#AND HIS POCKET LOOKS LIKE AN ENVELOPE TOO

[hoshifighting]

omg omg knf i’m low-key feeling like a genius.

bb do you know that trend on tiktok where the bridesmaids give the husband naughty polaroids of the bride throughout the celebration I NEED HUSBAND!SVT REACTIONS TO THIS (u being the bride ofc)

also i’m saying need but if this is smth you don’t want to do feel free to ignore. ily mwah 💋

husband!seventeen reacting to your bridesmaids's giving them naughty polaroids of yours — tik tok trend

seungcheol’s in the middle of chatting with the groomsmen when he gets the envelope. he opens it, glancing down, and immediately freezes. his eyes widen as he realizes what he’s looking at. “you guys can’t just do this to me!” he tries to play it off, but he can’t help but sneak a peek at the photo again.

jeonghan's expression doesn’t change. he just stares at the photo, then looks up at your bridesmaids with a knowing smirk. he slips the picture into his jacket like it’s no big deal, but the second he catches your eye across the room, his smirk turns into a full-on grin. oh, he’s definitely going to tease you about this. “just wait, babe,” he mouths silently, making sure you know he’s got something planned.

joshua’s too polite to expect anything out of the ordinary, so when the envelope is handed to him, he opens it without a second thought. his eyes widen immediately, and his cheeks flush a deep red. “oh my god,” he whispers, quickly closing the envelope and tucking it away, glancing around nervously to see if anyone else saw it. he’s mortified, but there’s a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. he looks over at you, shaking his head in disbelief.

junhui the second his eyes land on the photo, his brows shoot up, and his mouth falls open. “oh… wow,” he mumbles, trying to hold back the grin creeping up his face. he looks around to make sure no one else can see, quickly stuffing the photo into his suit pocket, but his eyes keep darting back to u. he gives you a playful smirk across the room, biting his lip slightly.

hoshi opens the envelope, sees the photo, and immediately lets out a loud “oh my god!” his eyes go wide, and he’s laughing, blushing like crazy. “seriously? right now?” he says, grinning ear to ear, but he’s clearly flustered. he tries to play it cool, but u can see the blush creeping up his neck.

wonwoo doesn’t say a word—just slips the photo into his jacket, giving the bridesmaids a quiet nod. but there’s a glint in his eyes when he looks over at you. he leans back in his chair, arms crossed, watching you adjusting his glasses, hoping that the dream of them hide his red cheeks.

woozi doesn’t know what’s coming when he takes the envelope, and when he opens it, his reaction is instant. his eyes widen, and his face turns bright red. “what the—” he quickly snaps the photo shut. he’s completely flustered, but he’s also low-key impressed. tries to act like it didn’t faze him, but the blush won’t go away. “you’re lucky it’s our wedding day, or you’d be in serious trouble.”

minghao’s expression barely changes, but you can see the slight quirk of his eyebrow. he glances at the photo, then at your bridesmaids with a knowing smirk. “you girls really think you’re slick, hm?” he says quietly, folding the photo and tucking it into his suit jacket. later, he’ll pull you aside, his voice low and teasing. “you’ve got some nerve doing this at our wedding, but I’m not mad about it.”

mingyu’s curious from the start, wondering what kind of wedding surprise your bridesmaids could’ve cooked up. when he sees the photo, his jaw drops. “no way…” he mutters, blinking like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. he blushes instantly, but his eyes keep drifting back to the photo.

seokmin’s the type to open the envelope with the biggest smile, thinking it’s something cute. but when he sees the photo, his eyes go wide, and he lets out a loud, “holy shit!” before clamping his hand over his mouth. his face turns bright red, and he quickly stuffs the photo back in the envelope.

seungkwan’s expecting a cute, heartfelt note or maybe some kind of sweet wedding surprise, so when he opens the envelope and sees the photo, he gasps. “oh my god, no way,” he mutters under his breath, his face instantly flushing red. he glances around nervously, quickly hiding the photo, but his heart’s racing. “you really had to do this today of all days?”

vernon pauses. his eyes widen slightly, and he lets out a quiet, surprised laugh. “wow… okay,” he mutters, nodding to himself like he’s impressed. he slips the photo back into the envelope, tucking it into his pocket with a smirk.

chan’s face turns beet red as he sees the photo, and he almost drops it. “what the—?! are you serious?” he sputters, eyes wide in shock. then he quickly glances over at you, trying to gauge your reaction. he chuckles nervously, clearly flustered but loving the chaos.

[luvsupa]

tags: cowboy!geto x fem!reader, private relationship (bc father doesn’t approve), fluff(ish), angst, sad ending, reader is daughter of a land owner!! + heavily inspired by this art 🙂‍↕️

a/n:UMM THANK U GUYS SM FOR 1.3K FOLLOWERS WHAATTTTT, MWAAAA

the sun blazes down, crickets singing their lazy tune, but your world feels like it’s crashing. your fingers nervously graze the folded newspaper on the wooden bench as you hear his voice, low and smooth as always.

“hiya, pretty.”

your heart leaps at the sight of suguru geto, standing there like the dream he is. his long, silky black hair spills out from beneath a dusty black cowboy hat, cascading over his broad shoulders. dirt covers his forearms, muscles straining under the red plaid shirt barely hanging on by the threads. his black leather jeans hug him in all the right ways, tucked into his tall, scuffed cowboy heel boots, the kind that make your breath hitch every time he walks. 

you smile, trying to keep things light despite the pounding in your chest. you fold the newspaper and place it beside you on the bench. "mmm, shouldn’t you be workin’, handsome?" you tease, squinting against the bright sun as it beats down relentlessly. 

he cocks his head, the wooden toothpick between his lips shifting slightly as he grins. “not today, doll.” but there’s something heavy in his voice that makes your heart skip. he pulls a letter from his back pocket, holding it out. “give this to y’er father, will ya?”

you hesitate, fingers brushing the envelope. it’s addressed in your father’s neat handwriting. “what for? another horse bet?” you laugh softly, but there’s an anxious edge to it. his chuckle, usually warm, feels distant.

“nahhh… ‘m leavin’.”

the words stop you cold. the sun, the crickets, everything fades as you rise from the bench, the hem of your sundress skimming the dusty ground. you can barely breathe.

“n-no, sugu, you can’t leave,” you whisper, voice trembling as tears prick at the edges of your vision. you reach for him, desperate, but he steps back, looking around as if the other farmers might be watching.

“we can’t keep this up, baby. y’know this.” he says softly, eyes full of regret, though he won’t meet your gaze. your grip tightens around the letter, crumpling it in frustration.

“why? do you not love me anymore? is there another woman?” the questions spill out, frantic, as tears spill down your cheeks. his cowboy hat casts a shadow over his face, but you can still see the sadness in his eyes.

he steps closer, his large hands wiping the tears from your face. “he caught us again. found our letters ‘n nearly killed me this time.” 

your heart sinks as the memory floods back—the first time he’d caught you and suguru, the stolen kiss that caused a war between families. it took weeks of tense meetings, your father and geto’s sitting across from each other, finally agreeing that suguru could stay on as a worker, so long as he kept his distance, stayed in line. but your father never trusted him again.

you glance at the other farmers working in the distance, their eyes darting towards your loud sobbing, but you don’t care.

“we can talk to him,” you say, your voice shaky as you grab his hand, trying to pull him toward the barn. “we’ll make him understand.”

but he doesn’t move. he’s planted there, a sorrowful look in his deep violet eyes. his long hair, so soft you used to run your fingers through it, sways slightly in the breeze as he finally speaks.

“he gave me a choice, sweetheart. stay and marry your cousin—or leave.”

you freeze, the weight of his words hitting like a blow to the chest. your heart feels like it’s breaking all over again. you let go of his hand, stepping back in disbelief. his hands cup your face, pulling you back into the moment, his touch gentle despite the sadness between you. 

“i could never do that to you, my sweet girl. i love you too much.” his voice softens as he presses a kiss to your tear stained cheek. you cling to him, not ready to let go, but he’s already slipping away. 

before you can speak, he pulls off one of his silver rings, pressing it into your palm, firmly closing your fingers around it,

“wait for me, darlin’. i promise you, i’ll come back and marry you.”

[rainwaterapothecary]

Date Night

Serennedy Mini Week Prompt 1 - Anniversary

Late Fall 2012

The ‘Anniversary Effect’ was a load of bullshit, Leon decided, hunching his shoulders inward during his debrief. To an outside observer, the motion was a careful display of insubordination and boredom.

In truth, it was only the warmth of his jacket that was keeping the chills of a panic attack at bay.

He buried his nose in the fur-lined collar of the coat Luis had bought him when he was out one day doing who knew what.

It wasn’t quite the one he’d lost…There, but it had a similar feeling on his hands when he felt the fuzzy lining and that was good enough.

It was also black, so that was a bonus.

His mask of boredom was beginning to dip into ‘sleepy’ as his eyelashes fluttered.

This jacket had something else his lambskin hadn’t: It smelled like Luis.

Leon usually kept his jackets hung up in a closet when he wasn’t using them, but lately it had been getting chilly enough to hang this one by the front door.

Said front door that sat right beside the kitchen his teacher’s assistant of a partner usually set up camp on school nights.

Herbs and spices danced away from his nose as he gave up and closed his eyes.

-*-*-

Second Summer 2007

”Oh, amor! Bienvenido.” His academic had looked up from the usual whirlwind of notes their kitchen table always became as soon as he’d gotten home and changed out of his work clothes. The soft, yellow light of the space glowed around the seated man’s hair like a halo, highlighting the silver hairs he swore his students were multiplying on purpose.

“Hey, Lu.” Leon was exhausted and all he really wanted was to become a blanket cocoon and bid the waking world goodbye.

For about 12 to 48 hours in a row. He wasn’t picky.

Then Luis had smiled that smile he had. The soft one that brought out his smile lines.

Luis’ crows feet had been getting deeper, Leon realized with a jolt. He pulled a cold beer out of the fridge and closed the appliance with one hip, leaning back amongst the magnets and photos of Sherry.

“What?” Blue eyes sparkled back at the smiling man.

Luis settled his chin on the back of his interlaced fingers and tilted his head.

“Just you. I’m happy you’re home, all safe and sound.” Then the cheeky bastard winked at him and Leon huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes fondly. This guy.

“Yep,” He smirked, pulling his next statement out of his back pocket like a flourish of a surprise. “You have me all weekend, amigo. Start plotting.”

A wicked glint formed in the Spaniard’s eyes just for a moment before he hid his mouth behind one ring-flecked hand.

“You assume I haven’t been plotting? Mi vida, it’s like you don’t know me at all!”

The agent snorted another laugh and sauntered over to the table, happily planting himself on the unclaimed left thigh of Luis Serra. Warm arms easily enveloped his abdomen as he sipped at his beer and tried to make out what the hell his partner had been writing. His handwriting really was atrocious when he was in the Zone.

Soft lips rested on the nape of the Agent’s neck, accented by stubble that always sent a pleasant chill down Leon’s spine. He hummed in question.

“What are you doing tomorrow? Well not tomorrow, I know better than to tear you away from your beauty sleep but I think we’re overdue for a date night.”

The thought shocked Leon for a moment, rifling through recent memory for their last date and it took him too long to find it.

Then a bubbly warmth filled him as the knowledge that his sweetheart wanted to spend time with him sunk in. Had probably had everything all planned out and lined up, just waiting for Leon to walk into it.

He couldn’t stop his smile if he tried.

“Oh yeah?”

Curls rustled against the back of his neck as the other man nodded, coming to rest with his forehead cradled in the dip beneath Leon’s skull. It was a nice feeling, knowing his weak spot was covered and protected in such a way.

-

Date night had started not long after they got together, way back in 2006. It had been another one of those strokes of genius that Luis had pulled out of nowhere that aligned perfectly with the words Leon didn’t know how to say.

Being in a loving, gay relationship in the States was…hit or miss back then, and with DADT in full-swing, it was just easier to keep Luis to himself.

Sure, they went out dancing and they got drinks, but Leon was a romantic, deep down. Beneath the layers of angst and trauma, he was a lover trained to be a fighter.

Luis had somehow seen that from day one, deep in the bowels of his childhood nightmare with Leon’s fist pinning him against a wall.

Those sharp, whip-smart eyes had seen him, his own eyes bloodshot and barely restraining the despair and rage.

Leon had asked him later, of course, when Luis had first fallen for him. While that moment in the cabin wasn’t the answer, it certainly hadn’t hurt.

Instead, he’d learned. He’d gathered what information Leon dropped and he watched.

And the version of Leon S. Kennedy that those jigsaw pieces filled in took his breath away.

Leon had a garbage sense of humor, he liked old movies, he knew how to DIY most things and had a frankly concerning lack of self-preservation when it came to electrical wiring.

Luis collected all of these like they were gems or pebbles of the purest gold. He horded them like a dragon and held them close to his chest to complete himself where his proverbial missing scale lay. He reveled in them.

And then he used them to charm Leon off his feet.

The agent literally didn’t know what hit him. He felt like he’d been leveled by a freight train when he found out how tailored to his interests their first date was and he almost shed a tear.

“You- How?” Some sort of inner turmoil was causing Leon’s face to go through a myriad of expressions and Luis wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold his hand. Instead, he smiled and tucked his traitorous digits into the pockets of his own slacks.

“Well I keep my eyes open, Sancho. You find all sorts of treasures that way, you know.”

The agent did not blush at the way his lover repeated a sentence he’d said the night before under completely different circumstances. Leon caught him biting his lip to hold back a smile and he shook his head, hiked his jacket up around his shoulders, and shrugged.

“Lead the way, Gene Kelley.” Leon made a sweeping motion towards the plaster art nouveau façade.

Luis chuckled and sauntered into the theater.

“Only if you follow, Mr. O’Connor.” He called over his shoulder.

Leon shook his head fondly and followed.

The other man had somehow found a theater, in their tiny town, that was re-screening the classics and the bombastic man had somehow kept it a complete surprise.

It was also the one venue where two men could hold hands in public.

Leon leapt at the opportunity, holding his lover’s hand in one of his own as soon as the house lights went down. The flash of Luis’ teeth in the darkness betrayed the man’s infectious grin at his eagerness.

Watching movies with Luis was perfect, Leon decided afterwards. Sure, they had movie nights at home pretty often, what with their specific cinephile niches barely overlapping (unless it included Judy Garland, for obvious reasons), but that was different. At home, they could (and often did) pause the film when they had to go on a tangent and-

And Luis respected the films enough to understand that Leon hated talking over dialogue, so they paused the tapes. It was so easy.

Luis didn’t know all the specific vocabulary for cinematography and staging decisions, but damn it he knew when they were referencing literary or theatre classics. It blew open a whole new side of Leon’s favorite hobby. He knew there were themes and line-drops from classics, obviously, but to have a partner who was just as willing to analyze and lose their /mind/ over delivery? If Leon wasn’t in love before, he certainly was after listening to Luis compare ancient Greek philosophy to socialism through the scope of a silent movie they’d found in the library’s archives.

But in theaters? He didn’t distract Leon, thank fuck.

The other man always seemed so surprised and pleased when Leon leaned over to whisper something in his ear during the screening, but otherwise he left him the hell alone.

Outside, after looking up at the stars and coming down off of a good film, Leon had looked at his partner with an internal spark in his eyes and kissed him against the bricks of the back of the theatre until they were both bruised and breathless.

-*-*-

“Agent Kennedy!”

Leon’s eyes snapped open and he treated the government peon to one of his finest scowls.

God, he hoped Luis was home tonight. Maybe they could go to the museum again and Leon would be able to let Luis’ excitement wash over him and wipe all of this bullshit away.

“Yeah?” He quirked an eyebrow, eyes cold. This better not be going where he thinks it is…

-

By the time Leon S. Kennedy shouldered his way into the front door of his house, his knuckles had nearly stopped bleeding after the fight he had gotten into after the dickhead he works with had the stones to shit-talk the Soviet resistance fighters.

Fucking Anniversary Effect.

He hung up his jacket, took in the pile of notebooks on the kitchen table, and raised his voice just enough to carry past their warmly lit kitchen.

“Lu? You home?”

“Sancho? Be right there!”

Leon tried to roll the tension out of his shoulders as the muffled footfalls of his partner sounded down the carpeted stairs and finally revealed that halo of silver hair and soft smile lines that were getting deeper, and more cherished, every year.

“Bienvenido, amigo.”

That soft kitchen light caught on the golden band Leon kept on a chain around his neck as he pulled his partner into a helpless kiss and a strong embrace.

Fucking Anniversary Effect.

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

A/N BACK AT IT WITH MINI WEEK! This work is part of my Memories 'Verse from Serennedy Pride Week! You can read the full series [here].

Everybody go say thank you to @wisecrackingeric-2 and @raccoons-garbage-can for putting on this event!

[allurilove]

Yandere Boyfriend x you

Rated 18 + -- mature long (?) content!

Includes: Headcanons of possessive, obsessive, and perverted behavior, stalking, rough sex, pretty gender neutral, jealousy, hair pulling, handjobs, going on vacation with you.

