#and i love him so it is going to be a beautiful thing.

[chrollohearttags]

taste of our world | e. jaeger, a. artlert, r. braun

(Y/N) is your typical workaholic. A successful business woman with everything going for her….except a love life! That is until your best friend invites you to dinner with her colleagues. Who beyond their fancy suits and expensive cars, harbor a secret that no one would expect.

black fem!reader, (reader is a bit nerdy and reserved) niesha cameo, finger sucking, groping (consensual), fingering, corruption kink, toys use, voyeurism, m/m action, spit play, 3 sum with an eventual fivesome, polyamory + other things, all the characters are in their late 20’s

📜: I’ve had this idea floating around for a while and I just wanted to try it out. It’s very much different from my normal fics but hey, maybe experimenting will get me out of this rut I’m in. Bc writing should be fun, not perfect and clean! :)

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

life: it always had a strange way of working out. It could lead you down a variety of paths..some that you’d never even imagine. It was the very thought circulating your mind at the moment…positioned in a rather intricate and compromising manner; legs parted with your feet propped as if they were being hoisted by stirrups at a doctors office..not exactly how you would’ve been spending your Friday evenings some months ago.

“You poor thing, you’re so tense…must’ve been a long week, princess.” “Maybe she just needs someone to take her stress away. I think we can handle that..”

two voices interloping over that of your own infinite train of thoughts, speaking as if you weren’t even in the room. The ones racing through your mind at lightning speed as you struggled to take in your surroundings. A dimly illuminated room, shrouded in burgundy, black and cream colored decor. Canopy drapes hung above your head from the ceiling whilst you sat spread open with satin ropes binding your hands and ankles..those strappy heels you wore throughout your eight hour work day? Still coiled around those beautiful brown legs. It was a rather delectable sight to behold and they were itching to devour. The same could also be said of your button down blouse..still flesh against that curvaceous body and torn open by your doting boyfriends, the second they saw you in it and exposing those supple tits in the process. They made haste in hoisting your skirt to your tummy, and tugging those soaked panties down until they were torn completely off.

“And look, she even kept her toy in, all day..just like we asked. We’re so proud of you, baby.”

that deep voice cooing to you with a palm cupped around your cheek and a thumb pursed between your lips to suckle on. It was attached to a man, who by all accounts was your boyfriend. Eren, who’d entered your life six months prior and turned it upside down. Naturally, it was for the better..but it was certainly a culture shock nonetheless. Not many women could say they had a successful, attentive, loving partner who catered to her every whim in this society; less known, two of them. That honor also went to that of Reiner Braun. The more reserved yet most certainly, yet dominant of the pair. They were in sync, working reminiscent of a well oiled machine to convey their beloved (y/n) insurmountable pleasure at all costs. Needless to say, you had no complaints! Eventually, Eren would go on to replace that digit that had been pacifying you with his own lips, bending down to feed you slow, gentle yet sloppy kisses. Your tongues clash in a haze of bliss and coagulate with strings of saliva. Your doe brown eyes couldn’t help but to fixate on his green ones..full with lust and passion for his lady. He’d never seen something so precious to him. Something he wanted to protect and defile in the most salacious ways at the same time. Hence why his opposite hand was roughly groping those plump breasts and pinching your nipple. The other half of those perfectly manicured digits resided between your warm, spongy walls. Casually resting there with only subtle movements every so often.

“Of course..she was even kind enough to send us videos of herself. Can’t believe she only came once..told you our lil’ training would pay off, darlin.’ You just had to trust us..makes getting the whole thing that much better once yer’ home with us.”

that thick, buttery accent rang out in your ear as he nipped at the lobe. Marking it with gentle kisses before selfishly spinning your head around so that he too could get a sample of those sweet kisses. They were absolute feigns..addicts for every square inch of your flesh. Begging for a mere taste each time they were near you. Meanwhile, Reiner’s finger pads circled that sensitive clit; honing in on the swollen bud with gentle rubs to stimulate you. The men would cooperate in perfect harmony to stimulate all of your erogenous zones. Eren was far more delicate with his movements, as opposed to Reiner, who really appeased your sadistic side. One you weren’t even aware you liked until a few months ago. Yet here he was, feeding you very soft pats to the cheek as he intermittently pinched your nipples, even coiling that same hand around your throat to lightly asphyxiate you. A sensation you’d grown to be obsessed with. That’s how it was…when one would pull, the other pushed. When one gave to you, the other took but it was in the name of your gratification. Somewhat of a proverbial tug of war that they were playing both mentally and physically. “Oh my gosh…right there. Feels so good..” By the time the men hit their stride, you’d been reduced to a babbling mess with drool seeping from your lips. Eyes glazed over in inebriating lust and tiny giggles emitting from your mouth. Those whimpers and shrill cries had blossomed into beautiful moans that fed both of the men’s satisfaction. “Yeah, that’s what we wanna hear, baby. All we want is to make you feel good.” As they lay on their sides, still dressed in their designer slacks; although the top halves were bare, had managed to unravel their belts and tug them down until those aching erects were exposed. Conveniently, your hands were positioned ever so slightly so that you had access to both of those erect cocks.

“Fuck me…God, you’re so wet, princess. All that cream on my fingers. Can’t wait to feel it on my dick too..” his words slurring almost as if he were inebriated. Eventually fading off as he continued making out with you. Meanwhile, Reiner was not to be ignored. He had much more to say. “Maybe we can play in all those pretty holes, baby. Just like you wanted..use that cute little mouth of yours, this cute pussy and even fuck that lil’ asshole too..we’re gonna make you come yer’ brains out. So there isn’t a single thought left in there by the time we’re done.”

it was a threat that you personally wanted to see to fruition. You’d already made a mess once before..splattering their arms and fingers with your juices and was well on your way to a second release. You couldn’t take anymore of these promises. Your body was brimming with lust. Pure, unadulterated, unfathomable lust that could only be fulfilled with the lecherous desires that had been mentioned. “Yesss, please fuck me. Make me come.” To be used, stretched and stuffed to your ultimate capacity. Until your mind went absolutely blank and all that was left of you was a drooling little slut with the sole purpose of being their fucktoy. After all, it was what you had signed up for..literally and figuratively! When you agreed to become their submissive, their girl..you relinquished autonomy over yourself in the bedroom and allowed them to be solely responsible for delivering that sensation every week. Make no mistake, they fully supported you within your career and would never interfere with the way you ran your company. But when it came to personal aspects, you loved the idea of letting them make the decisions. The men would continue their descent and as they toyed with your body, their own lips would clash in a steamy haze. Heads dangling over your own as they made out and swirled their tongues around one another. The sight of two men kissing above you caused your insides to twitch around those fingers. You knew the drill…panting reminiscent of that of a pup, your tongue dangled from your mouth as it lay wide open. Before long, their own remnants of saliva were seeping in. This was due in part to those amazing handjobs you’d been giving them. Eren would reach down and grasp your throat as their fluids spilled to the back of it. “Good girl..swallow it.��� Precum from both of their aching red tips seeped onto your knuckles. All of you were overcome with pleasure. And yet, still craving more.

but alas, your little display wasn’t the only one transpiring behind those four walls…

“Fuck…that’s so sexy.” “Yeah? Looks like she’s having a good time.” “I told you she would.”

because right before the foot of the bed, lie two spectators to this very illustrious rendezvous. Trusted eyes glued to the little display and partaking in activities of their own. Your best friend. Another successful woman in her own right. A home selling maverick with a rather successful real estate empire and her equally successful fiance, Armin. He amassed his fortune in marine engineering and helped craft some of the world’s most expensive sea vessels. A power couple by every definition of the word. However, at the moment..their eyes were fixated on you. With her back pressed to her man’s chest and her legs spread wide, she sat between Armin’s thighs as his arms spanned down between her own. His nimble fingers pushing in and out of your best friend’s tight cunt. Never would you have imagined being in such a compromising position. He’d massage her clit as the two observed you. You had known your best friend since childhood and there was rarely a secret harbored between the two of you. However, the one she decided to withhold…was interesting to say the least! Because after what you thought to be a harmless, casual dinner with her and some of her colleagues..who she was introduced to by her fiance, things changed! He and Eren happened to be childhood best friends as well and you figured this was her attempt at arranging some sort of relationship between the two of you. If you knew anything about her, she’d probably say that it would be cute for you guys to hook up solely because you’d be two sets of besties dating! You didn’t really pay the notion much mind but after sitting across the table from this charming and handsome man, your resolve softened and by the end of the night, he had you giggling like an idiot..smiling from ear to ear. He began to call and leave gifts at your office. Kind, respectful and gentle: all the quality traits you sought in a man. Eren was everything you could’ve imagined. He swept you off your feet and took your breath clean from your lungs. However, there was something off about this dream beau of yours that you couldn’t quite place your finger on…in fact, the whole group seemed to be in on a secret you were clueless about. One you’d find out about after overhearing your best friend and those two whispering after a night out.

“Maybe we should tell her..”

“I don’t think she’ll be down for it. You see how she is for yourself.”

“We don’t know until we try..”

The thing in question exactly? A foursome! Because unbeknownst to you, everyone within your friends circle was into polyamory. What was even more so shocking, is that it seemed to be another missing piece from this puzzle as well…totaling the group to a quadruplet. Make no mistake, you loved each of them dearly and as much as you hated to admit so this early on, you were absolutely smitten with Eren…but even this was a lot to take in. Your sex life was rather vanilla and honestly, nonexistent up until this point. You’d consider yourself bisexual at some point also but never really acted on it. You were too busy with work to concern yourself with any of those matters. But after one night with Eren, you were exposed to things you never thought possible. Both sexually and emotionally. You never knew pleasure the way you did with him and yet, the thought of sharing him made you want to denounce the potential relationship altogether. However, once the four of you were alone, things changed. You began to realize just how confined and restricted your sexual prowess had been.

that you’d limited yourself to all the possibilities that could transpire within your love life. When you asked why they participated, their answers aligned to the same thing. The corporate world was a drag and there was something so liberating about breaking societal norms within their personal lives when everything else was so structured. Even your best friend said that she’d never felt closer to Armin and more in tune with herself. So, as a way of ‘initiating’ you into their lifestyle, once you agreed to give it a shot..your boyfriend placed a blindfold over your eyes, spread your legs apart and allowed all three of them to take turns eating you out..feasting on that sweet little pussy of yours and devouring it until you were a shaking mess.

you lost track of the number of times you came that night and all of them were enjoying themselves quite a bit but your pleasure was the number one priority right now. What started as a simple double date between successful couples, ended with your best friend’s tongue in your cunt as her husband to be fucked her from behind! Meanwhile, Eren sat back observing..stroking himself at the sight and you’d never been turned on more than you had in that moment! Even so, to the naked and public eye, no one would ever guess that this sort of thing roused any of you guys’ fancy. What you all displayed to the world were business oriented professionals who excelled at their line of work. Behind closed doors, however..were lovers intertwined in an adoring and sex positive relationship. Fast forward a month or so after that and you were introduced to Eren’s partner..who held the title in more ways than one. Reiner Braun..the hulking six foot four, two hundred and ninety pound stud of a man with a thick country accent. It was blatantly obvious that he was enamored with you from the second your eyes met.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” “Damn gorgeous..”

where Eren exercised couth and gracefulness in every word he spoke; soft in tone yet deep in vibrato, Reiner made up for in sheer honesty. The contrast was something you grew to adore..especially when they both made it abundantly clear that they wanted you and they weren’t interested in making you choose. Rather, they wanted a different arrangement..one that allowed for the three of you to be in a relationship. Exclusive only to one another with the occasional hookup with your best friends..complex may have been an understatement but you were somehow open to the idea. Naturally, it wouldn’t just be limited to sexual favors. They’d take care of you in mind, body and spirit. Cooking meals for you, massaging your feet, ensuring that your bills were paid despite being capable of doing so all on your own..hell, only a month into the agreement, you were the most pampered you had ever been! No longer did you feel the need to live in survival mode..not being strong and independent because you had no other choice. If they even so much as saw you struggling to open a can, they’d rush to your aid.

“As long as we’re around, you don’t need to worry yourself with anything. We’re gonna take care of you, princess. I promise.”

there were never any egos involved or talks of no longer wanting to share..they set aside their pride and all solely for you. They wanted you to feel safe, loved and secure in every facet of your life. You could be soft or weak and they’d never judge you for it. They’d kiss your feet and the ground beneath it if it made you smile.

so as you sat bound with their fingers buried inside of your hole..the other circulating your clit as the three of you exchanged sloppy pecks and saliva..nearing your climatic peak, they’d observe and follow the pace. All of you in tune with one another’s psyche and nearing your inevitable orgasms…it was a pleasure you’d never experienced before and it made you so happy that you’d finally gotten a taste of their world.

“Fuck..are you gonna come for us, baby? Please come for us..squirt all over our fucking fingers, princess..”

“Yeah, let us have it, sweetheart. Don’t you dare think about holding back.”

and now that you had, there was no way you were coming back to normal!

[dante-mightdie]

please HEAR ME OUT for a third time on the cult!au :

so simon is just relieved that his plan worked out, his wife is no longer talking about the outside, but here's the thing, seeing that gut wrenching scene would do a number on anyone's mind let alone a poor girl who has never seen anything but happiness and joy around her

and simon watches his precious wife drown in grief as days go by, she eats less, talks less, every smile she gives him feels so forced

so he's feeling guilty, understandably, and he stays up all night just praying by his bedside hoping his wife just goes back to the way she used to be before that traumatic experience

and so he decides to make it up to her? he brings her fresh vegetables and fruits from the farms everyday, gives her so many kisses and hugs her every chance he gets, he becomes more touchy and soft, but it does not work. and it's making him go mad

and one night when they're getting ready to go to bed, as she's preparing a bath for him, he just tells her to strip down?

and maybe up to that point sex was good, but nothing special, no emotions were ever involved yk? maybe they only had sex in the dark of their bedroom, and they did it like every other chore their community had made them do, they both got off at the end but they didn't talk at all, maybe a few kisses here and there but as i said before nothing special

and now the room is dimly lit, the water is warm and the steam is brushing over their skins so gently, and he just keeps blurting out stuff like, i'll always protect you, i'll make you happy, i'll give you a beautiful family, and everything is just so new for the poor girl, she's just a moaning panting mess

and for simon too yk? he's never viewed sex as anything but an order price had given to him, and he just felt like it was something to be completed, just knock her up and get it over with, a role he had to play as a follower to carry on price's delicacy, but rn he was enjoying something he wasn't supposed to enjoy, if fulfilling john's order brought him any form of joy, he was doing it wrong, dedication is not supposed to bring enjoyment

but right now, he could not care less

and the thought of price shaming him for being this intimate with someone who almost ran away a few days ago just eats at him but he can't help it, she's so soft and nice and her skin glows from the steam and she smells like flowers and fruits

(ps, as always love your writing, please ignore my request if you want to, BUT THIS AU IS SO GOOD?! and your writing makes it even better 😢🙏)

you gotta stop asking me to hear you out because baby i’m HEARING

also smart decision to stay in anon because otherwise i’d be sliding into your dms for sending me something this FILTHY (pls don’t stop)

c/w: cult!au, mentions of trauma and ptsd, mentions of murder, nsfw, fem!reader, teasing, pinv sex, breeding kink

it was eating him alive day after day. watching your sunken form move around the home that had just gotten used to being filled with warmth and companionship. he was terrified of you or john finding out. especially since there is no good outcome to the truth being brought to light. if you find out your husband was really the creature of the night, mauling those who dare to venture past the compound gates, you would run again

on the other hand, if john found out that simon allowed his curious little wife to wander the outside forest by herself, you’re lucky if one of you makes it out of that alive. so he throws himself into his duties, waking up extra early to complete his mandatory chores so he can be home with you much earlier. all of his efforts going towards the goal of just being able to see your eyes light up for him just once more

he adores the soft gasps you make when he comes up behind you in the kitchen, gripping the ties of your apron and tugging you flush against him whilst you prepare dinner. watches your hand tighten around the handle of the kitchen knife, awaiting his next move, only to relax when he simply ties your apron for you before planting a kiss on the top of your head and a painfully light squeeze to your ass

he enjoys the warmth that builds on your cheeks when he comes home with boxes full of fresh fruits and vegetables that you mentioned you like. mumbling that he got johnny to put some aside for him from the farm before he sent of his produce stock. he can almost feel himself foam at the mouth when you stand on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek with a small ‘thank you’

what he doesn’t enjoy is seeing that sullen look in your eyes every time you pass the compound gate, images flashing in your brain of the terrible thing you saw. he simply puts a hand on the small of your back and guides you away, distracting you with conversation about random things

nor does he enjoy hearing you creep out of bed in the night to go and cry in the bathroom, thinking he can’t hear you. when you crawl back into bed he pretends he’s still asleep, “subconsciously” reaching over and pulling you into his arms. his heart aches a little at the way you curl up into his chest, like you’re trying to hide from everything in the safety of his arms

he’s tried to subtly get some advice from price without getting him too suspicious, asking what he can do as a husband to cheer you up when you feel bad. price tells him you’ll be right as rain once simon knocks you up, you just need something to keep you busy when he’s away. simon frowns but he knows if he wants price to take it seriously then he’d to reveal why you’re so down and he certainly won’t be doing that any time soon

he watches you that night as you walk around the bedroom and attached bathroom, preparing a bath for simon after you’d both had dinner. you didn’t eat a lot, piling your leftovers onto his plate. he’s leaning against the bathroom counter, arms folded across his chest as his eyes follow your form

after you plant some fresh towels on the counter, you turn to leave but he grabs your wrist before you can make it out the doorframe. he watches you with tired eyes, “take your clothes off.”

his command is blunt as he tugs you back into the bathroom, kicking the door closed and beginning to strip off his own clothes and piling them on the floor. you attempt to reach down and clear them up but he stops you with another grab of your wrist, nudging you towards the steaming bath

you climb in, kneeling in the water obediently for him. the same way you normally wait for him on the bed when he tells you to get ready for him. hands clasped firmly on your thighs, sweet eyes looking up at him like a pet awaiting instructions. he dims the lights a little before clambering his large frame into the tub, his thighs spread either side of you and caging you in

you chew on your lip, your eyes flicking down to his lips and chest before focusing back on his own gaze. he beckons you closer with two fingers, grabbing your waist and manhandling you into his lap when you crawl closer between his legs. you squeak when he plants you down, the water sloshing around your waist

your hands grip onto his shoulders for balance, your fingers lightly playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. he tilts his head slightly, letting his hands wander down to rest on your ass so he can ever so slightly grind your hips against his, “pretty thing, aren’t ya? hope our kids look like you…”

his words being a heat to your face that makes you pull your eyes away from his. you don’t see his smirk, nor do you see the way one of his hands disappears under the water to grip his cock and drag it through your folds. you let out a soft gasp when you feel him bump the tip against your clit

he repeats the action a few times, dipping the head of his cock into your hole a couple of times just to hear you whine and squirm about how it’s too big. he pushes in a little further each time but lets his cock slip out of you before he can really give you what you want

“you’re gonna let me knock you up tonight, won’t you, pretty baby? gonna let me give you a few of my brats to take care of?” he asks, grinning when all you can do is pant and whine in response, your hips chasing his each time he slips the tip of his cock back inside of you

“course you will. ‘cos you’re my good girl, ain’tcha? made to be my pretty wife and to carry my kids. gonna give you so many, you’ll lose count.” he growls when you nod your head, loud moans echoing through out the tiled room when he bucks his hips up and bottoms out finally

it doesn’t last long before he pulls out again, leaving you empty and aching. “shush, pretty girl. can’t just give it to ya, can I?” he coos, pressing a soft kiss to your pouty lips

“good girls beg their husbands to breed them.”

~

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: i caved and did an actual Ewan fic! Given that the lad is more of a public persona nowadays, I reckon it's fine (?) This is pure self-indulgence for all my Ewan loves. May have a continuation but idk for now, enjoy!!

all my other works

The reader and Ewan are paired for press interviews. Despite barely having any scenes together and only knowing each other in passing on set, the chemistry they share cannot be denied...

Your first round of press takes place in a primped up hotel suite in Paris, thanks to the team at HBO.

You are an up and coming actress, much like some of your costars in the show, but the pressure is heavier on you because you were entering in season two, whereas everyone was already well-acquainted with one another.

Your few scenes were mostly with Jace and Baela, so you grew close to Harry and Bethany.

However, the media team decided to pair you up with Ewan for the day. A little fun initiative was set by the team that a character from the Blacks would be do press with a counterpart from the Greens - hence, yourself and Ewan.

You're nervous as you walk down the hallway, unable to fully pay attention to the instructions your lovely assistant gives you.

She tells you about the different interviewers for the day, bloggers and magazine writers from all over the world. She reminds you that each one will only be for a maximum of 5 minutes, so it shouldn't be too complicated. She smiles and eagerly says, "Take a deep breath, you got this!", as you reach the suite doors.

But in your mind, all you can recall is your first interaction with Ewan, almost a year ago right after the table read. You had nervously blurted out to him that Aemond is your favourite character, after he just asked, "How are you?". He laughed, said thank you, before he was pulled away in conversation by Tom.

You pray to the fictional Westerosi gods that things will fare better today. That you won't get all tongue-tied when those steel blue eyes land on you.

Upon entering the room, the team is quick to fuss over you. Sometimes you forget that you're actually an actress now. A celebrity, some might say. It all feels surreal and you have a inkling it won't ever stop being this way.

Ewan is already seated in front of the camera, and he stands to give you a hug as you finally walk over.

"Hey there, how are you?" he smiles widely, smelling like cigarettes and something muskier as he wraps his arms around you.

Unroll your tongue. Rework your brain. Calm down.

"Hey, Ewan!" you respond. "I'm doing great, happy to see you again."

"Well, I only wish we could have had more time together on set." Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to take your seat before he does the same. "But next season perhaps? Who knows?"

"Oh, sure." You settle in, pleased by the fact that your chairs are only about a foot apart. "We can both look forward to my character giving Aemond the arse kicking he deserves."

He laughs, eyes glinting with mischief. "Come on now, I was thinking our characters are actually quite compatible, no?"

"Well, I sure wouldn't want to step on Alys' shoes. She'd probably curse my character all the way to Yi Ti."

"Hmm," he hums, biting his lip. You can't help but hear Aemond when he does that. "I say you can always count on Aemond and Vhagar to come to the rescue of a beautiful maiden such as yourself."

Well, you'll be damned. Ewan, while still an introvert of his own sort, is as charming as can be. If he's turning it on to get himself hyped for the press, it's working.

It's definitely working on you, to say the least.

The media manager gives the signal for the first interview to begin, and a reporter walks in, all ready with prepared script in hand.

"Here we go," you mutter, facing forward.

"Good luck," Ewan replies.

You both shake the reporter's hand, and he introduces himself as Jared.

"So guys," Jared begins. "Why don't we start with you telling me a little bit about what we can expect from your characters this season?"

The question is easy, and it doesn't take long for you and Ewan to think it through. Jared asks a few more basic questions, before drawing the attention more to you.

"When you watched season one, did you have a favourite character?" he asks you.

You smile, "Oh, I mean, I have to say - and Ewan already knows this, by the way - that Aemond was my favourite character."

"Was?" Ewan says, feigning shock. "Unacceptable."

"Was... Is... " you shrug, rolling your eyes playfully, earning a laugh from Jared. "I think I might be more a Daemon girl now."

"Oh!" Jared exclaims happily. "Does Matt know about this?"

"I'll be sure to tell him - "

Ewan interjects, shaking his head at you, "There's no need to tell him, because I'll convert her back to Team Aemond in no time, trust me."

"Daemon is awesome, though," you say to him, smiling.

"Sure." Ewan makes a face like that fact doesn't matter. Wasn't he the one who said that Daemon would be the character he would most like to play if not Aemond?

"And Caraxes is my favourite dragon." You share a look with Jared, hoping he would agree.

"Yes!" Jared says. "Caraxes is the best dragon in the show, in my opinion."

"Ah, you're both wrong," Ewan says. "My Vhagar is the oldest and baddest dragon in all of the land."

"My Vhagar, he says," you joke. "Seems like someone still hasn't shed Aemond for this press tour."

"And I never will, darling." His gaze is intense when he turns to you, and you clear your throat to fight the warmth rushing to your cheeks.

"Alright, they're giving me the wrap-up," Jared thankfully breaks the tension. "It was a pleasure talking to you guys, congratulations on the new season!"

One interview down, and your nerves have already considerably subsided. Ewan tapping your arm to start up a conversation once more surely helps in distracting you.

In the best damn way possible.

"How do you think we did? That wasn't too bad, was it?"

"I think we did quite well," you casually offer a high five, but your heart skips a beat when Ewan interlaces your suspended hands for just a moment.

"I'm glad they paired me with you," Ewan says, after releasing your hand. You hold on to the armrests to keep your fingers from twitching.

"I am, too," you admit. "I am a fan of you, after all, but I think you already know that."

He blushes, "Well, that's not a bad thing. I think you're a fantastic actress. I must have seen your first film a good ten times."

"You mean my first and only film," you add humbly. "But thank you."

"Only film for now," he affirms. "No doubt this is only the beginning for you, darling. With your talent and your charisma, I'm sure you have potential scripts piled up already."

"I could say the same for you! Have you seen what your fans say about you online? You're the internet's new boyfriend, Ewan Mitchell."

The media manager announces the next interview, but Ewan follows up with a response for you under his breath, "I have seen some things. But when I have a girlfriend, I'll make sure she won't have to share me at all."

Oh, so apparently he is single. But wait - why is he telling you this?

You don't get to mull over that thought. For the time being, the next interview starts and you make sure you do a good job at what you're paid to do - promoting the series.

Not daydreaming about getting with a costar, for heaven's sake. Stay professional.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You feel lightheaded after finishing the seventh - or had it been the eighth? - interview.

Your assistant delivers a coffee to you during the twenty-minute break. Ewan had stepped out to the balcony to have a smoke, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

He certainly is everything you expected him to be, and so much more. Insightful, cheeky, dedicated. An artist, through and through. He was in the business for all the right reasons, passion and respect for the craft.

If he had any flaws, you weren't privy to them yet. If there are any reasons for you not to be attracted to him, you didn't know what those were yet.

But with every flirtatious remark and pointed smile, you can't deny the hope blooming in you.

"Hey," he reappears, pulling you out of your musings. "I hope you don't mind that I smell of smoke."

No, you didn't, not when it's him.

"Don't worry about it," you reassure him. You tilt your head forward to take a sip of your coffee, but a lock of your hair falls in front of your face. Annoyed, you think to reach for it, but Ewan beats you to it, tucking it back in place.

"There you go, darling," he croons, gesturing for you to proceed in drinking.

"Th-thanks." His eyes don't leave yours as you take a slow sip.

"So," you say, desperate to break the silence, "which interview did you enjoy the most so far?"

"How can I possibly choose? I mean, I really liked the one with ComicSociety, the guy that said our characters have a lot of chemistry and should get together next season. He's right, I already told you!"

"Ohhh, sure, that will go down really well with the Blacks and Greens."

He smirks, "I don't see why not?"

"For one, Aemond is ensnared by Alys, and my character will never give up fighting for Rhaenyra. I just don't see it happening, Ewan."

"Right," he mutters thoughtfully, "there is still Alys in the picture."

"Still in the picture? With the amount of steamy scenes you two have lined up for season three, I'd say she will be Aemond's entire picture in and of herself."

