josh.” You praise, sliding backwards in the bed and leaning up against the pillows. “Can you be patient just a little longer for me?” 

“Anything.” He breathes out, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

“I need you to make me cum, baby. And then I’ll give you whatever you want.” You spread your legs wide, allowing him to see the damp spot on your cotton panties. “Can you do that for me?” 

“Whatever you want, mama. I’ll make you cum. Wanna make you feel good.” 

“Come here, then.” 

The bed dips as he climbs onto it, crawling his way over to you and settling between your legs. He leans down, pressing his nose to your panties and inhaling deeply. Almost as if in a frenzy, he dips his fingers into the waistband and yanks them down your legs. You kick them off to the side, not even bothering to see where they went. 

Josh descends onto your cunt, licking a stripe up through your slick folds – drawing a loud moan from you. Expertly, he swirls the tip of his tongue around your clit, knowing exactly what to do to drive you absolutely crazy. Relentlessly, he swirls your swollen bud with his tongue, the feeling almost too much as he lavishes attention on you. His speed makes your eyes roll back in your head, his ministrations a mix between too much and not enough. 

You reach down and thread your fingers through the unruly curls on top of his head, tugging as he finally plunges his talented tongue into you. You whine and moan as he fucks you with it, his nose pressing into your clit perfectly. The sound of your wetness and his slurping is obscene – pornographic and loud in the otherwise silent room. He’s got both hands splayed on your thighs, and he groans into your cunt, sending delicious vibrations through you. 

Josh is nothing if not eager to please, and it doesn’t take long for the coil in your belly to tighten, warmth spreading through you at a rapid pace. 

“Fuck, just like that.” You command him, as he takes turns between suckling on your swollen clit and fucking into you with his tongue. “You’re so good, Josh. So fucking good.” 

He moans at your praise and the feeling sends you hurtling over the edge, drenching his face in your release as your entire body shakes with pleasure. 

Sitting up, you watch as Josh licks his lips. The light reflects on your juices that are smeared across his chin. 

“Fucking hell, you’re so good at that.” 

His eyes glimmer and he opens his mouth to retort but you interrupt him. 

“If you say ‘vocalist’s tongue’ one more time, I’m gonna slap you.” 

He grins, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“You and I both know it’s true.”

“Come here, baby.” You say, beckoning for him to switch places with you. He crawls up to you and settles into the pillows, allowing you to toss one leg over his waist to straddle him. 

“Please, mama. I’ve been so patient. Please.”

“Yes, you have. You’ve been such a good boy. And what do good boys get?”

He takes a stuttering breath. 

“Good boys get a reward.” 

You nod at him, sliding downwards on his hips to settle between his legs, leaving a trail of your slick as you do so. 

“That’s right, Josh. And now you get yours.”

Slowly, you lick a stripe up his cock, tracing the vein that runs on the underside of him. You flick your tongue over the head, tasting the saltiness of his precum. He tosses his head back in response, mouth dropping open in pleasure. Delicately, you press a kiss to his tip, just barely pressing your tongue into his slit. He gasps, arching his back as his entire body tenses. 

“Fuck.” He stutters out, as you sink your mouth down around him. You swallow him down, relaxing your jaw and breathing through your nose as you allow him to hit the back of your throat. You press your tongue into him and hollow your cheeks as you start to bob up and down on him, taking him as deep as you possibly can. He really has been so good for you, and you want nothing more than to return the favor. 

Blindly, you reach out and find his hand, bringing it towards you to rest in your hair. Josh takes the hint, threading his fingers through it and guiding you down on him, allowing him to fuck into your mouth. 

Tears gather at the corners of your eyes and your jaw aches, but you persist, focusing on breathing through your nose as he seeks out his release. 

“Oh fuck, baby. Shit.” He whines through gritted teeth, eyes scrunched shut in pleasure. “Gonna cum. Feels so fucking good.” He tries to pull away from you, unwilling to allow himself to finish yet – no doubt wanting this to last longer. But you stop him by pressing your forearm over his hips, keeping him grounded as you start to bob your head again, this time taking him so deep that your nose presses into the soft hair at his base. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m cumming!” His moans and wails are like music to your ears, and just like that he’s spilling down your throat. You greedily swallow it all down, before pulling off him with a lewd pop. 

“You sound so pretty when you cum.” You tell him, licking your lips. “You taste even better.” 

He blushes, suddenly bashful – just as he often becomes in the bedroom. For someone who normally seems so confident – and for someone who’s just had his dick down your throat, his shyness seems silly. But it's just another facet of Josh that makes you love him even more. His timidness is endearing, and is so specifically Josh that if you think about it too hard, you’ll start getting emotional. 

You sit up more, leaning upwards so that you can kiss him. He parts his lips, allowing you to slide your tongue into his mouth, exploring and tasting him. You remain there a moment, before detaching your lips from his, pressing hot kisses down his jawline that you love so much. 

“No marks.” He warns, turning his head up to give you access anyway. 

“You have a makeup team.” You say into his sweaty skin. “Plus, I don’t care if anyone sees. Want them to know who you belong to.” 

At that, you feel his cock twitch against your thigh, hardening again at your words. 

“Oh?” You say, sitting back on your haunches and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “You like that? When I call you mine?” 

He whines, and his dark, lust-blown eyes gaze upon you – filled to the brim with renewed need and desire. 

“Yeah. So much, mama. M’all yours.” 

“I know you are.” 

You reattach your lips to his neck, kissing down the hollow of his throat before going lower. You wrap your lips around his right nipple, sinking your teeth into the delicate flesh and drawing a breathy moan from him. 

“Y/n?” He asks suddenly, his tone a little more serious than before. You stop, sitting up to look at his pretty face. 

“Yes, baby? Is something wrong?”

“No, no. I just-” He stops himself, biting his lip and you can see him battling with himself. 

“You know you can tell me anything baby.” 

“I know. I just don’t know how to say it.”  

You cock your head to the side, waiting. You don’t want him to feel pressured into speaking, but his trepidation is setting you on edge slightly. 