*Thanks for all the love on the first post, and here’s a continuation! Here is the third part! It’s a much longer version, and he’s now referred to as “your boyfriend!” This is gonna be a long one, and then I'll take a bit of a break to write yandere priest! This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: Your wish became true, and now you have a boyfriend. He loves you immensely, and now that you two live together, he feels like his life is complete.

He never believed to see a more beautiful and attractive person than you. You have his heart and soul in your possession, all ready and willing for you to devour.

Take him, claim him, and he’ll be at your feet worshipping you forever.

He was stoked to be able to have access to your bedroom 24/7. It was like he struck gold as you shown him your newly decorated room. It felt surreal to be your roommate, and the fact that you two would be living under the same roof made it hard for him to control his urges. He knows he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. You were off to class, and his hand was on the doorknob. He slowly pulled the door back, and all of your clothes were revealed to him. He reached out and gently touched the fabric of your clothes, his hands feeling the smooth silk, or the fuzzy cotton shirt. He leaned in to sniff the closet, and your natural scent fills his nose. He sighed and he stepped in, he closed his eyes as your clothes enveloped him like a hug.

Your classmate slowly pulled down his pants, his face digging into your sweater as he kept inhaling the soft aroma from your fragrance. He had to keep himself busy somehow. He started to shuffle around the apartment, his pants pulled down to his feet and he looked like a penguin as he walked to the bathroom. He grabbed your towel you frequently used, and he sniffed that too. Your classmate began to rub himself, his fingers touching the outline of his manhood. It stood strong and proud, it was a bit heavy and sort of curved to the left. He used his free hand to start jerking himself off.

It was almost like a routine for him. He would wake up at the same time as you, watch you leave the house and wave goodbye, and then go back to your room to sleep. He soon began to grind onto your pillow. Or he would wrap himself in a little burrito with your covers.

You two had your great moments as "classmates", and had your little movie nights when you were done with class. You had a huge bucket of popcorn on your lap, and it was mixed with your favorite candy, with sweet and savory kernels as well. He would always grab for some when you did- just to brush his hand against yours.

While living with your classmate…he soon became your boyfriend. It sort of happened when you two got drunk and ended up making out in his bed. His lips were soft, his tongue swirled with yours, and he could taste the peach liquor.

Living with him was great: he frequently cleaned, always did the laundry, and he would steal a couple of your intimates. You almost caught him, and you could see the little fabric poking out of his pocket, but he had distracted you by pulling you to the bedroom.

You were getting a bit suspicious that he was at the apartment all the time, but he promised he just had online classes. He then started to be a Photoshop pro. He would create fake grades, and fake assignments he had to do, and he realized that it would be odd if he was available all the time. So, he actually had to sneak into campus and pretend he was a student there. His heart ached as he had to send "I'm actually busy and can't make it" text to you. Knowing damn well that he had nothing going on.

You two went on dates. He always took you out somewhere new, he never once wanted you to feel bored with him. He bought tickets to this stand up comedian you liked, and you both sat down onto your seats. It went well, literally too well. He grits his teeth as he hears another laugh from you. I mean c'mon, the comedian wasn’t that funny.

Now that he thinks about it… he doesn’t remember a time when he made you laugh like that. Even when he made notes of all the things you found hilarious. His eyes widened at the realization, and he started to doubt himself. Maybe he wasn’t even funny, no matter how hard he tried-- oh god!

You nudged him to see his reaction, his eyes were shining with love as he looked over to you, but he covered the lower half of his face. And he silently mouthed “Count your days” to the comedian.

He gripped onto his thighs, his eyes narrowing at the ground as he silently fumed. He didn’t want to seem overbearing, and you were having a good time, so he kept his thoughts to himself. You made fun of him that night. While you guys were walking back home, he frowned as you mocked his tense expression.

“Oh stop it.” He grumbled and he looked away. He looked so cute when he pouted, and he crossed his arms.

Though deep down, he liked that he made you smile. Even if you were laughing at him, it was still a win in his books. He sighed and decided to reel you in by wrapping his arm around your shoulder, and he brought you close.

You also got a lot of noise complaints. It was embarrassing to even bump into your neighbors when you left your apartment. They sent you nasty glares, eye rolls, and out right told you to keep it down. They thought you were a porn fein.

Your back arched as your boyfriend thrusted into you, and you held him tightly against you. Being with him was always passionate, he was ravenous and acted as if he had been starved of your warmth. He let out a loud groan. He also had the tendency to curse, the bed shook as he picked up the pace- the headboard repeatedly slammed into the wall. You also had to buy a new bed frame after he broke the other one.

He leaned down and he nibbled and nipped at your neck, he loved to leave hickeys and marks on you. His hands lifted your legs up and onto his shoulders, pressing your thighs to your chest. The bed creaks underneath your weight, and he reaches down to caress your flushed cheek.

When you saw him open his mouth to say something dirty, you quickly silenced it with your hand. He peered down curiously, his brow raised, and he tilted his head in confusion. You remind him to keep it down, and that the people next door will hear.

The next day: you hid yourself in a hoodie, running to the bus stop as you ignored your neighbors heckles.

After you were done with class, you two went to the gym to work out. You promised to help him build some muscles, and teach him how to run properly. He sometimes wished he didn’t have a dick. He listened to you explain some random machine, and he grabbed a towel to cover his crotch. You saw how he would nervously dart his eyes around, completely unable to look at you without drooling.

As a punishment, you got him to start running on the treadmill. He pants as you continued to speed up the machine, and sweat began to drip down his body.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Your boyfriend whined, and he had to keep pushing his body to the limits. "I thought you liked me..." He joked as he wiped the sweat off his neck.

When he missed you, he disguised himself when he would follow you around campus. He hid himself behind a bookshelf after he stalked you to the library. He lowered his shades to see what you were reading.

“Excuse me?” Another student tapped on his shoulder.

“Piss off.” Your boyfriend said curtly, and he slapped their hand off him. “Can’t you see that I’m busy?”

The student looked at him and then followed his line of sight. They were going to ask him to move so they could grab their book, but when they saw his flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, and his odd heavy breathing… they realized he was stalking you and was probably a creep. The student gulped, slowly backing away as they flagged down security.

You had to save your boyfriend from the arms of a buff man. It was almost funny to see your boyfriend get manhandled by security, his feet dangling off the ground, and he continued to say that the guard was embarrassing him.

Your boyfriend still kept in touch with your siblings, he actually grew to liking them, and when winter break came around, he followed you back home. He stepped inside the familiar house, and he greeted your parents first. He handed presents around to your family, and he quickly put on a white beard and red hat for the kids.

He genuinely started tweaking when he was introduced to your life long childhood friend, and ex. He forced a smile and his grip was tight as he shook your ex lovers hand. Your boyfriend continues to give your ex a sideways glare whenever they were near him, or when they would touch you, he would accidentally push them into the christmas tree.

He holds your hand during dinner, and conveniently turns away when your ex asked him pass the rolls. When you reach over to grab the basket for yourself, your boyfriend handed them to you immediately. His expression souring as you gave one to your ex too.

“I think they meant to give it to me.” Your boyfriend grunts, and he picks the bread off your exes plate and shoves it into his mouth.

You kicked him out of bed that night. He had to sleep on the tiny ottoman, it was either that or sleeping on the floor. But he refused to lay down where he couldn’t see you. He sulked, and his body curled up into a fetal position as he saw you sleeping comfortably on the bed.

Your boyfriend slowly unraveled his body and he prowled towards you. His face rubbed up against your thighs, and he murmured “I’m sorry” into your skin. His lips trailing up to your inner thigh. When you pull away, he rolled his eyes, and he flipped you over onto your stomach.

“Do you like your ex more than me? Is that it?” His voice is calm but you can hear the underlying irritation in it. “Do you get all hot and bothered when you think about them?”

“Do you think about them when you’re with me?” He yanked on your hair, and you wince as you feel a burn at your scalp.

He rubbed his sore cheek after you hit him, and you made him sit in the corner to reflect on his behavior. He sighs and he leans his head back onto the wall, his eyes glancing at your sleeping form. You did tell him he couldn't sleep on the bed, but was he going to listen...? He got up from his spot, and he tiptoed towards you, and he laid down next to you. He was successful until your eyes shot open and glared at him, he quickly slinks away in fear.

Your family decided to take you guys to the slopes. You were still mad at your boyfriend, but you helped him put on his clothes. You roughly zipped up his jacket, wrapped the scarf around his neck, and shoved him into the van. He did not like sitting next to your ex. The car ride was tense for him, and your boyfriend was nice to your parents and thanked them for bringing him along. He rolled his eyes as he heard your ex do the same-- damn copycat.

He awkwardly sat there, you were on his left, and your ex on his right. Your boyfriend stared out the window, occasionally making conversation with you, and when you guys came to the gas station to fill up the car- he couldn't wait to jump out.

Your boyfriend stared at the road as your parents pumped the gas into the vehicle, he stretched his limbs and he couldn't help but wonder how long it would take him to walk back home.... surely it wouldn't be that far. He didn't want to leave you with your psychotic ex. I mean, he didn't know for sure they were a nut case, but he liked to believe they were. However, he also didnt want to be here so... he pulled out his phone and he looked it up, damn. 15 hours?

"Thinking about running away?"

Your boyfriends body stiffened as he heard your ex's voice. He sighed heavily, and he turned around to see the person in front of him. He looked at them up and down... realizing they were wearing the same colors. They looked like they were matching. Fuck.

"You would like that wouldn't you?" Your boyfriend shoved past them and he walked inside the store to find you.

You were standing at the chips aisle, a couple of things already in your hands. Your boyfriend grabbed a beef jerky and made his way to you, his body behind yours, and he pressed himself against you. He kissed your cheek, and his hands rubbed your sides.

"Are you still mad at me?" He moped.

"Are you being nice to my friend?" You said back.

He stayed silent for a bit, contemplating what to say. I mean he could lie, but he decides not to. "I think you're asking a bit too much from me."

The rest of the car ride was silent. When you guys made it to the mountain he was shaking the entire time. He was cold, did not know how to ski, and he was stuck on the easiest slopes with the kids and beginner skiers. He flailed down the hill, he tumbled and rolled, and he crashed into a tree.

You helped him get back to the cabin after he got a concussion.

His body wasn't hurting too badly, and he whined and sniffled- really trying to make it seem he was sick. He loved the attention you were giving him, the light touch of your lips on his forehead, and when he convinced you to touch him down there, he was really happy. His back arches as you continued to move your hand underneath his pants, your thumb brushing against his tip.

"Ah~" Your boyfriend moaned. "Keep going..." his hips jerked up to meet your movements, his cock starting to twitch in your hand. His arousal formed in his stomach, before his cum finally leaked out of his member.

You shimmied his pants a bit lower and you licked his manhood, your tongue tasting the slightly salty and white fluid dripping down his length. The rest of the trip went smoothly. He would often pull you to the side to kiss you, he cooked alongside you, learned how to ski with you, learned how to knit a beanie, and of course his favorite... being intimate with you.

Your ex's room was right next door, and your boyfriend made sure to make you scream out his name every night, and vice versa. He loved to make a show of how much you two loved each other, and his hands were on your hips to help you ride him.

"So goood..." He babbled, his brows furrowed in pleasure, and he latched his lips onto your neck. "Keep ridin' me, I wanna see you lose it on my cock."

Your boyfriend was entranced with how you took him in easily, his dick disappearing into you, and felt you tighten around him. A deep growl vibrating from his throat. He plays with your nipples, pinching and he sucked on them. He twirls his tongue around your hardened nipple. When you came, he lapped up your nectar, and he kissed you.

It was soon becoming the end of your college years, and he started to panic. Especially when he heard you talking about how you're gonna walk on stage, or what you were going to wear. He panicked because he's a damn liar. He wouldn't be able to sneak his way into graduation, and it was time to come clean. He hoped you wouldn't leave him, or think he's crazy for following you across the world to be with you.

Allure: Hopefully this keeps y'all fed until I come back! Here’s the c.ai link: https://share.character.ai/Wv9R/ondwnvhr

[spectorgram]

the letter

theodore nott x f! reader summary: you get a letter from a secret admirer who wants to confess. your best friend is none too pleased. notes: jealous! theodore nott >>> word count: 1.4k

You would think for a magical school, Hogwarts would have better heating or some heating spell, but the Slytherin dorms are frigid as usual as winter creeps up. You fasten your robe clasps and draw it tighter around you, simultaneously trying to tug your skirt down in a futile way to heat yourself up more. Your knee-high socks only do so much and you pretty much give up on the endeavor as you climb up the stairs and head for the Great Hall. 

You’re immediately greeted by the cozy warmth of the hall, spotting your friends, all swathed in green and silver robes and knits. Theo spots you first, sliding over and nearly knocking Blaise off the bench. “Blood hell, mate,” Blaise grumbles as you approach, kicking Theo’s leg lightly. 

You slip into the space created for you, right in between Theo and Enzo. You stifle a yawn and ask, “Can someone pass the eggs and bacon?”

As Enzo reaches for both platters, Theo’s eyes zero in on your legs. “How are you not cold?”

You frown. “I am,” you reply, piling your breakfast onto your plate, “but Pansy’s demon cat apparently thought my winter tights were toys and decided to scratch them all up.”

Pansy sighs, “I’ve ordered you new ones, calm down.” 

Theo drapes his robe over your legs and you smile gratefully at him. He smiles back and your heart flips. You don’t think you’ll ever get over how beautiful he is — all dark caramel curls and long lashes that frame those devastatingly blue eyes. He’s been your best friend since you started Hogwarts and you knew you loved him at first sight. The longer you’ve known him, the more you’ve fallen for him. 

It’s a tale as old as the world itself: you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend but you value your friendship far too much to do anything to jeopardize it.

“Mail’s here,” you hear someone say down the table. You look up to the ceiling, which has been enchanted to look like a sky that’s about to break open and drop snowflakes from its clouds. Owls soar in through the openings at the top of the walls, diving down towards their intended recipients. 

“Maybe your new tights are here,” Enzo says. 

Pansy adds, “I hope so. Then you’ll stop complaining about it.”

You snort, reaching up to grab a letter dropped by your family owl. You feed her a piece of scrambled egg as she takes off back towards the owlery. You tuck your parents’ letter into the inner pocket of your robe just as another owl swoops overhead, dropping a pale blue envelope on your lap. 

“Who’s that from?” asks Pansy. 

You shrug, using your butter knife to open it up. As you do, Draco grumbles at Mattheo: “For the love of Salazar, stop hogging the pastry basket.”

You skim over the letter addressed to you. You tilt your head in confusion and Blaise asks, “What’s it say?”

Enzo peeks over your shoulder and his face breaks into a smirk. “‘Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at midnight tonight. Signed, Your Secret Admirer.’” he reads.

“What?” Theo suddenly snatches the letter from your hand. You watch in confusion as his eyes dart back and forth. His shoulders tense and his mouth purses into a thin, hard line. 

“You doing okay there, Nott?” Matthew asks, shooting a simpering smile at his friend. Theo sends a glare back but doesn’t say anything, the letter’s paper crinkling under his grip. 

Pansy asks, “Are you going to go?”

You hesitate, surreptitiously glancing at Theo, startled to find that he’s gazing at you with an intensity you’ve never experienced. You pluck the letter from him and fold it neatly. “I think so,” you say. “I’m interested to see who it is.”

“Be sure to bring your wand,” Draco says. “Just in case.”

“Obviously,” you deadpan. The conversation shifts into whether anyone was prepared for midterms coming up. 

You fiddle with the letter in your lap. Theo’s silent for the whole conversation. 

You chew on your bottom lip as you reread the same sentence in your textbook for what feels like the hundredth time. The letter has stuck in your head the whole day. It crosses your mind that it could be a prank or a set-up — it’s not a secret that Slytherin isn’t the most popular House among your classmates — but you know you can handle yourself. You’re more worried about how Theo was acting at breakfast. He didn’t say a word the rest of the meal, not even when Enzo and Mattheo tried looping him into the conversation. He just sat there, sullen and gloomy, and his mood seemed to worsen more when you handed him his robe back and said you had to get to class.

You sigh heavily, trying to play out every possible scenario that could happen between you and the letter writer. You check the clock in the library: 11:45; you need to head over to the Astronomy Tower. 

You groan, gathering your things, sliding them into your bag, and making your way back to the Slytherin common room to drop off your things in your dorm. “Cacophony,” you supply to the portrait, which swings open to let you in.

The common room is blissfully silent when you enter, a welcome contrast to the mess of thoughts in your head. You’re about to head down the hall to your dorm when you collide against someone. You huff an apology but when you feel their hand on your shoulder, you look up to see Theo. He looks intense, eyes wide and glinting with sharp determination and his mouth still set in that frown from earlier. “Sorry, Theo,” you say. “Didn’t see you there. Where are you going at this hour?”

“I was going to find you,” he replies. 

“Oh,” you say. “Well, here I am. Sorry, I’ve got to drop this stuff off and then—”

“Head to the Astronomy Tower,” he finishes for you, “to meet your ‘secret admirer.’” 

You don’t like the way he sneers at the last part of his sentence or the way he uses air quotations. You’re about to respond when he says, “Don’t go.”

“What?”