"Hmm," he glances at you once, then looks down. Dare you think it, does he look disappointed?

"But hey," you add lightly, "maybe we can talk to Ryan and he can flip the entire script just for our characters."

"Yeah," his cheeky smile resurfaces, "maybe you can take Alys' place."

Take the place of Alys? Of Alys. Is he insinuating...

"Next round of interviews, guys!" The media manager announces to the room.

"Here we go again, darling," Ewan squeezes your hand once, before putting on his professional face once more.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

By the end of it all, not even caffeine can perk you up. You were exhausted, you and Ewan having finished four full hours of press.

Your assistant comes to your aid, ready to direct you back to your own hotel room.

"This has been such a pleasure, Ewan, really." You stand, this time initiating the hug.

He squeezes you gently, humming in your ear. When you pull apart, he says, "I honestly wouldn't mind trudging through hours and hours of press with you."

That's sweet of him. You're too tired to mask the warmth that rises to your cheeks. "And I feel the same. Today couldn't have gone any better."

"Truly, and listen, maybe we could - "

"Ewan!" The manager approaches. "I'm so sorry to rush with this, but we need to film just a quick soundbite with you for Aemond. Just two to three questions for the Max Tiktok account?"

"Oh, okay - " Ewan is reluctant to turn away from you.

"Perfect! If you could just stand there by the windows please..." The manager already has him by the arm, directing where he has to go.

"We have to go," your assistant says. "Still have to prep for tomorrow."

"I'll see you soon, Ewan!" you call out to him. "Thanks again."

He gives a half-hearted wave, dejected as he watches you walk out of the room.

"That wasn't too bad," you share with your assistant as you enter the elevators. "Not bad at all, actually."

"Oh, you did so well," she compliments. "It definitely helps with the press that you and Mr. Mitchell have such insane natural chemistry."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

In the calm of your hotel room, you get ready for bed.

Just when you're about to finish with your nightly routine, your phone rings from your bedside table. You're quick to rush over, thinking it could be your assistant or your manager, with an urgent update about work.

But no - it's an unknown number. A UK number, as it appears.

Confused, you click answer anyway, putting it to your ear with a tentative, "Hello, who is this?"

"Hi, darling."

"Ewan?"

"Yeah, uhm, I hope I didn't disturb you - "

"Not at all," your answer comes out in a rushed breath.

"I also hope you don't mind that I got my assistant to ask your assistant to give me your number? It's what I wanted to ask you before you left today."

"Oh." You feel fully awake now, by some miracle, butterflies finding home in your stomach. "I don't mind. I... I should have given you my number, anyway. I have most of the cast's, in case I need to get a hold of you guys."

"Hmm, right," he says from the other end. You hear him calmly breathing, the sound strangely comforting, and wonder if he can hear the same from you.

He says, "I just wanted to keep hearing your voice. Didn't get enough of it today," and your heart just about stops.

"Oh. Okay," is all you are able to respond with.

"What are you doing?"

"Just... just getting ready for bed." Phone pressed to your ear, you shuffle around the room, putting some things back in place.

He says nothing for a few seconds, but you still hear his breathing, and some shuffling in the background. It occurs to you that he might just be as nervous as you are now.

Maybe.

"Listen," he finally says, "do you want to hear my pitch to Ryan about why our characters should get together next season?"

A genuine laugh escapes you. He sure is persistent. Playful, sure, but you're definitely willing to play along.

"Let's hear it."

"First," he says, "you have to renounce Daemon as your favourite character - "

"Not a chance."

" - and swear your love for Aemond."

"Keep dreaming."

He laughs, and you can only picture the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Aww darling," he teases, "don't you love me?"

The OGs will know that the final line is a nod to my first ever Aemond fic! 🖤

Did this slightly delay my series works? Yes, yes it did. Do I regret it? For Ewan frickin Mitchell, I would never ~

[steadybear]

“ 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 “

𝐩𝐫𝗼𝗺𝐩𝐭 : 𝐲𝐚𝐧! 𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐭𝗼 𝗼𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝗺𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝗼𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫

Content warnings: dubcon to marriage, sexual coercion, hatefucking, yandere themes, breeding kink, marriage kink if thats a thing???, nsfw content 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 𝟏𝟖+, gay sex, anal sex, anal penetration, oral sex (reader receiving), spanking, choking, hair pulling, unsafe sex (wont get sick if you wrap your dick)

Another fair warning, if you're here from my Dan Heng fic, this is a lot more intense/dark and emotional than the last one

My inner angst writer shone through in it, if you want to skip down to juicy parts and skip said angst, there's going to be a different bracket to denote where the steamy activity starts.

“ new contact noted! caller 𝚔𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚢𝚊𝚝𝚘 has been added to your phonebook! - love, 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑡-19 “

"Lord Kamisato, it's been quite a while since we've last spoken."

Komore Teahouse was somewhere that reminded you of your childhood, something far in the past. It was a little home away from home, your father and the Yashiro Commissioner of your childhood would be here for meetings. You would listen in on all the important details, but terminology and code words would fly over your head. The pleasant smell of tea would hang in the air while you sat, quietly and obediently without so much as lifting your hand to grab one of the many sweets strewn on the table. Instead, you'd train your eyes on the floor in front of you, fold your hands in your lap, and focus on your breathing.

There was almost always another little boy that would join in on tea time, just a couple months younger. Soft looking baby blue hair fell over his shoulder, bright eyes to match. The Commissioner would softly pet his head when your father would compliment him on his manners. Papa, as you affectionately called him in your younger years, would give a smile that would light up the room when the former Lord Kamisato would return the favor. He always took your little hand in his bigger, scarred one and he'd give it a little squeeze.

The first time your fathers left the room, the boy said his name was Ayato.

Yet, you couldn't recognize the man in front of you as that 'Ayato'.

There was a polite smile stretched across his lips as he took his seat in front of you, the smell of Sakura Blossoms choking the aroma of tea leaves that painted the room in a nostalgic light. "There's no need to be so formal, we've known each other since we were children."

Your grip on your cup tightened, though your facial expression remained relaxed. "I suppose we have." You brought the fine china to your lips to take a languid sip before gently resting it on the table. "What do you want from me?"

The same cursedly beautiful baby blue eyes darkened when they met yours, something someone who didn't know him better wouldn't have picked up on. "Is it so strange for me to invite my best friend out for tea when I finally have the time?"

Your lips twitched downwards, displeased. "Don't try to paint me as some villain, you don't request formal meetings unless you need something."

His grin remained placid, serene, and yet it grew more strained. The tension at the corners of his lips gave way to the bitter disappointment beneath his carefree façade. His fingers came to gently rest on his thighs, the quiet drag of his sleeves on the floor cutting through the silent wall of displeasure that seemingly split the room in two. "You don't seem to respond to any of my invitations otherwise."

Your lips pursed, you found it hardly necessary to hide your animosity for him.

"Would you believe me if I said I missed seeing you?"

To this, your dry laugh cut through the air. Hands balling into fists on your lap, you pushed them into your legs as a reminder to keep your wits about you. "I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest. You've never been one to be play fair."

You caught a speck of hurt in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. Instead, his hand wrapped gingerly around the handle of the kettle, pouring himself a cup of tea. "Your tongue is still as sharp as ever."

"You act as if you're innocent, Commissioner," fists lightly curling the fabric of your own intricate kimono bottoms, "I don't recall any kind of apology for anything you've done."

To this, he didn't answer.

The silence hung in the air like a veil of fog.

The next thing to interrupt said silence was his gloved hand wrapping his fingers around the rim of his teacup and bringing it to his lips.

You let out a low huff, "I'll only ask again once, Ayato, what is it you want from me?"

He took a moment to answer, holding the delicate glass in his hand. He stared into the amber liquid as if searching for a script in the ripples created by the barely noticeable tremble in his arm.

His next words drifted past his lips like a ghost, just barely above a whisper.

"Your hand in marriage."

...

"...I beg your pardon?"

His eyes lifted from his tea finally, eyes swirling in anticipation. "I said, I want your hand in marriage."

You gave a laugh of disbelief, eyebrows curling in offended dissolution. "No, no-" Your hands raised to rest on the corners of the table. You went to use it as a crutch to help you stand up. "Absolutely not, the audacity of you to suggest such a thing is baffling and outright-"

You cut yourself off in favor of shaking your head, beginning to stand up.

His hand twitched towards your retreating form, "Take a moment to consider it-"

"What is there to consider?!" You snapped, "You've ruined so many business opportunities for my family and suddenly, you think you have the right to demand that from me?"

He looked up at you from his seat, slamming his cup on the table with enough fervor for the tea to splash out from the rim of the glass. "I did it for your own good-"

"Just because it meant promising others my hand in marriage didn't mean that my family didn't need it, you selfish, selfish, conniving-" You wanted to continue, but you cut yourself off for the sake of trying to keep your relationship as cordial as possible. Instead, you let out an indignant huff. With another infuriated groan, "You of all people should understand that I have more things to worry about than my own happiness!"

He tried to call your name, pathetically, acting like he hadn't done anything wrong in the slightest, "I never let your family suffer for losing those proposals, I always made sure you were taken care of by the Commission-"

"Does that change the fact that you're selfish and conniving Ayato?" You accused, hands balling into fists once again. "Why is it you think I would be willing to be married to a man who's proven he can't be trusted over and over again if it means he gets what he wants?"

You spied the wounds you'd torn open in the way his lips were pressed into a thin line, the inner corner of his eyebrows curving upwards. His eyes flitted between the two of yours, interpreting the brewing cascade of hatred that ebbed and flowed through your irises. "Because I love you, I've loved you since the day I met you and you'll never find a man who will love you in your entirety as much as I do."

Your jaw tensed as you swallowed a glob of saliva down your throat. With it, you swallowed a few choice words that would've exploded from your throat like a firecracker. "Love won't feed my family, Ayato. Love will not uphold my family's legacy. Love won't erase the fake sincerity you showed me the day you tried to kill the woman I was supposed to marry on our wedding day-"

"You don't have a choice."

You froze when your eyes met his hardened expression.

"What in archons' name are you talking about?"

You could see the column of his throat move as he swallowed. "You should sit down."

You grit your teeth, "No, I want to know what the hell you're talking about."

...

"Our marriage has long been anticipated by the public," He started, hand wrapping around his teacup. It didn't seem like he had any intent to actually take a drink of it, instead he occupied himself with swirling it around. "Your family is reliant on the internal affairs of Inazuma, it would be of great importance to your clan's longevity to get their foot in the door of the Yashiro Commission."

You narrowed your eyes at him, "And?"

He continued to avoid eye contact, eyes trained on the spinning whirlpool of tea. "Your family has long wanted to ask for either my own or Ayaka's hand, but believed they weren't in any standing to make a political climb that drastic. Specifically, your father hoped we'd set up some kind of engagement when we were young, but my father passed away before it could be finalized."

You felt your blood run cold.

You realized what he was insinuating with a violent shiver traveling up your spine. Your words were slow and drawn out, your voice dimming as you admitted the fatal flaw in your argument.

"You could secure a marriage without my input anyways."

His eyes finally lifted to meet yours, "I wanted to ask you first."

You could feel yourself trembling with anger, but instead of snapping at him, you let out a shaky scoff. "I was right, you haven't changed at all." You pushed a hand through your hair, "No, actually, I take that back, you're even worse than I remember. You always promised me you would put me and my family's comfort first, but now you're-" You started laughing, cold and ugly.

This time, he was the one to snap at you, "I didn't expect you to be so willing to give yourself away to someone else!" He stood up to be nearly eye to eye with you. "I was the one that grew up with you, I was the one that was there for you when your mother passed, I was the one that you swore your loyalty to when we were younger-"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, Ayato!"

"NO!" He stepped in closer, elegantly maneuvering around the table. "Do you not want to remember all the time we were each other's one and only? Do you not want to remember when I promised to marry you? Do you-"

"That was before you tried to kill someone!" You took a step back from him, your voice cracking at what you could only dub the worst moment. "You're a psychopath and as much as my father wants to pretend it wasn't you who set it up, you still sent her into critical condition! You- You-"

He stepped closer to you, reaching out to try to pry your hands away from your face, he said your name with such desperation he almost sounded like he was the victim.

"Get off of me!" You pushed him away from you by the chest, only growing more upset with just how little space it made for you. You wanted him in the pits of hell, and yet he was still in this beautiful little teahouse.

"Kamisato Ayato, even if I have to marry you, I swear to all of Celestia above who hear me, for as long as I live, I will never love you!"

"You don't mean that."

His words hung in your conscious like a parasite. Clinging to the inside of your dome and following you around as a hidden stowaway. You would've been amused if this was some kind of villain in those light novels, but this was Ayato. This was the Yashiro Commissioner, Lord Kamisato, whichever title he preferred. He held so much power over your life and your family's legacy you had to take his word as gospel and the conversation was one of the many things you had to transcribe in this holy text.

By the time Ayato formally proposed the alliance to your father, you'd come to terms with the fact you would have no chance to escape him. You'd spoken to the man you'd been informally courting all this time, someone you'd planned to spend the rest of your life with just a few short weeks ago. You broke the singular heart the two of you had shared, that beat in time with one another. Now Ayato had to honor of stomping on its remains as your paramour watched you get married to the man you'd claimed to despise.

"Kazuha." You greeted.

You tried to hide the sorrow and longing laden in your gaze, but you could tell by the way he returned the same look back to you that any and all attempts were a miserable failure. He called your name softly, the same manner of greeting. This was supposed to be the reception of your wedding, a time of joy and celebration, yet all you could feel was a bitterness fester in the pit of your stomach.

Why?

You asked yourself this over and over again. Why must you have let all those silly promises to Ayato slip past your lips when you were younger? Why must he have turned out to be as ruthless and dishonest as he was now?

Why did you have to let go of happiness you thought was finally in your grasp?

The poet's voice felt wispy, light and refreshing, but also laced with pity. It sounded like what a weeping willow looked like when it hit your ears, "Congratulations on your joyous union."

Your voice was equally as soft as you looked at him, "Thank you."

You thanked him, but not for his congratulations. You thanked him for his understanding.

You could tell he understood your implication when he delicately questioned, "How is it that you and Lord Kamisato decided to finally be wed?"

Your expression softened, finally letting the strained smile you'd forced yourself to wear the entire day falter just a little bit. "Everyone around us knew it would happen sooner or later. Had the former Yashiro Commissioner not regretfully passed, Lord Kamisato and I would have been wed the morning the both of us were eighteen."

He hummed, holding up the small glass of sake he was nursing since the beginning of the reception just the slightest as an invitation, "I see... would you care for a toast? For all of the memories two created along the way?"

It was not for the memories you created with Ayato, you realized, but all the memories you created with him. Something akin to a final goodbye.

The smile returned to your face, genuine this time. You couldn't see it, but your eyes shone with adoration as you responded quietly, "Of course." Kazuha's own heart was swelling with a woeful passion. But his own smile remained on his features when the two of you clinked your glasses together and took a long swig of the alcohol.

The air was peaceful, beautifully comforting. It was something you'd longed to feel since your hopes and dreams had been carelessly extinguished by who you used to believe was your closest childhood companion.

The atmosphere immediately dropped when the sound of a familiar voice drifted into the small, semi-secluded area you'd found yourself in to steal just a few more moments with your former lover. It drifted in like a phantom, automatically killing the mood despite it's subtlety.

"Am I interrupting something?"

You did your best not to scowl, but you failed to stop your lips from pressing into a thin line. Kazuha noticed the tension immediately. He'd always been the more perceptive of the two of you anyways. "Lord Kamisato, I wished to congratulate a good friend on a delightful marriage. I hope I didn't steal him away from the festivities for too long."

Despite his light-hearted laugh, you could tell Ayato was unhappy. "No worries, Lord Kaedehara, but if you'd be so kind, the day has been rather hectic. I haven't had the chance to enjoy a moment alone with my husband."

Kazuha had wanted to stay in an attempt to help you once last time, always putting you first. Perhaps he could've prevented any tense conversations in front of guests. It seems his last act of love had failed. "...Ah, I suppose I'll be taking my leave then."

Ayato looped his hand to hang onto your bicep, a much more content smile gracing his features as he watched the familiar silhouette disappear into the crowd once more. Once the two of you were alone, he turned his attention to you.

"I didn't want to demand anymore from you, but it still wounds me when my husband chooses to spend his time with another man the day of our wedding."

His smile still looked as radiant as it had when the two of you were standing before the altar, but once again, you could see the swirling and darkening displeasure in his eyes.

You scoffed, painting a similar smile on your features. His mood seemed to lighten just the slightest bit, however his hopes were dashed when your words were harsh and cold. "Spare me, I don't want to spend more time with you than I must."

He gave what looked to onlookers like a playful squeeze to your bicep, but his words were equally callous, "Humor me, I've finally caught you and despite all my devotion you act as though you hate me."

You leaned in close to his ear, pretending to whisper a fond secret. You wanted to watch him struggle to keep the smile on his face when you told him the thing that always seemed to hurt him the most throughout the course of wedding planning.

"I'm not acting, if you need me to spell it out, I do hate you."

"You're leaving?"

You turned back to the luxurious futon, Ayato sitting on one side of it. He looked serene, angelic in his sleeping yukata. He had the covers pulled over his legs and his hands folded in his lap. Picturesque, you admitted in your head begrudgingly.

"What did you expect?" Your own yukata hung off your frame loosely, having been hastily put on. Your arm was wrapped around the belt, making sure that at the very least you would be decent while you were walking through the halls of the estate you were now hopelessly confined to.

His brows were furrowed, confused, panicked. His hand came to rest on what should have been your side of the futon with a frown, "It's late, where are you going?"

You huffed, turning your back to him again and going to slide open the door to your shared bedroom. "I'm tired, I'm going to sleep."

His voice took on a displeased undertone, one hand fisting the covers strewn across his lap. "The futon is here, where else would you sleep?"

You shook your head, "I'm going to my study, don't bother waiting up for me. I won't be returning until the sun breaks." Your hand found the dark and smooth treated wood of the door. Just as your fingers went to pry it open, you noted the sound of shuffling with dismay.

His hand was ghosting over your shoulder in moments, "If not every night, then at least for tonight could you stay? What would the attendants think if you weren't in our marital chambers the night we were married?"

You shrugged his hand off aggressively, hand pushing open the doors to your room. "If you loved me you would let me leave despite what anyone else would think, Lord Kamisato."

Both of his hands returned to both of your shoulders, fingers digging into the thin fabric. "Then would you let me be selfish and indulge me? I want to sleep next to my husband tonight."

"You keep calling me your husband. We may be married but I don't love you, can you respect my wishes this once?" Your hand was like a constrictor around his wrist, tugging his greedy palms off of you. You tried to erase the sight of your wedding band glinting in the low light as you did so.

"You can ask for anything else, but this is something I'm not willing to compromise on." He didn't let up, your fist still wrapped around his arm. "We are married, not only is it improper for you to sleep anywhere else, it's especially improper for you to leave on the night of the wedding. We still haven't fulfilled all of our obligations to officiate the marriage-"

"For her excellency's sake, get your hands off of me!" You cursed, all but shoving him away. "You are lucky I was raised a man of honor or you wouldn't be getting anything out of me, you greedy snake."

He returned your anger with venom of his own, "And what, pray tell, do you mean by that?"

You occupied yourself with properly tying on your Yukata, "You are lucky I choose to be faithful to you, to forsake all others, should you have picked any other unlucky victim they would most likely be running off with their own mistress-"

"If you're still thinking about someone else when you put your ring on my finger, you clearly aren't a man of honor!" He bit back.

You narrowed your eyes at him, tightening the knot on your clothing. "You are so incredibly lucky that Kazuha didn't deserve to be some mistress. He deserves so much more than to be some dirty little secret I kept in my pocket for the rest of his life-"

Baby blue seemed to pierce through your defenses, the clear hurt, but also vindictive anger shining pure and unadulterated back at you. "I am the one that you married, and yet all you think about is him. If you think doing the bare minimum of not inviting someone into our bed is being a man of honor, you are sorely mistaken."

You finally turned your full attention to him, ignoring your need to leave the room as quickly as possible by this point, "What more do you think you're entitled to?!" As quickly as the words tumbled out of your mouth, you shook your head, realizing you'd stepped right into his trap. "Forget it, don't disturb me again. I'm leaving."

"I wanted to have a real marriage!" He all but screamed, frustrated tears brewing in his eyes, "I wanted to carry out all the traditional rituals of newly weds. I wanted to fall asleep listening to the sound of your heart, I wanted you to treat me like more than some kind of villain-"

You sucked in a harsh breath, "You're sorely mistaken if you think a ceremony and a ring would erase everything you've-"

"For fuck's sake, I wanted to feel like you loved me again." His tears streamed down his cheeks, "I wanted to feel you hold me underneath the moonlight like lovers do in all those silly light novels you made me read, I wanted to go to sleep surrounded by the knowledge that I was married to the love of my life."

Your jaw hung, slack at his confession. "You can't possibly mean-"

His hands were balled into fists at his sides, "Yes," he breathed through the quake of his voice, "I wanted to consummate the marriage tonight. I thought at the very least you'd want to get it over with."

You stared at him in utter disbelief, abject horror written all over your features. To think he would demand something so intimate out of you without considering your feelings was another level of detached from reality you had the inability to understand. You shook your head, opting not to respond.

His voice came out like a whisper, "Am I really so repulsive to you? I was rather sought after when I was a bachelor. If nothing else, I'm attractive. Do you hate me so much you couldn't put it aside for one night just to fulfill the obligations of a real marriage?"

"Don't talk to me, Ayato." You turned your back on him for the last time that night, finally stepping out of the room and closing the door behind you.

Your eyes shot up when the door to your office opened.

You hadn't been expecting any visitors today, so imagine your dismay when your husband walked through the door. In all of his well-maintained, elegant glory, there was a small smile stretching across his cheeks.

It had been a few months since your wedding, since then, you also had not slept in the same bed, eaten any meals together, nor did you take particular interest in the innerworkings of the Yashiro Commission in its entirety. No, you largely kept away from anything that had anything to do with Ayato. You were still nice to everyone else in the house though. After all, you hadn't been raised in a barn. You were a proud heir to a business that reached far and wide, you kept your manners in tact no matter the situation.

Usually, your day consisted of waking up at the very crack of dawn, back on fire. You slept in your study on the floor with a blanket, much to the dismay of Thoma. He had come to take care of you just as much as he took care of Ayato and Ayaka, viewing you as an extension of the family. Despite all of Thoma's begging, Ayato refused to purchase another futon for you, claiming you had a perfectly functional one you could be using. In your stubborn little argument, you too, refused to order yourself a futon.

Sure, your quality of sleep had declined, but you still had your pride in tact.

Despite being awake so early, you never caught Thoma off guard. In fact, he would be quick to enter the room with some tea and a fresh set of clothing he'd managed to weasel past a sleeping Ayato. Usually, if Thoma got caught trying to bringing you your clothing in the morning, Ayato would stop him and tell him your legs weren't broken and you could get your clothing yourself. You would drink your tea, Thoma would leave the room, and you'd dress yourself. Thoma would offer you breakfast, you'd take a small offering out of courtesy, and then you'd disappear off to your office to help run the business with your father.

In the afternoon, you would usually come home and find Ayaka. Seeing as she was your sister-in-law and someone you'd also grown up with, you enjoyed making pleasant conversation and catching up. As soon as Ayato returned from whatever duties had taken him away from the manor, you would slink off to your study. Thoma would bring you your dinner when you'd refuse to leave your brooding room, you'd eat. You'd change into the sleep attire you kept in your study, fall asleep on the ground, repeat cycle.

It was just like Ayato to throw a wrench into your perfectly crafted schedule.

"Commissioner... to what do I owe the pleasure?" the words flowed past your lips reluctantly, a special flavor of vitriol hand in hand with each syllable.

He seated himself in front of your desk, taking note of the seeming mountains of paperwork. The sight wasn't unfamiliar to him either. All the more reason for this visit to set alarm bells ringing in your mind. "Come now, that's hardly the way to address your husband, dearest."

You see now why he left the door to your office open. For fear of frightening your subordinates, you played along. "I mustn't forget my place, love, after all, we are in public."

Even though the word was strained, you could see his smile pull just the slightest bit up his cheeks upon hearing the pet name. "Who would dare question you returning you husband's affections? Do tell, I'll make sure the full might of the Yashiro Commission will come down upon them."

You gave a playful chuckle back at him, fully embracing the self-loathing that came with it as you pushed yourself up from your seated position. You took careful steps to the door, pretending you wanted to get some alone time with your so-called lover. "You spoil me."

"It is only natural, is it not?" He smiled, allowing himself to pretend this was the truth of his marriage. Oh, how he loved to make you squirm.

You couldn't shut the door fast enough.

Once, the two of you were guaranteed to be away from the prying eyes of others, you took your seat at your desk again. You picked up your brush, scanning over the writings in front of you. "Why are you here?"

"Is it so wrong for a man to want to visit his other half?"

You grit your teeth, doing your best to bite back the invectives you wanted to badly to hurl in his direction. "You certainly haven't visited me before."

He waved it off, "We've only been wed for a few months, surely you understand the difficulties of responsibility and obligation."

"Ayato," you warned, "-don't toy with me. I am well aware you have some kind of motive for pushing your work aside. Get on with it."

He pursed his lips, "If my motive was just to invite you out to lunch?"

You knuckles whitened in their grip on your brush, "Cute, now tell me why you're really here."

He sighed, readjusting his sitting position. "I suppose it can't be helped, you've known me for far too long."

For once, you agreed with him. "Indeed."

Ayato seemed to swallow spit down his throat, "I want a divorce."

You paused, brush stopping on your page. Your eyes met his, shocked. In all your time knowing him, he had never been one to surrender his prizes when he finally got his hands on them. This revelation only prompted one question to tumble past your lips. "What's the catch?"

"Divorce wouldn't look good on either of our families, but I'm afraid your family will bear the brunt of the backlash." His finger delicately traced circles on the top of your desk. "Failed engagements aren't the best omen to a family's prosperity. Not only this, a failed marriage that is revealed to have been begun on false pretenses would only further shatter the credibility of your family's business."

You cursed under your breath, pressing your free hand's fingertips on your temple. "State your demands."

He seemed almost giddy that his bluff had paid off. His face lit up with this boyish delight that had your stomach twisting in a woeful knot.

"Simple, I want to spend tomorrow night as lovers."

Despite your attempts to draw out your work for the day, ultimately you still had to return to the large estate that was now your home. Instead of taking a left turn in the long corridor to your study, you swallowed the spit in your mouth and walked further down the hall to what was technically supposed to be your bedroom.

You wanted to try and work as late as possible, hoping Ayato would already be asleep by the time you returned home. You could make the excuse that you were much too busy to consider being intimate, but much to your dismay, he had waited for you to get home. This was the first time in months you'd willingly entered the room, and yet, every inch of it was burned into your memory.

Right down to the man sitting awake and alert in the middle of the futon.

As soon as he heard the door open, his eyes were on you in an instant. Not even a second later, he was on his feet, slinking towards the doorway. You shoved the brewing grimace back down into your gut and away from actually making itself known on your features. Instead, you let your expression remain neutral as he rested his hands on the collar of your clothing. "You're here."

"Did you think I was lying?" You asked, carefully, letting your own hands rest on his wrists. Instead of doing what you usually did, prying his greedy mitts off of you, you settled for just loosely holding them in place. It wasn't lost on you that Ayato was pleasantly surprised by this change of pace.