“I want-” he sighs, “I want you to fuck me.” 

Your eyes widen and a fresh wave of slick gushes from you. 

“I- are you sure?” You ask him, timid in the face of his own hesitation. 

“I’m sure. I’ve been wanting it for days, I just… I didn’t know how to ask for it.” 

“Oh, sweet boy.” You coo, swiping your hand over his forehead, brushing his sweaty curls off of his skin. “Is that what had you so worked up tonight? Wanting me to fuck you but you were too afraid to ask?”

He nods, closing his eyes in embarrassment. 

“Don’t ever be embarrassed over what you want. I’m more than willing to give it to you.”

He opens his eyes at you, and the look in his eyes is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. 

“I want it, mama. I want it. Please give it to me.”

You see the change overtake him – like a switch has been flipped. Generally, the two of you switch up who’s in control depending on the day. And Josh’s neediness for you today had been nothing out of the ordinary. 

But right now, as he pleads with you to give him what he so desperately needs, there’s something more. It’s a headspace you’ve only seen him in once before – months ago when you’d first broached the topic with him. He’d asked you to finger him, timid and so afraid it had made your heart hurt. You’d obliged, and you’d assured him over and over that you weren’t put off by his desires. If anything, you enjoyed giving it to him more than he enjoyed receiving it. Afterwards, the two of you had gone online together to pick out a strap on that Josh liked. You’d kissed him all over and told him that you would enjoy anything so long as it gave him pleasure, and he’d hit the ‘order now’ button. It had arrived quickly, but had since remained untouched and unmentioned. Weeks passed without him saying anything, so you hadn’t said anything either – afraid to push him too far. 

But now, here he is, needy and desperate for it. He’s looking at you with complete trust, confident enough in your love for him that he’ll let you take care of him the way he needs it – absent of any judgment. Shaking yourself from your thoughts as you feel tears beginning to brim in your eyes, you lean over to the bedside table and open the top drawer. 

You pull the toy out, the glossy black plastic reflecting the dim light. Josh’s eyes track its movement as you bring it over to you. You flick your eyes to meet his, giving him one more chance to change his mind. 

“I’m sure.” He tells you, reading the unspoken question in your gaze. “Fuck me, mama. I want you to fuck me.” 

“Anything you want, baby.” 

With shaky hands, you slip into the strap – slow and deliberate as you secure it around yourself. Once it’s on, you slide the straps of your bra down, unclipping it and tossing it to the floor. 

Josh watches you, eyes dark and lips shiny with spit. His chest is flushed a gorgeous red and his golden skin glows with a thin sheen of sweat. As you turn your attention back to his face, he allows his legs to fall apart, leaving himself on full display for you. Your own breath catches in your throat at the sight – suddenly feeling overwhelmed at the beautiful creature that lays before you, open and completely trusting in you. 

You crawl up to him, the plastic cock bouncing obscenely as you move. You grab a bottle of lube from the nightstand and squirt a generous amount over your fingers. 

“You ready, Josh? For me to take care of you?” You whisper, settling between his thick thighs. 

He nods feverishly, chest heaving. 

Slowly, you circle his rim with your finger, messaging the tight ring of muscle. You study his face as you press one finger into him. The heat of him envelopes your mind in a lust-drunk haze, the breathy whine that falls from his lips makes your pussy clench around nothing. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” You tell him, carefully stretching him inch by inch. 

“Don’t stop!” He whines, mouth falling open as you add another finger. “God, don’t fucking stop.” 

You scissor your fingers in him, focusing on the sounds that fall from his pretty lips and on the way his facial expressions shift with each movement of your fingers. He’s beautiful like this, completely spread out for you as you prep him. 

“More.” He stutters out between heavy breaths, squirming and whining as you comply. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. So pretty for me, Josh.” 

The sight of him, awash and lost to pleasure is affecting you more than you thought it would, and you can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. You want nothing more than to reach down and give yourself some relief, but you abstain – instead focusing all of your attention on Josh’s pleasure. Tonight, you want this to be about him. He’s always so giving in bed, and he deserves to be spoiled. 

You pull your fingers from him and he sighs at your absence. You wipe your fingers on the bedsheets before reaching for the bottle of lube. You coat the strap in it, wanting to ensure that he’s not uncomfortable at all. 

Glancing up at you through half lidded eyes, Josh whines quietly in his chest. 

“Fuck me, baby. Please. I’m so ready for it.” 

“Ssshhh.” You shush him, lining your plastic cock up with his entrance. “You don’t have to beg, sweet boy. I’m going to take care of you. You know I will. Just be patient.”

Finally, you slowly sink into him, and you bite back your own moan as his beautiful noises hit your ears. They’re breathy, practically a whine – needy in a way you’ve never heard from him before. You sink to the hilt and pause, allowing him to adjust to the stretch, still slightly afraid of hurting him or going too fast. 

He squirms beneath you, beginning to delicately rock his hips to meet yours, fucking himself lightly on your fake cock. 

“Move, mama. Need you to move.” He grips the sheets in his fists, hands clenched so tight that his knuckles have turned white. 

You oblige, beginning to rock your hips into him at a steady pace and he groans loudly in response. 

“Look at you.” You mutter, more to yourself than to him. He’s the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen. “Feel good, baby?” 

“Feels so good.” He moans, voice turning pitchy. You place your palms on the bed on either side of him, caging him in and bracing yourself to fuck into him harder. 

“Fuck, please touch me.” He begs you, eyes completely screwed shut. 

“Not yet, sweet boy. Be patient just a little longer longer. I’ll get you there.” 

Selfishly, you don’t want this to end yet. Seeing him like this, completely lost in the throes of pleasure – pleasure that you alone are giving him, is like a drug. His moans and whines are addictive, lighting a fire in your veins as you fuck into him without mercy. His cock is red and leaking, angry and neglected as it bobs between the two of you. You’ll relieve him soon enough, but you allow yourself a moment longer to revel in this feeling. 