“Don’t go,” he repeats.

“Why not?”

He pauses before saying, “What if it’s someone just having a laugh?”

You bristle, hurt, and you feel your temper flare. “Is it so damn hard to believe that someone might actually have a crush on me?”

Theo laughs, razor-sharp and incredulous, as if he can’t believe that you’re saying something so outrageous, “No, it’s not.”

“Then why shouldn’t I go?”

“Because I don’t want you to!”

“For Salazar’s sake, Theo, you can’t tell me what to do!”

“I know that!”

“Then are you trying to tell me not to go?”

“Because I bloody like you!”

Your heart stutters to a stop. You can only hear the sounds of both of your labored breathing and you suddenly can’t meet his eyes, trying your best to wrap your head around the fact that your feelings are reciprocated. “How long?’ you ask softly, holding your breath.

“Since first year.”

You blink. “Really?”

He rakes a hand through his hair and sighs heavily, “Mattheo’s right; you’re so oblivious.” There’s another beat of silence and he asks, a little shyly, “How do you feel?”

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “I like you too, Theo. I’ve liked you since first year as well.”

He echoes your “Really?” and it makes you giggle, “I guess we’re both oblivious.”

He joins your laughter and you let your forehead rest on his chest as your shoulders shake. When it dies down, Theo shifts you off him and lifts your chin with his forefinger, any semblance of coyness gone. You gaze into his ocean blue eyes. Salazar, you could drown in them. He offers a charming smile and he leans close, just a few centimeters away, and says, “Can I kiss you?”

Your eyelashes flutter and your voice comes out barely louder than a whisper, “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Your lips meet, fervent and desperate, years of yearning releasing like water through a broken dam. Theo hooks his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. You wind your arms around his neck, fingers toying with the hair at his nape. He walks you backward, slipping his tongue into mouth as he crushes you up against the wall. He deepens the kiss and your knees go weak. 

Theo moves your bag off your shoulder and drops it on the floor. The letter that rested at the top of the pile of possessions falls out, laying forgotten on the ground.

[corroded-hellfire]

Summary: You help Eric through an anxiety attack

Note: Obsessed with Eric and I need to protect him from the world, please and thank you. Also, Frodo divider created by me 😊

Warnings: anxiety, panic

Words: 1.5k

The carved out hull of the decimated subway car offers little in the way of protection, but with the power out it seems likely not to cause any unwarranted noise. 

Eric ushers you in before himself, the light from the fluorescents of the station giving the two of you just enough to see by. The seats and bent handrails cast gruesome shadows across the small space, and you decide to take advantage of one particularly large pocket of darkness in the corner. 

Your back presses up against the cool metal, dented from God only knows what. Slowly, you slide down to the floor and Eric lowers himself down beside you. Both of you are caked with dirt and there’s blood smeared against one leg of your jeans. Luckily, it doesn’t seem to belong to either one of you. 

A steady stream of water is somewhere near, the comforting sound letting you breathe just a little easier. Eric must feel the same because he dares to lean in towards you and speak softly.

“Are you okay?”

Never did that seem more complex of a question. You’re not okay in the grand scheme of things, but you’re currently still alive and, for the most part, unharmed. 

“I think so,” you whisper in reply. “Are you?”

Eric nods, rubbing his hands up and down his shins, the worn brown material wearing even thinner in a few spots now. 

The two of you were fortunate to run into one another in an alleyway between two buildings—the only stroke of luck either of you have had lately. A natural ease quickly proved that you worked well together and seeing as neither of you wanted to be alone, the choice was obvious. 

Even though it’s only been roughly twenty-four hours since you’ve met, with all you’ve been through in that time, it feels as if you’ve known Eric for ages. There was no denying how cute he was either, but your brain barely had time for fleeting thoughts like that when your focus is on staying alive. 

“How’s your hand?” Eric asks.

You look at the offending appendage, purple from bruising, slightly swollen, and throbbing. Though, it’s slightly better since you’d found that bodega and swiped all the Tylenol and ibuprofen they had. 

During the initial chaos of the invasion—is that what to call it? —your back was up against the brick wall of an apartment building and a man was sent hurtling in the air towards you. Your hand had the misfortune to get crushed between the high velocity man and the brick wall. Ever since you’ve met Eric, he’s been helping you wrap your hand and always checking in on it. 

“It’s sore,” you admit. 

“Let me see?” Eric extends his hand.

Taking a deep breath, you place your injured hand in his. 

Warm, calloused fingers undo the binding currently covering the wound and toss them to the subway floor. It feels nice to let your hand breathe a bit, get some air. With just a featherlight touch, Eric traces his index finger around the mottled skin. The delicate touch sends goosebumps up your arm. If he notices them, he doesn’t say. 

A sense of disappointment fills your gut when he releases your hand to get fresh bandages. You chew on your chapped bottom lip as you watch Eric rummage through the Phantom of the Opera tote bag you’d snagged from one of those tourist gift shops. 

He sprays a bit of disinfectant spray on your hand, the mist feeling doubly cold after having the warmth of his large hand enveloping yours. Next comes a fresh bandage. Eric always applies them so carefully, making sure it’s not too tight but gives your hand some support. You watch him as he works, your eyes taking in the small details of his face while he’s busy focusing on something else.

His dark eyelashes are so long that they kiss his cheeks with every blink. The curls on the top of his head are messy from everything they’ve been through, but it’s unkempt in a charming way. It amazes you how dry his lips are from dehydration, yet they still look so pink and inviting. 

Eric secures the bandage on your hand, and you momentarily move on to admiring the color and depth of his eyes when you realize he’s finished and no longer distracted. 

Heat comes to your face, so you lift your injury up to inspect it, hoping to give you a minute to cool down. 

“Thank you,” you whisper when you lay your hand back down in your lap. 

“Of course.”

The good thing about needing to keep quiet during all of this is that none of the silences could be interpreted as awkward. It’s just self-preservation. 

It goes on that way for about ten minutes before you feel your head get heavy and decide to lean it against Eric’s shoulder. It’s not long before he gently rests his head on top of yours. Despite the circumstances around you, a small smile grows on your lips.

But your peace doesn’t last long. A groaning of metal and the now too-familiar skittering of legs or pincers or whatever they’re called. 

By the sound of it, you guess that the creature is coming from your left, somewhere down the subway track. But there’s no reason for it to know you’re here. As long as you can remain quiet, the monster should just pass you by without trouble. 

A hitch in breath from beside you grabs your attention though. Your head jerks in the direction of Eric to find his breathing speed up and his eyes widen in that recognizable panic. 

Pressing one hand to his shoulder, you get his attention and his head whips to face you. With your other, injured hand, you hold up a finger to your mouth for him to stay quiet.

Eric nods but the rate of his breathing only increases. You shake your head and lean in towards him. 

“Breathe.” The words could barely be considered a full whisper. 

You’ve helped him through these anxiety attacks a few times now so you try to tell yourself you can do it again. You can’t blame the poor guy for being so scared, either. 

The clicking of the approaching monster comes closer then stops. It feels as if time pauses while you wait to see what will happen now. 

Smashing the play button, the creature falls from where it must have been crawling on the ceiling, to land on the subway platform.

Eric jumps and you see his teeth clench together as he tries to keep the panic at bay. 

Step by crunching step, the being stalks closer to your subway car. Even though it can’t see you, instinct tells you to get further out of sight.

As silently as possible, you scoot over so there’s enough room for you to lay flat on the floor of the car. Eric glances down at you and you motion for him to do the same. He gives you a quick nod and with shaking hands, moves to lay down next to you.

Within the cramped space it’s hard for two adults to lay flat, side by side, so Eric ends up on his side, facing you. If you turned your head to look at him, your noses would brush. 

One long black limb stretches out from the creature and crushes a piece of metal right outside your car—probably the remains of an adjoining car. 

Eric’s anxiety spikes again and before you can think about it, you wrap your arm around his shoulders and bring his body down on top of yours. 

It’s not the most comfortable angle for either of you, almost awkward. But Eric wastes no time grabbing onto your waist, his head falling to the juncture between your neck and shoulder. 

Consciously, you slow your breathing down in hopes that Eric’s will follow your lead. 

Another crunch of metal rents the air and you both jump, clinging tighter to one another. Eric’s grip on your body changed positions slightly, and now his head is resting right over your heart. 

You glance down and watch as Eric visibly calms. He takes a few deep breaths and lets his eyes slip closed as he lays against you. 

It takes you a few moments to realize what caused the change. Eric’s head is on its side, his right ear directly over your heart. He’s listening to your heartbeat. And it’s calming him. The thought alone makes your heart rate speed up. 

Slowly, you reach up and gently rest your hand in his hair. He tilts his chin up so he can see your face and you give him a small smile. The one he gives you in return brings forward the confidence to begin running your fingers through Eric’s soft curls. 

The two of you stay that way, listening as the creature moves farther and farther away, until you can’t hear it at all anymore.

But even then, after the immediate threat is gone and everything seems peaceful and calm around you, you both still stay that way. His hands holding onto your body, his head over your heart, and you carding your fingers through his curls. 

Maybe this subway car is a better place to be than you originally thought. 

[intromortal]

PARTS OF YOUR BODY ENHYPEN OT6 LIKE MOST.

part 2

⚠︎ | nsfw, mdni

HEESEUNG | is such a boobs man in my eyes, he’d want nothing more from life than to keep his hands on your soft mounds at all times. and he’d do just that if you’d let him. whenever you two are in public he likes to sweetly caress the sides of your arms, his warm hands sneakily slotting themselves under your arms to touch the side of your boobs when no one is watching. he might even push his luck during nights in with your friends and slide a hand under your shirt, playing with your nipples while holding conversations with the others as if nothing is going on. And once you two are alone he quite literally goes feral, mouth latching on your nipples as soon as he takes off your shirt. he loves to play with them when he’s fucking you dumb on his cock in front of a mirror, getting the perfect view of both your fucked out face and the bounce of your tits in his hands. he’s def the type to beg you to let him fuck them :( he would turn into such a whiny desperate mess too, his usual domineering persona slipping away as soon as he takes in the filthy image of your spit pooling between the valley of your breasts, all perked up and ready for him to fuck.

others under the cut !

JAY | on the contrary can’t keep his hands off your ass. like literally. you’re walking? his hands are on your ass. you’re bent over, looking for something in a drawer? he’s spanking your ass. you’re out and about? his hand is resting in your back pocket. you’re cuddling? he’s resting his head on your ass while you play with his hair. you’re napping and he needs to wake you up? he’s doing so by biting the cheeks peeking through your shorts. you get the gist.  and he really doesn’t care about who watches, your ass is HIS ass and he will do as he pleases, if anyone complains about this, well. they can just close their eyes. that’s also why he loves to have you ride him. his hands just slot perfectly against your back as he holds you still and fucks up into you. his grip is tight and sure to leave bruises the next day. but he can’t help it with how loud the slaps of your bodies sound in the room, and how much the skin of your ass is rippling in his hold every unforgiving thrust he subjects you to.

JAKE | is as obsessed with your hands as you are with his. the way his larger ones envelop yours and the way his mouth is always peppering them with soft pecks is an adorable sight to everyone. and while he does find it cute, he likes them for a lot more reasons than just that. he loves about anything they do really. the way you use them to keep his mouth shut while he’s pounding you somewhere he should not be. he loves how cute they look wrapped around his length; the way they glisten with his cum once you’ve brought him to his release, he loves the feel of them in his mouth as you make him clean up his own mess, he loves how you grab his hair roughly and use his face to get off once he offers to return the favour. he especially loves the sight of both of your small hands wrapped around his wrists to restrain him, giving you a small semblance of power as if he couldn’t just turn you around and take control right away. and he does, grabbing your hands in just one of his, forcing a surprised yelp out your lips while a smirk spreads on his own.

SUNGHOON | is a proper gentleman. he’d never let you walk in a crowd without his hand guiding you, resting on the small of your back, sweetly drawing circles through the fabric of your shirt. it makes everyone swoon, truly, how he’s always so considerate of how you feel about your surroundings, smoothing his hand across your waist if he suspects you need any kind of reassurance. you wonder how they’d feel if they saw how he manhandles you behind closed doors. getting you all ready to take him on your knees, just to roughly push your back on the mattress. his pace relentless and harsh as he keeps one hand on your back and one pushing your head down, barely letting you breathe. or how he takes you before the sink of his bathroom, one of your legs on the countertop as he abuses your poor cunt from behind :( he can’t take how pretty you look under him, your back dimples drawing his attention to the small of your back and making him slot one of his thumbs in them, the other hand coming to the front to push on your stomach, heightening your pleasure, making your back arch even further in his bruising hold.

SUNOO | is absolutely obsessed with any part of your body that is plushier than the rest, but he’s partial to your tummy and thighs specifically. he adores to lay his head on both and nap, but deciding which one is one the hardest choices he has to make everytime <\3 he just loves both so much.  so when he decides to nap on your thighs, he gives special attention to your tummy. he trails wet kisses down your torso and swipes his tongue across it slowly. he might even reluctantly get up from your cosy warmth and grab a can of whipped cream from the fridge, spreading it all over your belly just to lick it up with his tongue, the sweetness rewarding enough to justify momentarily leaving you on the couch alone <3 his eyes never leave yours, and he smiles when you can’t help but wiggle under him, back prickling at the mix of pleasure and tingles.  instead, when he naps on your tummy, he spends at least half an hour between your thighs once he wakes up. he tortures you slowly with kitten licks on the expanse of your skin, switching to small nibbles the closer he gets to where you need him most. if you act up and don’t stay all pretty and still for him, opting instead to enclose your legs around his head, he just bites down more roughly until you relent your hold on him. he switches to littering your thighs in hickeys soon after, red and purple petals adorning your skin to make them even prettier in his eyes.  once he has you begging pathetically enough he gives in though, his face nuzzling in your sopping heat finally. he can never deny his gorgeous baby for too long after all.

JUNGWON | is a gone man for your pretty face, it’s not news to anyone.  the way your sparkly eyes just hold so much affection for him, how you look up to him like he’s the only person you’d ever want. he just feels so loved.  you have the most beautiful features he has ever laid on, he always thinks. and more often than not he can’t stop those thoughts from turning into filthy imagery of your face all covered in his hot seed. he loves watching your face contort in all kinds of ways when he’s having his way with you: how your brows furrow in concentration as you take his aching length in that sinful mouth of yours, how he can see the surprise in your face when he takes hold of your head and uses it to get himself off the way he wants to, how your eyes shut closed and mouth hangs open when he slides into you; pussy all wet from how horny you got while being used. he’s absolutely enamoured with how your breath hitches as he grabs your neck and applies a bit of force on its sides to lightly restrict your airflow. he craves to have your eyes on him at all times.  He also almost cums every time you obediently open your mouth for him to spit in; your expression so sweet and submissive, just another of the plenty ways he likes to claim you as his own. he loves the way your eyes roll all the way back in your skull and your mouth can’t physically contain any of the downright filthy sounds you make when he hits just the right spot, having you cream around his cock. more than anything he loves your glazed-over, content expression when you come back to him, a small smile spreading on your face as you wait for him to start peppering it in featherlight kisses just the way he always does.

[bi-writes]

you're cooking when you notice him. you finish dicing the onion on your cutting board, and when you look up, you smile when you see the looming shadow that takes up the space behind your curtains. (mercenary!ghost x fem!reader, 18+)

"hi, spooky skeleton," you giggle, turning around and dropping the onions into the pot. the sizzle warms your apartment, and when you turn back around, you smile wider when he's come out from the shadows, closer, already on the other side of the kitchen island and only a few steps away from you.

he's geared up. vest thick and heavy strapped to his chest, the hood of his rain jacket over his head to further conceal the skull mask he wears. he stands tall, back straight and eyes narrowed, what little you could see of them. you put the cutting board down, twirling the kitchen knife you hold in your hand before holding it out in front of you, putting the sharp tip against the center of his chest.

"slow down there, big boy," you coo. "did you do as i told you?"

he snarls a bit before fishing a phone out of his pocket, tossing it onto the counter. you look down at it, watching the video playing. it's your mark, slobbering in tears, begging for his life. he pleads, holds up his hands, shakes his head, says that he's sorry in every language he knows until there's a satisfying hole in the middle of his forehead, a lone trail of blood making its way down his face. you think it looks like he's crying tears of blood. it's oddly poetic.

you look back at him, meeting his dark eyes, and you draw your hand back, setting the knife down. with your other hand, you drag your knuckles down the side of his masked face, puckering your lips and blowing him a dramatic kiss.

"such a proficient one, you are," you murmur. "what is that? third one this week?"

"want m'prize," he growls, and you step closer hooking your fingers into the collar of his vest and blowing him another kiss. then, you reach for the kitchen drawer next to you and pull it, taking out a thick envelope and handing it to him.

"you're making them very happy, ghost," you tap the plastic of the skull, giggling. "they like you a lot. got time for another?"

he clicks his tongue, tilting his head to the side, and you squeak when he reaches down and grips both sides of your ass with two big hands. you laugh, but it turns into a breathless moan when those hands slip under your skirt and tug at the lace of your panties.