"No, you've never been a liar, dearest." He let his pet name for you roll off his tongue like honey, yet it tasted as bitter as bile when it slithered through your ear canals. "But being told what will happen is much different to actually experiencing it."

There was a calm, placid smile on his face as he reached a hand up to stroke the side of your face lovingly. He was acting as though his doting husband had come back from war, not his prisoner finally ending his little strike and returning to his little prison cell. You hadn't had any physical contact like this in months, you really hadn't realized how much you missed it. You let your eyes close and your face lean into his palm with a tired sigh.

He was practically exploding with a twisted sense of triumph while he observed. It had been so long since you had so much as looked at him. Now, you were letting him touch you, willingly. His voice came out hushed, just barely ghosting through the air. It seemed as though he hadn't wanted to ruin the moment by pressing you further, "Do you want to do this tonight? I wouldn't mind going to sleep and trying another time as long as you promise to stay here more often."

You hummed, shaking your head, "I made a promise to you, Ayato. I don't go back on my promises."

His breath hitched in his throat when you gently peeled his hand off your cheek and pressed a soft kiss to his wrist. He called your name quietly, almost as if urging you to reconsider. You wondered if it was for your sake or his own.

You didn't want to hear anymore of his protests or his complaints, so you leaned down just enough to be eye to eye with him. "Can I kiss you?"

He didn't respond verbally, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose and nodding his head quickly.

You pressed an innocent kiss to his lips, waiting a moment before pressing another one in the same spot. You lingered, noting the barely noticeable hum from your husband's throat. Your hands came to rest on his hips, carefully peeling your lips open and waiting for him to follow suit.

He was quick to take the hint, deepening the kiss and tilting his head to the side. It turned heated rather soon after, starting with a tentative swipe of your tongue against his. He rewarded you with a moan, his mouth opening wider to accommodate anything you were willing to give him.

Before you knew it, the two of you were staggering towards the futon, intertwined in one another's arms. His palm was pressing against your flaccid dick, trying to get a reaction out of you. You, on the other hand, had your grip on his hips, squeezing his love handles every now and then as encouragement or affirmation. You weren't a half-hearted lover, if you planned on doing something, you followed through to the best of your ability.

Ultimately, you came to sit on the edge of the bed, Ayato kneeled between your legs. His face was red, breathing heavily and panting. His eyes screamed with desire and twisted with passion. His own arousal was clearly between his legs, much easier to see with the thin material of his sleepwear. Still, he insisted on paying attention to you before himself.

He rested his head on the inside of your thigh, submissive and demure. You did your best to push his misdeeds out of your mind, focusing on having an attractive man's attention all to yourself. More than eager to please, he positively drank in your attention, hands coming up to pull at your waistband.

He pulled it down just enough to expose your erection to the cold air, you swallowed the hiss that threatened to burst past your lips and instead focused on brushing his hair behind his ear. You watched the pleasant shudder run through his body, his desperate hands coming to wrap around your length.

He pressed a soft kiss to the head of it, licking across the tip and paying special attention to the slit. You let out a grunt of approval, hand moving from behind his ear to tangle itself into more of his baby blue hair. His cheeks flushed an even darker blood red as he kissed the side of it this time.

"Let me take care of you tonight, darling. You've been so good to me today," he practically begged. He waited for your affirmation, needy for your encouragement. You nodded absentmindedly, eyes half-lidded as you stared down at him.

He practically moaned when he first took your cock into his mouth, the vibrations sending a pleasurable tingle up your spine. You shuddered under his attention, watching each inch disappear past his lips until he stopped abruptly and gagged. The spasm of his throat elicited another groan out of you, your eyes closing to properly register the delectable debauched feeling.

He lifted up off your dick to take a deep breath before going back down again. It was better the second time around, having the flat of his tongue caress the underside of your length. He let a good amount of saliva dribble past his lips and slide down the shaft. He used it as a lubricant as he worked to stroke what he couldn't immediately fit in his mouth. You bit your lip at the pleasant sensations.

He started to bob his head up and down slowly, most likely testing out the feeling for himself before fully putting all of his effort into it. You leaned back further onto the futon, bracing yourself on the hand that wasn't busying itself with combing through his hair. You let yourself be lost in the sensations and lewd noises of saliva and gagging. Your eyes fluttering shut as a few groans escaped your lips.

He pulled off of your length with another pornographic noise, trying to catch his breath. "Honey, please look at me." His hands continued to stroke languidly up and down as he caught his breath. "I want to see your reactions, knowing it's your husband that's making you feel good." He pressed his cheek onto the inside of your thigh again, a cheeky smile carved into his cheeks.

You opened your eyes to peer down at him, tensing your jaw as he used his thumb to toy with your slit. Even if you didn't want to admit it, you kind of had to say he knew exactly what to do when it came to handling your sex.

His smile stretched further, a beautifully sinful glaze darkening his irises as he stared into your eyes. You felt pathetic for putting your dignity aside for something as small as carnal pleasure but you couldn't stop yourself from asking him,

"Are you going to keep going?"

His eyes were on you like a starved man presented with a gourmet, luxury, full-course meal. You almost felt like you were the one getting deflowered, the one that was about to be ravaged.

Ayato laid beneath you on the futon, his appearance disheveled and the front of his yukata open so he was laid completely bare for you to see. Desire fermented in his core, and you could see it in the way his usually pale skin was painted a soft pink hue, slick with sweat. The two of you had barely done anything, and yet, he was practically begging you to continue with the way he looked into your eyes.

His fingers tugged impatiently at your own clothing, just about drooling as he watched you shed each and every layer. You leaned forward, looming over him as you indulged him with another open-mouthed kiss. His eyes and your own fluttered shut as your fingertips ghosted its way down his abdomen.

He whined into your liplock when you hands stopped just short of his ass, coming to rest on his hips. You didn't immediately give into his greedy demands to keep going, opting to give yourself a moment to steel yourself for whatever would come after this. His arms gingerly snaked their way over your shoulders and curved around your neck. One of his hands came upward to play with your hair.

Finally, you continued to trail your soft touches further down, stopping to knead the fat of his ass before continuing even lower. He positively blossomed at your careful and loving attention, vocal in his satisfaction with each and every movement you made. You pulled away from the kiss, offering him two fingers pressed against his bottom lip.

Wordlessly, he pushed your hand away, bashfully avoiding eye contact and looking down towards where the two of you would be connected momentarily. Following his gaze, your eyes widened as you realized he was already prepped beforehand.

Even if you had treated him like porcelain up until now, it didn't change the fact there was a hatred for him that took hold in your gut. You pressed another soft kiss to the side of his neck before gingerly taking the skin between your teeth.

Underneath you, he let out a sweet moan, his hand pulling at the hair on the back of your head out of reflex. You grunted against his skin. Freeing his neck from your canines. "I didn't know I married such a whore."

A whimper sounded from the back of his throat, something that'd been meant to degrade him only seemed to deliver blood rushing to his dick. It twitched against your stomach, his thighs trying to rub together despite both of your knees pinning them open.

Despite the lack of warning, you lined yourself up to his entrance and slammed yourself in to the hilt with a considerable amount of force. You relished in his choked scream as his fist nearly tore a chunk of hair from your scalp. "W-Wait, dear-"

You drew your hips back again, bucking them forward into his perineum again. He cut himself off with a squeal when you brushed past his prostate for the second time. He looked up at you drearily, confused. He went to open his mouth again, to beg you to be gentle or to go slower. But you beat him to it,

"If you want to act like a needy whore, you'll be treated like one, dear husband."

He went to protest, but he was cut off with another harsh thrust that sent him further into the futon. He whimpered pathetically as he squirmed under your gaze. He might have gotten a little carried away before you'd gotten home, but he hadn't known you'd react to it so extremely. Once he'd finally learned to keep his mouth shut, you rewarded him with another earth-shattering movement of your hips.

His thighs tried to squeeze together, but your hips were in the way. It left him largely defenseless from your onslaught on his prostate. He took in a deep breath that was promptly knocked out of him as you set a decently quick pace to start off with.

Soon enough, the room was filled with the sound of whorish whining as you battered his insides with your cock. The force of your thrusts creating a lump on his toned stomach muscles, you raked in a twisted satisfaction from his suffering as he tried desperately to adjust to the abrupt change to pace.

He called your name, hiccupping through it, "Slower- ahn~ Sl-Slower, please- hn~ I beg of yooUu-"

You didn't respond to him, ignoring him entirely as you trailed your mouth to his collarbones. You bit down harshly on one of them, sadistically aroused by the way his back arched underneath you. He keened at the abuse, eyes shutting as he allowed himself to be lost in the rhythm of your hips.

The fingers previously tangled in your hair moved to scratching down your neck with his semi-blunt fingernails. You hissed at the raised red marks that followed behind his desperate movements. While you certainly enjoyed putting him in a compromising position, you didn't care as much when he was the one inflicting pain on you.

Deciding to return his favor again, you let him believe you were going to be a little more gentle. Your hips slowed down momentarily as you trailed little butterfly kisses up the side of his neck. You allowed yourself to be proud of the explosive shiver that burst through his nervous system, even more excited to see what his next reaction would be.

You sucked a light red mark into his jawline before grinding the skin between your teeth, speeding up your hips exponentially. There was a pleasant satisfaction that settled over your body as the one you were fucking into the bed seized up in an silent scream. His back arched into a beautiful curve, almost as though trying to run from the hand pressed against the small of his back, but begging for more as it pressed into your chest.

A few short seconds later, his pitchy moan ripped through the air as his legs pulled up closer to his chest and his toes curled. However, you didn't let up, only further fueled on by his intense reaction. If he thought you were going as fast as you could before, he was sorely mistaken as you picked up the pace once again.

You used the hand on his back to push him into your own muscular chest, the bump on his stomach protruding not only from his abdomen muscles, but now having the added pressure of your stomach on top of it. His own cock was pressed between your two bodies, the sweat sticking to your skin making the slide comfortable.

It wasn't long before Ayato's nails raked down your back one more time and his squeals echoed through the room. "Cu-Cumming- ouh~ ouh~ i'm cumming, i'm cummingi'mcumming-"

His eyes crossed before rolling into the back of his skull, his lips parting in another shriek before coating both of your stomachs in his spend.

Despite enjoying watching him suffer, you slowed your hips and rocked him through his high tenderly. His arms dropped from around your neck, resting his forearm over his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. He shuddered as you continued to slowly move, the sweet burn of overstimulation coursing through his entire body like some kind of poison.

"D-Darling, I just came- mmhh~ p-please, spare meee~"

You gently grasped his wrist to pull his arm away from his face. Despite the sweet smile on your features, he could tell from the wicked glee swirling in your pupils that you had no intention to allow him a moment to rest.

You tenderly brushed your lips over the pulse point on his wrist, watching him shiver as you continued to slowly move your hips. "Ah, but sweetheart, you were the one begging me to spend the night together as lovers." You intertwined your fingers with his as you gave a light-hearted chuckle,

"I'm simply giving you what you want."

"D-DeArehest- Ahnnn~"

Ayato couldn't do anything besides pathetical rest his upper half against the soft futon as you basically fucked the daylights out of him. His eyes had long rolled up into the back of his head, the number of times he'd spilled across the bedspread had gone uncounted past the second. Having already been filled up once, the second round of sex was arguably even more torturous as the overstimulation curling outwards from his gut turned from pleasant tingling all over the body to violent bursts coursing through his nerves.

In response to Ayato's pathetic call for your attention, you grabbed a fistful of his silvery blue hair, pulling him off of the mattress to preserve his scalp. He mewled lewdly at the sudden pain, the shame of being such a masochist pooling in the bottom of his gut.

Teasingly, you answered from behind him, continuing to pound his now limp body into the mattress. "Yes, my treasured husband?" You'd figured out you'd rather liked doggystyle, specifically because Ayato no longer had the comfort of kisses or reassuring looks from you.

Your voice had a singy-songy twang to it, obviously very pleased with the state you'd demoted him down to. His eyes were laced with tears, drool streaming down his chin with another anguished moan escaping past his abused, swollen lips. The crafty, steadfast Yashiro Commissioner turned to a pathetic, needy whore in bed. It was enough to make anyone at least a little prideful.

"P-pleaheeaseeee no mooohreeeee, mmmmhhh~"

His hands fisted the soft blankets underneath him, his voice pitifully shaky, slurred, and drawn out. His thighs trembled with each powerful thrust aimed at his rear, his arms shook and buckled from the overwhelming pleasure surging through his bloodstream. More tears streamed from his eyes as you continued to tug at his beautiful blue locks.

You clicked your tongue at him, letting go of his hair to wind your arm back before bringing your palm down across the fat of his ass. "How ungrateful, Ayato-" you grunted when he subconsciously clenched down on your length, "Your dearest has been treating you so well all night and your only thought is to be unappreciative?"

He sobbed pathetically into the pillow he'd been dropped back onto, his mind reeling in the waves of pleasure crashing through his body with each and every magical piston of your equally magical dick. "I-I'm shorrryyy- ouh~"

Your hand came down on his ass again, hissing when he tightened around you. "I should teach you how to properly appreciate when I spoil you like this."

Despite the burn of overstimulation streaking through his gut, he nodded his head frantically against the pillow, desperately seeking your validation even in what could be considered one of his weakest moments. Bent over with his ass in the air, spurting uselessly from his cock while becoming more and more aroused with each punishing spank delivered by his husband's hand.

Your pace picked up once again as the groveling mess that was your husband took its toll on you. You could feel your orgasm approaching, approaching quickly. You groaned as you pressed your chest against his arched back. "You begged me so nicely to cum inside earlier, how about you make it up to me by doing it again? Hm? You can do that for me, can't you beloved?"

He nodded against the pillow. You chuckled, grabbing him by the hair again, pulling him to be supporting himself on his palms again, his squeaks and pleas no longer muffled by the futon. It took him a few moments to full compose himself, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sudden change of pace and position.

One hand pulling his hair, your other wrapped around his neck carefully, giving it a small warning squeeze. He keened under the added pressure, his dick throbbing painfully hard once again, smacking against his stomach.

"Pleasepleaseplease- ahahn~ come inside of me darlIHing~" He choked on his next words as your fist tightened around his trachea. He could feel himself grow lightheaded, both from the lack of oxygen, but also the mounting arousal that came with the exhilaration of knowing how much power you held over him.

The moment you eased up on the pressure, he was begging again, much more eager to keep going with your encouragement. He babbled on, lacking the ability to care less about who could hear their beloved Lord Kamisato begging for his husband's cum while being choked and spanked.

"I nehEeed your cum i- OUh~ insiHide~," With another light squeeze of his throat, he continued to spew more and more pleas. "B-Breed me pleHEasee~ Hah~ I want t-to be fuhull with y-yoUhour- Nghah~ chiHIldreennnn~"

You groaned as you finally bottomed out in him for a second time, spilling inside of him once again as he shrieked in euphoria.

When you let go of him, his front half fell into the futon, murmurs and mumbles of contentment and gratitude gushing past his lips like a broken dam. His hips only really remained upright because you were still sheathed inside.

His thighs shook like a leaf, terribly unstable as you attempted to pull out. Despite all their trembling, the moment you tried to disconnect, his hips pushed backwards into yours with a whimper.

Your features gave way to a smug grin, reaching down and lacing his fingers with yours against the pillows. "Do you not want me to pull out, Ayato?"

He sleepily shook his head, still slumped ass up face down.

"You might get a stomachache in the morning, silly boy."

He flushed a little the more you teased him, shaking his head again. He moved your hand shakily to his cheek, pressing a kiss onto each of your knuckles.

You chuckled, taking an especially excessive pleasure in watching his fucked out, blissed actions.

You had been the one to do this to him.

Even with all the power he held over you, you could still do this to him.

Perhaps...

...

...Perhaps knowing this would make your marriage to Kamisato Ayato just a little bit easier.

there's a note on the side of the phone booth, read it?

" happy gay month to the loml <3 "

hey guys i'm back literally two days later with another 7.5k words smut

I PROMISE I HAVE A LIFE THIS ISN'T THE ONLY THING I DO EVER

i just have too much free time rn

anyways, feel free to submit any requests via my inbox or the post I provided, they're always open and welcome since I'm working on pushing myself out of my writing comfort zone!!

BTW thank you guys so much for your support on the dan heng heat fic i post like 2 days ago???? there's almost 500 notes and i have so many new followers???? Thank you so much?????

i'm really happy you guys enjoy my writing cause I've been a tumblr lurker for a while and I only really made this account to get my writing ideas out, I'm happy to see that it was worth it!!

- love, operator t-19

[likegoldintheair]

Buck sighs into the barely there space between them, a small content thing, and burrows himself deeper into the soft fabric of Tommy's bed. It's one of those rare days where they're both off work at the same time. No on-calls or long shifts waiting around the corner. The next twenty-four hours are theirs for the taking, free to do whatever they want with. Buck, at least, plans to stay in this bed for as long as he possibly can. He's all tangled up with Tommy, from head to toe, to the point where he barely knows where he ends and Tommy begins. Everything around him feels soft and warm and safe.

"I missed you, y'know."

It's more a whisper than anything else, but Buck knows Tommy's heard him by the way his fingers pauses momentarily on his back, before continuing to draw lazy patterns up and down his spine.

"I missed you, too." Tommy replies, voice still laced with sleep, deep and raspy. "I missed you a lot, even though we did just see each other two days ago."

"Two long days." Buck points out, his pout turning into a smile when he hears Tommy laugh. "Two excruciatingly long days."

"Yeah, they were long, weren't they." Tommy agrees, flattening his hand against Buck's back and letting it rest there between his shoulder blades. His voice is softer, sadder almost, when he continues, "they always seem longer when you're not here."

Buck's heart aches at that because he knows. He knows, and he feels it, too. He doesn't say anything, though, chooses instead to press a gentle kiss onto Tommy's shoulder, hopes it conveys everything he can't quite put into words. Another sigh escapes him when he feels Tommy dip down to press a kiss of his own to the top of his head. They stay like that for a while, content in simply existing in the same room, breathing the same air. It's a luxury none of them take for granted.

"You know," Buck says eventually, an idea he's been toying with for a while now, making itself known again and spilling out of his mouth within seconds. "I-I could always move in. Here, I mean, with you."

"Evan."

"I could, though." Buck says again, rearranging himself so that he's resting on his elbow, looking down at Tommy. "I'm already here more than I'm at the loft, a-and most of my clothes are here, anyway."

Tommy just... looks at him, like he can't quite believe this is real. Blinks, then swallows, then blinks again. Buck distantly wonders if maybe he's rushing things, if this is going too fast, but then Tommy's face lights up; eyes crinkling and nose scrunching from how wide he's smiling. He looks... adorable, yes, but also so incredibly beautiful. Buck loves him.

"So," Buck says, a little bit more confident now, biting down on his own smile. "Is that a yes?"

Tommy's smile softens at that, eyes warm as his hand moves from Buck's back up towards his neck, the other one coming up to cradle Buck's jaw. Then, he pulls Buck down towards him, leaning up to meet him halfway. Buck absolutely melts against him, reveling in the way Tommy guides him into one kiss after another, before breaking apart and pressing their foreheads together.

"Of course," Tommy breathes, pulling Buck impossibly closer, pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth. Buck moves his hand until it rest on Tommy's chest, feels his heart under the palm of his hand, beating steadily as he continues, "Of course it's a yes."

[adelheidvonschicksal]

⋆｡°✩ DARLING, DON'T BE AFRAID

Summary: Despite living with Xavier for the past few weeks, you still haven't taken the plunge to see if all this time together make you anything more than roommates especially when he disappears again in the middle of the night. Determined, you decide to question him on where his feelings lie. You just never thought a simple kiss on the cheek was the only push needed.

Pairing: Xavier x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: Roommates AU, Vanilla Smut (A lot of it. Like 7k words of smut), Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Emotional Sex

Word Count: 12,000~

Note: Sequel to Do Roommates Sleep Together. This part can be read as a standalone. So not necessary to read part one but it adds more context.

AO3 Link

You make a final decisive pull of the trigger. A loud pang resonates in the air and smoke spirals off the barrel. The Wanderer disappears in a wisp of debris and dust that is quickly caught in the wind.

Xavier stands a few feet in front of you. His sword twirls with one final arc of light illuminating behind the sharpened tip before it dematerializes in his hand.  You’re oblivious to the way his eyes search and find you on instinct as you run eager fingertips on the warm barrel of your pistol. 

“Mission completed. We should report back.”

You raise your head to meet his gaze while your gloved fingers remain faithfully on your weapon. The adrenaline from a successful mission is still surging through you.

“I want to test out my guns some more.”

His eyes soften at your response, but the weight of his gaze is still heavy as he walks towards you and places his hand on your head. 

“There will be more Wanderers tomorrow,” he murmurs. His thumb gently brushes your forehead before his hand swoops back over your hair. Though your hands were still itching for another battle, your mind was weak to the calmness of his tone, like the slow tumble of waves on the shore, as he coaxes your head back to look at him more directly. “Let’s go home.”

This time you do not protest. Even if you did, what could you possibly say? 

Your aggression relaxes along with your shoulders, allowing you to give in to his request with a quick holstering of your twin guns. 

You return to headquarters and give your mission report to Jenna – pausing only to poke fun when she mentions how much Xavier’s reporting time has improved since the two of you became partners – then you start on the way home with the sun kissing at your back.

Laughter fills the air on the streets. Immediately, you feel warm inside. It was only thanks to the work you do every day that citizens could enjoy this peaceful dusk without fear of monsters scrambling to destroy the city like so many years ago. 

It’s rewarding to know you hold some small part in the safety of the city after almost dying in the catastrophe as a child. You breathed it in fully, letting joy fill your lungs as you savor the calm moment. The emotion is only highlighted by the fact that when you look to your side, you can see Xavier there, putting weight to the empty space left in the wake of your family’s death. 

Walking home together in the past was a random occurrence, happening whenever your busy schedules after missions aligned. As freshly cemented roommates, it was almost a given you’d walk home together now. Not just to the apartment complex, but to an actual shared home. 

This path you go along every day has become special in that time. It’s full of promises, the kind you could only wish for on snowy New Year's evenings as you tied red ribbons to the shrine gate and prayed for good things to happen in your life. Not a lot of those wishes came true but Xavier did. 

In that way, you were a fortunate person. 

It was only your guess if he felt the same. You want to ask him. Unlike when you’re fighting Wanderers, you’re not brave when it comes to Xavier - a part of you prefers to leave things between you unsaid. It’s safer that way as you can keep living in a beautiful world of your own illusions. 

Therefore, you’re unable to help yourself. Pinching the sleeve of his uniform, you tug on it gently to gain his attention; Xavier looks at you with glossy glazed eyes. He’s always so sluggish after missions. His steps slow and methodical, like a robot, as he barely manages to straighten his spine and raise his head.

“Chin up, Xavier. We’re almost there.”

“I’m exhausted,” he says. 

You don’t need to hear him say it to understand. You think you’ve become good at reading his body language by now. Donning a sympathetic smile, you shift your hand, aiming for a lower target, and entwine your fingers with his under the guise of leading him faster.

“My next solution is carrying you by the way.”

A smile cracks on his face, impossibly light as his gaze drifts to the hold you have on his hand. “I don’t think you could carry me.”

“You dare doubt me?” Truth be told, he was right. He was tall and muscular and much thicker under that uniform than he looked. He would probably crush you under his weight if you tried to lift him. Despite how improper it was to think, you wouldn’t mind if he wanted to place his weight on top of you in another way. You tick up the corner of your lips into a surprisingly innocent smile opposite of the images in your imagination as you flash your bicep to him. “I’m very strong.”

“I think it would make more sense if I carried you.”

“I can walk.”

“I don’t see why that matters,” he says with a yawn, and you smile.

“Are you sure you won’t drop me?”

“If it’s a choice between falling asleep and dropping you then I’ll definitely stay awake. Otherwise, you might end up carrying me after all,” he says. Xavier always manages to be unfailingly charming. Given the mystery of his past and the way he carries himself, you often question exactly what kind of upbringing he had. You almost ask but your interrogation doesn’t have the chance to plant seeds when he stops in front of you and kneels. 

You thought he was joking when he said he’d carry you home but that doesn’t stop you from wrapping your arms over his broad shoulders and letting him scoop your legs up around his solid waistline. 

His clasp on the back of your thighs makes you shiver. You feel like a touch-starved virgin that the simple strength of his hands over the thickness of your pants incited such a reaction out of you, so you bury your burning face against the back of his neck. 

“Are you alright?” he asks.

Xavier must feel your hair against his neck, and you use the fact he can’t see your face to your advantage as you nod against his nape.

“Just hungry.”

For his part, Xavier doesn’t question your sudden hunger. Instead, he asks what you’re in the mood for and starts to list the restaurants that you pass on the way to the apartment complex.

You lay your cheek against him, watching the many buildings pass you by until you point out one you don’t recognize, flashing with many signs about a grand opening.

“How about that one?” you ask.

Xavier chuckles, continuing on in his steps past the building in question. “It’s not that great.”

“How do you know?”

“I tried them out.”

You squeeze into his shoulders, pushing off of them in a childlike manner and an even more dramatic gasp. “Without me?”

“I was going to bring you something back, but they weren’t very tasty. I like your cooking a lot more.”

You know he can’t see you, but you puff out your cheeks anyway. You wrap your arms tightly around him again, willing your heart not to skip when his back tenses as your chest compresses against him.  

“Are you asking me to cook dinner for you? I’m quite exhausted after all that running around,” you tell him sarcastically. 

He accidentally makes you regret your teasing when he agrees with a compassionate offer, “I’ll cook for you today.”

Hearing the word cook from his mouth makes your stomach sour. If there’s one thing after all these months you learned, it’s that Xavier is a…creative cook to put it gently. Or rather, he has zero cooking ability if it involves electricity. You didn’t mind. The two of you make it work with you doing most of the cooking and him cleaning up after, at your own behest, because if he had his way, he’d be in the kitchen much more often. 

“On second thought, I’ll cook.”

“You still don’t trust me,” he says with a sigh. Guilt tingles through you. However, your continued survival outweighs the guilt that the memory of his puppy eyes can draw out of you. “I’ll handle the cold stuff, and I’ll leave the meat to you.”

“Deal,” you say, nuzzling your head against his neck. 

When you get home, the night pans out like it always does. The two of you take turns in the shower with dinner being cooked shortly after, and the human garbage disposal known as your roommate leaves very little work for you to do once all is said and done. 

You decide to start on the last of chores for today while Xavier washes the dishes. It’s routine to check the plants before going to bed as the many potted flowers were like your own children after you spent so many hours tending to them, finding the perfect ratio of nutrients and water to keep them thriving. 

It is also routine to hunt down the birds so lovingly named Fatso and Alarm Clock by the sleepy man of the house to give them some of the seeds and nuts you regularly brought home from the store. You told Xavier that happy birds would stop eating his strawberries when in reality you liked to spoil them. 

So, you spread out the seeds on the ground for them, leaving them there for later. 

“If you feed them, they’ll never leave.”

You can’t help the laugh that leaves you. As much as he complains about the birds, you think, if his constant curiosity about the birds’ day-to-day lives was anything to go by, that he’d miss the two fluffy creatures if they were to ever find new nesting grounds. You turn back to the balcony door with a cheeky grin. “I have experience with things that don’t leave after you feed them. You enjoyed dinner a little too much.”