You pull completely out of him for a moment, ignoring his groan of displeasure as you hook your palms behind his knees, pressing them up to his chest so that he’s practically bent in half. You thrust back into him, and the new position allows you to slip even deeper into him. You can’t feel it, but you can only imagine how tight he must feel. As soon as you bottom out again, Josh’s mouth hangs open in a silent scream. You’re almost afraid he’s in pain, but his hand suddenly shoots out and wraps around your forearm tightly – his fingers pressing into your skin harshly. 

“Fuck, baby, right fucking there. Holy shit.” His words suddenly begin to slur together and you assume that with the new position, the toy must be brushing against his prostate – if the noises he’s making are anything to go by. His tiny whines have morphed into loud moans, and you’re thankful that the walls are thick. He’s never been this loud before, and your own desire at the sound of him threatens to overtake you completely. 

“Fuck, harder, harder.” He chants as you piston into him, your entire body begining to shake at the effort with which your fucking him. 

“M’gonna cum. Fuck!” He all but screams, and suddenly he’s finishing, shooting ropes of cum all across his taut stomach. You watch in awe as he cums completely untouched, and his orgasm seems to go on forever. You still in him, allowing him to come down from his high and back to the land of the living. 

His eyes blink open at you and a dopey, fucked out smile spreads across his lips. 

“Fuck, Josh,” you sigh out, “that was… the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

He just mumbles at you, leaning his head back to rest on the pillow. 

“Gonna pull out now, okay?” 

He nods, and you slowly pull out from him. He hisses at the feeling, and stretches out his legs. You unclasp the strap from your waist and place it on the nightstand, before reaching down to grab his boxers from the floor. You carefully clean him up, being careful to not overstimulate him. 

“Are you okay?” You ask him, concern washing over you as he just lies there with his eyes closed, chest heaving. 

“More than okay. Fuck. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, baby. I love giving you what you want. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Always trust you.” He mumbles, sitting up and reaching for you. “Lemme return the favor, mama.” 

You swat his hand away and place your hands on his shoulders, pushing him backwards so that his back presses back into the pillows again. 

“Watching you was more than enough for me. Just want you to rest now.”

He frowns at you, but you just give him a soft smile before pressing your lips to his for a sweet kiss. 

“Another time, baby. Tonight was about you. Let’s go draw you a bath. How does that sound?” You rise from the bed, reaching your arms out to help him up. 

“Sounds nice,” He says tiredly. 

He goes to stand, but his knees buckle as soon as he tries to straighten. You quickly wrap your arms around his waist, helping him to carry his weight. You giggle. 

“Damn, you really did a number on me, huh?” He asks you through his own quiet laughter. 

“You were just so patient for me, baby. You deserved a reward.” 

-----------

If you're reading this, I love you! <3

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[abiiors]

elope with me 🍰 // ross macdonald x reader

promptober '23 - day 5

a/n: sappy once again, at this point my blog should come with this warning tbh cw: arguments?? but nothing serious wc: 900

“ross!” 

he winces at the sound of her voice ringing through their house. she sounds beyond annoyed, almost bordering on angry. and it’s been like this for the whole week ever since they found out that their preferred wedding venue wasn't available for the date they wanted. 

“hi love,” he tries to pacify her with a hug as soon as she appears in front of him, hair a bit frizzy from the rain outside, bundled up in a cardigan that’s a gorgeous shade of red. but she steps away, running a frustrated hand through her hair and glaring up at him.

“i gave you one job, ross!” she fumes, “literally one job, to set up an appointment for the cake tasting and yet you haven’t done it—”

“baby, they di—”

“no, don’t ‘baby’ me,” she snaps, moving farther away from him. 

her eyes are narrowed and her nostrils flared. each time she runs a hand through her hair, her ring snags on some strands, pulling them and making her wince and ross just wants to comfort her but she won’t even let him come close to her. 

tiredly, he rubs a hand over his face. 

“if you would just listen…” he starts again, only to be interrupted, again, by a scoff. a tiny bit of irritation flares through him but he tries to tamper it down. he tries to be the patient one, to wait until she’s done getting things off her chest. 

“do you even know how fucking stressful it is?” she vents some more, practically stomping to the kitchen to put the kettle on. 

the irritation in him burns a bit brighter now. 

“it doesn’t have to be,” he mumbles to himself quietly but it’s clearly the wrong thing to say. 

with an eerie level of calm she turns to look at him. her face is a pure blank mask—the calm before a storm, ross realises, before she takes a deep breath. just one. 

“our wedding,” she grits out, “is in seven months. so far, we don’t have the venue we want. i haven’t found my dress, i don’t even fucking know if you’ve shortlisted any options for your suit. so far we have done nothing!” 

she almost yells out the last word, voice rising more and more as if she can’t control it anymore. 

“we have not done nothing!” he argues hopelessly, watching her slam the jar of tea on the counter and angrily yank out a spoon from the drawer. things are clearly very far from okay if she hasn’t even offered to make him tea while she’s making herself some. 

when she doesn’t say anything, he walks up to her. “come on, love, don’t be like that! we have time. we have seven more months.”

and that is another wrong thing to say because this time she fully stops in her tracks. 

“we have time? we have time. sure. how long ago did we start the planning? four months. and what have we done in four months—”

“so we can postpone it—”

“don’t even finish that!” to his surprise, her voice cracks. her arms are crossed defensively in front of her. but all he cares about is the way her lower lip starts to tremble, how he can see the tears gathering in her eyes. 

the next thing he hears is a sob that breaks his heart and that’s how the floodgates open. 

in the blink of an eye, he’s pulling her towards him, rubbing her back in circles as she cries into his chest. he’s sure he can feel all the stress and frustration pouring out of her but he doesn’t try to shush her. it’s better to just let her cry it out. better to just be there. 

“i’m sorry,” she sniffles after a bit, hiccuping between the words. “i shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, i’m just…”

“really stressed,” he finishes for her. “i know. what i was trying to tell before about the cake tasting. they’re all booked up for this month, they told me to call again next month.”

he hears her gasp lightly. “shit, i’m so… fuck i’m sorry, ross, i didn’t even listen to you…”

behind her the kettle clicks. and ross pulls away a bit, just enough that he can see her face.