"i want the real prize, want wot 'm owed," ghost says lowly. you stand up on your toes, pressing your mouth to his over his mask. you let your hands fall, pressing on the backs of his hands, encouraging him to slip a few fingers under the lace and prod the entrance of your sticky cunt.

"you want it, baby?" you whimper. "do you?"

"yes--" you feel him bite from under the mask, and you stick your tongue out, licking over the line of his bottom lip, your pride swelling when you feel how shaky he breathes as you tease him. "give it t' me--"

there it is. now i have you.

"well..." you press your pelvis to his, rocking against his fingers, and he hisses when he feels the way you soak the fabric of his gloves. he wants to eat it, he wants to have you, he wants what he was promised. "gotta do somethin' for me first, ghost. gotta job for you. can't pay you for it though, not the way you like."

you think you see him smile under the mask, the corners of his eyes crinkling as if he likes what he hears. as if he knows what it is you will give him if he just does as you say.

"y'know wot it is tha' i want, don't you, swee'eart?"

yes, you think, and you respond by giving the front of his mask a kiss, one you think he reciprocates by the way he cradles the back of your head.

i know what it is that you want because...i want it, too.

[hildergard]

Could you do something where Aemond is already married/betrothed to a highborn lady that’s been approved by Alicent and Otto but he has a relationship with a low born woman (a brothel worker or any lowborn really) and once he becomes Prince Regent he starts bringing her around the castle, giving her a room to herself, treating her better than how a lowborn should be treated in Alicent and Ottos eyes and they don’t like it but Aemond doesn’t care.

MINE TO PROTECT ★ AEMOND TARGARYEN

PAIRING | Aemond Targaryen x Lowborn!Reader

TAGS | Suggestive content, swearing, possessive behaviour, classism

WORDCOUNT | 4k

NOTE | I have seen a lot of fanfictions where the Reader is a brothel worker so I made her a baker instead. I hope that's alright with you! Thank you so much for this great request! I had so much fun writing it <333

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

In the seedy streets of Flea Bottom, rumours travelled in a precise order, memorised by all.

A Lord, drunk with lust, would disclose the Crown’s secrets to a simpering whore, who would be quick⏤once the gold dragons were in her purse⏤to repeat what she had just heard, noble semen still running down her thighs. The other, much less wealthy, customers would then talk about it loudly in bars, attracting the attention of patrons who, once sober, had only to spread the news.

Today, the rumour burst into your little shop when Old Gerald came through the door, looking for his daily loaf of bread. 

 “Prince Aemond’s been made Regent," he said. 

For a second, you did not move. The dough fell on wood. Your floured hands remained stuck in the sticky, flabby mixture. It would have to be kneaded again. The sight of your dirty fingers woke you from your torpor. You gripped the towel from your apron and wiped your palms roughly before turning your back on your customer⏤less to get the fresh loaves of bread out of the oven than to regain your composure.

He had done it. 

Your shovel rasped against the burning slab of clay and peeled off the loaves. 

A few days earlier, when night had enveloped the citizens of King's Landing in its thick cloak, he had told you of his plans and dreams⏤the two were always intertwined, for Aemond Targaryen provoked fate rather than waited for it. His touch had done nothing to soften the brutality of his words. Sordid tales of fire and blood, the kind that filled the tomes of the Citadel. 

Even the Targaryens could not play with fire indefinitely. Aemond rose in the flames. For how much longer? You had protested, your voice hoarse from the moans he had managed to draw from your throat, but he would have none of it and simply told you to trust him, as if all this were far too complicated for you. 

And perhaps that was the case, for what did you know of war and power?

“What about his Majesty?" you asked.

Old Gerald tossed you three coppers, which you pocketed, before handing you a thick piece of cloth. 

“They say he perished in dragonfire. Seems Targaryens are closer to men, after all. With all this quarrel for t'throne, it were inevitable. And, let me tell you, it'll happen again. Today, a brother sits on t'throne. Tomorrow, it'll be an uncle or a sister. Things like that never end.”

You carefully wrapped the golden loaf in the cloth. 

“Wi' Rhaenyra in Dragonstone and his brother's heir dead, he’ll no doubt be crowned King. And the Lady Baratheon, Queen.”

You winced at the name but immediately hid your reaction with a tight smile. Gerald, bless him, took no notice of your torment. You handed the loaf of bread to the old cobbler, who nodded at you and returned to his shoes. 

The rumour ran on and kept you thinking all day. You burnt a dozen loaves of bread, spilt two sacks of flour and forgot to deliver her apple pies to Dorthy Porter, making you lose a silver stag and a customer.

When the key finally turned in the lock of the shop and cut you off from the rest of the world, your shoulders slumped. The sun and all its problems gave way to the moon. Under its silvery eyes, other rumours would no doubt spread but you did not wish to hear them. You longed for your straw mattress and the comfort of your dreams⏤perhaps your love would visit you there, also freed from the pressure the Gods were piling on his shoulders. 

Tiredness weakened your knees⏤you dragged your body more than you climbed the stairs to your modest bedroom. In the middle of the room, the bed and its pillow stretched out its arms to you. You let yourself fall into the feathery embrace and closed your eyes for a moment, praying to the Gods that you would find sleep easily. 

They ignored you. 

The doorbell rang. 

Your eyelids struggled to open. Sleep paralysed them⏤it clutched at your eyelashes and tried to keep them closed but you fought the temptation and, at last, gazed into the dim light of the room. Another series of blows, more hurried, struck against the wood. The whole  shop seemed to shake. 

“I’m coming, I'm coming…” you mumbled. 

You gasped as two members of the Kingsguard appeared on your doorstep, their cloaks far too white to be dragged through the muddy streets of Flea Bottom. 

“The Prince Regent, His Highness Aemond Targaryen, summons you.”

They did not care for your reply and seized you. You protested, demanded to be told the reason for this summon, but nothing would do. The guards dragged you like a rag doll through the streets of King's Landing, indifferent to your screams and struggle. Above and around you, the candlelight in the windows intensified. Some people poked their heads out to watch the racket. You lowered your chin and remained silent, but the damage had been done. 

Already, rumours were spreading. The baker had been arrested. What had she done? Who would make their bread from now on?  

The dizzy shadow of the Red Keep loomed larger and larger. Just the outline of it made your skin crawl. For the first time, you would be treading on the floor of Kings and Queens. You were being plunged headfirst into this unknown, powerful and dangerous place, populated by men and women who despised people like you. One of the guards tightened his grip around your arm. You yelped. Why were they taking you there? Aemond always came to you, not the other way round. 

Did someone know? You blanched. Impossible, you thought immediately. You had been cautious. 

But what if... What if someone had seen you, despite all your precautions? 

 Were they taking you to the Keep to put you to the sword?  

 A flash of fear stabbed you in the guts.  

You finally passed through the large gates of the castle. They were still open, yet, no one was in the courtyard. The swords were resting on the workbenches and the horses were asleep. Only a few guards patrolled the ramparts, their heads turned skywards in search of a dragon. 

“Hurry up, girl. The Prince is waiting.”

A solitary, proud figure emerged at the top of the stairs, in front of the entrance. His long white hair fluttered in the wind and the bluish moonlight accentuated his strict features and pale complexion. The mere sight of his face reassured you. You defied the guards and walked towards him. 

His rough hand⏤hardened by duty and war⏤gripped yours before thin lips kissed it. The Prince pulled you towards him. Your heart slowed as his familiar scent enveloped you and your shoulders relaxed. For a second, you surrendered to the comfort of his warmth and love. The smell of musk and leather soothed your body, but your head kept its wits about it.

“What's happening, Aemond?”

He closed his eye as his name fell from your lips and smiled. His hand came down and grasped your waist in a possessive embrace. You leaned into the touch. 

“There are rumours that Aegon–”

You squeaked. His fingers had dug painfully into your flesh at his brother's name. 

The mere mention of him brought back painful and humiliating memories, which your lover had confided to you, his head on your pillow. Even today, the wounds had not healed. They continued to transpire in every aspect of his life. You are the only thing he has not stolen from me, he had told you one night. Saying that name was like throwing his past back in his face and breaking your promise. He'll never succeed, you had replied, but today, Aegon was on your mind. What did his wound mean for the Crown, for you?

“Is it true?" you managed to articulate. 

“The Council has made me Regent," he nodded. “We will not need to hide any longer, my love.”

“What do you mean?”

But Aemond did not answer you. He smiled, tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and let his fingers brush your neck. With a nod, the kingsguards left. The clink of their armour echoed for long seconds, but the din faded with the tenderness of his gestures. His finger traced the veins in your chest. They led him to your breasts, hidden by your dress. Aemond grunted⏤terribly offended by this affront⏤and pulled at the fabric but it held on. 

Claere Linstar's work was reknown throughout Flea Bottom. You could not find a better weaver⏤today, you were thankful for the two silver stags you had spent. The garment would become the guarantor of your dignity, the bulwark against your desire. 

When you realised that your Prince was not going to answer your question, you took a step back. His hand fell limply between the two of you as a brief look of pain clouded his face. 

“Aemond?”

He straightened up and held out his hand to you. 

“Follow me.”

The labyrinthine corridors made your head spin. You lost count of the turns you took, the staircases you climbed and the alcoves you passed. The beauty of the mouldings and frescoes drew admiring sighs from you several times, but Aemond did not care. He walked past them without giving them a second glance. He's used to all this, you reminded yourself. People of his rank bathed in this luxury and grandeur since birth.  

On the way, maids dressed in red and white stopped at your sight. Their gaze fell on your face, on your body, on your hand locked in the Prince's... Your cheeks heated and you tried to pull away, but Aemond tightened his grip. Out of habit, his thumb caressed your skin. This time, his touch only made you tense. You bowed your head, ashamed. 

They knew. 

The thought stayed with you. 

You only lifted your head when Aemond stopped in front of an ornate door. The mouldings curved into flowers and birds⏤an ode to spring and renewal. Your eyes swept the decor, stopped on a bush of camellias and, finally, met the Prince's satisfied gaze. 

“We've arrived," he announced. 

Aemond opened the door with a confident gesture. Inside, an immense room stretched out and seemed to never end. Wealth oozed out of every corner, from the four-poster bed to the dressing table adorned with sapphires. On the wall, frescoes of flowers had been painted to match the powder pink drapes⏤an explosion of colour that turned drab the corridors you had been raving about just a few minutes before. 

“Is it to your taste?”

You turned back to Aemond. Although his chin was up and his back was straight⏤proud as ever⏤red bloomed on his cheeks. Your lover seemed embarrassed, a far cry from his usual composure. Almost timidly, his hand sought yours. He couldn't help it, you realised. His fingers always found yours⏤skin against skin to find what he had been deprived of all his childhood. 

“I don't know anyone who wouldn't like it," you replied.

“Hmm. Good.”

He pulled you to him. His hands went down to your buttocks and pressed you against his chest. Your pelvises collided. Suddenly, the room made sense. You let yourself drown in these familiar gestures. Your hand caressed his muscular shoulders, moved up to his jaw and brushed against his lips. Aemond kissed the pad of your thumb before replacing it with your lips. Soon, the wet sound of saliva echoed through the room. The sweet melody ignited a fire in your lower abdomen and moved down between your thighs. 

Your hand resumed tracing arabesques on your lover's smooth skin. It stopped at the buttons on his doublet and hastily undid them before wandering lower and lower…

Aemond stopped you before you could take him in your hand. His hand grabbed yours. He kissed your palm and pressed it against his cheek. 

“These will be your quarters.”

The fire went out, leaving you frozen with shock. Your heart skipped a beat. 

“What do you mean?" you asked breathlessly.

“Now that I am Regent, we will not have to hide any more.” 

A new glare lit up his eye. Purple turned black and made you shiver. Flames seemed to dance in his pupil, crushing all remains of the second son he had once been. That Aemond was dead. In his place was a Regent who thought himself above laws and men.  

“It's not proper, Aemond," you tried to protest. “If it gets out that I'm here... If the Dowager Queen or the Hand–”

“They have no say in the matter. My word is law now.”

 “If you want me here… Perhaps I could serve the Crown, join the kitchens. Anything but that, Aemond," you said, gesturing to those quarters, far too luxurious for someone of your breeding. 

“You do not belong in the fucking kitchens," he scoffed. “No. You will be by my side, as my equal.”

“You're engaged," you retorted. “The Lady Baratheon won't take kindly to my presence here. You nobles can make Small Folk disappear in a blink of an eye and no one would notice or care.”

Alira Merchin's story was remembered as a cautionary tale for young girls naive enough to think love could conquer blood. The fable was classic⏤hundreds of similar romances filled libraries, and perhaps it was these very ones that had encouraged the girl to seduce the heir of House Harte. The man fell in love and made the pretty merchant his lover. 

This did not please his wife, the daughter of Lord Chelsted. 

She got rid of the merchant with disconcerting ease. The poor girl was found trampled by horses in white and green bards. That day, Lord Harte lost his true love and spent the rest of his life suffering the consequences of his betrayal. 

Your heart dropped. What would happen to you if you tickled the stag? Ours if the Fury. Their motto was an ode to their rage, to their thirst for violence. If Floris Baratheon found out that Prince Aemond was bedding you... and in the Keep nonetheless…

The storm would come for you and you would perish in its eye. 

“It's not a good idea, Aemond," you finally said. 

“Do not fret, my love. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am here to protect you.”

The Prince pulled you into bed. 

Your protests died on your lips, muffled by moans and the exquisite feel of his skin against yours. 

Your fingers tightened around your thighs. The soap made your skin slippery but did nothing to wash away the shame that had been clinging to it for days. It colonised your flesh and left it tainted, eating away at your muscles and weighing down your heart. 

On the first day, after a passionate night, maids had arrived to prepare you, but you refused their care. You were no Lady. You had bathed alone all your life and would continue to do so. More than anything, you wanted to escape their watchful eyes, which would no doubt have noticed the hickeys on your chest and thighs. 

You did not know how rumours got around in the Keep, but you were sure that they first burgeoned on the maids’ lips. They blossomed as quickly as in Flea Bottom⏤the inquisitive nature of man was innate⏤, but it would not be Old Gerald getting wind of it. No. The stakes were much higher in these parts, and the consequences even more dire. 

The door to your quarters stood in the way of the horror surely awaiting you, but for how much longer? 

Your hands massaged your calf, hoping to rediscover a cherished routine. You longed for the feel of dough beneath your fingers. What would become of your shop? Would you have to sell it? Maybe someone had already moved in⏤abandoned houses never stayed so for long in Flea Bottom, the cradle of the poor and the homeless. 

You could not cherish the roof above your head, yet, you supposed you had to learn to appreciate it. Aemond did not seem eager to let you go.  

Aemond. 

Every day, the sun tore him away from you. His hours were devoted to the Small Council and military strategies, only half of which you understood when he explained them to you. Your Prince needed to talk, to get rid of the weight that was arching his back. You became the shoulder on which he rested, the ear into which he poured his doubts, the flesh in which he forgot himself. 

“I wish to be with you every hour of the day, to attach myself to your side, but the Gods will only grant me this pleasure when I win this war. I am fighting for you⏤for us,” he had told you. 

The moon brought him back into your arms. Every night, without exception, he would cross the threshold of the door and wrap you in a reassuring embrace. His arms would block out your gloomy thoughts and chase away shame and regret⏤all seemed worth it if it kept him close to you. The stars looked down on your love. When the bells rang the hour of the owl, you indulged in the pleasures of the flesh, whispered sweet nothings or simply enjoyed the peaceful silence that the other's presence guaranteed. Sometimes, Aemond, lying on the bed with your head on his stomach, would read you stories with his hand buried in your hair. 

And then, the hour of the Nightingale would sound, its tranquillity burning away in the first rays of sunlight. The enchanted interlude would close and you would spend the day dreaming of a life where sun and duty did not separate you. 

Shame would reappear, its weight with it, and fear⏤tangible and vibrant⏤would turn your stomach. 

The spectre of Floris Baratheon never left you. It haunted you. In the frescoes of camellias on the wall. In the bouquets of flowers dotting your quarters. In the venison served for dinner. The tales of her beauty reached you and left you bitter, but what they said about her quiet authority made your blood run cold. 

She would come for you. 

The Lady Baratheon occupied all your thoughts, so much so that you forgot about another much more dangerous threat. 

One day, Alicent Hightower stalked into your room. 

You dropped your embroidery in your lap and hastily sat up. The needle fell to the floor with a disturbing chime. The bell was tolling⏤this farce had gone on far too long and it would now end. 

The Dowager Queen dropped a small leather bag on the table. Its contents clinked and masked your gasping breath for a second. Your heart was pounding against your temples. Soon, the air would run out. Already your throat was closing up and you were struggling to swallow. 

“What is it?" you asked weakly. 

“Five thousand gold dragons. Enough to buy you a new life, far from the Keep, far from Westeros.”

Away from my son, she meant. 

“I won't leave Aemond.”

He needs me, you thought. 

“The Prince Regent does not need you," the Queen scoffed as if she could heard your mind. “He is engaged. Or have you forgotten that? Whoring yourself in the way you do… It would appear so. Have you thought about the repercussions of your actions when people find out about you? The risks it means for Aemond? Your very presence here jeopardises this entire war.”