It’s hard to see in the fading light but Xavier blushes and brings a shy grip to the back of his neck. “Last I checked you moved in with me.”

That silences you. There’s no denying his observation, and you fail to notice him getting closer until he reaches his hand out to help you up. You willingly reach out, hand sinking into his touch as he lifts you to your feet. 

The coolness of your palms touching slowly births a lingering warmth. The soft squeeze around your hand makes it hard to let him go but eventually you must. Otherwise, you might say things that are better kept to yourself as you walk back into the house and close the sliding door behind you. 

With a pounding heart, you retire to your room early.

This room is a little different from the master room at your old apartment. The wall color is a little different brighter and it’s smaller. Luckily, you made the space work pretty easily by migrating half your plushie collection into Xavier’s room, checking like a dutiful mother to make sure he was treating them right and placing them with love should they roll off his dresser.  Sighing, you change into slightly more comfortable clothes, choosing a random pair of soft shorts and a tank top to wear before climbing into bed. It’s ten when you finally let your eyes slip shut, and it's around eleven you feel someone touching you.

Your eyelids are surprisingly heavy; you can barely pry them open enough to see the wisp of grey-brown hair shadowing medium-blue eyes. You don’t protest as you feel his fingertips brush along your waist or when his knee digs into the mattress, sinking you towards his weight.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he wants. You raise your arm enough to let your fingertips greet the curve of his chin in silent acceptance. Slowly, you drop your hand and squeeze his bicep. Like a good little soldier, he follows the order to fall into the bed with you. 

The most comfortable position is to slot your arm on top of his as he hugs your waist, props his leg on top of yours, and spoons your back. There’s absolutely zero space between your lower halves; and if he notices how you, with a small amount of shame, subtly shift and push yourself back on him a little more, he doesn’t say as he lolls his head against the curve of your neck while his incredibly light exhaling on your skin comforts you after a long day. 

With a flutter of your eyelids, you slowly slip back into sleep with the happiness that comes with being roommates with your crush. 

It’s times like these that make you think maybe he loves you. It’s also times like these that make you forget that despite all of the endearing things about him and despite how much you care about him, you don’t truly know a lot about him.

Xavier has always been a man with a lot of secrets. You’ve known this since you first met him asleep in the forest. It’s true that you once accepted the fact you’d never learn all his secrets but that was before whatever this abnormal relationship that the two of you found yourself in. 

Even after living together for more than two months now, you still had no idea where he would go when he would sneak off in the middle of the night. You didn’t question where he goes anymore, you found that he wouldn’t give you a straight answer to save his life. You merely stayed up until you heard the sound of the door opening or the warped echo of air being sucked into a vacuum, indicating he teleported inside. 

So, when you wake up at two in the morning, finding yourself alone and the side of the bed where he laid mere hours ago already cold, you’re not surprised.

Getting out of bed, you slip on your slippers and drag your feet to the balcony. It’s a familiar situation when you collapse into the swing chair, with nothing but the cold and the chirping of the birds to keep you company until he undoubtedly returns with his body hosting a family of fresh wounds.

It’s incredibly frustrating because you love him and seeing him hurt, without you having been there to prevent it, drives you crazy. You wonder why he won’t tell you, and your heart sinks, as quickly as a stone cast in a lake, with the idea that maybe you were the only one thinking that your relationship meant more than it did. Because even after all this time, you still aren’t close to him in the way you want. 

Clenching your fists, you shove your eyes against them. It was all so infuriating when he ran off to fight Wanderers or whoever and left you all alone to overthink and worry about him like some helpless house plant. It was enough to make you want to cry as the strange foreboding sense of losing him begins to echo inside of you, making you nauseous.                                                                                 There’s only one way to get rid of this feeling. Taking in a deep breath, you settle to give him a piece of your mind about sneaking off so much and also to bite the bullet to confess your feelings. 

It was only a matter of waiting for him to actually return home and to get your heightened nerves to stop firing in every direction in the meantime. 

By the time you heard the door to the apartment creaking open, you’d nearly fallen asleep in the wicker swing chair. You swallow down the bitter taste of fear, ignoring the tumultuous waves it makes when it hits your stomach. You’d never get anywhere if you didn’t face him. 

Carefully, you hop up from your seat and make slow strides into the apartment. It’s still dark in the house; you hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights earlier. Yet Xavier carries a lightness around him, mostly imagined by yourself, that makes him easy to spot in the darkness. 

For a moment, things seem normal as he takes a few stiff steps forward. Suddenly, he falls forward, the white of his uniform nearly a blur with how fast he collapses onto the sofa, but it is nothing compared to the speed at which you rush to his side. 

You call his name, press two fingers to his throat, and let your eyes slip closed with a desperate concentration as you search for his pulse behind the blaring red of his collar. 

It’s a gradual pace, averaging twenty beats a minute and slowly rising. For anyone else, you’d immediately rush them to the hospital. For Xavier, that number is a relief. 

You hold your hand to your pounding heart, practicing deep measured inhales to calm it. It appears he fell asleep as soon as he entered the room, with only enough awareness to kick off his shoes at the door. 

It looks like your lecture will have to be postponed for another day. 

You’re thankful for all the training you had to take to become a hunter because it takes an enormous amount of effort to throw one of his arms over your shoulders and drag him to his bedroom. You make a mental note to never let him question your ability to carry him again as you sit him on the bed and shuffle off his uniform jacket, leaving him only in his pants. 

In a tender motion, you gently cup his face and examine him. Dirt cakes his face; and when you brush it away, there’s a small cut on his cheek. It hits you again just how reckless and secretive he can be, echoing with a bitter thought that he didn’t bring you again. The only bright spot is the little cut is his only injury this time. 

Laying him on his back, you leave for only a moment to get a warm washcloth and an adhesive from the bathroom. It’s a blue band-aid with a cartoonish pink bunny on it, something a kid would love and has probably been collecting dust in the drawer longer than you’ve been alive. 

It takes all the seriousness out of your body when you return, clean his face off, and place the colorful bandage on his cheek. It’s hard to believe this narcoleptic pretty boy was the strongest member of the Hunters Association. 

“I didn’t think when we moved in together I was going to become a babysitter,” you commented with a little huff and poke of his cheek. “You’re terrible at taking care of yourself. Can’t cook. Can’t stay awake. Can’t tell someone when you’re going out. I bet you didn’t even lock the door when you came in. …What if a Wanderer floated in after you and trampled all the flowers, or did you just not want to leave any for me tomorrow?”

You know your complaints are falling on deaf ears as he cuddles up to his pillow without a care in the world. But if you didn’t complain, you’d get depressed instead. Dropping to your knees, you sit on the floor and prop your elbow on the bed to get a better look at him. 

He looks so peaceful.

There’s no tension, no crease to his expression. It’d be easy to mistake him for a normal young man if it weren’t for the strong humming of his Evol tickling at the wall of your resonance.

“I’ll let you sleep, but you’re getting it in the morning! I expect answers. Otherwise, I won’t cook breakfast for you,” you attempt to sound threatening in your words with every poke to his cheek a not-so-silent promise to follow through. “I’ll take my missions with the new recruit all the ladies at work gossip about. And the next time I get a snack shipment, I’m letting Jeremiah have first pick!”

With one last prod to his face and no reaction otherwise, you stop your demands and sit back on your legs. 

Bit by bit, you feel your energy dissolving. It’s no use. It’s all empty threats. You’ll probably not cook for a few days, eat in front of him too, at least until he gives you those puppy eyes, and you’ll fold just like origami paper. You’ll still save him the snack you know he likes even if you allow Jeremiah first pick of the rest. And you’d never be interested in the new recruit or anyone else. 

Xavier can be distant and formal. For others, his hyper-independence was evident. Taking on missions alone and avoiding group settings is just the way Xavier’s personality works. He’s reliable and gets along with everyone at a surface level and he’s known to go out of his way to help others without seeking validation for it so it never ruffled any feathers when he goes off on his own or rejects an invitation to drink with the others after work. 

They didn’t see. They didn’t see how easy it was to care about him. They appreciate him but they weren’t aware of how intensely and passionately he could feel when he unfurls that independent nature. How he always quietly adjusts his dominant foot to point your direction whenever a Wanderer appears. How his voice drops and his touch becomes the smallest bit more graceful and careful when he sees you upset. How sweetly he looks when he sleeps.

It makes your resolve crumble and your heart squeeze, something only he can do without even being awake to know it. 

“You’re lucky I like you,” you mumble to him. 

As you lean closer, you easily ignore the stirring in your gut that tells you to stop. 

The bandage is a little rough against your lips as you seize the chance to kiss him. It’s a short and small thing, much more delicate than your prodding from earlier because you want to indulge the romantic in you. You want him to somehow sense the feelings cultivated in your heart over the past few months though impossible when he’s asleep.

You don’t let it last long. Instead, the desperate urge to feel his heat against you spurs you to rest your forehead against his cheek. It’s warm and soft, and the faint scent of pine trees of the no-hunt zone fills your nose. You savor being this close to him, allowing yourself to indulge in it until the heat on your skin starts to match his, and you finally let him have peace for the night.

With no need to remain in his room, you stand and pivot towards the door, wondering how you’ll manage to grasp any form of sleep tonight. However, you don’t make it two steps before there’s a tug at your arm.

You yelp as you’re pulled towards the bed while the shock has you stumbling forward into it. The hand leaving your arm in favor of grasping around your wrist stops you from falling completely but your knees have already buckled. You’re left nearly a head under him when he finally swings his legs over the side of the bed and shifts into a full sitting position. This position is oddly familiar. When you uncertainly force your eyes up to meet his face, this vulnerable angle becomes unmistakable.  

His voice is husked and rasped from sleep, sending a chill up your spine when paired with the swirling shadows darkening his blue eyes under his hooded lids and dark lashes. That’s the look of a predator, of the association’s strongest hunter, and you face the inkling realization that you’re the prey. 

Nervously, you begin to divert your eyes. He takes a page out of your own playbook and reaches under your chin to guide your sight back to him as you fight not to whimper at the pressure of his thumb pushing down as if he wants to part your lips. It isn’t until now that you notice how close you are to his lap and how another few inches would drop you to your knees.

“Why worry about Wanderers following me home when you’re so much scarier.”

“What do you mean?” 

Memory has never been your friend. This though is the first time you’ve forgotten how to breathe when his fingers completely close around your wrist. His hold is firm, preventing you from wringing your way out of his grasp, but it doesn’t hurt.

He might as well take that grasp and use it to squeeze your heart instead when he brings your hand to his face. You’re unsure what he’s planning; the awkwardness of the situation makes your fingers straighten and twitch away as he holds your hand closer to his face. Sensing your trepidation, he closes the last of the distance instead by tilting his head into your hand with the same affection as always as he lets your fingertip brush against the silly little bunny bandage. 

The familiarity of the motion puts your heart a little more at ease but not enough to bring your breathing back to you as he mumbles, “I don’t remember giving you permission to kiss me.”

Your lips part with a silent puff while your brows push forward, highlighting the confusion in your mind onto your face. He takes advantage of the moment to nuzzle your hand. It’s a notion you can’t appreciate as his words finally sink into your mind and reform into a horrifying conclusion.

“…You were awake the whole time.”

He chuckles so easily at the dry peep that echoes from you, the rivet of that warm sound collects in your palm and makes your face scalding hot. You didn’t face a burning heat like this even when fighting one of those flame dragons. All the while, Xavier was laughing at you…

“Not the whole time.”

With your head catching up, you find enough of yourself again to actually glare at him and smack his shoulder. “That’s not the point!”

With another display of strength, he locks your other wrist, pulls you up, and then snatches you into him. Luckily, you’re able to flatten your palms against his chest to brace yourself. His heart as well as his face is unnervingly calm compared to your own organ that’s currently orchestrating its escape from your chest, battering your ribcage even harder as you unconsciously stretch your fingers over his naked skin. 

You don’t like this. This bullying, which you only describe as such because you can’t think of a word more fitting for the way he’s treating you, is too one-sided. 

“It was on the cheek,” you argue with a steeled voice. You fake the confidence to stare him back down, choosing to trade your determination to confess to him tonight in exchange for preserving your pride. “It was friendly.”

To your satisfaction, your declaration of war makes him the one to pause this time. His eyes widen and there’s a quiver in those waves of blue that he hides by glancing down and away. 

“…Is that what it was?”

You nod. “I wasn’t…going to do anything else.”

Xavier smiles, shaking his head, and there’s a new determination in his eyes that causes your teeth to clench down on the inside of your cheek as he leans closer. 

“In that case, is it okay to return the favor?”

He doesn’t give you the time to answer. He’s already closing the distance, his dark lashes already fluttering, and his lips already puckering to kiss you as you’re squeezed flushed against him, only your palms stopping your chest from colliding with his. 

“Wait!”

Hearing your disapproval, he pauses, but that cheeky grin still doesn’t dissipate. 

“What's wrong?” he asks with a sigh. You’re sure it’s not a true question. “Am I not allowed to give you a friendly kiss as well.”

The implications make your stomach twist while your thighs squeeze together pathetically with the sudden throbbing of arousal that spikes through you as you tumble further and further into this rabbit’s trap.

“I—that’s!”

“So, you were misbehaving,” he concludes from your sheepishness. “I guess that means I need to punish you instead.” He breaks his hold around one of your wrists to ghost his fingertips along your cheek and down your neck until all you can do in response is breathe out a moan, much to his surprise given by the rise of his eyebrows and the slight dust of pink on his bewildered face. “…I didn’t think you were that sensitive there.”

Your mind swims with the traitorous thought of wanting to show him where you’re more sensitive dancing in your mind before you can sweep it away. When his fingers dance along your neck again, you whimper and hold in another moan.

“Don’t hold back on my account. You know my most sensitive spot after all, as hunting partners, it only makes sense for me to know yours, right?”

You can hardly think of a response to that. It’s true. You know his biggest weaknesses and as you come to terms with the situation you run your thumb over the plump inside of your thigh hesitantly. It takes you almost an entire minute to decide on what you want to say, and you don’t notice his hold on your wrist weakening.  

“My weakness—” 

Suddenly, your arm drops back to your side.

“I’m kidding,” Xavier states; the small smile he normally wears comes back to his face as you look up at him with wide eyes. “I was only curious as to what your reaction would be.”

The tension in the air wanes and buries itself in your heart. The embarrassment clings to every cell living in you, unshakeable as you try to keep a brave face. “You’re cruel.”

“Am I? You were the one touching me, all the while promising to run off with some rookie,” he reminds you. 

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t—you’re so frustrating,” you scream at him, and this is the first time he appears to take you seriously all night.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, with less teasing and more concern. He wraps an arm around your waist. His legs slot between yours, leaving your knees to collide with the plush of the bed as he hugs you tighter and tighter until you’re nearly seated in his lap. “Don’t be mad. I only thought—” 

“Xavier?”

“Did you really mean it then?” he redirects. He snakes his other arm around your waist, this time when he holds you it feels…weak, and his pursed lips and narrowed eyes hold back a troubled emotion. “That it was in a friendly way?”

Your breath hitches at the swirl of his thumbs nervously circling the small of your waist. Nervously, he waits for an answer you long lost in the rapids of the constantly changing tides of the last few minutes. 

“If you meant it…if you truly wanted to kiss me,” he pauses, trying to find his voice. The one to tell you that you’re all he thinks about. “Then you should have woken me up.” His face holds a serene glow that completely enraptures you as he looks up at you. “I wouldn’t have rejected you,” he swore.

He loved you so much it ached. Moving in together should have been enough to prove it. He guesses not; because when he thinks you want him back, you’re so hesitant to accept. Even now, you’re unable to respond. 

This cycle has become painful, even for someone as patient as himself, the wait when you’re this close to him is agonizing. So, he decides now to be the one to end this circle the two of you found yourself in with one decisive motion. 

He tests the waters, not knowing if he’ll swim or drown, but he has confidence in his ability to read your personality and actions as he cups the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss. 

Your mind empties immediately, your body on autopilot when it registers the warm, silky skin of his lips on yours. Closing your eyes, you willingly tumble and fall into the taste of him, chasing after it when he breaks away. 

“There. We’re even,” he says, but to you, that’s far from the truth. You’re far from even after all the heartache and sleepless nights he’s been putting you through, after all the push and pull that left you aching and wanting both in your heart and between your thighs. 

The self-satisfied smile on his face quickly fades as you grope his shoulders, digging your nails in like you’re afraid he’ll escape. Your knees press to the top of the bed as you plant yourself more onto his lap. He braces his hands on your hips to catch you as you run your hand into his hair and crane his head back, so he has to look you in the eye.

His ears pinken at your sudden brazenness, but it doesn’t reflect in his voice as he smiles at you. “Are you trying to get more?” 

“Am I being too greedy?” you ask. He chuckles at the jut of your lips and the pleading eyes before you press another demanding kiss to the corner of his lips. 

Xavier moans from his throat as he latches onto your jaw to redirect your kisses to his lips. Kissing him is nearly maddening, the twitch of his muscular thighs under your ass making your mind hazy. With one hard squeeze at your hips, he catches up to the zealousness of your kisses. 

His tongue pokes and prods at your mouth. However, he doesn’t need much permission to keep going as you open your mouth wider. His mind skips and lags at just how quickly your mouth overtakes the slick appendage. It leaves him more than a little out of breath and flustered with the rate your mouths keep parting and meeting, tongues desperately searching and licking the inside your mouths as if this is the first meal you’ve had in weeks.

You’re hungry to memorize each other despite having all the time in the world now to do just that. When the two of you finally indulged enough and earned enough satisfaction, you’re able to calm down and readjust the pace. 

“I think we’re both greedy,” he jokes about the both of you before sliding his tongue back into your mouth. This time he’s slower as he presses down on your tongue, causing your teeth to lightly graze over the top of his.

There are too many sensations going on for you to keep up. The way your breasts hug his hard chest has you feeling sensitive while the heat seeping from his tongue stroking in your mouth has your stomach bundled in tight knots that won’t know release until he’s inside of you. 

Dreams were nothing compared to this. Nights filled with nothing but inappropriate thoughts of him turn into nightmares at the slim chance of having to face them again should this go wrong. 

Impatiently, his fingers curve into the hump of your ass to anchor you and encourage you to grind on his lap, or rather grind against the hard tent brazenly making its presence known with each hurried roll of your hips.

You whine from the separation of your sexes when he begins to lift you up, but your complaints quickly die in your throat. They’re replaced by a squeal as he flips you and your back bounces on the mattress.  

Xavier climbs over you, his face flushed, breath ragged, and overall, he’s just absolutely beautiful to you. Reaching up, you cup his cheek and play with the ends of his hair, unable to recall the last time you’ve felt this high. 

“Xavier,” you whisper breathlessly as you swoop his bangs back to see more of his handsome face and save it to memory. “What are we?”

Xavier tilts his head, furrowing his brow at your question, and there’s a second where a ray of doubt breaks through the clouds of lust in his irises. “We’re…whatever you want to be.”

“I want to be with you,” you say. Those words tumble out more effortlessly than you ever thought. 

Xavier overlaps your hand with his, holding on tight as if to prove a point. “You are with me.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” he corrects. Then, he dazzles you as he always does, “I want you to tell me so there’s no mistake, and you can’t take it back later.”

You inwardly become embarrassed when it crosses your mind that this is the first time you’ve ever confessed to him without multiple drinks in your system. It’s too late to turn back now that you’ve crossed the Milky Way and landed on the other side. 

But why would you when you’re so close?

“I want to be with you always. Whenever and wherever you are. Whether that’s having fun together or fighting. I-I love you, and—”

“And I love you,” he answers. You’re not sure if you’re jealous or relieved that he can say those three words without hesitation.

“I don’t want anything to be between us. I don’t want any more secrets or hidden things. I’m tired of this. I just want to be real, more than partners or roommates or whatever other title that isn’t boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Okay,” Xavier agrees as easily as he agreed to be roommates with you in the first place. 

“Okay?”

“I want that too,” he agrees as he repositions himself on top of you and his lips curve into a small smirk, “girlfriend.”

You’re accustomed to the finicky organ known as your heart tightening with pain when you’re overwhelmed; this time when it skips a beat, it’s welcomed. Smiling, you gaze up at him as he releases a slow, strained breath. It’s validating to know he’s been just as nervous as you.

Everything suddenly becomes full force again when his knees move to either side of your legs while he pins your hands above your head in one tight fist. His teeth nip at your earlobe, and his free hand gropes at your breast, fingers outstretching to fully take it in his grasp. Wet kisses burn on your throat, each one firing off a rapid signal to arch your back. 

“Slow down,” you whine before cutting it off with a moan as he hits a particular delicate spot. The discovery spurs him on, like a pet with a new toy, and he bites your nape once again causing your hips to jerk. With a burning desire building in your stomach at every touch, you pitifully hug your thighs together to try to ease it. “I didn’t get a chance to absorb all that,” you tell him, mostly to get some time to catch up. It backfires wonderfully as he grips onto the bottom of your tank top.

“I have a better way to help you understand.”

The sheets shift with his movement, your lower half dipping towards him as if he holds his own gravitational field. He settles between your legs and strokes against you with one slow, languid rock. It instantly makes you throb. It’s painful how hard you clench over absolutely nothing, panties gathering the lust that’s dripping from you.  

You simultaneously hate and love him for causing this need that’s bubbling inside you. 

Large hands press your shirt further up your torso. “Arms up,” he demands softly, which you have no problem obeying, and he quickly lifts your shirt over your head.

He lowers his hands to hold at your waist, and they fall still on you as he takes in your naked skin. You’re not privy to his thoughts. The silence of the room feels defean-ing now that your needy gasps of air aren’t filling it.

He pauses, eyes taking you in as you raise your eyebrows at his hesitancy. Xavier smiles, mumbling out, “Just thinking where to start.”

Xavier smiles at you so tenderly. Everything about him is incredibly soft on first appearance. He has big blue puppy eyes, he prefers white, cozy clothes, and his voice is just as gentle as his appearance. Everything about him is soft except for his hands. 

Those are hardy and battle-honed, worn with calluses built up with every swing of the sword he’s taken since he was a child, enough of them to slay thousands of Wanderers over the years. 

They drag.

Oh, they drag so dangerously slow over your skin, dipping into the pudge of your stomach and highlighting a small circle in the warm, buzzing glow of his Evol. The rays shine gold over your flesh, shimmering brightly in the dark of the room. 

“Here,” he states before hunting down another spot on your torso. A beauty mark, like a beacon, earns the sharp eyes of a hunter. He zones in on the vulnerable location, creating a golden target. “Maybe here.”

You squirm with every mapped spot he creates. “Xavier.”

The residue of his power leaves your skin humming; you’re overly aware of each spot he highlights with his power. You like to think your senses would still be heightened regardless of this little game. After all, you’ve been wanting him to touch you forever.

Every night next to him felt like torture, being unable to touch him more than a hug when all you could feel on your back was his hard chest, his arm tight around your waist, and the outline of his cock against your ass as he sighed in your ear.

It runs through your head that he must have put more thought into touching you than you assumed as he continues to stripe lines over the top of your thighs right under your night shorts, making your breath heavy in your throat. You’re no longer sure if he’s marking you to tease you, to track what parts of your body he’s claimed for himself, or to simply make you laugh from the humming of his Evol tickling you like fuzzy static on an old tv screen. Even as he smiles at your shallow giggles, there’s no denying the aura of possession radiating from him that makes you antsy when he finally presses his finger to your sternum.

“Let’s start here,” he says followed by a soft hum as he tattoos a line straight between your breasts, leaving you highlighted in slowly fading graffiti.

“About time you decided,” you say with an playfully exaggerated roll of your eyes. He cocks his head at you with a sly smile.

“I can’t help if I want to touch all of you,” he murmurs. Any response you had ready dies when he licks the encircled zone of your shoulder then swiftly to the notch of your throat, drawing a moan out of you that you didn’t think you were capable of until you met him.

Tilting your head, you allow him more room to work as he kisses your chest. His warm tongue slips through the line he marked, his nose dragging against you as he litters your engorged skin with kisses. 

“More,” you beg. Who was he to keep you waiting any longer?

He slips a fingerpad over the tip of your nipple, gently pressing down and then rolling it. It does nothing to satiate you. Satisfaction keeps escaping your grasp, the goalpost of what’s enough moving further out of reach with every pinch and pull of your pebbling nipples. Chasing it makes you brash, and you give a hard push to the back of his head. 

Just as you want, he spoils you. He bites and nips the supple skin, drawing out soft pleas from your angelic lips. When he finally graces you with the slick, velvety lap of his tongue on your pert nipple, you mewl and arch. His lips are a little rough after being out all night, his hunger for you more palpable than ever as he gropes harder and sucks at your wet skin. 

Your aching pussy throbs with every brush of his clothed cock. Your patience drains more and more as you crave something to fill you. It isn’t until he switches sides and gently nips and suckles around your other teat that you realize he’s been fingerprinting you with his Evol, the polka dots slowly fade away each time he adjusts his hand to knead your breast.  

“You’re still being cruel,” you manage between moans. 

“I think I’m being very fair,” he reasons, recapturing your lips to silence your complaints, and it works as your mind keeps repeating when his tongue makes a temporary reservation back in the confines of your mouth. 

When he parts with you again, he cements it with a soft kiss then another. He keeps peppering them on you so fast that you almost miss the way his tongue darts over your bottom lip before his teeth bite down. 

Xavier sighs between his kisses, each one adding more pressure, turning from loving, adoration-filled into needy, heavy smooches.

“Wanted.”

Another kiss that leaves you whimpering.

“To.”

He fondles your chest again, alternating between rolling and pinching your sensitive, puffed nipple then grasping your bare tits in his hands, molding and kneading them.

“With you.”

With your thighs closing at his waist, you curve your back and meet the sloppy buck of his hips. There’s a rush of excitement leaking from you when his kisses trail back over your breasts, hitting the tiny ring of bite marks he seared on you before tracing across the targets of light decorating your belly. 

“So bad.”

Skin on fire, legs spread wide to accommodate his chest as he sinks lower to press wet kisses to your stomach, you call out to him. “Xavier, baby,” you whisper and brush his hair to get his attention. And does he give it to you when his eyes flick up to look at you from under the grey tuffs of his hair.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight. 

You bring your finger to your lips, not only to pry them open so you can speak but also because you need to bite on it. Otherwise, the surge of lust in you at the sight of his head so close to your cunt and the back of your thighs resting on his broad shoulders would cause you to cum right there. 

“My most sensitive spot…is my legs…”

It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, and he quirks his eyebrows up at you with false concern. He lowers his head to kiss your stomach again, this time noticeably closer to your mound. “Are you sure you want to tell me that in this situation? It isn’t wise for the prey to put themselves at a disadvantage.”

“I said no secrets,” you remind him, curling a finger to beckon him back up. Inwardly, you curse that he decides to bring your legs with him by keeping them propped up on his shoulders. Somehow, you manage to ignore his obvious teasing and poke at the cutesy adhesive still stuck on his face. “If you were listening, you should know you’re still in trouble for sneaking off so much without telling me.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” he tells you, a layer of remorse riding his explanation. “I wasn’t expecting to go anywhere.”

Amused, you shake your head at how boyish he sounds as he defends himself while he pulls off that wide and pleading look to bolster his cause. Even with your amusement, you’re not willing to let him off just yet. Sternly, you tap his cheek again. 

“That’s not going to work this time.”