“listen, i’ve been thinking… what if we just… eloped?”

her eyes widen at his suggestion, eyebrows almost flying up into her hair line. for a moment he thinks he’s said the wrong thing again, made her angrier somehow. “i just meant–it’s clearly stressing you out so much and i… like you said we haven’t exactly—”

this time when he’s interrupted, it’s with a kiss. soft and lingering and sweet and at least he can feel her smiling into it. he sighs, holding her closer. 

“ross, that’s… that’s brilliant. i didn’t even think about that.”

watching the realisation dawn on her in real time is a bit funny. and he has the urge to pull her in for another hug but he does something else instead. 

ross gets down on one knee, just like he had almost ten months ago at this point, except this time it’s in their kitchen. “so what do you say…” he asks and she giggles slightly. 

“i already said yes to you!”

ross clicks his tongue at her. “no, you idiot, what do you say to eloping with me.”

that makes her beam at him, and tear up slightly but this time it’s happy tears and she nods. “i would say yes, a million times yes.”

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[darksigns-exe]

Sweet Like Honey - Loneliness No More

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol, Brief Mention of Sexual Harassment (It's one line) Word Count: 2,3k

Read on AO3

They’re in the studio when her name pops up on the screen of his phone. Seeing her name and that pretty picture of her and Barnabas doesn’t fill him with dread anymore. They’re not out of the woods just yet, but it’s all coming along nicely. It’s hard work, but it’s worth it. Seeing her grow less hesitant towards him again was enough of a reward. The fact that she’s willing to give them another chance is good enough for him. 

The message is simple enough. 

Tash bailed on me.  Do you want to go to that show with me? Ticket is already paid for. 

They’d mostly met up with other people around since she’d come back. This would be the first time they’d be, sort of, on their own. 

He agrees without even asking who they’d be seeing. Bee has decent enough taste in most things, it’ll be at least decent even if it isn’t exactly his taste. She’ll be there and that’s good enough for him. He’s fully aware that he’s acting like a lovesick teenager. She could ask him to walk from here to New York and he’d do it. It’s just a little bit embarrassing, but by God, no one has made him feel like this. And he still feels as if he has to amend for his fuckery. 

A range of laughter makes him look up from his phone. 

“You’re fucking cringe, dude.” Matt kicks against his shin “This shit is disgusting.”

He knows it's in jest, but he still has to bite the bitter words that he wants to throw at his friend back. 

Noah tosses his phone back onto the desk, face down so that Matt doesn’t see that he’s made her his the background on his home screen again. He’ll have to change it again before they meet up. She doesn’t need to know how deep in it he truly is. 

She texts him the time and place at some point during the day, it’s the little venue that’s just a couple of blocks away from where she lives. He makes it there with a bit of time to spare. Bee rounds the corner just as she makes it to the door of the venue. She’s in a little sundress that barely reaches the middle of her thighs. He tries not to think about how the fabric hugs the curve of her body, how gorgeous it makes her look. She picks up her step when she spots him waiting. 

“You’re here.” She sounds almost surprised. 

“Said I’d come.” 

He feels himself twitch when she wraps him up in a tight hug. His hand comes to rest against the bare skin of her back. The feeling almost drives him insane. Her skin is so soft and warm. The vanilla of her perfume sinks into his senses.

“Thank you again.” She says as she pulls away “I really didn’t want to go alone.”

“Of course. I mean I’m glad to come along.” 

“Last time I went to a show with Tash a guy asked us if we wanted to have a threesome with him.” She grimaces at the memory.

He doesn’t like the thought of either of them being subjected to that kind of talk. Noah’s sure that both women could take well enough care of themselves. Knowing that this shit probably also happens at his own shows makes him feel a little sick. 

They head inside shortly afterwards. Bee elegantly steers him away from the bar. He gets it. 

They find a little spot near the back of the place. There’s still an hour left before the show actually starts. Bee wraps him up in an easy conversation and for a moment he feels as if nothing had ever happened between them. 

Bee had shifted to stand in front of him. His chest feels too tight with misplaced anticipation. He knows that nothing will happen. He’s lucky enough that she asked him and not someone else. But he can’t help but wish for something to come of the night. They talk until the house lights dim and Bee moves back to his side. The band is some kind of indie acoustic thing. It’s inoffensive, but Bee enjoys it so he bites his tongue and withholds his judgement. If he’s entirely honest with himself it’s not even that bad. 

The band moves into a slower number and he feels Bee shift a little closer to him. He can feel her arm brush against his. Her skin is cool from the air-conditioning inside the venue. Noah feels her eyes on him, and when he meets her glance it almost knocks the air out of his lungs. The look on her face is so soft, so fond that his heart feels as if it’s trying to break out of his chest. She holds his glance for a moment too long. His breath comes staggered and too fast. It feels like the moment before a kiss. A kiss that never comes. 

Her jaw is set like stone as she continues to watch the band, almost as if she’s forcing herself to look away. Noah wants her to look at him. He wants to feel the warmth that comes with her smile and it makes him feel sick to his stomach. 

He’s sure that he’s been in love before, but it’s never been like this. Maybe it’s because he’s been thinking about it for too long, but he has to feel her hands on his body again, has to feel her lips everywhere. The feeling had long superseded the purely physical. 

Noah can’t stop his hand from finding hers. She doesn’t stop him, doesn’t pull away when he curls his fingers around hers. Her hand feels so much smaller than his. The tips of her fingers briefly pulse against the back of his hand. It’s such a small and non-descript movement that no one else would notice it. But it burns into his mind, into his skin. He savours the feeling. There’s no knowing when he’ll get to be with her like this again. 

When the show ends he’s still holding her hand. And Bee gives no indication that she wants it to stop either. Just once in a while, without any kind of regular rhythm, he feels her thumb drift over the back of his hand. He isn’t sure if it’s something she does consciously. It soothes the nervous energy in his belly nevertheless. 

He walks her back home without question. If she can’t even go to a show without getting off-colour comments he doesn’t want her walking around town in the middle of the night. 