“I have tried to–”

“He does not love you, you fool. He just wants a cunt to fuck without having to spend a single penny.”

You recoiled, surprised to hear the famously pious queen speak so vulgarly. 

War transformed souls. It made them ugly. Alicent Hightower’s wide eyes and pursed lips twisted her face into a terrifying expression. 

She sighed and, for a moment, her features became those of a compassionate woman. 

“I don't know what… hold my son has over you," she continued in a calmer voice, “but you seem smart enough to understand this will end badly. You must leave. Take the gold and let us be done with this farce.”

The door slammed against the wall before you could even consider the proposal. 

Aemond reached your side with a confident stride. 

“What's going on here? Mother?”

When the latter did not answer, he looked to you for answers. You lowered your head, unable to bear the look of concern in his purple eye any longer. 

It fell lower, onto the table and the leather purse.  

“What is the meaning of this?” he raised his voice. 

Silence stretched before Alicent Hightower relented. 

“You cannot… support a lowborn in such manners, Aemond. The girl must go.”

The Prince ignored his mother and took you in his arms. His nose nestled under your ear as his hands buried themselves in your hair. He guided your head into his neck and whispered comforting words, which you could not hear. You did not care. His familiar scent embraced you and brought tears to the corners of your eyes. They wet your cheeks and his collar. 

You should never have come here. 

“Out.”

His mother protested. 

“Imagine the shame for your future wife, the Lady Baratheon! For her house! If we lose Storm's End because of... because of this w–” 

“Hold your tongue and leave.”

“Aemond, if you do this, we are lost!”

“Get out!”

Footsteps retreated. A door slammed. Aemond sighed. His hand drew abstract symbols on the back of your head for a moment before encouraging you to look at him. 

“Oh, my love," he said, seeing your misty eyes. “All is well now. She will not hurt you any more.”

The danger you had put yourself in was greater than you had thought. Fear dried your mouth and exhausted your words. You stammered a few excuses before taking a deep breath. Your Prince's fingers did not weaken. They continued to comfort you and, at last, gave you the courage you needed to finally speak. 

“Maybe I should return to Flea Bottom. I–” 

“No," Aemond’s voice cracked. 

His hands framed your face and pulled you closer until your noses were touching. 

“You are not leaving me.”

His lips were harsh, covering every inch of your skin. He kissed the bridge of your nose, your warm cheekbones, your wet eyelids. Tears ran aground in the cracks of his lips and dried up under his exquisite tenderness. No beauty spot, no eyelash, was spared. His lips erased his mother's words and the doubts in your heart. 

“You belong here, with me. I do not care for blood or war. I only wish for your love.”

Aemond filled the space between your mouths. His hands reached down and grasped your breast. He feasted on your lips and the taste of them like a hungry man. Tingles caressed your spine and tickled your lower abdomen. You rolled your hips, searching for his, but your lover pulled away.

You didn't want him to stop. 

The Prince shushed your complaints and pushed you to the bed. Your back bounced on the goose feather mattress. Eager to feel his skin against yours, you sat up and tried to pull him to you, but Aemond took a step back. A petty smile stretched his lips as he heard you whimper. He ignored you and stood silent, admiring you. His eyes, now black, gazed down at your body, contemplating its shape and softness.

“Aemond, please…”

Your lover grabbed an ankle and kissed it. You moaned. He moved up your calf, caressing your knee and digging his fingers into your thighs before spreading them apart. His teeth nipped at the flesh, which his tongue immediately soothed. Your breathing quickened and breathy moans fell from your swollen lips, intoxicated by his touch. He skipped over your dripping cunt, his hands grazing your hips and sides.  

Suddenly, Aemond stopped touching you, placed a farewell kiss on your belly and sat up on his elbows. 

“I will take care of everything, my love. You will never have to fear for your life. It is mine to cherish, mine to love, mine to protect," he said before reaching up to capture your lips with his. “Mine.”

“I love you," you sighed. 

Aemond smiled, as he did every time the words fell from your lips. One could not get used to the sweetness of love. It forever stirred the heart and soothed the soul. Your Prince placed a chaste kiss on your lips before moving down and disappearing between your thighs. 

His words vanished in desire and pleasure. You forgot them the next day, when the hour of the Nightingale struck.  

You should have known that Aemond Targaryen would keep his promise.

Three days later, the Lady Baratheon was found dead in the Kingswood, impaled on a stag's antlers. 

[moondirti]

there’s something so erotic about a man who grabs your jaw when you keep avoiding his gaze so he can force your eyes on his

featuring: SOAP, afab reader, oral, spitting, mild dubcon (i.e. boundary crossing)

soap has always been intense. a bullet shot off in a steel room, bound to ricochet until it makes contact with something that can absorb its impact. you're in the right place at the right time: a bar, the gym he frequents, perhaps even a football game he'd been anticipating for weeks. it doesn't really matter what context he first spots you in – all that energy, that orderless enthusiasm he seems to prescribe to everything, sharpens to focus solely on you. bonnie wee thing that keeps sliding him wily looks, instilling in him a mission he knows he won't back down from.

at first it's how to approach you. easy enough; you like him too, that much he can tell. so when you eventually agree to a farmers market date (where he intends to spoil you rotten with food from every stall), it becomes about opening you up. figuratively at first, you have a hard time keeping up with him without getting overwhelmed. startled at how forthcoming he is, stunned at the manner in which he treats you. like he's known you for years, a childhood best friend you only met last tuesday. he calls right after your first date, asks you to accompany him for coffee before his morning run. shows up at your door unannounced, carrying tools to fix the fan you briefly complained wasn't working. is bold enough to sneak his hand on your thigh while you're watching a movie later that evening, gradually moving higher as your breath begins to falter.

he spares no effort once things get sexual, either. if you expect him to go easy for your first time, you'll come to sorely regret the mistake. quick to slip out of his too-tight shirt, even quicker to spread your legs out on your couch. manages to get your joggers off but opts to merely shift your panties to the side, fingers hooked in the thin material (which he will pocket later). when he envelops your entire cunt with his mouth, his tongue digs into every fold, every hole if it means he can swallow down the smallest part of you.

taste s’good hen, bloody mad wae it

only you’re not looking at him. instead, you’ve thrown your head back, too lost in the pleasure to pay attention to the show he’s putting on for you. why exactly, he's not sure. he’s being good, isn’t he? giving you everything you need? his heart races a mile per minute and something needy, something dark twists within him. he laves his tongue over your hole once more, collecting the juices that pour for him and gathering it behind his teeth alongside a hefty glob of saliva.

when he moves up your body, he tucks your chin in his palm, pulling your head down to face him.

it's too much. too much. he doesn't seem to realise it, but you're breathing is still inconsistent and shallow, and you're about to cry from overstimulation. now he's forcing eye contact, nose kissing yours, and pressing down on either side of your jaw so you're forced to open your mouth wide. you know what's coming, see it from the way his cheeks move. it's all you can do to brace yourself for the inevitable, unable to voice your aversion to the kink. fisting your hands, tensing your throat. but it's as you close your eyes that his self-restraint snaps.

so, he spits. it's thick and messy and heady with the smell of your sex. he doesn't even aim it properly. a significant amount of it lands on your lip, some even on your nose. your tongue gets the brunt of it though, the new weight of fluid causing you to gag. yet his pupils are blown so wide they're barely blue anymore, a cerulean ring around bottomless black, fixated on the sloppy state of your mouth, and it's hard to deny him anything that boils him down to such a state. like a puppy. over-eager and exhilarated when you indulge him so.

you never learn to like it, though it becomes a routine thing.

[hoe4hotchner]

hiii!! :3

i saw you asking for fluff requests so... perhaps it's cold out, and the reader is out with hotch (maybe going out to a crime scene or smth) and the readers shivering and hotch looks awfully warm in his coat, so ofc the reader just goes up and asks for a hug! (just to warm up ofc. no other reason to ask your hot boss for a hug 🤭) (maybe the reader manages to slide into his jacket)

tysm! <33

The Jacket Incident | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader CW: it's just cold and you were stupid enough to not wear a warm jacket. Also reader is shorter than Hotch. Fluff.

WC: 0.7k

Why is reader literally me in this one. I'm so dumb and not good at staying warm.

           The wind howled through the dark, desolate street, biting through the thin layers of your windbreaker as you and Hotch made your way back to the crime scene. You’d been out there for what felt like hours, and no amount of walking had kept the cold from seeping into your bones. Your fingers tingled with numbness despite being shoved deep into your pockets, and a shiver ran down your spine for the hundredth time.

           Hotch, of course, looked completely unbothered. He stood a few feet away, his demeanor calm and composed despite the freezing temperature. You couldn’t help but envy him a little. While you were practically freezing, he seemed like he hadn’t even noticed the cold.

           As you shifted from one foot to the other, trying to get some feeling back into your toes, you watched him finish his conversation. The way he stood, tall and commanding, only seemed to emphasize the fact that he was probably the warmest person in your vicinity. His jacket, the heavy, padded one you both wore during cases in colder climates, was unzipped - wide open, practically inviting you inside.

           You bit your lip, glancing around, trying to work up the nerve to do what you’d been thinking about for the last ten minutes. He was your boss, but more importantly, he was your boyfriend, which gave you a bit more confidence. And the thought of his warmth was too tempting to ignore. Bracing yourself, you took a few steps closer until you were standing beside him, shivering dramatically to make your point.

           Hotch turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing as he glanced down at you. "Are you cold?" he asked, his voice gentle, but there was a hint of playfulness in his eyes.

           You nodded, giving him your best pitiful look. "Freezing," you muttered, teeth chattering for good measure.

           Hotch’s gaze softened, and he let out a small sigh, his eyes flicking to your jacket before returning to your face. For a moment, you thought he was going to suggest you head back to the car, but instead, he smiled - just a tiny, private smile.

           Without a word, he opened his arms, his jacket still hanging open, and gave a slight nod toward the space between them. "Come here," he said, his tone warm and inviting, holding the edges of his jacket.

           Your heart skipped a beat at the offer, and without hesitating, you stepped closer, sliding your way into his open jacket. As soon as you were enveloped by his warmth, the world outside seemed to disappear. The heat of his body instantly chased away the cold, and you sighed in relief, nestling against his chest.

           Hotch’s arms wrapped around you instinctively, the thick jacket falling around your shoulders like a protective barrier from the wind. He smelled like his usual aftershave, mixed with the faint scent of coffee and something distinctly him - it was comforting. His hands settled gently on your back, holding you close, and you felt his chin rest lightly on the top of your head.

           "You should’ve said something sooner," he murmured, his voice rumbling through his chest.

You grinned, your cheek pressed against his shirt. "Figured you’d be too busy being all stern and in charge to notice."

           Hotch chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you, and you could feel the coldness in your body start to melt away. "I always notice," he replied quietly, his voice a little softer than usual, the warmth in his tone matching the heat of his body.

           You snuggled further into his chest, your hands slipping around his waist as you relaxed into his embrace. The cold air seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by the steady beat of his heart and the comforting weight of his arms around you.

           "Thanks for sharing your warmth," you mumbled, your words muffled against him.

           "Anytime," Hotch replied, his hand giving your back a gentle rub. "I’m always here to keep you warm."

           The two of you stood there for a while longer, wrapped up in each other, you were a sight for sore eyes. The wind and the cold now just background noise.

[yopossum]

JOEL SAT ON ME AND I CONSIDERED IT AN HONOR AND A PRIVILEGE

My contribution for @beefrobeefcal’s Married Joel Sits On You challenge is complete!!

Main Masterlist

Married!Joel x wife reader - M - 18+ only, weight gain talk and appreciation, drunkenness, Joel is a big ol love bug who wants to squish his perfect wife (you)

Snug

You were curled up in your old green tufted armchair, had just finished a chapter of your book, and were debating making another cup of tea when the tell-tale squeak of the front steps accompanied by heavy footsteps and drunken muttering alerted you to your husband’s return.

“Mmm, gotta… fix… ‘s not safe… gonna… gonna get hurt… not my baby…. Ah shit… where’s my…. ‘S still unlocked?”

With an aggressive jiggle of the knob, Joel came crashing into the house, stumbling over the toes of his boots and looking up bashfully.

“Hey handsome,” you smirked. “Have fun with Tommy?”

“Not ‘s much fun as I have with my beautiful wife,” he slurred, pointing a wobbling finger your direction. “Thas you, baby.”

“Thanks for the reminder, Joel,” you laughed. “You two had a bit to drink, it sounds like.” You set your book down on the coffee table alongside your empty mug and stretched your arms up to the ceiling, yawning.

“Jus’ a few, darlin’. Missed you too much, had to come home t’ ya. Need t’ see you. Alllllllll the time. Thas how much I wanna look atcha.” The booze stretched his twang out, slowed his speech, words sloshing and swinging from his lazy tongue like it was a porch rocker on a hot summer day. It wasn’t often Joel let himself relax, and it was a treat when he got loose like this.

God, you adored him.

“You hungry, babe?” you asked your bumbling hunk. “I left you a plate in the microwave in case all you two had was whiskey and peanuts.”

Joel groaned appreciatively. “Fuuuck, honey. How d’ya always know jus’ what I need? What’d I ever do t’ deserve you, hm? Funny, so damn smart, so kind, you’re gorgeous. Smell good. Perfect fuckin’ pussy…”

“Go get your dinner, Romeo,” you cut him off with a snort. With an over-the-top wink, Joel sauntered into the kitchen. You watched him go with a grin, admiring (honestly, ogling) the delicious way his jeans hugged him and the flex of his broad back under the snug green plaid shirt he favored.

A few years in, and marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed over all a happier person. The only drawback, to him, seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline. Regular meals, fewer hours out at the job site, more time spent enjoying life’s small pleasures. Add in plain old aging, and some body changes were inevitable. God knows you’d had plenty of them yourself.

You knew Joel was a little sensitive about his pants fitting a bit tighter, the buttons of his ancient flannels straining slightly more than they used to over the swell of his belly. But where these changes made Joel frown at his reflection when he caught himself in the mirror before a shower, or sigh when he had to punch a new hole in his single belt, they had no negative effect on you whatsoever.

To your husband’s surprise, you were ravenous for his softening body. Your hands often found their way to his pockets to palm his plump ass through the denim, to the hem of his shirt to stroke the round warm underside of his stomach, to pat and squeeze his thick thighs. When he came inside you each night (and most mornings) and tried to hover over himself your body to kiss you after finishing, you often yanked him down on top of you, relishing the crushing weight of your husband enveloping your form like the world’s sexiest, most affectionate weighted blanket.

You couldn’t get enough of him, so having more Joel to love? A blessing. And when he loped back into the living room, his plate heaped with the dinner you’d made earlier, wearing a smile wide and dopey, you were happy that the most hardworking, self-sacrificing man you’d ever known entrusted you with his comfort.

He plopped onto the sofa, a little harder than he probably meant to, and sat his plate on the end of the coffee table nearest to you.

“Looks so good, sugar, you’re amazin’. Fuckin’ girl of my dreams. And you *married me*! Wow. Wowwwww.” The tips of Joel’s ears and the rounds of his cheeks were peony pink, his eyes glassy with both drink and adoration. He took a forkful of the pasta and vegetables from his plate and opened his mouth around it with a moan. “Baby, mmmmfff, Jesus,” he mumbled through chews, eyes closing in ecstasy as he ate.

“Sober Joel is going to be mortified when I tell him about Drunk Joel’s table manners,” you snickered. You unfolded your legs and reached a foot towards the couch, poking at him in the side with your pointed toes.

“Naw,” he said with a dramatic shake of his head, swallowing his bite. You couldn’t help but track the way his Adam’s apple slid along his tan, taut throat, and despite his hazy state, he clocked it immediately. “Y’aren’t gonna tell that asshole anythin’. Jus’ our little secret, sweetheart.” He licked his lips, tongue poking into the corner to catch a spot of sauce that lingered in his mustache. “I’ll make it worth your while, promise this Joel knows ‘xactly whatcha like,” he hummed, eyes gleaming and dimple pitting deep in his rosy cheek.

“I’m not gonna fuck you when you’re drunk, Miller, if that’s what you’re getting at.” You cackled when he scowled, sticking out his lower lip in a nearly-irresistible pout.

“But what if I want to real bad, Miller?” he huffed, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “I’ll letcha have your way with me any damn day, honey, please. I’m achin’ for ya.” His eyebrows curled up in a pitiful plea, his big brown sad puppy dog eyes in full force.

You leaned forward in your chair, planting your feet on the ground. “I’ll have my way with you when you’re not plastered, I swear.” Joel dropped his head in disappointment, whining.

“Jus’ love you so much…” he murmured at the floor. “Wanna show you… take such good care ‘a me, make me feel so good… best wife of every wife, give me the best life…”

Your heart was full to burst. “Come here, you big sentimental sap,” you said, sitting back and opening your arms to your pathetically endearing enormous drunken husband.

Rather than walk, Joel slid from the couch cushions to the floor with a thud and proceeded to crawl on his hands and knees across the rug, stopping at your feet and looking up at you sheepishly through long dark lashes.

You gestured to your lap. “Up.”