Pouting, Xavier holds onto your hand, stopping your playful jabs. “Please give me a chance to lighten my sentence, Miss Hunter, it was unintentional,” he negotiates with a kiss on your palm. The sincerity in his request eases your heart enough to allow him a little wiggle room, or perhaps it’s the slick trailing more between your folds. 

“You only got until morning to make a case for yourself.”

“I’ll make you forget by then.” He snatches up your ankle towards his face, a much more pleasant position than your last, as your muscles were starting to ache from having your knees pushed to your face. 

He caresses your ankle, pressing an airy kiss. The little bump of his nose against the ball of your ankle tickles, making a giggle cascade from your lips as you slide lower with the pull of your leg.  

“Silly,” he mumbles before shuffling off your shorts. Your underwear comes off with more of a fight, the stickiness soaked into it causing the dainty fabric to cling lewdly to your skin and outline to the shape of your cunt. 

You don’t often hear Xavier curse but that’s what happens along with his tongue rolling over his upper lip when he catches the image. He reaches out and his fingers twitch, threatening to curve against the spreading stain in your panties but he resists and hooks his fingers into the waistband. He takes his sweet time watching the doused material peeling from you with thin strands of cum sticking to it.

It takes him more effort than he’d like to admit to resist diving straight in. Instead, he keeps it slow, sensual, as much for his sake as yours as he skims his lips up your calf.

He does the same with your center, carefully pressing two fingers against you as he holds your leg up on his shoulder. His mouth stays on your inner thigh, but his eyes are entirely locked on his fingers and the way they effortlessly collect your cum and slip between your lips with barely a push. You can feel his breath shudder out against you before he forces it down with a bite of your thigh but that does nothing to hide the way his entire body tenses when his fingers slip from your clit all the way to your clenching hole. 

It does nothing good for your ego or your sanity to think how normally calm and collected Xavier is losing his composure just by touching you. How he’s so obviously turned on when you haven’t nearly returned as much as he’s been giving you. 

He presses his hands at the crook of your thighs, pushing your legs further apart, and quenches himself between your legs. His name leaves you in one low drawn-out sigh. Sure, you were baiting him when you told him your weakness, but you weren’t expecting him to abuse the knowledge so readily. 

He held your legs blood cuttingly tight to keep you from squirming away from his wriggling tongue, and by the moan that reverberates from his chest and the strong jerk against the mattress when your juices hit his tongue, you think he would only be satisfied if you crushed his head between your straining thighs. When he suckles your clit; when his voice, muffled, hits your pussy; when his biceps tighten around your legs as if encouraging you to do so, and when his eyes meet yours with a silent demand, you know that’s exactly what he wants.

At the plunging of his fingers in you, you break down, catch his head in a vice-like grip, and push him into you. Your heart flutters and the remaining butterflies in your stomach migrate away at the growl he lets out. Your walls happily clench around those thick fingers, your dripping hole making it easy and smooth work to pump in and out of you. You’re not sure when he decides he would rather feel your muscle tightening around his tongue instead, but you can only respond with the tilt of your head back into the sheets and the stroke of your heel on his bare back when it happens. 

The only thing better is his palm grinding down on your clit, alternating between slow rotations and rough sporadic grinding that has your toes curling and your eyes glossing with the buildup of tears.

“You’re too loud,” he comments yet he doesn’t stop, in fact, he presses down harder, making you whine. “You’re going to wake the neighbors.”

“Since when have you cared what the neighbors think?” you barely manage to whimper out. 

“I’m not worried about them. I just don’t want anyone else to hear what only I should,” he remarks, lapping up the juices spilling down your legs.

His confession is a surprise to you. You never took him to be so possessive. But if that possessiveness is what kept his tongue swirling on your swollen clit and an intense moan escaping your lips then you didn’t mind. 

However…

His fingers weren’t enough anymore. 

Choosing to surprise him, you decide to turn the tables on him. You jerk your legs, catching him off guard but not enough to tip him over. He looks at you with concern. It doesn’t stop you from trying again with extra force this time until you can weaken his grasp and force him down on his back. 

Having the world’s strongest hunter under you was only something you could dream of—first as a rival and now as a lover. The adrenaline has you tunnel-visioned as you straddle his stomach, your soaked cunt making a waterboard out of his abs, which Xavier has also picked up on if the dusky pink on his cheeks is anything to go by.

You grab his hands, gripping tight to regain his attention. Xavier looks taken back especially when your fingers interlock his and pin them back. Whether he’s shocked or curious you don’t know, and you also don’t ask to borrow his power. 

“You’ve been having too much fun,” you tell him as you check to make sure your finger is sufficiently coated with light. “For my turn, I’ll attack here and here,” you whisper, marking off his chest and drawing a line across his neck.

There’s a hint of worry finally when he sees you’re aiming for his weak spot. “If you’re trying to teach me the best spot to kill Wanderers, I already know.”

“More like the best spots to defeat a Xavier,” you remark, flattening your palm over his heart, finding your own thumping when you verify that you finally managed to raise his heart rate to the levels of a normal human.

“You’re pretty forward today.” Xavier reaches out to hold your hips and cocks his head at you with an inquisitive glance. “Are you always this easy to excite or is it because of me?” 

You feel your face heat at his question. As if he didn’t already know the answer. No one else could make you like this. Needy. Shy. Aroused. Flustered. Confused. Infatuated and in love more than you’ve ever been. 

Your eyes soften. “And if I said it was you?”

“Then, you can use me all you want,” he confesses and gently coaxes you back to sit on his hard cock. You smoothly slide your hands to his shoulders, rotating loving strokes into his fair skin before you stop to free his cock from his pants.

It springs readily into your palm, so responsive. You reward him by letting him have a little taste of you. He tries to hide the hitch of his breath as if he could hide any reaction from you right now. It’s so hard to get him to react to anything, and your brain won’t let you miss a single moment as you sit back onto his lap and grind.

His cock slides between your lips, so big that you can feel it stroking you fully, his swollen, dribbling head making you whimper whenever it bumps your clit. 

“You, you’re so—” he begins, his eyes flitting from the gentle shake of your tits to his cock glistening between your folds, but he loses his voice to a low whimper when you increase your pace. It’s not on purpose but you can’t help yourself; you’re aching for him just as much as he is for you. “Hah, please...” 

His cock is leaking onto him with each sleek thrust, a little pool of precum glistening on his belly as your hips buck. It makes your stomach twist and your insides twitch to see him so excited for you.

“Not yet,” you tell him, brushing fingers across the length of his throat. His mouth parts with a croak that plasters a crooked smile on your face.

His eyebrows knit, and he frowns as you decide to tease him a little by slowing your strokes while your nails continue to follow the thick vein protruding from his neck as he desperately holds down his whines. 

“And you call me the cruel one.”

He was gorgeous under you. Beautifully flushed and sheened with sweat. His lips were so close to quivering each time his swollen head was swallowed back under your heat. It’s strange how his pitiful expression actually excites you, leaving you wetter and funneling this cycle of him repeatedly scrunching his face before relaxing it with a moan. 

“Please,” he asks again, this time more politely, pleadingly, and downright cutely. He knows what he’s doing because you decide to take pity on him when he gazes at you. “Please let me have you?”

It takes only a second for you to reposition yourself and hover over him. There’s a split hesitation when it registers that you’re actually going to have sex with him and how large he actually is with his cock standing tall and the tip kissing at your entrance.  You press downward anyway.

The stretch is both painful and pleasurable, straining your nerves as you lower. The wince on your face is accompanied by a hiss on your lips. However, Xavier is there again to catch you.

“Let’s take our time,” he instructs.

You nod, slowly thrusting halfway onto him. Each rise and fall of your hips coating him with your cream little by little makes it a bit easier to sheath him each bounce. 

“Good girl,” he whispers soothingly. Face constricting, he bites down on his lip to hold in a weak groan. It’s not your fault that the praise made your walls flutter and tighten.

When you finally suck him in completely, your eyes roll. 

“There you go,” he continues. He slides his hand into one of yours, encouraging you to hold onto it as you slowly and pointedly follow the curve of his cock, “Just like that,” he rasps out.    As you take him in fully, your pussy reaching his lap and pushing against his balls, you find it hard to concentrate on the exact words leaving him.

You take a minute to sit with him fully sheathed inside of you, allowing your stretched core to get more accustomed to his cock and also for the high of joining with him to cool off. Otherwise, you’d lose control.

You feel so full. It’s a wonderful sensation, and the pleasure increases tenfold when you lift your hips then have him stretch you again.

Rubbing your fingertips into the back of his palm, you lift and slam back onto him again, causing a ragged groan from you both that ricochets off the walls of the room. It isn’t until now that you recognize how bad you’ve been needing this.

Needed him. 

You’re still nowhere near understanding why this need is inside of you. Anyone can give you pleasure, and he’s not the first, but nothing quite matched the warmth overtaking you when his cock pistons and rubs against your nerves as you ride him. 

The thought that Xavier was right about fate being written in the stars barely breaks through the thick fog of arousal clouding your brain. The heat spurs you to bounce harder to meet his jerking thrusts. 

He sighs under you; the pressure on his lower half increases while your eyesight blurs and your head angles back. You’ll both be each other’s undoing at this rate, he thinks, as he watches the beads of sweat accumulating in little shiny droplets on your forehead and on your bouncing chest in a light sheen.

Chasing that desire to see you undone, he pulls you to a halt, burying himself deep inside of you, before pressing his hand to your mound, brushing past the patch of damp hair to zone in on your sticky, swollen clit. 

The instant whine of his name makes him dizzy. Centuries have gone by, and he’s never heard you say his name with such wanton desperation nor seen you grind onto him, stirring his cock in you as if your sanity depended on it.  

His certainly depended on you. Always has especially in the many decades he thought he’d never see you again. That need is even clearer from how sensitive yet eager his cock is to you squeezing around it as you shudder on top of him while keeping an unbearably tight hold on his hand. Your movements come to a near stop except for the occasional rut to prolong the rush of your orgasm. 

The sight of you breaking down on top of him threatens to make his eyes roll back as he squeezes onto your legs for grounding. Your strangled gasp followed by your muscles relaxing tells him that you’re coming down.  

“I take it you’ve finished,” Xavier says with a smirk, and you only have half the mind to swat at his chest like a lazy cat. Your legs burn, your chest unable to fill with enough oxygen to catch your breath. You think you’ll skip the gym tomorrow but Xavier has other plans.

“I’m not finished,” he reminds you. 

You look down at Xavier; you’d been so busy finding your own pleasure, you didn’t realize he hadn’t cum yet. You feel a lingering guilt but he swiftly takes the situation into his own hands.

You’re still too sensitive to fight back as he slides his cock out of you with a wet pop. It takes two swift movements for him to lift you off of him and roll you onto your stomach.

Your chest feels restricted, tight to the mattress as he presses on top of you, his grey-brown hair rubbing your shoulder as he cuddles your back. It’s an affectionate notion, distracting from the pressure in your lower half as he slides off the last of his clothes and thrusts his cock back inside of you. 

You thought you were filled to the brim the first time, yet this angle was different. It felt much tighter, and the slightest shift of his hips had you muffling moans into your arms. 

“I want to hear you,” he sweetly requests, yanking on your hips to raise your ass higher and pull you further away from the muffling effects of the bed. Your fracturing mewls mix into his grunts, both sounds washing out the sloppy, wet paps of his cock pounding into you. 

His hand swoops down your bending back in one long soothing stroke before his head collapses onto you. His grunts are loud, tumbling right into your ear along with the slapping sound of his hips meeting your ass. Your legs feel like jelly, and the rest of your body becomes weightless as your mind only focuses on his cock recklessly burning its way through you.

Xavier’s breath rolls against your back along with his forehead as he buries you under his weight; his grip on your thighs tightens to an unbearable degree, leaving you to wonder if you’ll have marks in the morning. 

You don’t really care if he does when he moans your name and heat fills you, spreading with each sporadic thrust until he finally bottoms out inside you one last time and holds until he completely empties. 

Taking his time to enjoy the sensation, he waits before pulling out of you, making you whimper with the sudden void. Shakily, you collapse back into the sheets and flip onto your back with a sigh. His eyes are still half-lidded as he watches you; he chews briefly on his bottom lip, reminding you of the look in his eyes earlier. 

“Xavier,” you question but he silences you with a kiss, which you tiredly return. His fingertips slide down from your knee to your thigh, and he teases your opening, the mixture of cum making it easy for him to stroke your still spasming pussy. 

Xavier sighs against your lips before moving his kisses to the swoop of your neck. “You’re so beautiful and all mine.”

Your mouth parts with a dry moan as he slides thick fingers over your clit. It starts to ache from his touch but it’s hard to deny him, even as he tortures you with his methodic and precise rotations over the bead.

His name is on your mouth, each syllable heavy on your tongue. You leave garbled gasps in his mouth as he makes out with you while your hand draws down his chest, attempting to make a mental map of every twitching muscle and healed wound on the way down.

Your heart jumps with the twitch of his cock when you wrap your hand around it. There’s going to be no trouble getting him to rebound, you think. He’s already thickening again with the warm strokes of your hand and tracing of your fingers over the slowly beating vein lining the underside of his shaft. 

Xavier doesn’t even let you finish exciting him before he rolls back on top of you and settles his head between your breasts. Between all the cum in between your legs and his half-hard cock, it isn’t as mind-numbing to have him inside you. What is different is to feel him twitching and growing inside you with his renewed thrusts. 

You’re hiccupping by the time he pushes your legs back and starts to hit deep inside of you, leaving the corner of your eyes tearing. You’re overwhelmed with everything. The uncharacteristic amount of energy he possesses as his hips snap into you. How each powerful rock leaves tingles aftershock-ing inside you, ruining your chances to recover before he does it again. The heavy scent of sex mixed with pine overwhelms your nose. His sweaty chest blocks out any light in the room, sealing any notion that you can be distracted by anything other than him as he pushes up your knee towards your chest.

You’re quickly working up to your second orgasm; the painful cramping in your foot tells you it’ll be bigger than the last. You’re right. When you come undone again, it’s with a shrill sob. You’re too out of it to even register when he finishes until he starts kissing your neck again.

He’s still inside you, you realize once your mind finally lands back on earth. His cock is resting in the heat inside you, waiting for him to work the two of you back up again. You know that’s the goal when his thumb gently brushes over one of your nipples again. Your sore insides constrict and strain. You don’t think you could survive a third round. 

“Xavier, please, no more.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice dry and husky in your ear as he kisses under it. 

“Too much,” you tell him, pushing on his chest to make some space between the two of you.  

“I didn’t catch that,” he coos defiantly. When he notices that you’re being serious, he obediently pulls out of you. His kisses become smoother as he pecks your lips. “What’s wrong? Is it aching?”

You nod then puff your cheeks in frustration when you see the amusement on his face.

“It’s not funny!” you say, holding onto that angry, childish pout until his smile turns sympathetic. 

“You’re right,” he agrees and shifts off you. Quickly, he locates his briefs on the corner of the bed. He steps out of bed and pulls them on. To your surprise, he leaves you, alone and cold.  

“Where are you going?”

Xavier disappears without answering you and only the sound of running water gives you any sort of hint of where he might’ve gone. When he returns, it’s with a rag dangled in his hand. 

“A boyfriend should help clean his girlfriend up after times like this,” he explains and leans over you; he presses the wet cloth between your legs; the rag is incredibly soothing on your bloated skin. It’s a blessing to your sore muscles as he starts to massage and clean you. “It feels better already, doesn’t it?”

“I guess,” you answer pitifully, grumbling a bit because the look on his face still seems like he’s teasing about your neediness. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s my fault you’re a little sore.” He’s definitely taunting you, but you don’t have the energy to fight about it. “All done,” he remarks, tossing the rag to a forgotten section of the dresser. He carefully climbs back on top of you, waiting for the moment your hand finds his bicep to guide him down next to you. 

It isn’t the first time he’s been this affectionate, and it won’t be the last time. However, this time feels more special than any time you’ve slept together, and not just because you can feel the stickiness of his sex-clad skin against your naked body. Well, that’s part of the reason.

“Something on your mind?”

“Nothing. I’m really happy,” you explain. 

“If it really makes you that happy, maybe we should do it more often,” he offers, and you pinch his unwounded cheek to punish him. Jumping back, he knocks your hand away and caresses his wounded face. “I’ll need another bandage if you keep doing that,” he complains weakly. 

“You only have yourself to blame!”

Xavier sighs. “You’re always right,” he concedes, more so that he can cuddle you without fighting rather than actually agreeing with you, you fear. 

“I don’t believe you.”

“Are you really doubting your boyfriend?” he asks. Heartbeat skipped, you clamp your mouth shut as he unfolds the blankets over the two of you. 

It’s finally settling back into your mind that the two of you are a couple now. “I’m still…not used to it yet with you being that.”

“You will get used to it the longer we’re together. The same as I will.” Xavier sighs, happily so. “Although, we might run into the same problem again.”

You blink at him. “Why?”

Thoughtful, Xavier hums then explains, “First comes love then comes marriage as they say.”

He catches you off-guard once more. As always, Xavier is forever forging on ahead with little regard for convention. “Aren’t you thinking too far ahead?”

“Maybe,” he agrees but there’s no drop in his confidence as he smiles at you and draws his hand over your hairline. “But I loved you since we met.”

“Xavier, please,” you beg, finding your favorite place to hide your flustered face in the crook of his elbow. 

He can’t help but laugh at you as he curls his arm around you. “Especially that,” he confesses and places one more kiss on the top of your head before inviting you to go to sleep. 

You do, falling asleep against his chest less than thirty minutes later. For him, sleep is elusive for once as he mulls over the day’s events.

The word girlfriend on his tongue is sweet. The idea itself burns wonderfully in his chest, but it isn’t enough. He knows he still needs to wait a bit longer, take his time, your bashful response to his prodding was enough to tell him that it isn’t time yet. It’s hard not to rush when this is the closest he’s ever been to the one thing he truly wants. 

Xavier guesses he’ll still have to rely on his dreams for a little while longer. It’s okay, he tells himself, it’ll work out this time. He’ll find a place to settle with you and have a quiet life, a place where he can see stars. 

And this lifetime, when he asks you to marry him, he hopes you’ll say yes.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hey !! i saw your batboys headcanon thing ( plus jaime ) about how clingy they would be ,, but do you think you could write a reaction for them ( and jaime if you'd like as well idm ! ) to if they dated someone who wasn't that fond of physical touch / affection ?

like how it would affect the way they show their love and stuff !!

thank you so much, love your works xx

For DAMIAN nothing much would change, after all physical affection isn’t his forte and completely understands why you don’t like it as much, for he certainly didn’t unless it was the occasional heat of the moment type of thing; then he’ll act like he never did hug/ touch you with flustered cheeks.

Damian’s primary love language was acts of services with a minor in gift giving because he always comes to you with a drawing he’s done recently, and practically pushed the piece of paper into your hands where you were greeted with the most beautiful sketch of you in existence. He’s not great with words as he often comes across as blunt or overly sarcastic, but when he’s reprimanding you about appropriately clothing yourself for the weather as he’s adjusting your scarf or whatever, it’s a sweet act disguised as annoyance.

Damian shows his care in a unique way but you could’ve have asked for a better partner.

For JAIME he respects that physical contact may not be your thing and will resort to vocalising his affection and love for you. After all Jaime came from a household of familial love and affection, so he wanted you do something for you where you knew where his mind was most -if not- all the time; on you.

He will shower you and praise you with love no matter what and will not allow a single negative thought to pass through your pretty head, not on his watch and Khaji-Da will gladly offer their own words of affirmation but they come out as more ‘crush your enemies to dust’ or ‘show them that you are far better then those weak willed insects and will not submit to their own self projection.’

You understand where Khaji-Da was coming from, even if it did come across as threatening, but Jaime will always reword it into something more positive and meaningful such as; ‘you’re amazing and I love you, you’re killing it my love!’ Or ‘you already know your worth so why let others people try to determine it for you when you’ve already go what most people want. Heart, passion!’ And so on.

For JASON physical touch was his way of reassuring himself that you weren’t going to leave, that you were alive. So when he found out that physical touch wasn’t your most favouriting thing, he was more than willing to resort to his secondary love language; quality time.

Jason loves spending as much time with you as he can and will do so as a substitute for physical contact out of his love and respect for you and your boundaries. If anything quality time with you also helps in reassuring him that you weren’t going anywhere and that you were alive, even when your both sat in comfortable silence doing your own things, it relaxes Jason’s oftentimes frantic mind and allows him to breath and live in the moment knowing that you were very much safe from all harm in your shared apartment.

For DICK physical affection was his primary love language and he loved letting the people he loved know he was there for them by a few simple touches, it didn’t require him to use his words, despite being quite the flatter for when he did.

So when he noticed that you weren’t exactly reciprocal of his touch, Dick knew he had to switch to his secondary love language which was words of affirmation, which often came out a lot flirtier then it probably should, but Dick was use to doing so just to get on someone’s good side and get them to lower their guard but never towards his adoring partner whom he cares very much for with his whole heart.

Vulnerability, communication and commitment weren’t his strongest suits unfortunately but he tries for you, he truly tries with every sweet word that left his lips to make you recognise that you and a place within his heart, and that’s all that would matter in that moment as he’s looking at you with such caring and loving eyes.

[studioghibelli]

right person, wrong time.

| a joel miller x reader

summary: you had loved him since you met him. as the years pass, he never leaves your mind, and the next time you see him- he's someone else's.

warnings: a lot of angst, professor!joel, aunt's husband!joel, age gap (unspecified), no outbreak!au,cheating, literally just angst i am not sorry y'all i'm sick and want people to suffer too ok thanks by love u bitchez (jk obvs for legal purposes)

author's note: for @janaispunk's 1.5k celebration! enjoy "kissing in the rain" with joel miller.

The chilling rain was pattering against the cold car window, the heavy hand of December tugging at the wind outside. Your taxi driver was blabbering on about something or another, but you were too focused on the here and there of what was about to come.

Of the absolute shit show that was about to go down in your older brother's home.

Family Christmas in cold, lonely, crowded New York City. It was supposed to be wonderful, wasn't it? The thought made you want to throw up.

You weren't looking forward to this year's holiday season. Not one bit.

The Facebook posts were engrained into your head. They sat there, sizzling like raw meat on a grill, burning alongside the nasty coals of resentment until they were scorched like charcoal. The longer you thought about them, the worse the storm raging around in the rooms of your mind grew.

You unlocked your phone, staring down at the screen that it had been settled on for hours.

Your aunt- beautiful eyes, dazzling smile- standing in front of the Empire State Building with a handsome, and familiar, man behind her, his arms around her waist, and a subtle grin pressed to his mouth.

207 likes.

"You two are so cute together!" An Aunt Linda typed.

"OMG. Who's the Stud Muffin?" A Tiffany Hollis asked.

Fourteen heart eyes and thirty two green heart emojis from your nearly-senile grandmother.

"AHHHHHHH. Is this the guy you were telling me about? He is HAWT!" From none other than your dear mother.

You felt the familiar bubbles of jealousy brewing within your stomach. You stared at the screen until your eyes burned with the familiarity of tears, until your stomach acid was climbing and crawling up your throat. You wanted to vomit. You wanted to scream.

But when all was said and done, all you really did was press your lips together and toss your phone into your purse, shoving it all down deep inside of you.

"Is this the correct address, miss?" The driver asked, stopping the cab outside of a brick walled house. The golden hue of light twinkled out from every window, and the sound of old school Christmas music filled your ears as you opened the door.

"Yes, thank you sir." You handed him a twenty as he helped you grab your suitcases. "Happy Holidays." You chimed as happily as you could manage, walking towards the entrance of your brother's apartment.

Your whole nervous system was aflame as you stepped into the elevator. You had no clue what awaited you, but you knew whatever it was, it was going to be awkward, and it was going to be hard.

No one knew the truth. Not your aunt, not the handsome man in the photo, not your mother. And if they did, all hell would break loose.

For that man was none other than Joel Miller. Your former teacher, mentor, and most importantly to note- your old lover. You and Joel had spent many nights together, studying, fucking, talking. He taught you so many things about yourself, and entered in to your world exactly when you needed it.

In one of the darkest and most uninspired eras of your adult life, he filled it with joy and light. He sparked your interest in philosophy, introduced you to music you had never heard before, and helped you come in to your own as a young woman navigating the world for the first time.

Joel was there for you while you struggled with your mental health concerning your college graduation, he was there to help you pick out master's degree programs, he was there to comfort you when your childhood dog was put down and you couldn't be there- case in point, Joel was always there for you.

For three years of your life, he was always by your side.

Until he left.

Five Years Prior

"-And when we look to Nietzsche, many wrongly label him as a nihilist. If you are truly daft enough to believe his works are that of a nihilist, you need to learn to read better. Which is a shame considerin' y'all got into one of the best universities in the country.”

Scattered laughter echoed throughout the wood paneled room.

It was fall semester at the small liberal art's college you attended, and you had chosen Introductions to Existentialist Philosophy because you loooved philosophy.

Not.

In all truth, you were dragged in there by your best friend who refused to take it alone, and ended up staying in the class.

Not because of the subject matter of course, but because of the professor.

Dr. Joel Miller.

A rugged academic, a silent brute, and above all- an absolute dreamboat of a man.

The moment you had laid eyes on him, everything changed. You had never felt that way about anything or anyone so quickly. In a moment's notice your entire world was turned upside down. He snuck in to your dreams, trapped inside your brain like a life-sucking tadpole. You thought of him at dinner, while you were doing homework, when you went out with friends- he was everywhere all the time when it came to your thoughts.

And if you didn't do something about it, you were going to lose your mind.

So, you put on your favorite outfit, made sure your hair looked perfect, and made your way to his office for a one-on-one talk concerning your academic performance.

"I just want to know if there's anything I can do to stay on track better." You had lied straight through your teeth while you were emailing him. "Your class is important to me, and I want to make sure I excel." Another lie.

At the end of the day it didn't matter how hard you tried to look good for him, you ended up soaked to the bone by the time you reached his door, a stray rainstorm thundering down on you on your way there.

You knocked, teeth chattering, mascara running, sniffling to yourself as you blew hot air onto your hands. You honestly weren't entirely sure why you were still going through with your plan, considering the current state you were in, but something in your guts was telling you to keep going. Something deep within you just.... knew.

"Come in!" He shouted from the other side, and you heard the clanking of a keyboard as he typed away at his laptop.

You took in a deep breath, steadying yourself against the door frame.

You can do this. You can.

And you did.

You pushed the door open with a smile, and when he looked up at you, his eyebrows slowly raised.

"You're wetter 'n a water slide, girl." Oh fuck. Your knees were already weak. "Sit down, I've got a blanket around here somewhere."

"Oh, no I couldn't possibly-"

"Sit." He ordered sharply, before sending you a softer smile. He stood behind you, draping a blanket around your shoulders, before walking back to his desk. "They've invented these new things called Umbrellas. You might be interested in one." Joel teased, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Oh, have they? This is my first day off the compound, and Papa forbade me from keeping up to date with the news." You joked back. Something panged within your belly. What if he didn't like your humor? What if you sounded stupid?

You slowly looked up, and Joel was smiling at your joke. "Good sense of humor." He quipped, before grabbing his glasses that hung off his shirt. "Let me just pull up your grades here, then we can begin."

"Yes sir." You whispered. Joel cast a glance your way at the words, clearing his throat as he shuffled around in his seat.

"Alright, says here you've got a 97% in my class. I... well. Um, alright now. You did say you were lookin' to stay on track in my class, right?"