The walk back to her building is quiet, with the exception of her excited recap of the night. It's endearing. 

“Want to come up for a bit?” She asks when they reach her door. 

He wants nothing more than that, but if he does he doesn’t know if he can stop himself from staying. 

“I’d love to but I don’t know if I should Bee.” 

She nods. The defeat on her face is glaringly obvious “O-okay. I just thought that we could talk.”

“Talk?”

“I just wanted to say that I could have been more forthright. I could have told you more about Ben without expecting you to ask all the questions yourself.” She wrings her hands together nervously “I don’t want you to think that I blame you for all of this.”

It’s so earnest that it stings in his chest. 

“I don’t believe that…I mean I don’t believe that you blame me for it.” He reaches out for her hand “I’m glad to hear it though.” 

She smiles at him “Thank you for coming with me tonight, Noah.”

“Thank you for asking me to come with you.”

He pulls her into a tight hug. Noah feels her head resting against his chest as she wraps her arms around him. The goddamn pounding in his chest finally stops, if only momentarily. Before he pulls away, he presses a kiss to the top of her head. 

Like the love-drunk fool he is, he waits in front of her building until she opens the window in her kitchen to wave at him so that he knows she has made it up safely. 

He waves back, of course. He doesn’t leave with the same tension in his back this time. She’s still in the window when he’s halfway down the road. 

When he gets home, the lights in the living room are still on. The expectant faces turn to him as soon as the door closes. They’re like a fucking triumvirate holding council over his fate. Noah can practically feel questions pouring in. He tries to ignore them, pushes past them up the stairs before they can get a word out but he doesn’t miss their snickering. They’re not better than school girls, he thinks. 

When his back finally hits the mattress and his mind quiets down a little, the loneliness that he’d been feeling for a good while now does not return. Usually, when he sits in silence it gnaws at his mind like a rat, but tonight it doesn’t come. 

At this side, the screen of his phone flashes up. The notification covers the bottom of the picture on his lock screen. When he opens it he finds a message from Bee, a screenshot of her own lock screen showing the both of them a few weeks before she had initially left. He has his arms around her in a tight hug, both of them with big smiles on their faces. 

They make a pretty couple . 

As soon as the thought enters his head he tries to shake it away again. They’re not a couple. If he allows himself to sink into that delusion things will only get more complicated. And he wants to do this properly. Take his time with it. 

She has a picture of them together set as the lock screen of her phone. The thought distracts him from his previous dilemma. Bee must have seen her picture on his phone at some point during the night, there was no other reason for her to send him that screenshot. He wondered for how long that picture had been on her phone. Had it been there since she’d left or was it a recent change? Either way, she had saved that picture for half a year. She’d kept it even after he’d been as awful as he had been. 

Are you still up?

When the screen lights up it almost blinds him a little. Noah can almost picture her writing it, curled up in her bed with her puffy duvet wrapped around her body. He gives her a quick reply saying that he is still awake. 

A moment later his phone rings. He picks up before the ringtone has time to loop.

“I was thinking about something.” She speaks without greeting. 

“Go on.”

“I was- was this a date Noah?” 

The question catches him off guard. Because all things considered he isn’t sure either.

“Do you want it to be a date?”

It gives her space to back out in case she just wanted to see how he felt about it — to let him down gently. 

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line before she finally speaks up “I think so yes.”

The weight that falls off his shoulders is nearly immeasurable. 

“Then it was a date.”

It’s such a small phrase but it changes everything. He hears her let out a sigh on her end “I really didn’t know if you…but I kept thinking about it and I just wanted to know.”

“I know.” 

The silence is comfortable. Drifting in and out of conversations with her never had that awkward, uneasy feeling. He keeps his phone on speaker next to his head when he lays back down again. In the dark of his room, it almost feels as if she’s lying next to him. 

“When did you take that picture?” 

“Remember when we went to see that movie? The shit one Folio wanted to see? We came to pick you up and they were trying to book a table for after the movie and I went looking for you.” 

The memory is so very clear in his mind. He’d long known that what he felt for her far superseded friendship, but this awfully mundane scene had settled it in his mind. He realised then that he wanted to come to her and that stupidly stubborn cat. 

“I didn’t even notice you.” She says so softly. 

“Because I’m so hard to miss.” 

She lets out a laugh at his exasperated tone. Her laugh is quickly followed by what he assumes is her attempt at soothing Barn. 

He likes this kind of normal they have. She’s his own private hideaway from all the madness that comes with the band. He likes it, there’s nothing he’d rather do, but some days it all becomes a little too overwhelming. And to have someone who is so far removed from it all to take his mind off it all is a true blessing. 

The conversation fades in and out and in a way Noah regrets that he didn’t come up to her apartment. But he’s glad that they’re once again able to just talk like this. He stays on the line until she goes silent and he hears a soft little snore through the speaker. He leaves the call on for a little while longer before he ends it, in the hope that Bee doesn’t wake up from the sudden noise. 

He stays up for a little longer. The song he’s been working on is finally reaching a point that feels complete. He hasn’t shown her any of the new songs. That moment is not necessarily something he looks forward to. With the exception of this one. This one is just for her ears. 

[blurbsinsinning]

𝖙𝖜𝖔; 𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖊𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞

kinktober, day two - robin buckley x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ (mdni!), teasing, finger fucking, top!reader

“Hey, stranger,” You greet, the bass-heavy music underscoring your flirtatious remarks, “you really should know that I have asthma, just in case you intend on taking my breath away often.”

The girl, very clearly nervous, ignores your flirting and asks, “Wait, you’re asthmatic, since when?”

Your heart squeezes and you chuckle softly. “It’s just a pickup line.” You reassure her.

She visibly relaxes. “Oh. Sorry, I'm really nervous.” You were pretending to be strangers. At least, you were supposed to be. You’d asked Robin to do this for you, and to her credit, she was doing her best to play along. “Uh, well, maybe I’ll just have to start carrying around an inhaler.”

Neither of you can hold back your giggles at her attempt at a smooth response. 

“I’m still not asthmatic!” You say, still cackling.