Joel clambered from the ground, dropping himself solidly into the cradle of your body (eliciting a breathy OOF as he knocked the wind from your lungs) and curling up like a pillbug against your chest. The chair creaked in fruitless protest. You struggled to catch your breath and adjust your legs underneath him, but managed to encourage his head into the crook of your neck so you could nuzzle into his soft silvered curls, press kisses to the lines across his forehead. Your arms didn’t fit all the way around him, but you snuck them in at his waist and ran your thumbs back and forth along the meat of his hips.

Joel burrowed his face into the space above your collarbone, nudging his nose up against your throat and humming softly, pressing a sweet kiss to the dip there. “Thas’ real nice. Love you s‘much,” he buzzed into your warm skin. Your ribs couldn’t quite expand enough to take your regular breaths without effort, and numbness was prickling your thighs and asscheeks, but you made no effort to move.

“‘M not hurtin’ you, honey, am I?” Joel’s quiet voice was already honeying over with the pull of slumber. His breath slowed and evened, inching its way toward soft snores.

“Not at all, sleepyhead,” you assured him, whispering warmly into the smooth shell of his ear, giving it a gentle nibble before laying your cheek against the top of his head. “You’re perfect.”

[songbirdseung]

you're here, baby / lee heeseung

where you surprise visit your long-distance boyfriend after their tour finally ended genre long distance au, established relationship, fluff

Heeseung settled onto the couch, his phone propped up on the armrest as he waited for your call. It was your usual routine—after his long, exhausting days of practice or after he’d spent hours in the studio, you would sync up over video calls, watching movies together as a way to stay connected despite the distance between you. It had become the highlight of his nights, and while nothing could replace having you right there with him, those virtual movie dates made the separation feel a little less painful.

His phone buzzed, and your face appeared on the screen. He grinned immediately, all the exhaustion he’d been feeling melting away the moment he saw you. You were still as beautiful as ever, and even through the screen, you always had a way of making him feel at ease.

"Hey, babe. What movie are we watching tonight?" he asked, trying to seem casual, though he was always giddy just to see you.

"Actually, before we start..." you said, your voice taking on that playful tone that always made him curious. Heeseung raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“What is it this time?” He laughed softly, already used to your random little requests. You were always full of surprises, sending him gifts or packages to make him smile on the days you couldn’t be there.

"Can you do me a favor?" you asked, your smile widening as you watched his expression shift into slight confusion.

"Another package, huh? You’re spoiling me too much,” Heeseung joked, sitting up a little straighter. "What is it this time? More snacks? A hoodie?"

You giggled, biting your lip to contain the excitement bubbling inside you. "Just... step outside your house for a minute. Trust me, okay?"

"Outside? Babe, it’s late, and I was just getting comfortable," he said, pouting slightly, but he still got up from the couch. He couldn’t say no to you, even if it was something as odd as stepping outside in the middle of the night.

As he slipped on his shoes by the door, he still couldn’t shake the curiosity. “Alright, alright. I’m going, but this better be good.”

Heeseung opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, glancing around in the dim glow of the streetlights. The night air was cool, and the streets were quiet, save for the distant hum of passing cars. He scanned the area, searching for whatever surprise you had in store for him. “Okay, I’m here. Now where’s this package?”

"Are you sure you’re looking in the right place?" your voice teased through the phone, barely holding back your excitement. You knew he’d catch on any second now.

Heeseung laughed, his brow furrowed as he looked around again, but nothing was out of place. “Yeah, I’m looking. Did you hide it or something? Come on, give me a hint.”

Then, you dropped the surprise. "You wanna leave your lover outside?"

Heeseung froze, your words making his heart skip a beat. He turned slowly, his eyes landing on a figure approaching the house from the street. His breath caught in his throat, disbelief clouding his mind as he saw you, standing there in person, walking up the driveway toward him.

"No way," he breathed, the shock rendering him momentarily speechless. His phone nearly slipped from his hands as he fumbled to shove it into his pocket. In an instant, he dashed toward you, closing the distance between you in seconds.

You grinned as you saw him sprinting toward you, your own heart racing as you finally reached him. Before you could say anything, Heeseung enveloped you in his arms, lifting you off the ground in a tight embrace. His laughter filled the air, the joy and disbelief evident in the way he held you close.

“You’re here,” he gasped, his voice filled with pure elation as he pulled back slightly to look at your face, his hands cradling your cheeks like he needed to make sure you were real. "You’re actually here... How? When did you—"

You laughed softly, still catching your breath from the excitement. "Surprise, Hee."

Heeseung let out a breathy laugh, hugging you again, spinning you around slightly as if to convince himself that this moment was real. The feel of your warmth against him, the familiar scent of your perfume—it was all too good to be true.

"I can’t believe you’re here," he murmured, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "I missed you so much."

“I missed you too,” you whispered back, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him just as tightly. "I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to come see you."

After what felt like forever in his arms, you finally nudged him gently. "Come on, let’s go inside. It’s cold out here."

Heeseung nodded, still holding onto your hand as he led you back inside the house, his heart still racing from the excitement. As you walked in, you kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your jacket, making yourself comfortable like you’d done a million times before. It felt like home, being there with him.

But Heeseung stayed by the door, his back leaning against the frame as he watched you move around the house, his eyes filled with wonder. You were really there, in front of him, not just on a screen. It felt surreal.

Noticing him standing there, you turned around and gave him a curious look. "What’s wrong?"

Heeseung didn’t respond right away. Instead, he slowly made his way over to you, his footsteps quiet as he approached. When he reached you, he stopped just a few inches away, his hands gently resting on your arms as he stared at you, his expression soft and filled with love.

“You’re really here,” he whispered, his voice quiet and full of emotion. "You’re actually here, baby."

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. "I’m here. It’s real."

Heeseung leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes for a moment as he took a deep breath. “I can’t believe it,” he said softly. "I missed you so much. Seeing you through a screen wasn’t enough... I needed this. I needed you."

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. "Well, I’m not going anywhere for a while. I’m all yours."

Heeseung let out a quiet laugh, his lips brushing against your forehead as he held you close. "Good. Because I’m never letting you go again."

The weight of the past months, the long nights of missing each other, melted away in that moment. It didn’t matter how far apart you’d been—right now, you were together, and that was all that mattered.

[crows-in-the-house]

Can't take my eyes of you

summary: hc's for Stanford having a crush on reader

pairing: Stanford Pines x reader

tw: none

after being alone for years in different dimensions with no hope of escape? tauch starved 100%.

has separation anxiety and will want to stay with his loved ones most of the time. if he ever wakes up from a nightmare you better comfort him, reminding he's home and safe. kisses and hugs will be apprecieated

wants to ramble about his interests but will be quiet around his love interest to not sound "too weird"

(please ask him about fantasy and science fiction stuff! he will share all his theories with you!)

also, he would love to teach you things, no matter if it is math, physics, the anomalous, his knowladge won't go to waste!

he takes allnighters just so he can plan out every interaction with you for the next day

def an overthinker

won't be opposed to take you for missions to spend time together. He knows how to keep you safe from any harm. He doesn't realize how hot he looks when doing it tho.

will also enjoy you patching him up. Getting beaten by an alien is worth it when he sees you running with bandages! Just don't mention the blush on his face, he won't be able to say anything withaut stammering for hours!

helping him with shaving? so he doesn't set himself on fire? lovely. his mind is racing with ideas to take you on dates.

helping him solve a hard equasion which he worked on for hours? great! his mind is imagining you two getting married.

he would also let you wear his coat, you don't even have to ask! he will see you wear it, smile and go back running to his lab to create a machine that prints memories on paper

will scan your dna to see how compatable you two are

let's you peak into his journals! Sometimes even you can draw in them or add some memrabilia like photos, pretty leaves or sticky notes.

to be honest, all your sticky notes are in there. just neatly hidden between glued pages or in secret envelope pockets

he's a little insecure about his hands - hold them! he will melt!

over all 10/10 pinning and blushing, you will have to nudge him a little to make a move

[punkshort]

Swept Away | Chapter 3: Go with the Flow

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You get to know the other hotel moguls and their partners a bit more at a lavish cocktail party, and things begin to heat up between you and Joel.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, sexual tension, flirting, sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics, smutty thoughts, alcohol and food consumption

WC: 8.4K

Series Masterlist

He tipped me.

Yay! How much?

I don't know, I didn't open it.

Why???

You stared down at your phone, Celine's words jumping out at you from the screen. It was a good question. Why didn't you open it? You could tell yourself it didn't matter how much it was. It wasn't like you were spending your own money for the next month, anyway. But when you looked over at the nightstand where the envelope still sat untouched, you knew deep down why you didn't open it.

I don't know, guess it took me by surprise or something

You heard a light tap on your bedroom door and you looked up from your phone. "Yeah?"

"You're up. Good," Joel's muffled voice said from the other side. "Wanted to see if you were hungry."

I gotta go get ready for breakfast, I'll call you later

Be safe!

"Ten minutes!" you called back to him before flicking your comforter off and hurrying to your closet to pick out something to wear. You settled on a pair of wide leg linen pants and a light pink sleeveless top that showed just a sliver of your midsection. There were too many accessories to choose from so you did your best to keep it simple with a dainty chain necklace and pink pearl earrings, then tossed your phone and other belongings into a white purse before swinging your door open and heading down the hall. At the last second, you turned around and grabbed the envelope of cash, tucking it into the bottom of your bag for safekeeping.

You stopped in the bathroom to put on a tiny bit of makeup and a quick brush of your teeth before running your fingers through your hair with a shrug. After meeting Glenn, you felt a lot less pressure to conform and give the appearance of some wealthy socialite and instead, leaned into the relaxed beach vibe he exuded.

"Morning," you said breathlessly when you finally entered the living room. Joel was sitting in the middle of the couch, one ankle casually resting on his knee, legs spread wide and looking completely at ease as he stared down at his phone. He pocketed the device when he heard your voice and stood up, eyes drifting down once to look at your clothes and giving you an appraising nod. If it were any other man standing before you essentially giving you his unsolicited opinion on your choice of outfit, you would have had a few unladylike things to say. But when Joel did it, something inside you preened at his approval.

"Mornin'," he answered, and when he brushed past you to walk towards the door, you caught a whiff of mint and fresh soap mixed with the scent of his hair product.

Fuck, he smelled good.

"What are we doing today?" you asked as you trailed after him.

"Thought we'd settle in, get somethin' to eat, then we got pretty much all afternoon free before headin' over to Glenn's house."

"Oh, we're going to his home?" you asked, stepping on the elevator once the doors opened. He nodded and tapped the button for the second floor, where you remembered seeing some shops and restaurants advertised.

"Yeah, invited all of us over for cocktails by his pool. Supposed to have a beautiful place," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring up at the numbers above the door tick lower.

There were only two restaurants open that served breakfast, so Joel picked the one that had open seating on the patio. The hostess led you both to a table attached to a bright red umbrella fluttering in the wind that had an absolutely breathtaking view of the ocean.

"I don't think I'll ever get sick of this," you said dreamily while Joel flipped through the menu, his sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose. He just grunted in response and kept his eyes lowered. In fact, you were beginning to think he was avoiding looking at you most of the morning. You tilted your head to the side and reached an arm across the table, tapping a finger on the wood to get his attention.

"Hm?" he said, still looking down.

"Everything okay? Did you sleep alright?"

"Slept fine."

You pressed your lips into a thin line before giving up and opening the menu with a sigh. When the server came to get your order, all you asked for was coffee and some eggs with fruit. Handing the menu over to her before she left with a smile, you looked back across the table at Joel. Once again, his phone was hidden from view. A habit you were beginning to notice happened with meals, but you almost wished he had it out because it would have been better than the thick silence that hung between you.

"So, you said we had the afternoon. Did you want to go to the beach? Or maybe-"

"I gotta work," he said abruptly, and you felt your heart sink a little.

"Oh, right, of course. Sorry."

You thought you saw guilt flicker across his face for a brief moment before he cleared his throat and looked out towards the crashing waves on the shoreline.

"You could go to the beach. Don't lemme stop you."

"What? No, no, I'll hang back. Maybe just take a dip in the pool, unpack a little bit. I'm still a little jet lagged, anyway," you found yourself saying. It wasn't even true, but the thought of going to the beach alone sounded boring.

"There's a spa in the hotel. Massages, facials, that kinda stuff. Whatever you want just bill it to the room."

"Oh... okay. Maybe, yeah," you stammered. He was utterly confusing you. He wasn't acting like the Joel who was pinching your chin in the clothing store or gazing at you with admiration over dinner last night. It felt like you were back at square one and you had no idea what happened.

Once your food arrived, you ate in relative silence. You spent most of the meal taking in the scenery and people watching the other guests staying at the hotel. It wasn't until your plates were cleared when you noticed a familiar face.

You straightened up in your chair and, without thinking, reached a hand out to rest gently on Joel's forearm. His muscles tensed under your touch but you didn't pull away. Instead, you leaned forward, eyes still focused somewhere over his shoulder.

"Isn't that Zachary?"

Joel twisted around to look and groaned before turning back to you.

"Must be stayin' here, too."

You watched as Zoe arrived moments later wearing a long, flowing patterned dress with a deep neckline, showing a generous amount of cleavage, and sporting a large sun hat and oversized sunglasses. She slid them down and glanced around, almost immediately catching your eye and tossing you a flirty wave. You smiled and let go of Joel's arm, not noticing how he retracted it under the table after, and waved back.

"They're coming this way."

"Shit."

He pushed his sunglasses on and ran his fingers through his hair just as they approached your table.

"Miller," Zachary said gruffly by way of greeting, clapping Joel on the shoulder. He glanced up and forced a friendly smile for them both.

"Mornin'."

"Heard you were staying here. Got the two bedroom villa, huh? Expecting company?"

Joel frowned and shook his head. "How'd you know that?"

"Owner's a buddy of mine," he said, tapping the side of his nose with a mischievous grin.

"I tend to travel heavy. Joel wanted to get me the extra space for all my things," you told Zachary, your voice dripping with sweetness as you shot Joel what you hoped was a look of adoration.

"How thoughtful of you, Joel," Zachary said, but you could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn't very sincere. "Looking forward to drinks later. You're both coming, right? Or do you gotta hang back and work?"

Your eyes darted back and forth between the two men, trying to get a read on the sudden tension and where it stemmed from, but you were lost.

"Nope. We'll both be there."

Joel's voice was curt, fingertips tapping on the table, quite clearly wishing he would leave. Zachary got the hint and looked Zoe's way.

"C'mon, darling. Let's get you something to eat. Kept you up way too late last night," he murmured with a wink. She smiled sweetly at him and when they both turned to head back to their table, she waved to you again.

"See you tonight!" she said brightly over her shoulder, seemingly unbothered by the awkwardness you both just witnessed.

Once they were both out of earshot, you gave Joel a look.

"That last comment was kind of gross."

Joel sighed and stood up. "Yeah, that's Zachary for you."

You scrambled to stand and joined him as you walked through the restaurant, back to the elevators, giving the pair one more friendly wave before disappearing from view.

"Do you guys not get along or something?" you asked once you were safely inside the elevator alone. Joel shrugged and kept his eyes on the numbers ticking away above the door.

"End of the day, they're all competition. It's all a game."

It felt like more than that, but you let it go.

Silently, you followed him back to the villa. Once inside, you busied yourself in the kitchen, weighing your options for the day while he set up a laptop on the dining room table. You didn't want to be in his way, but you didn't feel much like exploring on your own just yet. The exterior wall of the living room was completely made of glass, giving you both a spectacular view of your pool and the ocean beyond. He had logged into work and was getting settled at the table when you finally decided to spend the day at the gorgeous, private pool just outside. As you headed in the direction of your room, you glanced over your shoulder, about to tell him of your intentions, but he had already slipped in a pair of earbuds.

That was fine. He would be able to see you from his seat at the table if he wondered where you went.

When reviewing your options for bathing suits, you were shocked to find six different choices. Who on earth would need more than two? But you shrugged and decided on a simple black bikini, changing quickly and applying some sunscreen before finding a sheer green coverup amongst your things and slipping it over your shoulders. Rifling through your duffel bag, you found a book, your headphones, and your own sunglasses, all of which you brought with you before opening the glass door leading from your bedroom to the patio outside.

There was a white linen pergola next to the pool with two lounge chairs and a cabinet underneath. You picked a chair and put your things down before opening the cabinet to find a towel and some bottles of water. The amenities in the hotel were outstanding and you found yourself still struggling to get used to it. Everywhere you turned, you had everything you could possibly need. Is this really how the other half lived?

You slipped your coverup off, tossing it on top of your phone, and ran the tips of your fingers underneath the band of your bikini bottoms, straightening out the fabric and making sure you had coverage before timidly stepping towards the pool. Even from this distance you could hear laughter and music filtering from the beach, the sounds of summer and joy bringing a smile to your face as you dipped a toe into the pool. It shouldn't have come as a surprise when you realized the pool was heated to the perfect temperature, so you glided right in, submerging yourself underwater and popping back up with a refreshing gasp.

If Joel wanted to work the whole time you were there, then that was his choice. You knew in all likelihood you wouldn't ever get an opportunity like this again, and you were determined to enjoy it.