You felt your face grow hot. If only you were a worse student.

"Yes?" You squeaked.

"I don't know what to tell you, darlin'. Seems like you're pretty on track to me."

You closed your eyes for a moment, sucking in a sharp breath.

"What I'm about to say is going to...well, it's not going to be- some might- I- okay, so-fuck." You groaned.

"Come on now girl, spit it out."

Fine.

"Would you go on a date with me?"

When you garnered up enough courage to open your eyes and look at his reaction to your question, you were met with a grin. "You didn't have to do all that in your email, you know. Could've just stopped on by and asked."

"Oh. You're not going to kick me out? Yell at me? Tell me to get lost?" You were completely surprised, shocked beyond belief.

"Have I yet?" Joel asked softly, and you shook your head no. "Then I don't think I will." He took in a deep breath, picking up his cup of coffee to take a long drink, no doubt thinking to himself.

You sat there trying to catch your breath, unsure of where this sudden burst of confidence, of forwardness, came from.

Perhaps it was the universe.

"Look- I would say no... to anyone else. But..." He trailed off for a moment, his eyes tracing over your features. Joel swallowed something that became stuck in his throat, shaking his head. "But somethin' about you- I don't know. I don't know what it is."

You couldn't help the smile that had stretched across your face. "Okay, great." Were the only words you could manage to breathe out.

"How about we go downtown, away from wanderin' eyes? There's a fantastic bookstore there, and a great Mexican restaurant, if that interests you."

"Yes, yes it does. One hundred percent. Um... when?"

"I'm free now."

"Me too." You closed your eyes for a moment, unable to believe that all of this was coming to fruition.

When you opened your eyes, you were standing at the door of your brother's place, Christmas boxes in hand. You were coaching yourself on what to say when you saw Joel.

"Hi, nice to meet you. My name is... no, no. That wouldn't work."

"Oh! You must be new around here- no, dammit! This isn't a workplace. Fuck."

"Hey there, silver fox! Do I know you from somewhere? Like the six thousand times we've fucked? No, no. UGHH!" You screamed out right as the door was opening, and a group of people in the foyer stopped talking, all turning to look at you in unison as your mother fully opened the door.

You stood there like a deer in front of the headlights of a car, too stunned to speak. Hopefully, if the Holiday Spirits were on your side, they would have not heard any of what you just said.

"Oh!" She pulled you in to a tight hug, and soon you were flooded with lavender perfume and hugs from all sorts of relatives. "Your siblings are in the kitchen, grandparents are on their way. We're so happy to see you!"

You smiled, dropping your backs at the entrance. "Yeah, me too." You lied through a dazzling smile, taking off your scarf and hat.

"How has Austin been treating you?"

"Who?" You asked, looking up as you were kicking off your boots.

"Austin.... Texas?"

You could have slapped yourself in the forehead. "Oh-oh, yeah. Austin is great. Not cold like here!"

"It's so funny, you know. Aunt Marie's new boy toy- oops, did I say that? I'm so bad. He's definitely something though, rawr." Your mom giggled through the rim of her wineglass as you took off your layers.

"Mom!"

"Sorry, sorry. Like I was saying, Marie's new boyfriend is from Austin too. Maybe you know each other!"

"That's great, mom."

"Do you want to go meet him?"

"Can I take my things upstairs first?"

"Oh, don't be silly. It'll only take two minutes!" She exclaimed with a tipsy smile.

You stopped, staring at her for a moment. If you resisted, she may think something was up. If you went ahead and met this 'stranger', perhaps you could just get it over with and spend the rest of the night with an upset stomach and a glass full of whatever liquor you could tolerate.

"Fine. Fine."

You followed her, feet dragging behind with every step you took, until you reached the den. You saw your father sitting on a leather couch with a cigar and a glass of bourbon, accompanied by your aunt, your brother, a cousin, and him.

Thank the Heaven's above he wasn't looking up.

You were about to vomit all over the place. Your ears were ringing, fingers numb- oh, God. How were you going to do this?

The voice of someone or another made you come down from your thoughts, and that's when you were met with his gaze.

Just like Pavlov's dog you felt the familiar hug of warmth coursing through your veins at the sight of those honeyed eyes, knees buckling- with nerves or affection- you weren't quite sure. You grasped ahold of your father's arm as he went to hug you, holding on for dear life.

"Whoa there!" He laughed, holding you steady. "You drunk already?"

"Um..." You were doing everything you could to blink back tears. "I-"

Your dad pulled you in to a tight hug, standing by you as you held on to his arm. Joel stood up from his chair abruptly, his bourbon spilling on his gray sweater.

"Oh no, honey! Your cashmere." Your aunt spoke, before turning to you. "Hey there niece! Come give me a hug." You wobbled over to her, eyes wide and lips parted, your heart beating so hard against your chest you would be surprised if they couldn't hear it.

"H-Hi." You hugged her lightly, pulling away. For a long moment you stared at her, and a sudden urge to slam your fist across her face overtook you.

The countless thoughts of her and Joel, hugging, kissing, fucking, going to bookstores together, talking late at night- every horrible scenario you had tried to drown out for months filled your head and poured out of your ears like locomotive steam, and you were unsure of where to put all of this anger you felt.

So you gritted your teeth, slowly turning to him.

He was beautiful. He always had been. His broad shoulders pulled his sweater taut against his flesh, and a familiar golden necklace dangled from his neck, reflecting the absinthe lamp of the room.

You had given him that necklace. Your eyes filled with tears, and you quickly blinked them away. Not quick enough for Joel to miss- his face flashed with a pang of hurt, of guilt.

"I-I'm.... I'm-" You tried to introduce yourself, each time choking over your throat. It retracted like you were choking, closing in on itself each time you tried to form any sort of thought.

"Spit it out!" Your brother called with a laugh.

"We know he's attractive, but there's no need to be scared!" Marie laughed, and you saw a subtle wince prick at the corner of Joel's eyes.

You finally said your name, as quickly as you could.

Joel extended his hand, and you shook your head at him in a silent form of disbelief.

"I'm Joel." He spoke quietly, curtly, sadly. You reached out with a shaking write, and his warm, calloused palm wrapped around your own. When he went to let go, his fingers dragged down your knuckles, across the ring you wore on your middle finger that he had given you many moons ago, the ring that matched the charm on his necklace.

"Okay, I'm going.... I'm going to go and put my things away."

You pushed your way out of the room and ran up the stairs, gasping for air once you got to the hallway. You sobbed out loud, your hand covering your mouth as you fell to the carpet, rocking yourself against the dry wall. You had never been more thankful for loud, obnoxious Christmas music before.

"Thank you, Mariah Carey." You muttered, throwing your head back against the wall as you wiped off your cheeks.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." You whispered, the back of your hand dragging across your nose. "Fuck."

You stood back up with a vicious sniffle, grabbing your bag and tossing them onto your bed that was a few feet away. Closing the door to your bedroom slowly, you fell face first into the mattress, screaming into it. You weren't sure what emotion was overtaking you the most. Sadness? Rage? Guilt?

There was a knock at your door.

"Go away mom!" You called out.

"Ain't your momma."

You gasped out at the sound of Joel's voice, slowly standing to your feet. It must have taken you five minutes to reach the door, your whole body moving in slow motion against the caution your brain was screaming out.

When you opened the door he quickly stepped in, leaving you no time to process what was happening. He locked the door behind the two of you, his hands falling to his hips as he stood and stared down at you.

You didn't have the courage to meet him face to face, instead staring at the golden stain that had stained across his chest.

"Oh no, your cashmere." You bitterly mocked the voice of your aunt, finally looking up at him through wet lashes. "Why are you here?"

"Because your aunt and I-"

"I meant here, Joel. In my room."

He blinked a few times, taking in a quiet breath. "I ain't too sure why."

"Wha... okay." You threw your arms up in silent resignation, turning your back to him as you began unpacking your suitcase. "Then leave."

He was quiet for a long moment, before you felt a palm on your shoulder.

"Look at me, darlin'." Joel's voice was soft. He was... pleading with you.

Tears welled into your eyes again. "I can't." Your voice cracked, nails digging into your palms. "I can't." An ugly sob left you, and soon his arms were tight around you.

"Shh, s'alright now. Shh." He rocked you in his arms, his palms dragging up and down your back. "Shh, it's okay."

"It's not." You whimpered. "It's not." You pushed yourself away from him, stumbling towards the balcony. "I need some fresh air."

You stepped out onto the porch, holding on to the rails.

It was freezing, and rain was soaking you to the bone, but you had to breathe in something other than his cologne. His cologne. His woody scent that had burned its imprint in to your nostrils, never to leave.

Joel walked beside you, taking your hand.

"I didn't know she-"

"I know."

"I would never do that to you-"

"I know, Joel."

"Please look at me." He begged, and you couldn't help but look up at him. His hands moved to your face, his dark eyes full of sadness.

"Joel?" You asked quietly, a bought of worry crashing over you at his sudden silence.

"I-" He stopped himself, and you saw the tears growing in his eyes. "Every day I think about you. Every single day."

You nodded. "I do too, Joel."

"You were.... I loved you. So much. More than myself. And I- well, it took me so long to realize how selfish I was being. You're so young, you have so many possibilities ahead of you, you know?"

"Joel, I-"

"Let me finish." He whispered, his rough thumb brushing over the height of your cheekbone. "Please, let me finish. I have to."

You nodded, a shiver snapping through your body.

"And I just couldn't stop thinkin' about what would happen if we kept goin'. I was scared. I was scared of stoppin' you from fulfillin' your dreams, scared of tyin' you down. I'm an old man, honey, and I'm only gettin' older, and I just... it was selfish of me to take you away from what's supposed to be the best years of your life. Hell, give it another decade or two and you'd be takin' care of me, wipin' my ass and spoon feedin' me." He let out a sad laugh, and you followed suit, shaking your head.

"For what it's worth, Joel, I never...I never saw it like that."

"I know. I know you didn't. You never saw the bad in me. You're so patient, so kind, so.... just, you're everythin' I ever wanted, who I had always been dreamin' about."

"Then why... if- I just. I don't understand. I would have stayed with you, even when you got old and grumpy- grumpier." You corrected yourself with a sniffle and a laugh, wiping both the tears and rain off your cheek. "Why leave it all?"

"You say that now, but thing's always end up turnin' out differently. Right person, wrong time. Just like everybody always says."

Joel pushed a strand of wet hair behind your ear, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known."

"Please..." You let out a soft whimper, your bottom lip quivering.

"Don't give me none of that now, honey." Joel dragged his thumb across your lip. "Don't waste no more tears on me."

"Can't make any promises."

Joel rested his forehead against yours, his liquor stained breath fanning hot across your face. Your arms wrapped around his waist as he held your face, his eyelashes brushing against your own.

"Let me kiss you." You whispered, chewing on the inside of your cheek. "One last time."

Joel nodded in agreement, his plush lips molding in to yours perfectly, the way they always had, the way they always would. You kissed him deeply, with a hunger you had never known before and a sadness you had never felt before, his sweater bunching up between your fingers. Joel let out a quiet grunt into your mouth, his fingertips imprinting upon your cheek as he pulled you closer.

If he could, he would have morphed your bodies together from this kiss, never to be apart.

But he couldn't.

This was goodbye.

His tongue swept across your lip and you parted your mouth, your tongues tangling together, tasting, exploring, tangling up together in a maelstrom of emotion neither of you were prepared to feel. With the cold rain pouring down, chilling you straight to the core, the dichotomy of heat and ice made your chest compress, the wind swirling around your bodies, nearly freezing you together.

You wouldn't mind being frozen against him, you wouldn't mind thawing out together beneath the spring sun, only to do it all again the next time Winter approached.

But you couldn't.

This was goodbye.

You both pulled away at the same time, and you couldn't help the cry that escaped you, the realization that you would never feel him again surging through your blood.

"None of that." He whispered, pulling you in for a tight hug. "None of that." His hand held on tightly to yours, his fingers tracing shapes across your fingers as he soaked in your face.

Your teeth chattered, and you walked towards the entrance back into your room.

"Goodbye, Joel." You whispered, your lip catching between your teeth. It was a stupid thing to say, considering you would see him at every family gathering. He wasn't actually going anywhere.

But he knew what you meant. He knew the weight your words carried.

"Goodbye, darlin'." He held on to your hand as long as he could, your fingers untying as you walked inside and out into the hall, heading for the bathroom.

Joel heard the shower running, and he walked back inside, his knuckles dragging across the bathroom door as he walked past. With a heavy sigh he went to go change, making his way back downstairs.

You spent the rest of the night trying to feel better, but an anchor had lodged itself into your chest. Just as you predicted, you drowned yourself in cranberry mojito's and tried to find solace in karaoke with your siblings, stories from your grandma, anything you could get your hands on, really. But nothing helped. Each time you thought you were feeling just a bit better, you would catch his gaze, and the world around you would come to a complete stand still.

It took months to start to feel at least a little bit better, yet the thought of Joel always lingered in the back of your mind. He would visit your dreams, sit with you and your thoughts at breakfast, dance with you to the music you would play while cooking. He haunted you like a ghost, and to be honest- you would rather a ghost be following you than the echo of his memory.

After all was said and one, you truly thought you were managing to cope well, until you got a letter in the mail from your aunt.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Joel Miller and Marie-

You didn't remember much after that.

[mayababes19]

JJK MEN MOTHER'S DAY + FATHER'S DAY SPECIAL!! (PART 1/2)

☆ Characters: Gojo, Nanami, Geto, Sukuna, Toji, Choso

☆ AFAB!Reader!

☆ Summary: A late Mother's Day special that I turned into a two-parter

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

Gojo - Gojo is such a dork. Forget fancy things. For Mother's Day, you'll be at an arcade or a sweets café. The only fancy thing you'll get is Disneyland. In Gojo's words, "Nothing fancy can show my love for you. I asked you to be my girlfriend for a reason".

Gojo would make you ride the "It's a Small World" ride because he knows it'll annoy you. From Splash Mountain to the mad tea party, your night is filled with affection and fun. He made an effort to put a smile on your face all day just to see you're beautiful face light up at the end of the night as you both watch the fireworks show at night with amazement. He's mainly looking at you though

Nanami - Now y'all know damn well Nanami is husband material. No debate. Lucky for you, you and Nanami were expecting a healthy baby girl.

It's been a few hours since the birth of your baby girl "Nana". Nanami did everything to make sure you were comfortable. Prepared your food, helped you to the bathroom, took care of Nana as you slept, and even declined every phone call Gojo made to annoy him.

Nanami personally learned how to knit days beforehand and made you and Nana matching hats, he was going to do was support his girls.

Nanami went the extra mile for his mother's day gift because in 3 months, you're going on a cruise with your family

Geto - One thing Geto is going to do is stay classy. No bullshit and no interruptions. He'd purposely pretended to be oblivious of what day it is. Geto would blindfold you and drive you to a fancy restaurant with a good view of the skyline. Once unblinded and in the middle of dinner, Geto casually grabbed a ring box and proposed to you in front of the whole restaurant.

Even though he would be calling the onlookers monkeys by now, his main focus was on you.

Sukuna - You're the only exception. He doesn't care about anyone or anything else on Mother's Day besides you. Ever since he got you pregnant, he's been clingy and more loving even if he doesn't want to admit it. You woke up to roses and your favorite snacks in a giant basket.

"Mornin' brat. Move over"

And just like that, the king of curses is cuddling with you in bed watching your favorite shows and movies. He hates them but he's also secretly intrigued by the dramas

Toji - Toji would send little gifts to your job the days leading up to mother's day. After staying up all night, Toji's plan was finally put together.

After surprising you in bed, Toji dragged you outside to a beautiful sign with your favorite flower(s) and led lights on it and big black letters spelling out,

"Will you marry me?"

Toji would wait till the last minute to buy you an actual gift (He's broke okay 😔) because he went all out on the proposal. Toji saved up some money to take you out to a high-class restaurant and a suit in your favorite color.

After your restaurant date, it was now around 12:45 am. Toji took you out on a late-night drive, he secretly admired how your eyes shined as you looked out the window excitedly looking out at the sky.

Before heading home, Toji bought you ice cream but once you two arrived home he couldn't care less about the ice cream. Like a caveman, Toji scooped you up into his arms while loosening his tie, heading to the bedroom.

"How about I make you a mother?"

"Toji, wait!"

Choso - You and Choso would have a lovely daughter together. Forget her looking like you, she’s a mini Choso just with your eye color.

Choso would purposely turn off your alarm on your phone so you would sleep in and give him time to prepare for your beautiful day. Choso would prepare a bath with roses and candles, breakfast in bed, and coffee. As he’s preparing, he also woke up your daughter, getting her dressed and fed.

By the time you woke up, your bedroom was covered in rose petals, a bouquet, and balloons on your bedside table. No sooner than later, your daughter and Choso walked through the door showering you with love and handing you your breakfast.

After breakfast, Choso gave you and your daughter matching outfits and took you two out to eat.

Choso would ride the carasoul with your daughter, giving quick glances as you recorded the pair. Choso on the other hand, just wants to get off this stupid ride already.

As the day went on, you three went to multiple stores, restaurants/cafés, and did special activities. For the last stop, Choso would take you two to the spot where he proposed to have a picnic together as you the sunset.

But... this Mother's Day wasn't the same.

Once a beautiful family of three, soon turned into a family of two.

@screampied

[greeneyessmize]

Debling is not a bad man. He is not a "bad" option. He's forthright, shows attraction to Pen, has interest in her intelligence, and has a sense of humor that compliments her own. Yes, he also has oodles of money and a title.

But, he isn't giving her even the slightest promise to try for love. He's going to be gone 3 years at a time. And Penelope is the richest woman in London, per the books and likely the show as well.

These last three things mean he is also not a good option for Penelope.

She wants love. She is very clear with him about this, both when they discuss romance books and in their final dance. His replies are that he is happy she has a passion for her reading and then that she is beautiful.

While Pen says she values her privacy, what she actually values is her independence. Privacy allows you to keep a secret. Independence allows you to openly be yourself.

Pen. Does. Not. Need. Money. She needs an escape from her overbearing mother and petty sisters. She is choosing to marry in society so that she can still participate in it, and thus continue LW, but she has more than enough money to leave England entirely should she wish.

Colin is entirely in step with Pen as soon as he understands that he loves her. They were already best friends with all the humor, warmth, and affection that comes with that bond. He adores that she is so smart and witty. He is seriously so very attracted to her as evidenced by him going feral not long after their kiss.

He's not going to leave her behind. Even book Colin is very clear, Penelope is his home. And he will not be parted from her willingly. They would travel together, never apart.

He has money of his own, but no title. Penelope doesn't need either of those things as mentioned above. But he is a part of society, which is a nice bonus for her LW work.

Colin loves Penelope with all of his heart and soul. He gave it to her on a platter without her even needing to ask. He just had to know he loved her to give her all of him.

I think it's inevitable that Penelope will have independence to be herself with Colin, too. It's their destiny. Will it be a struggle? Yes. Will it hurt? Undoubtedly. But Colin and Pen are meant to be equals. That is what friends to lovers has to contain. Friends to lovers is balance, harmony, a dance.

Picking between Debling and Colin is like picking between a beautiful maze like mansion with too many rooms where sighs echo off of gorgeous furnishings but is so, so empty and cold and the small cottage that fits just right and is filled with cozy warm fuzzy feelings with a blooming garden outside and an always warm hearth and a sweet little sofa with your favorite comfy blanket and it is always Sunday morning with no chores to do.

Even if Penelope had been presented both options side by side, which she wasn't, she always would have picked Colin. Pen was only picking Debling when she felt to her very bones that Colin was not an option. Then Debling removed himself as an option which made Penelope believe she had no options at all until the carriage scene.

To Pen her choices were: haunted maze mansion or nothing then cottage of her dreams or nothing. Of course she was going to reluctantly accept the mansion over nothing and of course she was going to leap at her dream cottage as soon as she knew it existed.

[hqbaby]

fifteen — maybe i do

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 2.2k content. profanity, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex

It was a Friday night and you were all absolutely plastered. It turned out that a surplus of alcohol, a couple of no-shows, and a group of stressed college kids could only result in something on the edge of a mass blackout.

“We should have a wedding!” Suguru suggested. Or maybe it was Yuta. You weren’t really sure anymore.

It didn’t matter of course, because the moment the thought was spoken aloud, everyone fell into unanimous agreement, and your living room was soon filled with an alcohol-induced haze of last minute wedding planning. There was talk about using a bundle of pens as a bouquet, creating a wedding cake with some of your leftover cupcakes in the fridge, Nobara designating herself as the wedding photographer armed with a random phone—not even hers—as a camera.

“Who’s getting married though?” Maki, still managing to ask the important questions even if she could barely stay upright, offered up to the room.

It was Satoru who answered, raising his hand as he used the other to hold you to his side. “We’ll do it!” he said, then he looked down at you. “Right, princess?”

You nodded, grabbing your boyfriend’s shoulder to balance yourself. “Yeah,” you said with a goofy grin on your face. “Let’s get married.”

The girls quickly ushered you to your bedroom, rampaging through your closet until you found a white dress. It was definitely too slutty for an actual bride to wear but it also just so happened to be the only one you had. With much difficulty, Nobara zipped you up and patted your back as you marched over to the door.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married,” she said, sniffling a little. “You’re so beautiful.”

You gave her a little twirl, giggling as you stumbled. “I’m gonna fall over.”

“We’ll catch you,” Maki assured you as she leaned on Nobara for stability. She produced the pen bouquet from the pocket of her jacket and placed it in your hands. “Let’s go.”

When you stepped outside your bedroom, you found that the boys had lined the path from your door to the kitchen with potato chips—probably intended to be petals. They had also rearranged your furniture into makeshift rows that they sat on, all leading to the fridge where Yuji—the chosen officiant—stood with Satoru at his side.

Your boyfriend dried nonexistent tears from his eyes as you teetered over to stand in front of him. He took your hands as soon as you reached your spot and grinned at you. His hair was a mess and his eyes were barely open, but he looked as happy as he could ever be.

“Do you—what’s the words?” Yuji asked only to be met by shrugs and “boo”s. “Okay, okay, whatever. Where are the rings?”

Suguru, the designated ringbearer, pulled two paper rings from his pocket. He handed one to you and the other to his best friend. As you looked at the thing in your hands, you realized that it looked like it had been made by a five year old. Still, you couldn’t help but think it was perfect.

“You may now, I dunno, exchange rings,” Yuji said unceremoniously, gesturing for Satoru to go first.

Your boyfriend, clearly having just as much fun as you, slid the ring onto your finger—the wrong finger, but it didn’t matter. He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed it before holding his own hand out.

You took the ring you were holding, twirling it between your fingers for a moment before you slipped it onto Satoru’s finger. You beamed at him and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him into a kiss.

Your friends all erupted into cheers, drowning out Yuji’s protests of, “Hold on! I was supposed to tell you to kiss,” as your boyfriend picked you up and twirled you around, lips never leaving yours.

You stare at the ring on your bedside table, where it’s been for months now. On the inside, you can see the faint scribble of “Satoru” in Yuta’s barely legible hand. You move your hand to touch it but you stop just inches away.

You’re lying on your bed, completely naked as far as you can tell, still adjusting to the morning light that slips through the curtains. Your blanket is pulled to your chin, covering your sore body as you stay there, completely motionless.

It takes you a moment to remember where you are. What happened last night. And who it all happened with.

Sukuna.

You bolt up and frantically turn to the space beside you on the bed. You find it empty, only the indent of a body left in your best friend’s wake.

You furrow your brows. Where could he—

And that’s when you notice them. The faint scent of food being cooked. The quiet cracking of something frying. The little movements on the other side of your bedroom door.

Carefully, you get out of bed and put your slippers on. You go over to your dresser, find some underwear, and put it on. You grab the sweater folded on your desk and slip it over your head before heading out of your room.

The sight that greets you is both familiar and alien at the same time. Sukuna in nothing but sweatpants with his back turned as he works on your kitchen stove.

“Are you making me breakfast?” you ask in a quiet voice. Your throat feels a little sore and your face heats up when you remember why.

Your best friend turns around with an amused look on his face. “Nope,” he tells you before looking back at the egg he’s frying. “This isn’t for you.”

With a frown, you sit at the kitchen table, noting the slight sting of your thighs as you move. “What?”

“I’m making lunch for the kids.”

“Kids,” you repeat slowly. That doesn’t help at all. “What?”

“Your tennis kids,” he says, laughter bubbling beneath his words. “You’re teaching them today, right? It’s Saturday.”

Your eyes widen in realization. “I totally forgot.”

He laughs now, turning the stove off and sliding the egg from the pan to a plate at his side. It’s then that you notice the little bento boxes laid out on the kitchen counter, all full of rice and sausages shaped to look like tiny squids. Sukuna places a fried egg in each box before he washes his hands and walks over to you.

He crouches in front of you and smiles, resting one of his hands on your leg. “You sleep well?”

You nod, still shocked by this whole situation. “You made them lunch?”

“Yeah, I figured you’d be too tired to do it, so I went out and got a few things,” he tells you. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You lean in and kiss him, slow and soft. “I can’t believe you did all that,” you say when you pull back. You scrunch your nose up. “Who are you and what have you done with Sukuna?”

He guffaws, getting up and going to put lids on the bento boxes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Damn, my pussy must be real good to have domesticated you like this,” you muse, grinning now as you watch him scowls despite the growing redness of his cheeks.

“You’re so immature,” he tells you as he stacks the boxes and places them in a shopping bag. He sits in the chair across yours and huffs, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “I’m never doing anything nice for you ever again.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be embarrassed,” you say, reaching over to pinch his cheek. “I think it’s cute.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, swatting your hand away. “Go get dressed or whatever,” he tells you.

You raise a brow. “Why?”

“Because I’m taking you out for breakfast, duh,” he says, holding up a hand to stop whatever teasing is about to spill from your mouth. “If you say another word, I’m gonna leave you to starve.”

You get up, still smiling, and sit on his lap, facing him as he avoids your gaze. “Thank you,” you say, pecking his lips. “This is the nicest thing you’ve ever done for me.”

“It is not,” he tells you. “I recall having to go into the girl’s bathroom once because you had to take a shit and you forgot—”

You cut him off with a kiss, snaking your arms around his neck as he kisses back and grabs your waist. There’s just something about seeing him be so nice and thoughtful that’s turning you on right now, so you grind your hips, vaguely aware of the fact that his dick is directly beneath your ass.

His grip on you tightens as he stills your movements. “I’m not gonna fuck you right now,” he mumbles against your lips before he pulls away.

You blink at him, lips falling into an “oh.” You draw your arms away and clear your throat. “Right, sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Sukuna watches as your expression changes to self-consciousness. He shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he clarifies. “I just—That’s what I do with all the other girls.”

You frown, defensive now. “Oh, right, because I don’t turn you on like other girls do.”

He shakes his head again, more fervent now. “No!” he says. “That’s not what I mean!”

“Then what do you mean?”

He looks at you sheepishly and sighs, running a nervous hand through his hair. “With everyone else, it’s always a rush to, you know, fuck as much as possible,” he explains, cringing when he realizes how terrible he sounds. “I mean, I don’t usually have plans to see them again afterwards, so I don’t—you know, it’s just—it’s different with you, okay? I just want us to take our time. Because, well, I was kinda hoping there would be more of it.”

Oh.