“What else was I supposed to say?” She protests, laughing just as hard.

“I don’t know, stranger. Maybe just flirt back.” You playfully roll your eyes.

The ‘stranger’ collects herself and with a deadpan expression says, “Let’s have sex.”

You snort, “Wow, where’s all the foreplay, pretty girl?” She smiles at the nickname, an adorable blush on her cheeks, amplified by the party lights. 

“I can’t help myself when a gorgeous lady like you is in front of me.” She hesitantly takes a hold of your waist, which you eagerly lean into, settling her nerves. She smiles with her tongue in between her teeth, leaning in to kiss you.  

You kiss her back, taking over with a hand cradling the back of her head, the background noise of the party fading out leaving only the woman’s quiet whimpers against your lips.

Somehow, you stumble your way to a bathroom in the venue, bumping into walls and disgruntled partygoers along the way. You summon all your strength and place Robin on top of the counter, kissing down her neck at a now perfect angle.

In between the kisses you press to her neck, you ask, “You gonna let me take you right here? Hm?”

“Yes,” she breathes out, eyes shut. 

“Anyone could walk in, you know. I bet you’d like that. You just want everyone to see how pretty you are, all breathless like this for me,” You ramble on as your hands come up to the collar of her shirt. 

Robin’s makeshift costume (a red flannel and jeans) made for easy access, the buttons were flimsy and wonderfully easy to tear open. 

“But they don’t get to,” you continue on, “only I do. Only I get to see you like this, isn’t that right?”

She desperately tries to keep her composure, but it’s slipping away from her with every button you tear open. “Who - who says they already haven’t, stranger?” 

You drop the charade. “Nobody, Robin. No one gets this.” You tear open the buttons with even more vigor. 

She nods, pressing up into your touch, her hands grip your shoulders. “Just you, promise.” Robin sighs out as you finally finish unbuttoning her shirt. “Keep going,” she encourages you, as if you’d stop. Not when you have her squirming under you, her body begging for more. For you.

You want to tear off her jeans and make her fall apart right there, in the bathroom on the counter, where probably everyone could hear Robin’s moans. You’ll save that for tonight. For now, you’re content to grab her perfect tits over her bra, groping them as your lips smash together once more.

Your hands make their way down Robin’s body and under her jeans, rubbing her pussy over the cotton of her panties. She rolls her hips against your hands, moans against your lips until she can’t help but let her head fall back. 

“Everybody’s hearing you make me yours,” she moans out, in awe. You grin, biting her lips softly while your skilled fingers dip under her panties, teasing her entrance.

She bucks her hips again, trying to slide your fingers in herself, but failing and whining out in frustration. “So needy,” you chide, your fingers sliding up to rub her clit. Her mouth drops open in a silent scream. “C’mon, stranger. Cum for me.” 

It takes her a little while longer to get there, you slide your middle finger inside her and let your thumb stimulate her clit, but eventually, she’s falling apart. Her cries of pleasure echo throughout the bathroom, the symphony dying down as she finishes riding out her orgasm on your hand. 

She scoots herself back and rests her head against the cool tile and shuts her eyes with a pleased smile on her face.

[thehuntss]

HIGH FOR THIS 1/2

•

The BAU members are in Phoenix for a case, and get gifted some homemade cookies. Hotch and Prentiss finally share their secret. The team was definitely not ready for this.

•

Hi guys!

I was watching some Grey’s anatomy - the other show to my heart - and got very inspired. So here’s my little remix. And my first smut fic!!!

Let me know what you think about it!

Hope you’ll enjoy <3

xx

There was no way they could’ve been fooled like this. No ways, they were high ranked profilers, they could have seen it coming from planet Venus but they didn’t. And the only ones who weren’t victims from this pathetic joke were the absents, as always.

JJ had to take several mesures and that’s why they were all locked up in the conference room, with their phones and guns taken away. “It’s for your own safety, I can’t do much except saving your dignity. You’ll all stay there until you are sober. See you later.”

The blonde was expecting them to be angry at her, she was ready for them to yell at her and saying she was the worst ever because they had to work but none of that happened. They all stared at her with big wide smile, even Hotch couldn’t hide his, all looking at her with this innocent and kind of stupid sparkle in the eyes.

“You’re so…blonde. Did I ever mentioned that to you ? I mean, like a real blonde, not like Garcia when she makes hair experiences…” Derek told her with all the seriousness possible, while Garcia slowly nodded.

“Yeah, is it natural ? Like, were you born with blonde hair ? You look like an Angel.” Her voice was higher than usually, but none of them seemed to matters. “Are you an Angel JJ?”

“You’re so pretty.” Rossi added, sending her a kiss.

“Guys, listen to me, I’m not an Angel, and you are all high, remember ? I’ll go grab some water, wait here for me. And please don’t do something stupid.” She said, they were giving her the worst headache and she didn’t have a cookie.

She had brought cookies from this police officer’s wife and because she was on a diet she didn’t eat one. Luckily for her. Because 30 minutes later she noticed how weird they were all acting, and not long after the police officer bursted in the conference room, asking her to give back the cookies because his wife had made a mistake. And what a mistake, all the profilers were high on weed and none of them seemed to remember their names.

“I think they are all wrong, you’re the most gorgeous person of this planet sweetheart.”

It had been only a whisper but everyone turned to stare at their boss, who was sitting on the couch, lost in his thoughts but lovingly eyeing Emily. No one knew about their secret relationship, it had been almost a year and they had managed to keep it private. Until today. Only Reid seemed deaf to all the noises around him, staring at the door like if he was counting seconds before JJ’s return.

“What ? The ? Hell ?” Garcia broke the silence, looking in between Bossman and Peaches.

“Are you dating ?” Derek asked, standing up suddenly, his expression blank. He gave Dave a look, and the oldest agent chuckled. “Since when ?”

“Like no one knew. Don’t tell me you guys didn’t see it, it had been almost a year.”

Garcia and Derek blinked twice, unable to know if they were naturally shocked or just under marijuana’s hallucinations. “For real ? How….”