He was supposed to be working. In fact, he was supposed to be paying attention while the head of finance went over the last quarter's numbers on his laptop screen via video call, but instead he found his eyes drifting to the massive window overlooking the pool. Every time you emerged from the water, your body slick and that skimpy bikini stuck rather obscenely to your skin, he couldn't stop himself from staring. Thank Christ the windows were tinted.

"Joel?"

His eyes dragged back to the laptop and he cleared his throat. "Sorry, WiFi's a little spotty."

"No problem. I said we made record profits last quarter and we should be in a strong financial position to expand without requiring any loans."

"Fantastic," Joel replied, his eyes darting briefly to the window, swallowing hard when you took a break to drink some water. You tipped your head back and closed your eyes, your soft lips wrapping around the plastic of the bottle. He felt his cock twitch and he forced his eyes back to the screen. This whole arrangement with you was proving to be a lot more challenging than he expected. He was doing his best to pull away from you and create some distance, but it wasn't working.

"What's the word out there? Think you got a shot at this piece of land?"

Joel shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Too early to say, but if I had to guess, it'll come down to me or Scott."

"Well, good luck, sir."

"Thanks. We'll talk next week."

Joel exited the meeting and the room was filled with silence once again. Emails popped up in the corner of his screen and he managed to focus for a couple hours, one call from HR in particular distracting him from looking at you, but around lunchtime he found his gaze wandering again. You were laid out on your lounge chair reading, legs stretched out, looking sunkissed and relaxed.

With a sigh, he looked down at his watch then stood up. Strolling to the kitchen, he picked up the phone attached to the wall while thumbing through the room service menu. He ordered a couple items for you to share before heading to his bedroom to find his swim trunks.

He never takes a break that doesn't involve clients, so what the hell? Just this once.

By the time he emerged from his bedroom and stepped out onto the patio, you had slipped back into the pool. You were gazing out towards the ocean with your chin resting on the backs of your hands as you leaned up against the edge of the infinity pool. When you heard his door close, you turned to look at him in surprise.

"Hey," you said happily, gaze flickering down his bare chest quickly before locking eyes with him again.

"Mind if I join you?"

You grinned and shook your head. "Not at all."

He tossed his sunglasses and the shirt he had clutched in his hand onto the other lounge chair, realizing for the first time he forgot his phone back inside, but he shrugged it off. He didn't need it anyway. Work could wait an hour.

"Feels nice," he said once he walked all the way into the pool, the water stopping just underneath his collarbone.

"Sure beats the above ground pool I had growing up," you joked.

"Hell, at least you had one."

"True," you sighed, wading over to a built in seat in the deep end so you could rest. "Got me in trouble a few times, though."

Joel quirked an eyebrow and slowly walked over, joining you on the other end of the seat. It gave you both the perfect view of the ocean. "What kinda trouble?"

You giggled and shook your head. "You know. Inviting my friends over to swim when I wasn't supposed to." You paused before quietly adding, "swimming with boys in the middle of the night."

"Boys?" Joel chuckled in surprise.

"Well, not boys. One boy. A boy."

He hummed and glanced at you. "Someone special?"

You shrugged, gaze still pinned on the ocean. "I guess at the time he was. He was my next door neighbor growing up."

"What happened?"

"He went away to college, I eventually moved out to LA, we just lost touch. I think he was my first real love."

For some inexplicable reason, Joel felt his chest grow tight. He rubbed it absentmindedly, refusing to give it too much thought.

"What about you?" you asked, tilting your head towards him. "Who was your first love?"

"Who says I had one?" he countered without even thinking. Now it was your turn to be surprised.

"You've never been in love?"

His eyes dragged down your face before taking a deep breath and looking away, already regretting sharing too much. "Been busy."

You laughed softly to yourself and shook your head.

"What?" he frowned.

"Nothing. I just don't think love checks with your schedule. When it happens, there's no stopping it, whether you like it or not, whether it's convenient or not."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Pretty profound."

You locked eyes and gave him an endearing smile. "I can be surprising."

"Oh, I'm very aware," he replied, his gaze dropping down briefly to look at the distorted image of your body through the water, then quickly met your eye again. "Nice suit, by the way."

Your cheeks instantly felt hot as you bit your lip and shyly looked away. "Thank you. You bought it."

"I have good taste."

"I think that's been established."

Shit. You were cute. And quick. But he already knew that.

"Wanna tell me what it's like?" he asked lowly, and you felt your breath hitch. "Bein' in love?"

"Oh, I don't want to spoil the surprise for you."

"I made it this far, ain't sure it's in the cards for me," he said, a smile pulling at his lips.

"I wouldn't count you out just yet," you replied softly.

He stared at you, your words hanging heavy in the air, as he struggled to formulate a response. Something about the way you were looking at him made him open his mouth before his brain had a chance to catch up. He was seconds away from telling you too much, from breaking one of his rules, from letting you in, but fortunately the door to the living room slid open, dissolving the tension in an instant.

"Mr. Miller? Room service."

You both turned your heads towards the two attendants holding silver trays with matching polished domed lids on top.

"Put them over there," he directed, pointing to the pergola. They nodded in unison and carefully placed the trays down, lifting the lids off with white gloves, and disappeared back inside.

"Thank you!" you called after them before the door closed. Your eyes drifted back to him but you could see the moment was over. When the living room door opened, Joel's door shut.

"Got us somethin' to eat," he explained, nodding in the direction of the pergola.

"That was thoughtful, thank you."

He spent another ten minutes outside with you, nibbling on assorted meats, cheeses and fruits until he stood with a groan, announcing he had work to get back to, and reminded you to be ready to leave by six that evening.

You nodded and bit the inside of your cheek as you watched him slip back inside his room to change, convinced more than ever that there was a good man hidden underneath all that armor, you just had to keep chipping away.

"I'll need to thank your assistant one day. Whoever they are, I gotta admit, they did a good job," you told Joel in the back of the private car that was taking you to Glenn's estate. You smoothed down the fabric of your bright yellow sundress, loving the way it hugged your curves and made your skin glow.

"Did you ever have any doubt?" he asked, sliding his sunglasses down his nose so he could look at you over the top. You grinned and shrugged.

"Maybe."

You found yourself growing excited for the evening ahead. Even though you knew it was all an act, that Joel was paying you to pretend to be someone you're not, you found yourself enjoying it more than you thought. But shamefully you especially enjoyed the way Joel acted around you when others were present. You liked his touch and his smile as opposed to the closed off version you had been stuck with the remainder of the afternoon. He was utterly confusing and his mood shifts were giving you whiplash, but at least you knew what to expect at Glenn's house that evening.

"You think you'll be alright on your own for a bit tonight?" he asked as if he somehow read your mind, dashing all your hopes at seeing that softer side of him again.

"Sure," you answered timidly.

"Good. Wanna try to get some one on one time with Glenn, make some progress with 'em."

"Of course."

You looked out the window, heart suddenly deflated. If it was apparent you were disappointed, he wouldn't have even noticed. Per usual, he was staring down intently at his phone, hardly sparing you a glance the rest of the ride.

The car dropped you off in front of a huge, sprawling manor built right on the coast. In the distance, you could see the twinkling lights from other resorts, but Glenn managed to carve out his own little private paradise smack dab in the middle of tourist country.

"This is beautiful," you said breathlessly as you gazed up at the Mediterranean-style architecture surrounded by palm trees and exotic florals. It was dusk and the outside of the house and gardens were lit up with gorgeous ambient lighting, set on the backdrop of a deep purple and pink sky.

"C'mon," was all Joel said, nodding towards the stone walkway, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his khakis. You hurried to catch up with him while your head tilted back to admire the outdoor chandeliers hanging high above the front entrance.

It appeared you arrived just after everybody else. As you walked through the foyer towards the kitchen, you could hear pleasantries and welcomes being exchanged, along with drink orders and details on what hors d'oeuvres were being served.

At the last moment you wrapped a hand around the inside of Joel's elbow, but his hand stubbornly remained in his pocket.

"Ah, welcome!" Glenn bellowed when you stepped into the massive and meticulously kept kitchen. You tried not to gawk and did your best to act like you were around homes like that every single day and not, in fact, only familiar with them through reality TV and magazines.

You waved shyly and glanced quickly around the room while Joel led you to the bar. Already, the significant others had split off from their respective hotel moguls, laughing and sipping on drinks on the other side of the room.

Joel handed you a glass of wine with a warm smile that you couldn't help but return, then subtly cleared his throat, his eyes darting to the others across the room. You got the hint but before parting ways, you planted a kiss on his cheek. His stubble felt rough against your lips yet you felt a jolt in your stomach at the sensation, anyway. Wiping your lipstick from his tanned skin with your thumb, you turned to leave, pleased to feel his eyes on your back as you walked.

Zoe noticed you first. She waved excitedly and you waved back. Even if Joel couldn't stand Zachary, it was undeniable that Zoe's energy was infectious.

"Long time, no see," you joked, and she laughed. Your eyes trailed down her outfit and you shot her an envious look. "Love that dress," you added.

"Thanks! It's Valentino," then she cupped her hand around her mouth and whispered conspiratorially, "it's not even out yet."

"Wow!" you said enthusiastically, playing along as if you had some idea how important that was.

Tammy and Lynne were huddled around Ian as he showed them photos from his phone and it was at that point you realized the three of them had been icing Zoe out completely. Your brow furrowed slightly and you looked at her, trying to figure out if you were reading the room correctly, but she didn't give anything away. She was still babbling to you about her dress and the lengths Zachary went to in order to get it for her, seemingly unbothered. Tammy glanced over her shoulder at Zoe when she heard her gushing about her boyfriend and you picked up on the unmistakable disdain written all over her face before she quickly blinked it away with a tight smile after she noticed you looking in her direction.

Tammy turned around then and greeted you by name, interrupting Zoe, and stuck her hand out. "Please let me see that ring, I was dying to get a better look at it last night."

You shot Zoe an apologetic glance but she just smiled back as she sipped her martini, watching Tammy closely over her glass. You stuck out your hand and all four of them gasped and fawned all over your ring.

"How did he propose?" Ian asked.

You repeated the fake story, hoping you remembered everything and looked sincere enough as you spoke, and when you finished up you gazed down at the ring on your finger. It really was a beautiful ring.

"The beach, huh?" Tammy repeated, and you nodded. "Doesn't sound like Joel."

A jolt of panic shot through you like lightning. "What do you mean?"

She just shrugged. "I never took Joel for a beach guy."

"Well, he knows I love the beach. He did it for me," you told her defensively. It was ridiculous to feel so protective over a fake relationship but for some reason, you didn't like her tone. Besides, what did she know about Joel? Was she implying she knew him better somehow?

"Hm. How romantic," Tammy replied sweetly, but you still picked up on the undercurrent of distaste in her words.

"Yes, I agree. He's very romantic," you couldn't help but say. You wanted to wipe that snobby look off her face. She stared at you, that fake smile still stretched across her thin lips, and you stared right back, refusing to be the first to look away.

A sharp clap of laughter came from the men across the room, breaking the tension between the two of you. You shuffled your feet and glanced back at Zoe who was giving you an amused look from behind her glass. Maybe you read her all wrong. Maybe Zoe wasn't clueless after all.

Mary, Glenn's wife, emerged from the butler's pantry with a wide smile. Her eyes drifted around the room to make sure her guests were taken care of as she headed in the direction of your group.

"So sorry! Just a little situation with the caterers," she explained, clapping her hands together gleefully. "How about we all head outside?"

You agreed and followed her dutifully towards the courtyard where a magnificent in-ground pool with built in lights that made the water look almost purple was in the center of an extraordinary backyard. There were plenty of seating and lounging areas, as well as an outdoor bar complete with bartender standing at attention. Gorgeous string lights were draped above your heads and all around the courtyard, connecting at the various palm trees and casting the area with the perfect amount of mood lighting.

"Mary, this place is absolutely stunning," Lynne gushed with a hand pressed lightly against her flushed chest. Mary smiled her thanks.

"We've been working on making this place our dream home for so many years," she replied, "it's everything we've ever wanted."

It didn't take very long for you to become a little bored with hearing the details of how their architect imported tile from Rome or how she had some prestigious artist, a name you'd never heard before, paint a mural in their master suite, but you did your best to remain polite and engaged. However, when it became clear Ian, Lynne and Tammy were legitimately interested in her interior designer's "risky" idea for her dining room, you didn't feel so bad when you let your attention wander for a bit.

Your eyes drifted around the pool in search of someone with food as you tipped your glass back, finishing your wine. Then you locked eyes with Zoe, who appeared to also be losing interest. She gave you a small smile before tilting her head toward the bar and you both politely excused yourselves in search of more drinks.

"Can you imagine living somewhere like this?" she asked when you got out of earshot.

You chuckled and shook your head. "Never. I mean, LA is nice but it's just not the same. It's so... peaceful here."

"It really is," she sighed. You both leaned up against the bar and ordered refills when you heard the door open. You twisted around excitedly, assuming it would be Joel and the others, but it turned out to be three caterers, each holding a tray at chest level. Zoe waved them down and you inwardly sighed with relief when you each took a small smattering of what they had to offer.

"Thank god," you mumbled when you popped something in your mouth that you didn't recognize but at that point, you didn't care. "I was starting to think no one eats."

She giggled and covered her mouth. "They probably don't, but I sure as hell do."

You laughed and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the others, aside from Mary, chose to decline the appetizers. "I mean, it's only polite, right?"

"Yeah, duh," Zoe answered before taking a bite of tuna tartare. "Mary'd be disappointed if no one ate. Kind of rude of the others when you think about it."

Your eyes widened and you glanced around, making sure the bartender was busy talking to another caterer and not paying attention before you spoke again. "I think that Tammy's kind of rude, regardless," you said softly, watching carefully for Zoe's reaction. She gasped dramatically as if you had committed blasphemy, then instantly dropped the act, giggling into her palm in agreement.

"Yeah, she's something alright," Zoe replied, looking once over her shoulder at the group. "You did good, though. Standing your ground, marking your territory. Still, you'd think she would be a little more subtle, considering."

You frowned and titled your head to the side. "Considering what?"

She eyed you coyly and winked. "Zach told me. Don't worry though, I won't say a word."

Your blood ran cold. Could she somehow know your relationship was all a lie? No, that wouldn't make sense. Still...

"What do you mean?"

She looked around and picked up her drink and food. "Let's go sit down."

You followed her over to a table with a semblance of privacy without looking like you were excluding yourselves. She brushed her hair off her shoulders and readjusted the straps on her dress before she continued. "He told me about Joel and Tammy. That they had an affair. You'd think after that song and dance last night about them being college sweethearts she would be a little more reserved or, god forbid, have some goddamn shame, but I guess not."

She looked down to scrape something questionable off a cracker while you tried to control your reaction to her news. How could Joel not tell you something this important? Was he crazy?

You swallowed the lump in your throat and steeled yourself, pretending you knew all along. "Does everyone know?"

She scoffed and shook her head. "Hell no. You think they'd be talking to her right now if they did?"

You breathed a sigh of relief but you still couldn't shake the tight feeling in your chest and the inexplicable anger you felt towards Tammy. Clenching your teeth, you took a deep breath in through your nose.

"That's good. Joel would freak if they knew."

She raised her eyebrows and nodded as she chewed and looked around. "Speak of the devil."

Your stunned gaze slid over to where she was looking, spotting the group of men exiting the house to join their partners, each of them carrying identical glasses of dark liquor. Joel's eyes found yours and he immediately could sense something was off. Then he looked at Zoe, his face unreadable before glancing back at you.

"C'mon, we should join them," she said.

Zoe stood up and you followed as if on autopilot.

"Maybe we can go to the spa one of these days? Get some lunch?"

"That sounds wonderful," you told her as you approached the rest of the group. She smiled and broke off to find Zachary, leaving you to face Joel alone.

"Everythin' alright?" he asked. He was smiling in case anyone looked your way but his tone was laced with concern. Worry.

"Yep," you said. You felt his hand brush against your lower back and your body stiffened. He frowned.

"You sure?"

"Mhm," you hummed, pressing your wine glass against your lips, looking anywhere but at him.

"Dad! Sorry we're late," a deep voice called from behind you. The guests turned around to find Trevor and Brooks, Glenn's oldest sons, step out into the courtyard.

"Boys! There you are!" Mary called happily. They took turns planting kisses on her cheek before shaking their father's hand and explaining some work emergency that held them up, but you couldn't stop noticing the way Brooks's fingers wiggled against his side. The longer you watched, the more you noticed. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, the energy rolling off him as his eyes darted around in search of alcohol or food or both.

Then they landed on you.

His gaze was dark and chilling, sending a shiver down your spine. You swallowed tightly and stepped a little closer to Joel, who was talking to Harry about some basketball team, completely oblivious to the way Brooks's eyes dragged appreciatively down your frame.

And just as quickly as it happened, he looked away.

Part of you wanted to tell Joel you weren't feeling well, that you wanted to leave, but you bit your tongue. You were there for a reason. You had to uphold your end of the deal. But everything about that evening made you feel uneasy and sick.