You nod, smiling at him softly as you place a hand on his cheek. Your heart flutters when he nuzzles into your touch. “I get it,” you tell him. “And, uh,” you clear your throat, a little shy now, “I got what you were trying to say. I do, well, I do want more of… this.”

His eyes light up. Like he hadn’t expected you to say that at all. “Yeah?”

You laugh. “Yeah,” you say. “This is… good. Right?”

He nods, smiling now too. “Yeah. This is really good.”

You’re walking out of the coffee shop when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You pull it out and check the message, sighing when you read it.

“I gotta stop by the club office,” you tell Sukuna. “I forgot to give them the financial reports.”

He takes your hand and squeezes it. “It’s fine,” he says. “We have some time before you have to be at the sports complex anyway.”

The two of you make your way through the campus hand in hand. You’re both clearly still adjusting to this new development in your relationship—as evidenced in the way Sukuna’s hand is clammy in yours and the way you keep thinking, “Am I walking too slow? Too fast? Should I let his hand go”—but you manage to make it to the office intact.

“I’ll be right back,” you tell him, pushing the office door open.

The room is mostly empty, save for the boxes of unsold t-shirts by the door and the desks littered with gum wrappers and empty soda cans. Utahime would throw a fit if she saw the mess.

“Hey!” Emiko, one of the other club members, says from the desk she’s sitting at. Her laptop is in front of her and there are a few spreadsheets laid out on the surface beside it. “You got the reports?”

“Yup,” you tell her, pulling the envelope from your bag. You hand it to her and she puts it in one of the drawers. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

She groans. “I know,” she says, resting her head on the desk. “I’ve been so busy with my other clubs, I haven’t really gotten to spend time here. That’s actually why Nanami put me on desk duty as soon as I ran into him in the hallway.”

You offer her a sympathetic smile. “That’s why I avoid him at all costs.”

“Good tip,” she says, chuckling. “Are you going on the trip?”

You nod. “Yeah! I heard you couldn’t make it.”

“You heard right.” She hums. “I’m heading back home for the break.”

“That a good thing?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. I miss my mom,” she says. “I saw on the list that you were going with someone. Boyfriend?”

“Yup,” you tell her, the answer coming to you immediately. Is Sukuna actually your boyfriend now though? You should really ask. “It’s… new.”

“Oh, to be in love,” she swoons. “You should really give me tips some time.”

“No luck in that department.”

“Nah, I’m afraid it’s just hookups for me.” She stretches back and looks at her laptop screen. “I gotta get back to these MOAs. It’s so good to see you though.”

“You too,” you tell her, waving as you make your way out the door.

Sukuna’s leaned against the wall outside, head bent as he scrolls through his phone. He looks up as soon as he notices you. “All good?”

“Yup,” you tell him, stopping right in front of him and tilting your head to the side. “Are you my actual boyfriend now?”

He burst into laughter, slinging an arm over your shoulder as he leads you back to the parking lot. “I dunno, tiger,” he says. “Do you want me to be?”

You lean into his hold and sigh. “I dunno. Maybe I do.”

notes. i’m refraining from leaving any incriminating author’s notes 🥰 CUTE CHAPTER THOUGH RIGHT????

[unseededtoast]

Shadow of Obsession | Spencer Reid x Reader

Part Five

Series summary: In which you find that love is an obsession that can quickly spiral out of control.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

*Content warning: description of sexual activity*

"I saw the glare of a hidden camera, right over there."

Spencer waits until he's sure that you're sleeping before he makes his way to the dining table. He spreads out all of the photos the stalker slipped under your door and wrote down all the details of the case. He's working under the dim light from the lamp, and he himself fights off sleep. Like he said, there is no length too great for you.

Thanks to his impeccable memory, he's able to recall when you wore each outfit depicted in the photos. He's sure that this will help him construct the timeline of when this all began. Of course, it'll likely only be a ballpark estimate, as it's likely it took the stalker some time to build his confidence.

With the clues laid out in front of him, his mind works to put the puzzle together. He rearranges the photos and clues, switching things out every so often. As he works his mind also begins trying to form a narrative that makes sense.

The photos have all been taken within the last two months. This tells Spencer either the stalker has built a lot of confidence really quickly, or this has been going on for a lot longer than anyone realized. His stomach churns at the thought of an unknown man lurking outside of your apartment, just waiting to catch a glimpse of you.

The thought also gives him a drive to work harder and to think faster. He paces around the table, looking over the photos and other evidence again and again, hoping that the answer jumps out at him.

The exhaustion weighs his eyelids down and as he paces he rubs his eyes constantly. He's afraid that if he stops moving he'll fall asleep on the spot. And he can't afford to do that. No, he has to stay up and figure this out once and for all. And he's confident that the answer is right in front of him somehow. There has to be enough clues here to point him in the right direction.

He has to do this. For you. He has to make sure you're safe. He has to be sure nobody is lurking in the shadows waiting for you. He has to be sure. For he cannot bear the thought of someone else even putting a finger on you.

A jolt of adrenaline courses through his veins with the thought. The idea of another man putting his hands on you is enough to keep him up for days. He wants to be the only one who has the privilege of feeling your touch. He wants to be the one who you come to when you're upset. He wants to be the only one.

And so he cannot rest until he knows he's the only one.

He finally comes to a stop and leans forward on the table, his hands tightly gripping each side to support himself. Spencer takes a closer look at each picture and dissects each one, for every photo tells a story in and of itself.

It isn't until the sun shines through the curtains that he realizes he's stayed up all night constructing what he believes is the correct timeline. With tired, yet careful, hands he packs everything up in order and leaves it on the table so he can remember to take it with him when he goes to work. You're still not permitted to return to the office, under Hotch's orders, but Spencer most certainly can present this to the team.

He isn't sure exactly what he's going to say, but he knows he's going to have to work hard to keep his anger at bay.

"Spence?" Your groggy voice surprises him out of his thoughts. He stands straighter and offers a small, soft smile.

"Good morning, did you sleep okay?" He asks you, and you nod after a yawn. You walk over to him and rub your eyes, and Spencer is sure he's never seen such a beautiful sight.

"Did you sleep at all?" You ask him, your eyes carefully looking over the finer details of his face. He feels a blush creep up his neck, and he knows there's no point in lying.

"No, I had something much more important to do." He says, licking his lips as his eyes glance between your eyes and your lips. He notices the crease between your eyebrows and he can almost guess what's going to come out of your mouth next.

"Spencer. You need sleep, you can't just function like this. Please, before you leave, get a few hours in. I'll call Hotch, he will understand." You say, already reaching for your phone. Your pointed look tells him that you're not going to take no for an answer.

And so he obeys your wishes, shuffling over to the familiar couch and tries to get comfortable. Truthfully, the couch is almost unbearable to sleep on, but he knows he would make it work every single time you asked him to.

———

The phone rings as you hold it to your ear. You chew anxiously on the skin inside of your cheek, hoping Hotch answers. Your eyes are trained on the back of the couch, where Spencer had laid down.

"Hotchner." Your supervisor's voice booms in your ear.

"Good morning, listen I have a little bit of a favor to ask." You keep your voice low, not wanting Spencer to hear the conversation.

"What is it?" You hear the curiosity in his voice and you can almost picture the slight squint of his eyes.

"Spencer stayed up all night long. And I mean all night. Any chance you could count that as on-duty time and let him have the day off?" You know it's really wishful thinking, but you're hoping you have enough of a justification. Hotch is silent on the other end and you're sure he's going to shoot down the idea.

"I can say he was with you as part of the security detail. Have either of you had any luck figuring things out?" You hear a door shut on the other end, and you know this conversation is now completely private. With a sigh, you answer.

"Maybe? I don't know what he found out last night, I made him get some rest. But I'm sure he'll explain it all to me soon. And I'm sure you'll be the next to know." You tell him, eyes glancing back to the couch.

"I'm counting on it. Be careful and see you soon." Hotch says before hanging up. Without another thought, you leave your phone on the table and make your way over to Spencer. You see his disheveled curls before the rest of him, and it reminds you to offer him a haircut. You had meant to offer one before, but then things got out of hand.

"Hey Spence." You whisper, not wanting to wake him as you go to stand in front of him. His sleepy eyes stare back into yours, the exhaustion finally hitting him.

"Hmm?" He hums, his lips ticking up in the softest of smiles.

"How about you get off this uncomfortable couch and go crawl into bed." You offer and hope it doesn't cross a line he's not willing to surpass. His eyebrows shoot up and he pushes himself up into a sitting position.

"No, no I can't invade your space like that." He keeps his voice soft and it melts your heart, his puppy eyes are just the cherry on top.

You cant help yourself and reach out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Feeling the tension in the muscle, your other hand find his other shoulder and you try to work out the stress. His eyes flutter shut as your hands relax the muscles under your fingertips.

"Come on." You whisper, beckoning him to stand from the couch. It must be his relaxed and sleepy state, but he stands without protest and lets you lead him to your room.

You sit him on the edge of the bed and your fingers undo the tie hanging loosely around his neck. His eyes are still heavy as he looks up at you, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, bringing him close to you. Spencer's head rests on your chest, and you allow your fingers to weave their way into his curls, where you slowly scratch and massage his head.

Spencer wraps his arms around your waist and you wish you could live in this moment forever. The two of you remain just like this for what feels like a small eternity, one you don't want to end.

"I've got a change of clothes for you." You say before pressing a tender kiss to the top of his head. Reluctantly he lets you go over to your dresser, where you keep some clothes of his that he's left over the years.

He takes them and goes to the bathroom while you quickly work to straighten out the blankets and pillows for him. And it isn't long before he comes back into the room, looking much more comfortable than before. A smile finds its way onto your face as he goes back to your bed. He sets his old clothes on the night stand and yawns.

"Get some rest. Hotch said you have the rest of the day off." You keep your voice light. You rake your fingers through Spencer's hair once more before you turn to leave so he can get some much needed sleep.

The moment you turn around to leave, Spencer's hand is around your wrist, gently keeping you in place. You turn to look at him and your lips fall apart. Never before have you seen Spencer Reid look so at home than in this moment; it's almost as if he's belonged right here all this time.

"Stay with me." You aren't sure if it's a statement or a question, but either way you're at a loss for words. Tongue-tied and flustered, you feel your face grow warm.

"You need to get some rest, I'll just be right out there." You say, knowing full well you'd rather be right here next to him. The corner of his mouth turns up,

"Just so I know you're safe." He says, and it sounds like the most legitimate reason ever to stay. You nod your head, playing into the rationale.

"Just so you know I'm safe." You repeat his words and you walk around the bed and join him. And why shouldn't you take him up on the offer? After all, there's a crazed man out there looking for you.

Your heart races as you sit on the opposite side, and you feel like a teenager with a crush all over again. Spencer turns to face you and he pulls the covers back, inviting you inside the warmth with him. You hope he doesn't notice the tremble in your hands as you move or the pounding of your heart as you settle beside him.

Your bed is warm and inviting, and you find your face merely inches away from Spencer's. You stare into each other's eyes and he reaches for your hands under the blankets. You watch as he lazily blinks and intertwines your fingers together.

"Just so I know you're safe." He repeats.

"Right, just so you know I'm safe." You echo once again, moving closer to him, as if you two were magnets being drawn towards one another.

In this moment, the rest of the world has dissolved, disappeared into nothingness. All you can see is Spencer's eyes and the multitudes of depths held within. His skin is warm on yours, his comforting smell infiltrates your senses.

You rest your forehead against his, just barely, and fight the urge to grab his face and seal the deal. But it seems Spencer isn't able to control his urges as well. He untangles a hand from yours and trails it up your arm, leaving a path of goosebumps in his wake. His large hand moves up your shoulder and cups your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheekbone with careful tenderness.

With your free hand you reach up and place it on his jaw, mirroring his movements exactly. His skin is soft under your touch and you commit it to memory. You watch as his tongue wets his lower lip as he glances down at yours. Your heartbeat resounds in your ears, your skin is set ablaze by his touch.

You never want to forget this feeling of his skin on yours, his thumb caressing your face. You never want to smell anything other than him. And you most certainly never want to see anyone else in your bed. There's nobody you'd rather be with.

Even the thought of him sharing a moment like this with anyone else makes you sick to your stomach. You can't imagine his hands on anyone else, his smiles being for someone other than you. You know for a fact that jealousy would run hot in your veins if he went out of his way to comfort someone like he does for you. You want his affection all for yourself, you want all of his attention all the time.

It dawns on you in that moment, staring into his eyes, that you've fallen in love with your best friend.

And you simply can't stand not having his lips on yours any longer.

Gently, you guide his face towards yours and place your lips on his. His hand on your face holds you in place as he kisses you with passion. Your body feels like it's been set on fire, all you can feel is an all-consuming need for Spencer. The two of you kiss each other like your lives depend on it; everything you haven't said to one another becoming abundantly clear.

Spencer frees his other hand from yours and grabs your hip, pulling you closer to his body. A breathless gasp leaves your mouth as he kisses your cheek down to your jaw. The hand that's not on his face tightly grasps his shoulder as a ripple of pleasure shivers throughout your body.

His lips find the sensitive spot on your neck and you're unable to hold back the sound of pleasure you moan into his ear. The sound only seems to encourage him as his tongue swirls around the spot before gently sucking on it.

"Spencer." You airily say, your body involuntarily pressing against him.

"Hmm?" He hums in response. You take another shaky breath, uncertain about what you're even about to say, you just know you want him all over you.

"Please-" Your words are interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. And just like that, your own private little world crumbles around the two of you.

In an instant, your blood runs cold and your heart feels like it's going to stop. Spencer must see the fear written all over your face as he sits up, taking his warmth with him. He straightens his clothes and gets out of bed, ordering you to stay there. You comply without question, terrified to think who may be waiting on the other side.

As soon as Spencer goes to check the door, your eyes lock onto your night stand where you've been keeping your gun, just in case. You hold your breath when the door opens and hear Spencer talking to the other person.

———

Unknown POV

The moment I walk into work, I can tell something is wrong. Something in the air tells me that today is going to be a lot more complicated than I bargained for. I see it in my subordinate's eyes, the way he's seemingly stressed and anxious.

But I pretend that nothing is wrong, and don't let on that I know something is not quite right. Truthfully, the only thing on my mind is logging in and opening up the cameras.

It's been too long since I've seen her beautiful face on my screen. The new cameras that were installed were a Godsend; they let me see her in much more high quality, to the point where it seems I can almost feel how soft and smooth her skin is.

Once I sit down and log in, I pull up the sixth floor cameras. But she isn't there. No, her computer is turned off and none of her belongings are there. She wasn't scheduled for any time off, I just looked the other day.

My heart rate increases as I pull up the BAU timesheet. My eyes quickly scan the page and see that she's scheduled to be here. Closing the tab, I look around the department. But not only is she missing, it seems Spencer is gone as well.

My hands ball into tight fists as I try not to punch a hole in the desk. Why aren't they here? They're both scheduled to be here, so they should be here. There's no good reason why the two of them are gone at the same time for no apparent reason.

But what if she's in some sort of trouble? If she's in trouble I need to be there for her, I have to be there for her. I close out of the camera system and begin formulating an excuse to leave for a little bit when one of my subordinates knocks on my office door.

"Do you have a moment, sir?" He asks, the nerves thick in his voice. Fighting the inner rage I force a cordial smile onto my face and beg my eye to stop twitching.

"Of course." I force my voice to be level. If I can just get this out of the way then I can race across town and make sure she's okay.

The man sits across from my desk and I watch as he swallows hard. If only he knew what he was keeping me from, he wouldn't be wasting my time like this.

"Sir, Aaron Hotchner of the BAU called me down to inspect one of their computers. He said they suspected it had been tampered with." His words unsettle me slightly, but I know my work is thorough, it's solid.

"And I'm assuming you took a look?" I ask, desperate to know what the BAU knows. If their team only consisted of the profilers, wouldn't have needed to cover my tracks so well. But because of their technical analyst, I could cut no corners.

"I did." The man nods his head and I shrug.

"And?" I press, wishing he would get to the point. I wonder if this has any bearing on her absence this morning. And it makes me wonder if Spencer had any hand in this situation. After all, it would make sense, he's been trying to keep me from her this entire time.

"Sir I found evidence of AES 128." I try my best to look shocked and startled by this information. The look on the man's face tells me that he knows he's in over his head with this one, and I know without question he will never be able to solve it. In fact, nobody can solve it. That's why it was so perfect to use.

"That is... not good." I lean forward and keep my façade up. The man shakes his head and continues,

"No sir. And I told Agent Hotchner about it. He asked if there's anything we could do. I told him I would have to speak to you because of the encryption's sophistication." The man elaborates and I fight the urge to smile. Perhaps Hotch will let us handle this and won't involve their technical analyst.

Even if they did, she wouldn't be able to crack the code either. Feeling more confident that everything is going according to plan, I excuse the man across from me and tell him I'm going to look into the matter. But really, I just need to see her.

It doesn't take long to reach the familiar street corner. Though I'm taking a substantial risk by being here in the day, I couldn't wait until this evening. No, I need to know she's okay.

Unable to bring my binoculars like usual, I take my phone out and zoom in completely. The picture quality isn't great, but it'll have to do for now. Even a grainy image of her would be enough.

Pictures of her smiling and being carefree dance in my head. Maybe she just needed a personal day. Perhaps she needed a break from Spencer and the way he's always suffocatingly around her. But then the question still remains of where he is. Surely they didn't both skip work and surely they aren't in her apartment here together. No, it has to be a coincidence. It has to be.

Feeling the tips of my fingers tingle with anxiety I exit the camera app on my phone and dig into the BAU's files for anything recent mentioning her, or Spencer. The page that comes up is enough to send borderline homicidal thoughts through my mind.

She has been placed under a security detail and Spencer is assigned to stay with her. Direct orders from Agent Hotchner. My eyes flick back up to her window that's partially obscured by the curtains he put up and I see her leading him into her bedroom.

I see her holding his hand as she takes him into her bedroom and I put my phone away, afraid that if I grip onto it any harder that it would shatter into a million pieces. My feet move before I can comprehend what I'm doing. All I know is that I have to interrupt whatever is happening between the two of them in her bedroom. It should be me that she's leading in there, it should be me that gets to feel the softness of her skin, it should all be me.

As I race to the building, flashbacks pop into my head from the night at the bar. I remember how he held her hand, how he opened her car door, and how he left with her. I wonder then what happened after they left. The thought of Spencer being the one that gets to experience her, to be around her, makes me see red.

If only I had been able to speak to her that night, then this would not be an issue. Then she would have to see that I'm the only suitable man for her. If only Spencer had turned against her like the majority of the BAU, then this wouldn't be an issue. But for some reason, he hadn't bought it like the others. He was supposed to, just like the others.

I feel my thoughts begin to spiral out of control as I enter the building, upset beyond comprehension that my plan is starting to crumble right in front of my eyes. If I want to pull this off, I know I'm going to have to do something drastic.

My chest heaves as I knock on her door, and I wait for whoever is going to answer, unsure of what my plan even is. I just need to see her. I need to be around her. I cannot take being apart any longer.

———

Spencer opens the door and is met with a familiar face, but not one he expected to see. It takes him a moment to place the man's name and department, but once he does, it still doesn't make sense.

"Agent Valentine?" Spencer asks, trying to take a step forward to have this conversation in the hallway, but Valentine steps forward into the apartment instead.

"Agent Reid." Valentine's voice sounds strained and Spencer wonders what happened to cause Valentine to be here. Nobody should've been granted access to the building except regular confirmed tenants and those approved by the security detail; neither of which Valentine is.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Spencer questions, curious as to why the unit chief of the IT department came to your apartment. Surely if this had anything to do with the encryption Valentine would go to Hotch, not here.

But Spencer reserves any further questions and waits for the man's answer. It seems that he's half distracted by looking around your apartment instead of focusing on why he's here in the first place. Spencer watches as the man's eyes linger on the window before they travel to your bedroom door. But when Valentine's eyes meet Spencer's once more, he seems to snap out of his trance.

"Yes, I came here because of the situation." Valentine gestures vaguely and Spencer nods, carefully looking the man over. His shoulders seem rigid, his eyes dart around erratically, and it looks like he's been sweating.

"Right. Who sent you here? We're under an active security detail." Spencer pushes for more information, worried that something even worse had been discovered than the encryption found in your electronic records.

"I'm aware of the detail and the encryption, and we're actively working on it. But for added protection I'm here to offer the installation of motion-activated cameras. We had some left over from the replacements in the office, we thought they might be helpful." Valentine seems to be all business now. He stands with an authoritative posture, his eyes glued to Spencer's face.

"I'm not at liberty to make that decision. Would you mind waiting here for a second?" Spencer asks and Valentine agrees, taking a few steps back to allow Spencer to go to your room.

He steps inside and closes the door behind him before he looks up and sees you with your hand hovering over your nightstand. Your eyes are wide, like a deer caught in the headlights. But once you see it's him, you relax your shoulders. He walks closer to you and places a gentle hand on your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone.

"Who was it?" You ask him, eyes glancing towards the door. Spencer licks his lips and drops his hand.

"Agent Valentine, from IT. He wants to speak to you." Spencer tells you. If it were up to him, you wouldn't be going out there to talk to the man at all. Something just doesn't quite feel right. But, it is ultimately your decision as to how you want to handle your security measures.

"Valentine's here?" You ask, seemingly just as confused as he is. Spencer nods as you get off the bed and walk towards the door. While your back is turned, Spencer grabs your firearm out of the nightstand and puts it in the back of his pants as he realizes he left his out in your living room.

He joins the two of you in the living area, seeing that Valentine had moved over to the window. He's looking through the curtains down to the street and smiles when you walk out.

"Good morning." He greets you with a warm smile, his demeanor change is subtle, but Spencer notices it; his shoulders aren't taut anymore, his eyes seem to soften. Spencer lingers in the background, focused on the man's behavior. There's just something not right about him being here. It goes against security detail protocol, and he's never known Hotch to allow a breach of those rules.

"What can I do for you?" You ask, keeping a good distance between yourself and Valentine, which he's quick to try and close. He takes a few steps towards you and you hold your position by the couch.

"We've been made aware of your situation and have some left over cameras from the installation of the new system, we thought you might like to have some installed." He tells you, looking around your apartment. Valentine's eyes linger on your bedroom door.

Spencer notices the file that's been left on the dining room table, and he makes slow movements over to it, where he covers it to the best of his ability with a placemat.

"Oh, um, that's very kind, thank you. Would it be okay if I thought it over and got back to you?" You ask, and a rush of relief comes over Spencer. His eyes focus in on Valentine, who wears a strained, forced smile.

"Of course. Would you like my number so you can contact me? I fear this story isn't quite complete yet, who knows what else could happen." He reaches for his phone in his pocket eagerly, contrasting his eerie words.

"That's okay, I have your office number." You answer professionally and take one small step back, towards Spencer. Spencer sees Valentine's knuckles grow white from the firm grip he has on his phone.

"Perfect. Hope to hear from you soon. If there's anything, and I mean anything, I can do for you, please let me know." Valentine's voice almost has traces of begging in it as he speaks to you, taking one step closer. Spencer stands straighter, ready to step in if he sees you becoming uncomfortable.

"Will do, thank you." You say and start walking towards the door. Like a leashed dog, Valentine follows you, his eyes darting every which way, as if he's trying to memorize the layout of your apartment.

You open the door to the apartment and Valentine takes a deep breath before he steps out into the hall. Before leaving, he turns around and looks at you once more, a smile back on his face.

"Like I said, if there's anything I can do. I don't want you to worry that brilliant mind of yours." He restates before turning to leave.

Once he's gone you close the door and turn back to face Spencer, a confused look on your face. You walk to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and Spencer gets his phone out to send a message to Hotch.

"Hey, did you send Valentine from IT over?" Spencer is anxious to find out the answer. He grabs the file from underneath the placemat and stares at it, you join his side silently, the two of you deep in thought.

———

Hours later, the sun begins setting and casts a golden glow throughout your apartment. You had sent Spencer back to bed after Valentine left, but opted to stay out here instead of rejoining him. You couldn't get your mind to rest, something about Valentine's visit was unsettling.

Of course you knew who Valentine was, you had even talked to him on several occasions. He's helped you and some of the others out with various IT problems over the years. He was always quiet and nice, his behavior today somewhat contradicted what you expected from him. But perhaps he was just more relaxed to be out of the office, maybe he's under less stress these days, or maybe he's found his confidence. Whatever it is, it doesn't quite sit right with you.

You get off the couch and walk over to the window, glancing out to the street. Your eyes look around but see nothing out of the ordinary, but you weren't even sure what you were looking for in the first place. You're unable to settle down and make your way to the dining table and spread out the contents of the folder in the exact order Spencer had put it all away.

With careful eyes you look over each piece of evidence, hoping and praying to see something new, some small clue that would break this case wide open. All you see are photos of yourself, some from open-source available articles, some taken by the stalker himself you presume, and then your official FBI photo, not available to the public. The articles are notated in a way that highlights your successes and handwritten notes that state you deserve more. There surely has to be something here.

Between the flowers, the retagged evidence, the altered records, and the contents of the file, there's one commonality that you just can't seem to pin down. You force yourself to think strictly as a profiler and not a victim and go to grab a spare piece of paper to brainstorm possibilities.

While you're writing down your thoughts, you hear your bedroom door open. A sleepy Spencer emerges, his hair disheveled and sticking up several different ways. With a smile, you set the paper down and go to him, standing on your tip-toes to smooth his hair over. Butterflies erupt in your tummy as he smiles back down at you, and you suddenly become acutely aware that you two hadn't talked about what happened earlier.

But before you could even ask, Spencer leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your cheek, his stubble tickling your skin.

"How'd you sleep?" You ask him, looking up through your lashes. Spencer's hands settle on your hips and he blinks slowly.

"I slept alright. You were right, by the way." He grins and you shake your head, not understanding.

"Right about what?" You ask.

"Your bed is way more comfortable than the couch." He smiles wider and lets you go.

"Who would've thought?" You sarcastically ask, making your way to the kitchen.

You pull out ingredients for a simple dinner and pour two glasses of wine, pushing one over to Spencer. He watches as you move about preparing dinner, silently sipping his drink. Soon, the smell of dinner engulfs the apartment and you realize just how hungry you had been.

"Do you want to watch a movie or something? I can't think about that any more tonight, my brain feels like it's been put through a blender." You ask, hoping he will say yes. He takes another sip as his eyes glance over the evidence on the table before he nods.

"Yeah, a movie sounds nice." He smiles and the two of you eat dinner on the couch together.

You try to let your mind relax, you feel like you've run several mental marathons back to back and it's all catching up to you. Almost your every thought has centered around who could possibly be the one watching you for almost a week now, but with the security detail around and Spencer here, you try to let it go for just a little while. You're in the safest place you could possibly be.

Once the two of you are finished with dinner, you top off your glasses and return to the couch. Spencer had been sure to close the curtains fully tonight, saying something about taking extra caution. And you were appreciative of the gesture, knowing he would do anything to keep you safe.

You lean your head on his shoulder and let your hand find his. He interlaces your fingers together and traces his thumb on the back of your hand. You're not entirely sure what's going on between the two of you, and quite frankly you don't really care to put a label on it, you're happy to just let things naturally progress, no formality needed.

You shift closer to Spencer and he wraps an arm around you, bringing you flush against him. In his arms you feel safe, like nothing could possibly go wrong. Looking up at him you see that he's already looking at you, so you lean forward and kiss him.