“How are babies made…” Garcia asked him, with a concerned voice, while Emily bursted into laugh, definitely very high too.

“Sex, sex is the cure. And Aaron is very good at sex, he always does this thing with his fingers and then I co….”

“Bella!” David cut her up kind of laughing, while Derek gave the couple a disgusted look.

“Yes we don’t want to know how bossman fucks you.”

“Gross.” Garcia whined, looking horrified when she apparently pictured her boss and her friend making out.

“You’re the one who asked Garcia…” Emily mumbled, standing up to sit back next to Aaron who hadn’t say a word since the start of the discussion. “But if you have to know, sex is great and it’s even better than hacking the CIA to get Prince William’s number.”

She laughed when she saw the redhead cheeks flushing, winking at her. “Yup, I know everything.”

And while Derek was trying to contain his tears from laughing, she silently kissed Aaron cheek. That is not how they had planned on telling them but they didn’t expect either to be drugged with cookies. And that’s the precise moment JJ came back with water bottles.”

“Reid are you in there ?” She snapped her fingers at him but the genius didn’t even move.

“I think…” she started until she saw Derek sniffing at the table. “Hum…reminds me had many cookies you all had ?”

“98…it’s the same number as the last one of Prince Williams phone number.” Penelope replied, still figuring out how Emily knew about the CIA hacking’s attempt.

“Maybe 3, and I still think you’re an Angel blondie.” Derek answered, sniffing this time at the files in from of him.

“I need to pee.” Emily suddenly said, looking at JJ. “Please?”

JJ rolled her eyes but agreed on letting her friend go, and as Emily left walking like a zombie, the blonde tried to convince Derek that sniffing things around him was no sense. That’s maybe why she didn’t notice Hotch sneaking out of the room, and apparently all the other had seen him but no one spoke, too high and too amused.

Emily almost passed out when she opened the cabinet room and saw Aaron standing just at the door, his eyes darker and shining with lust. “You scared the shit outta me honey! Wait..are we in mixt bathroom ? Like it used to be before?”

Aaron pushed her inside and closed the door with his foot, kissing her with passion and fierce, not letting her time to realize what was going on. Apparently drugs had a different effect on him and she would definitely not complain about it. Their kissed turned hungry, their hands being very touchy, and their moans echoing in the room but they didn’t care.

“I want you…” he whispered in between kisses, his voice low and raspy, definitely not the same as usual. And the way she felt his hardness against her tights was definitely the usual same, like every time they would make love like if it was their last time. “I’ve been thinking about this all day…”

“Take off your pants.” She instructed, her hands already unbelting him, slipping in his boxers. He was already hard and she could feel the precum leaking on the top of her fingers. “Fuck me, please Aaron.”

His hands trailed further down her body, helping her take down her pants, cupping her ass and lifting her up so that she could wrap one of her leg around his waist. “Have you been a good girl?” He teased her, kissing her neck and leaving bruises he didn’t care now but would regret later when he would realize they were very visibles.

She gasped for breath, looking at him and burying her hands in his short hair. “I’ve been…but we don’t have time honey…fuck, please…” she begged, feeling warmth grows in between her legs.

Emily licked her lips and leaned forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his heated skin. He gasped, his hands trembling slightly as he pushed her panties down her legs. She quickly pumped him, smiling deliciously. “You’re already so hard for me.”

Aaron suddenly had trouble holding back, her hand on his cock making him shiver from head to toes. “You’re so good at this baby.” He kissed her again, his fingers trailing down her collarbone, removing the long dark hair from her face. Emily’s head fell back against the wall with a thud, her eyes fluttering closed.

Drugged or not, Aaron looked forward to feeling her around his cock.

She gave him a better access, slowly moving her hip against his waist, feeling the urge to have him inside of her, he whole body burning of desire for her handsome man. She helped him guide his shaft into her hot center and they both moaned loudly as he filled her up.

“Fuck you feel so good.” He panted to her ear, letting her adjust for a second before moving his hips, loving the sound of his skin slapping against hers. It was taking all his self control not to fuck her senseless and make her come in a minute, knowing too well her sensitive spots.

“Not the…vanilla..sex…” she pleaded him, her hands on his hips, guiding him to move faster. He didn’t get right away what she was saying but seconds later he thrusted quicker into her, silencing her with a heated kiss. Even on their state he was still aware of the situation and he didn’t want the whole police station coming in the damn restroom.

He lost mention of time, slamming his hips against her, burying his face into her neck, his hand replacing his mouth over her lips. Emily knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it longer, feeling her orgasm growing faster inside. Aaron felt her fingers digs into his shoulders, leaving him scratches but he didn’t care, panting and moaning of pleasure. A second later he watched her tensed, her orgasm sending her over the edge.

With a few more thrusts he came as well, spurting his seeds inside her, his legs barely managing to hold them up with the force of his climax. 

When he felt better, Aaron then sank down to the ground, keeping this precious contact with her, kissing her softly, letting them both go down from their climax.

“We should get going sweetheart.” He whispered, lifting his pants up and buckling his belt. She did the same, grimacing when she felt him leak in her panties. “Vanilla sex?” He chuckled.

She shrugged, tilting her head on the side, kissing him one more time. “I just like your savage side.”

When they came back to the conference room they all stared at them, except Reid. JJ rolled her eyes at them and Emily couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly, still high and on her climax.

“Please…” JJ whispered, eyes shut down and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Don’t tell me they were right.”

At the confused look on Aaron and Emily’s faces, Derek added, containing his laugh with very much difficulties. “Lieutenant Bradford came in and told us there were hearing weird noises in the restroom.”

“You can’t possible have done it in a police station.” David said, both of the agents feeling like kids getting caught up by their parents. And at their non answers, Aaron being as embarrassed as Emily was amused, Derek and Garcia bursted in tears, unable to stop while JJ and Dave looked at them with desperation but a bit of amusement.

“You both are two fucking motherf….” Derek managed to say in between laugh, feeling like he was out of breathe.

“You’re all punished of cookies. All of you.” Pointed Dave, forgetting he had some too.