"Glenn invited us all to his yacht this weekend," Joel told you the following morning. He seemed happier than the day before. More upbeat. It should have made you happy, but you couldn't shake the dread that cloaked your shoulders since Zoe told you about Joel's affair, and then the look Brooks gave you right after. You had hardly slept, tossing and turning all night, unable to fully relax.

"Hey, you all good?"

"Huh?" you asked, sitting up straight in your chair and blinking the clouds from your eyes. "Oh, yeah, I'm good. You said a yacht?"

"Yeah. Two nights- you sure?" Joel asked, cutting himself off and leaning forward. "You were real quiet last night, too."

"Yeah, I'm just tired. Sorry," you said, waving him off and focusing on the fruit bowl in front of you.

"Don't need to be sorry," he mumbled. He wasn't really buying your excuse but he chose not to push you. "Why don't we stay in today if you're tired? Relax in the room or... whatever you wanna do."

You perked up at his suggestion. "Don't you have to work?"

He nodded and shrugged before leaning back in his chair. "I'm allowed to take a break."

You grinned and he could see the bad mood instantly leave your body. "Are you sure? I heard the CEO is a handful."

He tossed his head back and laughed, startling you with its rarity. "Oh, you got no idea," he replied. You felt your cheeks heat up so you dropped your gaze back to your breakfast, hiding your smile behind your fork. "You said you wanted to go to the beach, right?" he offered, and you quickly nodded.

"But if that's not your thing..." you trailed off, remembering Tammy's words from the night before.

"Who doesn't love the beach?" he replied before finishing his eggs and standing up. "I'm gonna go get ready, meet you out here in thirty," he said over his shoulder. You watched him leave with a little smile.

So maybe Tammy doesn't know Joel as well as she thought she did.

Once back in your room, you surveyed your bathing suit options. You already wore the black one, so you decided on a white bikini with a halter tie behind the neck and matching white bottoms that had a chunky, gold-toned chain which sat on either side of your hips. You slid it on and gawked in the mirror when you realized Joel's assistant accidentally left the tag on.

"Who the hell pays almost $200 for a fucking swimsuit?" you muttered under your breath before carefully removing it and tossing it in the trash. You liked the sheer green coverup from the day before, so you put that back on and began to pack a beach tote you found amongst the endless accessories purchased for you.

Once you made sure you had all your essentials, you tucked your sunglasses on top of your head and walked towards your door. When your left hand stretched out for the handle, you frowned as you looked down at your ring. You couldn't take that to the beach. You would never be able to relax, too afraid of losing it.

Knowing Joel had a safe in his room, you lightly rapped on his door.

"Yeah?"

"Can I put my- the ring in your safe?" you said, hoping he didn't notice your slip up.

"Sure."

For some reason, you assumed that meant it was clear to enter, so you opened the door and stepped through. Your eyes bugged out of your head when you realized he was still changing, your heart practically leaping out of your chest with embarrassment.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry!" you said, shielding your eyes and backing out of the room quickly. You heard him say something but you couldn't hear him over the curses you were spitting to yourself, so you hurried into the living room and began to pace around nervously, desperately trying to wipe the image from your memory.

Oh, god, he was going to be so pissed. Just when you had him back in a sweet mood, you went and did something so fucking stupid and in all likelihood, ruined the entire day.

When Joel entered the living room, you were chewing on your nail nervously, still pacing around until you noticed him and skid to a stop.

"Joel, I'm so sorry-"

"Nothin' to be sorry 'bout," he said with a smirk. "Ready to go?"

He could have knocked you over with a feather as you stood there, blinking rapidly and trying to keep up.

"Y-yeah, I'm ready," you stammered, swiveling around to grab your tote, then jogged to catch up with him. "Wait! The ring, I never-"

"Oh, right," he said, turning around and holding his hand out. You twisted it off and gave it to him. While he took the ring back to his room, it afforded you a few more seconds to come to terms with what just transpired in the last ten minutes.

Before he joined you again, you had given yourself a mental pep talk: everything was fine, you didn't even see anything, and he wasn't mad.

Well, you saw something, but you weren't going to dwell on that.

The awkwardness only lingered in your system for thirty minutes or so. When you arrived at the beach and felt the warm sand underneath your feet, you immediately felt at ease.

"Lemme ask you somethin'," Joel said after setting down his frozen drink next to yours. Of course, he had bought a private cabana for the afternoon so you were each lounging on your chairs in the shade with silent fans aimed at each of you, spritzing you with a cool mist, keeping you perfectly comfortable in the tropical heat.

"Shoot."

"That story you told Glenn - 'bout me askin' you to marry me," he said, sitting up a bit to stretch. "That what you always wanted? You want someone to propose on the beach?"

You thought about it for a moment. "I don't know," you told him honestly. "I tried to think of the most romantic thing possible and it just popped into my head. I mean, I wouldn't mind it," you chuckled, brushing your hair from your neck.

"Well, when you were growin' up, how did you imagine it?"

"I-"

You cut yourself off, his question taking you off guard.

"I don't know if I ever thought about it."

He cocked his head to the side curiously. "Really? Hopeless romantic like yourself never fantasized 'bout it?"

You threw your head back and laughed, the sound instantly bringing a smile to his own face.

"I wouldn't call myself a hopeless romantic."

He tsked and picked his drink back up. "Yeah, you are."

You scoffed and shot him an agitated look. "What?"

"Whether you realize it or not, you are," he replied matter-of-factly. "No one comes up with those stories off the cuff without havin' a little soft spot for romance."

Your scowl melted into a grin. How was he so good at reading you? And why couldn't you do the same to him?

"How about you? When you-"

"Wanna go for a dip?" he asked, cutting you off as he stood to tug his shirt over his head. Your mouth went dry when you saw his bare chest and back, and then your gaze instinctively dropped. You instantly recalled walking in on him that morning and you had to tear your eyes away before he could see how flustered you were, but it was too late. Joel noticed everything.

"Yeah, sure," you mumbled, standing to shed your cover up. When you turned back to him you had to suppress your smirk at the way his eyes greedily drank you in.

It felt like the playing field leveled once again.

The moment you stepped out from under the protection of the cabana, the heat engulfed you both. Just the short walk to the shore made the back of your neck sweat and you couldn't wait to slip into the crystal blue water to cool down.

"This place doesn't seem real," you confessed to Joel as you waded slowly into the ocean with a ridiculous smile stretched across your face.

"Just imagine the kind of money one of these resorts rakes in," he replied before leaping forward into the water so the only skin that was exposed were his shoulders on up.

Joel didn't like to share much about his private life, that much you knew for certain, but one thing he always seemed open to talking about was work.

"If you win the lot, would this be your most successful hotel?"

He nodded and tilted his head back, eyes sliding closed as he basked in the sun's hot rays. "It would put The Parador on the map, open up countless possibilities."

"Oh, so no pressure or anything," you joked. Your foot grazed against something hard in the sand and you looked down, squinting through the water, then gasped.

"What?"

"Look!" you said excitedly, pointing down. His eyes followed your finger and he frowned.

"I don't see nothin'."

"The seashells! They're pink!"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Pink seashells, huh?"

"Yes!" you squeaked as you tried and failed to pluck one out of the sand with your toes. Joel sighed dramatically and gently pushed you back.

"What are you-"

He took a deep breath and plunged under the water, making you giggle as you watched him dig a few seashells out before popping back up. He shook his head like a wet dog, flinging water droplets at you and making you shriek before he triumphantly brought his hand up from underneath the water and gave you your prize.

"Oh, my hero," you gushed before carefully picking up each one to examine them closer. "Thank you, Joel."

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. Your smile grew wider but you hoped he just attributed it to the seashells you were so fixated on. Realizing you had nowhere to put them without going back to the beach, you turned away so you could shove them into the cups of your bikini. You heard a deep chuckle behind you and you looked at him over your shoulder.

"I don't wanna get out!"

He laughed a little louder, the sound beginning to grow on you. He looked so young and relaxed, bobbing up and down in the ocean with his hair slicked back while the sun warmed his already tanned skin.

Turned out Tammy was wrong: Joel was a beach guy.

"I just think it's funny you're bein' so modest after you got an eyeful of me earlier," he told you, his eyes sparkling. You felt your chest and neck grow hot and you shook your head with shame.

"I'm so sorry, I swear I didn't see anything."

He cocked an eyebrow at you. "Don't lie."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, heart skipping a beat as you struggled with a response.

"Okay, I might have seen just a little bit," you confessed softly, looking anywhere but at him as you floated around, allowing the waves to push and pull your body ever so slightly.

"Ouch," he winced, and you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "Little, huh?"

"Oh, god," you groaned, burying your face in your wet hands. "That's not what I meant."

He laughed heartily, enjoying your embarrassment far too much. "I'm just messin' with you."

You splashed him angrily but couldn't stop yourself from grinning. Why couldn't he be like this all the time? This version of him was so sweet, so intoxicating that you found yourself craving it and trying to find ways to bring it out of him more. So you decided to be brave and match his energy, just a little bit. Just to see what he would do.

"You're right. Little wasn't the right word."

He raised his eyebrows in shock and the smile slipped from his face. You thought you made a mistake and already you were scrambling to apologize, but then his gaze darkened and you felt his hand brush against your hip under the water.

"That so?" he said huskily, his tone sending a shiver down your spine and your heart to beat wildly in your chest. You bit your lip and nodded, not putting much confidence in your voice as he inched even closer. You could smell his sunscreen mixing with the salt from the water and the heat of the sun, the entire combination making you feel a little lightheaded. His eyes flickered over your shoulder briefly before you felt his other hand on your waist. "Shit, Zachary 'n Zoe are watchin' us."

Using it as an excuse, you draped your arms around his neck and hummed, pulling yourself so close that your noses were practically touching.

"Suppose we should act like we're madly in love, then."

His fingers pressed harder into your skin as he stared at your mouth, his breathing becoming shallow when your lips parted.

"S'pose we should."

When he pressed his mouth against yours, it was so delicate and soft it made you wonder if he was nervous. The thought excited you and you let your body melt against his. You already felt weightless in the water but the way his lips massaged yours made you feel like you might just float away.

His tongue swiped against your lower lip and you immediately granted him access, opening your mouth a little wider to allow him to deepen the kiss. You both knew you were playing with fire but neither of you stopped to consider it. He tasted too good: like sea salt and the coconut from his drink and it was making you ache for more. Your fingers dragged through the wet curls on the back of his head as his tongue danced with yours, both of you completely forgetting where you were and getting lost in the moment.

A small wave crashed into you, splashing you both with warm sea water and causing you to pull away with a gasp. You dragged in a few deep breaths but his lips drifted to your chin, nibbling and biting along the length of your jaw. You forced your eyes to open, surprised to find you had floated around so you could now see the beach from over his shoulder.

"I don't see Zachary or Zoe."

He froze, his lips still pressed wetly against the sensitive spot below your ear and you felt him smirk. He leaned back and gave you a guilty look. "Huh."

"Huh?" you repeated, and he twisted around to scan the shore.

"Coulda sworn I saw 'em..." he said, scratching his chin and trying to hide his smile. You gasped and shoved his shoulder, pushing him away with a laugh.

"Liar," you teased.

He shrugged and kicked his legs up so he could float on his back. "Guess we'll never know."

"You're unbelievable," you told him, attempting to sound annoyed but you knew your voice held no conviction. He just grinned and closed his eyes with a sigh. You followed his lead and leaned back so you could float, your body rising and falling with each soft wave while you ignored the arousal that flared between your legs. Looking out towards the sea, you spotted various boats speckling the skyline.

"So a yacht, you said?"

"Mhmm. Two days. If you get seasick, I got pills that'll help."

"What are we going to do for two days?" you asked.

"Eat. Drink. Jet-ski. Maybe check out some small islands or somethin'," he replied, eyes still peacefully shut.

"So we're sleeping on this yacht?"

He cracked one eye opened and looked at you. "Yep," he answered. You swallowed and looked back towards the beach.

"That means we'll have to share a bed," you said, feeling ridiculous for being so nervous at the prospect when his tongue was practically down your throat moments ago.

"That a problem?"

You shook your head. "Of course not."

He smiled and closed his eyes again. "Good."

Shit. You were in trouble.

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[iwas-princess]

suna rintaro • christmas eve princess

“c’mon, baby. don’t be like that.”

you huffed back at your boyfriend, your arms crossed over your chest as you childishly pouted. you walked ahead of him, continuing your journey to the passenger seat of his luxury car.

“hey, sweetheart, stop.” he chuckled as you continued to ignore him.

the silent treatment that you played didn’t let up as you neared his car in the store’s packed parking lot, much to his dismay. he stayed behind you, his large hands filled with your family’s christmas gifts you both had just purchased last minute.

it started out small, this argument did.

suna, ever the lazy man he is, pushed aside gift buying for weeks as your schedule filled once finals season approached, resulting in your shopping to begin the night before christmas. to say that you were irritated would be an understatement when you found that there were no gifts to wrap.

you wanted to kill rintaro, and even contemplated makibg sleep on the couch for a week— but it was christmas eve and even though he was annoying, you still wanted nothing more than to be near him during this holiday season.

angry or not.

as you approached your passenger door, you turned around briefly to take one look at him.

his hair was collecting snowflakes, the jet black locks speckled with white fuzz beautifully. his strong arms were carrying two heavy bags and one large electronic box for your younger sibling, and although he looked as if the items were nothing compared to him, you could tell that he was struggling slightly to carry them all in this cold, and his long fingers were most likely numb from the cold.

“wait, just a second. you know that you’re not allowed to open your own door; that’s my job.” suna corrected as your glove clad hand reached the car door handle.

you rolled your eyes, but felt your heart warm a few temperatures at his manners.

“let me just set these in the trunk and i’ll get you in that nice and toasty car, ‘kay? don’t want my princess getting too cold.” he explained as he popen the trunk, and carefully set the gifts in there.

you waited patiently, frustrated at him, but nevertheless ignored him still.

he tucked his frozen hands in his pockets breifly as he walked around the your side of the car, sending a flirty wink your way as he watched your eyes follow his moves briefly before looking off in the distance.

“i saw that, pretty girl.” he chuckled under his breath as he reached you.

the close proximity of him suddenly, caused a warm feeling to envelop your cold body. his scent filled your lungs as you breathed in the harsh air, your eyes nearly rolling back at the smell.

he was intoxicating.

his bare hand covered yours to gain your attention, wanting nothing more than to see your eyes on him once more— those pretty eyes that he adored.

when you didn’t budge, he let out an airy laugh at your behavior,

“sweetie, c’mon. look at me…” his voice was nearly teasing, catlike in every way as he spoke.

“what?” you harshly huffed out.

“ah, there she is. there’s your pretty voice that i missed so much.” he gently cooed at you. you found it condescending.

“what do you want, rintaro? i’m cold.” you were icy cold when you asked him, your voice cruel.

he ignored your attitude, tucking a loose strand behind your ear before caging you against the car door.

“rintaro! what is wrong with you? i’m freezing and i have to go home and wrap presents because you,” you shoved your finger against his coat covered chest. “didn’t tell me that we didn’t have any until last minute! now, i’m going to be exhausted all fucking day tomorrow because i’ll go to bed late”.

he smirked as you shouted quietly at him, careful not to make a scene.

he didn’t want to invalidate you in anyway, because he knew very well that he fucked up this year, but something about how adorable you looked in your puffy coat he bought you had his heart bursting. you looked so damn cute, exclaiming about your worries while you dressed warmly. your cheeks were flushed from the harsh cold, your nose beginning to run as well.

you had his whole heart and you didn’t even realize it.

you noticed the smug look on his face, immediately resulting in a punch to his shoulder.

he hissed in pain lowly, his broad body flinching back slightly before the hand covering yours nursed the now sore muscle.

“ouch, baby. that was awfully mean of you, don’t you think?”

you huffed in annoyance before turning around and opening the door yourself. but, just as you opened it, your boyfriend was quick to shut it with his knee.

“hey! what is your-“

he face leaned closer to yours, his cold nose touching your own freezing one. his dark eyes bored into yours and his lips brushed against yours gently.

“you know only i open this door for you, no one else. not even you.” he whispered darkly, his voice raspy.

you nodded slowly, allowing him to reach next to you and open the door back open for you, his eyes never leaving yours. he backed up enough for the door to fully open.

“go in.”

you obeyed reluctantly. you slid into the luxurious car, the soft heated cushions welcoming you happily with comforting warmth. you let out a satisfied sigh at the feeling, before turning your attention back to your doting boyfriend. he leaned in towards you slowly, your breath hitched as his torso entered the warm car. his face became nothing but a few inches away from yours, giving you the impression that he was going to give you a forgiving kiss. but instead, he reached a few inches behind him, and pulled the seatbelt around your lap before buckling it.

“gotta keep my little princess safe, don’t i? these roads are icy, brat.”

you nodded along, at loss for words.

“suna?” you called out after a few moments of thought as he was exiting the vehicle.

he stopped momentarily, crouching over slightly to hear and look at you as you spoke.

“kiss me.” you whispered.

he smiled wide, and if his cheeks weren’t frostkissed you could’ve seen the blush that creeped upon him at your words.

“of course.”