It was too much and they all laughed, including Reid and Hotch.

“I knew you were taking too long for a pee!” Penelope said. “Now you all owe me $20! Waiting for the money pals…” her hands were open and she waited patiently for her friends to open their wallet.

“You did not bet on that Pen?!” Emily couldn’t hold her shock, looking at her with wide eyes.

“Why not, JJ locked us in here I had to find a way to have fun!” She replied, counting the money. “And I was right, count it as a revenge for Prince William!” She winked at her, her laugh contagious as even Aaron smiled. “By the way, nice hickeys Peach.”

“I have to say you weren’t exactly quiet. That was very embarrassing.”

They all turned to Reid who had finally spoke. He didn’t look at his boss and friend, slightly embarrassed, cheeks still reddish. “I’ll never be able to forget this, and it’s going to cause me more nightmares than psychopaths does…”

“How…” Aaron started.

“Toilets are the room next door.” Dave stated, trying to be as serious as he could.

And the awkward and embarrassed look the couple shared made them all agree on one point. That was definitely the best - and worst for Reid - way to announce they were dating.

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

high infidelity | twenty one

"I rent a place on Cornelia Street", I say casually in the car. We were a fresh page on the desk, filling in the blanks as we go. As if the street lights pointed in an arrowhead leading us home

*Ellie's POV* A few days later…

I was finally back up in Vancouver and with Liam, I missed him so much and being with him gave me a sense of stability. Tyler put the house up for sale and it sold on the same day which was incredibly lucky but very normal for Vancouver real estate. Liam and I have just been staying with my dad for the time being, which my dad enjoyed. Danielle even found me a condo and I was getting ready to move into it already. I had to admit this transition period in my life was going a lot easier than I expected. I had such an incredible support system that made it even better.

“I can’t believe this place is mine.” I mused as I walked around my new home. It was right in the heart of Vancouver, bright open layout, lots of windows, a large patio, and even better it had three bedrooms so Liam could have his own space and I could still have a guest room. Danielle looked over at me at smiled, “It’s all yours babe, time for a fresh start.” “Absolutely.” I mused, still not believing I was finally out of that house and didn’t have to walk on eggshells. I could decorate it the way I wanted, adopt a cat if I wanted, put my Christmas tree up early without someone bitching in my ear. Hell I could drink wine and dance around naked if I wanted to. “When does the furniture arrive?” “Tomorrow.” I had taken some of my money from the house selling to get new furniture, cause I wanted nothing from the house in here besides Liams room. Danielle and I were gonna mirror it to his old room to help him with the transition. “It was nice of them to leave this couch.” “This couch is fucking sick.” Danielle agreed, it was a giant cloud couch that almost wrapped around the whole living room. I couldn’t wait to have Noah and the guys up here to hang out and have family dinners or even football Sunday’s with them. I went to check on Liam, but as soon as I did my phone buzzed, it was a text from Noah. “Special delivery at your front door.” I raised my eyebrow and walked towards the door. My footsteps felt heavy the closer I got, I checked the peephole, but he wasn’t on the other side of the door. Filled with confusion I swung the door open and saw a giant bouquet of ivory roses. My heart skipped a beat, they were my favourite. How did he know?

I grabbed my phone and face-timed Noah, he answered and saw me with the flowers,“Congratulations on your new home baby.”

I blushed as I stared at the screen, he was sitting in his home studio as his favourite Naruto hoodie hugged his body. “Thank you these are gorgeous.” “I thought you deserved a house warming gift.” “I’ll never say no to flowers. Are you happy to be home?” I replied as I sat down on the floor in my empty bedroom, completely consumed by Noah’s voice. Funny how a few short years ago I found comfort in his voice on Twitch and now he’s FaceTiming me daily, it was something out of a teenage dream. “I am.” He replied as he scanned his room. “It’s just missing something.” Rolling my eyes, already knowing the answer, “hmm, what could that be?” “You, obviously.” His smile faded and turned into a small pout, “I miss you so much, Ellie.” My heart sunk as it hit me that he really wasn’t here with me, but he was in another country. At least we were in the same timezone but it still wasn’t enough. “I miss you too, Noah.” “I actually have a question for you.” He started. “We upgraded to a bigger venue tomorrow and the remaining tickets sold out quickly so we added a second show the night after. I was wondering, if you’re able, do you want to come down for the second show?” “I’d love to Noah.” A smile appearing on my face, “I want to see what your life is like down there. Only thing is, I’d have to fly down the day of the show. Liam goes back to his dad’s tomorrow after dinner.” He smiles at me through the screen, “Works for me.” “I can’t wait to see you.” I stopped myself, every cell in my body wanted me to tell him I loved him. I wanted to tell him, but over the phone just didn’t seem right. “I can’t wait to see you either.” He was cut off by his doorbell ringing. “What are your plans tonight?” “Inhale this ramen that just arrived and watch more Demon Slayer.” His dark eyes burned a whole into my heart as he looked at me, “Isn’t your boyfriend so exciting?” “Very.” I chuckled. “I can’t wait to see you.” “Once this tour’s over I’m coming up to stay with you with no interruptions okay? I gotta go though, Jesse might steal my food.” He replied, referring to his roommate Jesse Cash, who was also in a band called Erra. Noah started to walk out his room and I could hear him yelling at Jesse to not go to the door. Jesse told him to get fucked and went anyway. “Goodnight babe.” I hung up and I just sat there, feeling tears in my eyes. How can I have so much going for me but I feel deflated? I didn’t want to feel like this. I didn’t want to be this attached to him this fast but he made it impossible, especially with how he’s been so devoted to me. This felt like the cruelest way to fall in love, but I knew it was something I would have get used to with his career. “Mama?” I looked up, Liam walked into the room and towards the flowers. I smiled at him as I wiped the tears from my eyes, he caught me and walked over to me. It amazed me that even at his age he felt my sadness and wanted to make me feel better. He crawled onto my lap and hugged me, putting his head on my shoulder. I held him close to me as I felt more tears escaped my eyes. It can only get easier from here…right?