Spencer's hand caresses your face and he kisses you again, red wine lingering on his lips. He's gentle, soft, and everything you imagined he would be. You know there's no going back after today, that your relationship with Spencer will never be the same. Your fingers tangle in his hair as the kiss deepens and Spencer lays you back on the couch.

He's hovering over you, lips kissing down your jaw while you grab the front of his shirt and pull him as close to you as possible. The way he smells intoxicates you, the masculine smell of cedar envelopes your senses and drives you crazy. Without thinking, you wrap a leg around his waist and shudder at the feeling of him pressed against you.

Your mouth falls open and a gasp escapes you, and Spencer moans in your ear with the newfound contact. You want your hands all over him and you want him all over you. Your chest rises with heavy breaths, Spencer's lips trail further and further down your neck.

The movie had stopped playing, leaving the two of you in the dark. But that didn't stop you, if anything, it made you more bold. You guide Spencer's head back up to you and kiss him passionately, pressing your hips into his. He shudders with pleasure and this time it's your turn to place sloppy kisses down his jaw.

You push him back up so he's sitting upright and you climb onto his lap. His hands immediately grab onto your hips and push them down onto him, the both of you moaning into each other's mouths. You reconnect your lips to his neck, loving the way his fingers dig into you skin. Spencer is breathless under you, and he whispers your name.

You ignore it at first, thinking he's expressing his pleasure. But then he whispers your name again and stills your movement. Guilt and dread fill you quickly and you get off of him,

"Spencer I'm so sorry I-" Your apology is silenced with Spencer's hand over your mouth. Confused, your eyebrows draw together and Spencer leans forward, whispering so lowly in your ear you can hardly hear his words. But what he says will be sure to haunt you.

"I saw the glare of a hidden camera, right over there." His lips are basically pressed right against your ear. Your heart thumps in your chest as you look over, and sure enough, you see it as well.

It's small, and the only way you're able to see it is by the tiny red blinking light that goes off every few seconds. The light draws your eye and then you see the lens glare right above it.

You look back at Spencer, feeling nauseous. He removes his hand from your mouth, and all you can do is cling to him. Your chest feels tight and you can't think straight. Who knows how long it's been there? And who knows how much the person on the other side has seen.

*****************************************

taglist:

@yondiii @juhdoche @themarauderseraslut @shardsofmarxx @mel-vaz @bippityboppityboob1tch @babyspiderling @honestlyloving @emisback @thatredlipped-classic @desperately-seeking-serotonin @threespacemonkeys @small-and-violent @ropickle @honestlybabymiracle @hiireadstuff @suckstobrlaurie @random000000sblog @mynameiskelly @emma-e-a @pleasantwitchgarden @your-favorite-god

[yandere-wishes]

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆Doc-Ringo⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

✮ Yandere! Boothill x Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plot: There's a slick black-clad little gal who's been messing with his bounties recently. Boothill's been dying to rustle her up and take a bite

⁀➷ Warnings: Yandere behavior, blood, and gore, war trauma, Genie trying to do a cowboy accent.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺: Crimson and Clover by Joan Jett

And I don't hardly know her,

But I think I can love her,

Ah, now when she comes walking over,

I've been waiting to show her,

My mind's such a sweet thing

I want to do everything

What a beautiful feeling

It's not like the movies, they fed us on little white lies.

~💜

The first time he sees you there's a tempest of bullets rattling off his chest. Metal singing metal, as shells vie for an opening. It's all very lethal,

like the center of a rabid dust storm. Kissing death and sucking in her poison. Boothill can't tell where the bullets are coming from only that there's a dozen at a time ringing over his head. He shields his face with the metal of his forearms peaking through the gap to catch a glimpse of black.

Pure black.

That's the first thing he notices as your frenzy yields, You're clad in black from head to toe, even going so far as to dawn an eerie familiar mask. He's seen this scene play out somewhere before, he just can't remember where. "Morning mister", he likes that voice, jejune and teeming with confidence. It reminds him of himself, back when the sunset used to mean something and he could still feel wheat stocks under his soft palms.

"Howdy lil'lady I reckon you're in my way. Mind stepping aside before you get yourself hurt?" Your answer comes in the form of an aimed pistol, spine straight, midnight serape caught on the wind. He thinks you look a little too much like the folks back home -back when there was a home- blood boiling over eager for a fight. His bounty is standing just over yonder, blocked partly by your stubborn shadow. Boothill doesn't think twice before firing two rounds.

He's met with four...

He's in a cheap motel on Penacony, screwing in bolts that came loose. In the end, you laid claim to his bounty. Dragging him away to the hills. He's left growling at the thought, bested by a muddle-fudging fox. Lil gal probably ain't never even been in a proper shoot-out. The screwdriver cracks under his metal fingers. Boothill ain't about to start letting some pretty little thing get in the way of him and his targets.

The TV screen flickers to a melancholy monochrome. The films are old, distorted, crippled in parts. But he keeps them around, much like everything else about him, it's a bygone thing refusing to die.

He still likes to play them from time to time, trying to elicit the tastes of home. Hearing Nick and Graey setting plates out for dinner as his siblings rush downstairs. The movies are older than the new universe in more ways than one.

They come from a simpler time.

He'd always wondered why someone would bother painting such precious things in black and white. Spilling melancholia into picture frames, leaving everything tasting of vodka and vanilla.

It doesn't matter though, not really. All that matters is the sound of hooves on sand and bullets shooting. So long as the cowboys live their stories, everything else can be forgiven.

But this time something's off. The bandit's black mask shines through, gleaming something awful making him grind his sharp teeth. That damn mask, sitting pretty over a sly smirk. it reminds him of you, little cutie with your slick attitude. What bandit goes around doing hero's work anyway? What kinda twisted little lady are you?

He's getting mighty sick of this. Do you think you own the universe or something? "Been seeing way too much of you lately." There's sand in his Synesthesia Beacon his voice coming out horse, brittle. He kicks the head of an IPC lackey trying to drive home a point. "You getting on my nerves cutie". The ground looks nothing short of a graveyard, bodies scattered some piled. The blood paints the sands in a deep maroon, reflecting the glint of the distant stars. The last soldier is cowering behind you, his whimpers singing in Boothill's ears, one more bullet, that's all it'll take. "This one's mine" you mutter, and he wonders for a moment if the dry weather is getting to you too. "Not a chance pumpkin" his gun's drawn, firing bullets before you can even feel for your holster. The smirking bullet impales your abdomen, aimed point blank at the officer's head. But before the last body can be claimed you kick the man out of the way.

"Damn it" Boothill's anger is tangible, he knows you can feel it between your teeth. He's going to kill you, tear off that star-saken mask, and riddle you with bullets. You're getting too confident.

He doesn't notice your bullets at first. Protostars trying to act all rough and mighty. There's a temporary cluster of dust, a fraction of a second where his eyes aren't pinning you down. That's all it takes and then you're off. Sinking into the darkness and swimming away, taking his target with you.

It's only after the initial anger wears off that Boothill notices a tear on his thigh. A letter scrawled on the frayed leather of his pants. So you've started leaving your own marks, ay cutie?

He almost wishes he could feel the sting of your blade on his flesh. Feel your nails scrapping along his shoulders as he pins you to the ground.

Boothill fires at the moon.

Next time.

Next time for sure....

He's been chasing you for some time now. But catching up with you isn't as easy as he first thought. Seems like you go wherever the wind takes you and he's too busy with revenge to be following your capricious whims. The IPC ain't going to kill itself you know. And Boothill damn well wishes you'd start sitting still. He's heard from a reliable source that the IPC soldiers are throwing a little get to together down in one of the bars. Just a happy birthday for a colleague, nothing fancy. The thought alone makes his mouth water, place will be crawling with pests just waiting to be gunned down. Maybe tomorrow he'll try looking for you again, but tonight? Tonight's his night.

The neons have dulled now, they never were terribly bright to begin with. Penacony may be the land of dreams but not even dreams can stop reality from seeping through. The bar's loud, some new pop singer's music blasting from every speaker. Boothill downs his drink, liking how the ice cubes chime like a bad omen. He shoots the speakers first, needing some peace to focus on what comes next. The peace corp's lackeys are drunk, they stumble over themselves trying to reach him. He shoots each one like a kid playing carnival games. It's almost too easy...

The door is stampeded over by a heard of reinforcements. Somehow even in his drunken daze one of those yella-bellied lapdogs called for help. They're swarming the place like panicked rats, pushing past tables and chairs. Firearms aimed at his head. And for the first time, in a long, long time, Boothill feels a sliver of panic run down his bionic spine.

Motherfudger...

Boothill hears the familiar tumult of bodies hitting the ground before he sees what's actually going on. He feels you before he actually sees you. You're pushed up against his back, guns drawn locked, and loaded. "Heard you needed some help" Even though you offer your usual bravado, Boothill still picks up the nervous lilt in your voice, despite everything he thinks he likes it. It almost tastes sweet. "Best get away before you get yourself hurt little fox." "And let you have all the fun? Never."

"Certe murmur pugnando" Boothill laughs, he remembers those very words coming from a buddy of his before a duel. 'At least we'll die fighting' Somethings never change, even if you've carved out every principle from your body with a rusted kitchen knife. You'll always have those pesky morals stuck inside. He hears you chuckle, wonders if you find it odd that a rowdy galaxy ranger such as himself knows a dead language.

Well, he knows a lot about the dead.

The shoot-out lasts longer than he'd have expected.

But the real surprise lies in how neither of you are dead. Boothill's half laid across the bar, looking at you from under his hat. You're making him a drink following his instruction like a good little wife, not contradiction dressed in ebony. Gunpowder withers on his tongue, the bullet smoke permeates the air mixing with the gleeful tang of spilled blood. "Your drinks sure are complicated" you mutter pushing him his cup before picking up a bottle and reading its labels. "What's so hard about it pumpkin? Little bit of white gem and gin. All's you need." He sips your drink slowly, savoring your flavor. He imagines he's gulping you down, holding you for ransom behind his teeth, feeling your delicate little fists pounding against him. "I don't drink" you mumble as you sit across from him, you look so damn elegant, like a little princess from a fairy tale he use to read to a certain someone. You drink deeply from your glass of ice and water. Boothill focuses on the gentle motion of your throat. He licks his lips, trying to push down the thought of ringing such a fragile thing between his palms.

"So little lady, s'about time you start answering some questions...The hell you doing? Running off with my targets?" You set your cup down, eyes locking on his, there's the deficiency he's missed all night. The trigger hair that's just waiting for the right push. "They're not your targets...not really. They're just people. People whose planet got muffed up. I've been trying to gather them all in one place." For a second Boothill thinks you're talking about his planet, his home, his people. But it only takes one more look at you to understand.

"So, how'd yours die?" There's shrapnel in his throat when he asks, open wounds bleeding once more, filling his throat with bitter memories.

You stiffen, and he knows he's thumbing a broken bone, letting his finger dig between the cracks and snapping their frail linings. "Don't know, wasn't there. All I ever got to see were a few limbs, nothing enough to make a full person." you squeeze the glass until your knuckles turn white.

There's vindication rooted in your veins.

He knows the feeling all too well.

"We ain't so different you and I, reckon we make a pretty good team." His metal fingers lace between your soft skin, tracing the lifelines like an old map.

There's a goldmine hidden behind your lips, he imagines he'll have to kiss you to find the little nuggets. Your lips part, eyes filled with an odd-looking sympathy. What he wouldn't give to feel your plump lips bleed between his jagged teeth. "So..." you ask as his mechanic heart skips a beat. "What about yours?"

You've been laughing for five whole minutes. Boothill shouldn't find the noise as ethereal as he does. His anger lays heavily on his bones, he should be even angrier, lounging a bullet through your thick skull. But he finds the noise a little too perfect to disturb its source. Even if it's only created at his expense. Instead, he has half a mind to slap you, hard enough to shut you but and another to kiss you so hard you forget to breathe. "Damn hell so funny, cutie"

You look at him with those luminous eyes. Filled with pain and riddles. Boothill never did like solving puzzles. He only likes tearing things into bits. He needs you spartan, easy to read and use, and kiss. Not something he needs to piece together first.

"Dear stars you have no freaking idea how ironic you are." You say between bursts of spiteful-rooted giggles.

Why do those words sound so haunting like a ghost kiss? they should open phantom pains, but they sure as hell don't. Why do you always leave his head spinning? Boothill rolls his eyes, then leans over to pull down your mask. You jerk back, rewarding him with a dark grimace. You're out the window before he can ask your name.

"See you next time, cowboy"

"Next time I'm drawing blood"

The moment's over.

Fiddlesticks..

That night, Boothill dreams of you. He's lying in a stiff musty bed. It's too dark, even the moon is scared of showing her face.

Boothill dreams of the old saloons back home. Of their cracked wooden floorboards and the worn-out plush of chairs. In the dreams, you're wearing a black lace gown, like the saloon girls used to. He finds it all too funny that even in his dreams you still haunt him in black. Only now you're smiling, really smiling. Not that sly smirk, or mirthless grin you gave him back in the bar on Penacony. No, this here is a genuine smile and he's damn sure he's the one who put it there. You reach out for his hand, he feels warmth.

His

Yours

The dream is thick and dense like swimming through molasses. In another scene he's dragging you through the old doors, laughing as bullets and card chips hit the floor. There's a horse waiting outside. His horse. At least he thinks it used to be his. He pulls you up roughly in front of him. He's high off the feeling of his fingers wrapped around the rugged reins. High off the steed he holds in a vice grip between his thighs.

He's riding faster than he's ever ridden before, clambering for the sunset trying to engulf the sun. You hold on tight, pressing your cheek to his chest. His heart is beating something fierce between his ribs. He feels like an Aeon watching the universe collapse under his galloping feet.

He feels alive.

With the sun's rays behind you, Boothill could almost mistake you for the star-dwelling angels Nick used to tell him about. There's something poetic in all of this. The cowboy standing off against the black fox.

Dare he call it cinematic?

Boothill creeps closer. Tilting his hat and watching you flash a nervous smile through his lashes. "Volo sentire te inter dentes meos" so you know that dead tongue too. "You will soon darling, that's what I'm hoping for" his reply only dwindles your smile.

He's missed the old duels. Missed staring into the eyes of the one who could kill you. It's all a matter of skill and luck. Whose faster, who the aeon will trust?

Somewhere in the distance, the tumble weeds begin to rattle.

"Now"

His bullet glides through the air, piercing through the dust and sand. Your bullet reverberates from your gun a fraction too late and ricochets past his cheek. Leaving a juicy trail of blood.

But his bullet was aimed at your chest.

And Boothill never misses...

You want vengeance he won't deny you it.

So long as you stay by his side.

He'll tuck you away somewhere safe.

Somewhere you won't be leaving him again.

Boothill cradles your body to his chest. "I promised you blood little fox, and Boothill never goes back on his word." His cheeks hurt from smiling as he lays his hat atop your head. He's Picking you up and walking into the sunset. He knows a good ol'doc who'll patch you right up. And then it's a happy life together.

Well for him anyway.

The end

Taglist: @hihellomy @salhanskkdbfkekfb @gasoline-eater @sp1cym0chi

[hearts4chriss]

𝑷𝒖𝒔𝒔𝒚𝑫𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒌! 𝑩𝑭!𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 + 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍! 𝑷𝒐𝒄!𝑮𝑭

𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐛𝐟!𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 + 𝐒𝐮𝐛! 𝐩𝐨𝐜!𝐠𝐟

where do I even begin

the second he gets between ur legs it’s over he’s munching.

Loved when you close your thighs around his head from overstimulation.

Will eat you out until your forcing his head away and even then he’ll still continue until you use ur safe word

The more you pull on Chris’s hair, the faster he moves his tongue and sucks on ur clit.

Will do the occasionally of tracing things with his tongue such as..

“Chris” “my girl” “my pussy” “princess” etc

LOVES when you squirt all over his face and he always lets you know.

“Fuck! I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean-“. He cuts you off by slapping ur thigh

“No please never apologize, that was hot as fuck”.

big fan of face riding, he loves being able to grip ur ass and rock you on his tongue moving at inhumane pace.

“I-fuck Chris I-I can’t much longer-“. You’d moan out as his hands grip ur ass while holding you down tightly lapping up all of your juices.

“Mmhm god you taste so good-“. He groans into ur wetness before resuming eating your pussy

When you try and lift ur hips Chris slaps ur ass before going quicker.

You’ll have tears in ur eyes from the pleasure and it fuels his ego to keep making you feel good.

Is down for eating you out ANYWHERE

under the table acting as if he “dropped something” you’ll be dripping in no time.

He’ll even pull you into a bathroom stall because he saw you bend over revealing ur lace panties and couldn’t help himself.

“Mm look at that pretty pussy, all for me hm?”. Chris whispers while going on his knees behind you running his thumb over ur cunt as you whimper with sensitivity.

“O-oh Chris please-“. You push ur ass back towards him and after that he was a goner

ALWAYS complimenting you.

“God you taste so good baby”.

“You have the prettiest pussy”.

“Mmmhm love this pussy so much”.

“Give it to me pretty girl, all over my face”.

“Could listen to those beautiful sounds all day ma”.

ADDICTED to shaking his head in it like a fucking dog 😛 grazing his nose over ur bud each time

Will eat you out till ur juices are literally dripping down his face chin neck ALL of it.

Always leaves you with shaky legs and changing the sheets.

When Chris gets in a bad mood you always know that him eating you out is enough to make him feel better.

Would eat you out for breakfast lunch and dinner if you let him.

“Chris! F-fuck- okay!”. You’d try and mutter out but the pleasure felt so good.

“I’m not finished with you sweetheart, this pussys too good”. He’d whisper into your wetness before diving back in.

Sometimes he’d tease by kissing and sucking on ur inner thighs but normally he camt even help himself, I mean you pussy is right in his face.

sometimes he gets worried he did to much when he sees you shaking and tears down ur face.

“Shit shit are you okay baby?”.

“Please talk to me”.

And you’d roll ur eyes quick to reassure him your okay l

“m’ okay..just tired-“. You’d yawn tiredly unable to really make much of what’s just happened but you sure as hell enjoyed it

“Aw c’mere sweet girl, I’m gonna take of you, did so good for me” he’d plant kisses on ur face gently picking you up making his way to the bathroom

Aftercare!

Run you a bubble bath with ur bath bombs and would clean you up slowly as ur still sensitive

Would have your pjs ( his t shirt and ur panties ) ready for you as he’d help dry you off leading you to the bed

The rest of night would contain of you cuddling into his chest as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear lulling you to sleep

a/n- heyyy everyone! Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, I promise I’ve been writing I just took a very long break due to me graduation and I’ve been exhausted with school work but since I’m OFFICIALLY A HARVARD STUDENTTTT, I plan to be more active and I will have a panty soaking fic out soon 💋💋

@sturniolopowers @gdsvhtwa @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @worldlxvlys @chrisslut25 @princessbetsy123-blog @mattslolita @guccifrog @blahbel668 @mattsneezing @trickywritters @hearts4chriss @nonamegirlxsturniolo @luvmxtt @theyluv-meee @hoesformatt @luv4kozume-deactivated20240512 @kikisturnioloo @itzdarling @pepsiimaxx @babyddolly @iiheartstef @junnniiieee07 @vicsguitarr @ast3ro1dzz @sturniolowhore @st7rnioioss @emma4eva @braindead4l @ihearttsyouu @kqyslyho3 @imaslut4kehlani @sturnsfav @sunsetsturniolos @sturniololoverr @gamermattsgf @lilyloveschris @dlyansworld @chrisloyalgf @soimightlikeoldmen69 @abbie13sworld @ineedchriscock @sturniol0s @chrissgirlsstuff @luhsexcbihh-deactivated20240523 @nickgetsmewetter @rubyjaneaxx @love4chris

[bahablastplz]

Told you (Prove it Pt.2) Seungmin x Reader

Part 2 to Prove it: (Kim Seungmin, your best friend, is so fucking smug all the time. You make the mistake of implying that no man can finger a girl the way they do in porn, and you make the mistake of challenging him when he tells you he can.) Content: Smut, fluff Warnings: P in V sex, oral (m! receiving), soft dom Seungmin, porn with feelings WC: 1200

“I bet that I can make you squirt all over my cock,” he says with a smile. He doesn’t look up from his phone when he speaks. 

You already know what you’re doing when you meet his eyes and say, “Prove it.” 

With two fingers curling in a ‘come hither’ motion, you’re standing and taking your pants back off. You meet him on the couch in two long strides, swinging one leg over each of his own to straddle him. 

You can feel his hard length pressing into your already soaked cunt and you grind against him, seeking friction. He lets out a breathy sigh, his hands coming to your hips to still your motions. 

“You and I already know that I don’t have to prove myself, right?” he grins. 

“Shut up, Seungmin. Just please, shut up already,” you beg. “You’re so full of yourself. You know I can’t stand it, you just have to be right all the time, don’t you?” 

“I don’t have to be right, I just am,” he replies. He grabs you tighter and brings you even closer, bare pussy now fully grinding against his cock. He buries his head into the crevice of your neck and you can feel his warm breath against your skin.

When you stand, shaky legs, it’s so you can pull his pants down. You’re too eager and desperate and you can’t find it within you to be embarrassed, not even from the wet spot you left behind on his sweats. His hard length springs up and he’s big, infuriatingly so, because of course Kim Seungmin has to be both cocky and good at everything, and of course he has to have the most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen. You almost scoff. 

He almost stutters when you get on your knees in front of him but he recomposes himself just as quickly. Your hand wraps around his length and strokes him experimentally. You’re as silent as you can be just to hear the sharp inhale he gives, because try as he might act indifferent, you’re determined to pull those sounds out of him if it’s the last thing you do. 

“Y/N…” he starts. When he looks down at you his eyes are bright, excited. You lean forward with a smirk and take his tip in your mouth, swirling around it with your tongue. He’s salty and tastes like precum, and you gather as much saliva as you can in your mouth and let it drip onto his cock, getting him nice and wet. Your hand glides up and down his length and the sound of it is pornographic, wet and loud and everything you’ve ever dreamed of. He’s starting to look debauched which is exactly what you wanted, and when he starts to buck his hips up into your hand you still. “No, please–” he says. 

“Please, what?” you say with a smirk, repeating his words from earlier. 

He blinks at you before standing, grabbing you by the arms and all but throwing you onto the couch in a display of dominence. You’re at an utter loss for words as he climbs on top of you, spreading your legs wide open for him just like before. 

He grabs his cock and pushes it between your folds, covering it with your wetness. He taps his tip against your clit a few times, teasing. 

“Seungmin, I swear to god… I love you but if you keep on teasing me like this I’m going to lose my fucking mind,” you say. He freezes, wide eyes and lips slightly parted. You furrow your brows, wondering what could have possibly, finally caused him to drop his facade. 

“You love me?” he asks, breathless. 

“Of course I do, idiot. You infuriate me, but–” 

His lips crash against yours. It’s hard and it’s messy and it catches you off guard but his tongue dances against yours as if it was the only chance to kiss you he would ever have. 

He pushes his length into you then, grabbing the backs of your knees and lifting them up as his pelvis is flush against yours. His lips never leave yours, not even when your hands come up to the back of his head to push him even closer to you. 

“Fuck, Seungmin,” you say as you finally pull away. His pupils are blown wide and he’s finally panting. You feel him twitch inside you. “So, are you going to show me how good you fuck me? Are you going to make me squirt all over your cock?” you taunt him, intentionally trying to rile him up. 

He shuts you up real fast, exiting you fully just to snap his hips back into you, hard. He cracks a half-grin at the moan you let out. 

“Go ahead, say it again,” he teases. 

“Are you going to make me–” Snap. His hips smack into yours again, a loud wet sound permeating through the air. 

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” he asks. He’s totally fucking with you, you can tell by the amusement spread across his features. 

“Are you–” Snap. You moan loudly in response much to your chagrin.

When you look up at him through your lashes, your eyes meet. His smile falters and his eyes flit down to your lips and suddenly you’re kissing again, his hips sporadically thrusting into you with a desperateness that you didn’t think you would ever see on him. 

“Tell me you love me,” he pleads. Your heart flutters hard in your chest. 

“I love you, Seung,” you tell him. It’s hands on skin, grabbing onto anything they can in a last-ditch effort to ground yourself, skin against skin, fingers in your hair, lips against your neck… 

Everything around you is undeniably Seungmin. It’s all you know, and you can’t even bring yourself to think of your past-self, just moments ago trying to get him to lose the smugness. It’s almost as if you don’t care anymore, not when all you care about is him and how he feels, here and now. 

You feel your stomach tighten and you can tell you’re getting close. You try to warn him but you can tell he already knows as his hand snakes down between you two to rub at your already sensitive clit. 

“Cum for me,” he begs. “I love you too, just cum for me, please.” 

That’s all it takes. Your toes curl and your mouth opens to let out a high-pitched moan and you clench around him hard, undoubtedly giving him exactly what he wanted as you squirt all over him, soaking his chest with your essence. He talks you through it, slamming his hips into yours until you’ve come down from your release before he pulls out and spills all over your stomach and chest, painting you in a reminder that you are his. 

He collapses on top of you and you both still, panting heavily. You don’t even realize that your hands are running up and down his back in an attempt to soothe him. You both lay still for several moments, neither person talking. There’s not much that needs to be said, you think. 

Until you hear him suck in a breath, suppressing a laugh. 

“What?” you question. 

“Told you so,” he says. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── Thank you guys for all of the love on part 1!! Hope this is everything you wanted! Tagging everyone who asked for a part 2 here: @skzswife @ka0ila @applekiwi3202 @nightmarenyxx @blondie-hyun @softkisshyunjin @compersian @bansheehunteremissary

[yurinaa-world]

Hiya! May I request an Aventurine x nameless!reader?

I don't know what to specify so, yeah

Have a nice day and don't forget to take care of yourself :D

- 🪽

Characters: Aventurine x Gender-neutral Reader

Synopsis: with a reader that's a nameless

Warnings fluff, spelling mistakes

𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒

What a pity that a pretty thing like you is a nameless just stopping at Penacony while he’s on a mission. ‘If he weren’t then he would’ve taken you home with him.’ He said the last part to your face. Seeing your flushed reaction just made it even better.

Whenever he sees you around Penacony, trying out that new drink that just came. Without knowing that it was very addictive. He can’t help but see your surprised, very flushed-looking face looking back at him but he takes it away from you “You’ve had too much to drink, you sure you can walk?” He looks at you with a sly expression. You look cute from every angle.

Everyone around him (especially Ratio) can tell he favours you more than anything. Straight up leaves the conversation when he sees you walking around, putting his arm around your shoulder and taking you away to this new place he found and he knows you’ll love it.

Even though he's on a mission…he doesn’t care about IPC so why don’t just go on a date with him? Don’t be so nervous about your outfit, you look good in that outfit he bought you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Don’t be so nervous, the waiter isn’t going to bite your head.”

How can he be so calm about going to such a fancy restaurant? yeah, you’ve gone to mildly expensive restaurants but this place has gold silverware. these clothes are just so different from what you’ve ever worn before…

“well... I never been to a restaurant like this before. I’m very grateful but..i feel weird even with these clothes on..”

his sly smile was so attractive to you..playing with a little dice in one hand while stay maintaining perfect eye contact with you. 

 the dim light of the restaurant only emphasized his beauty making his eyes shine and his hair look more glossy framing his face perfectly, it made his mouth drop.

His hand goes gently to your chin to push your jaw up. “Be careful you swallow a fly.”  He teased you while you tried not to blush. 

“Just relax.”

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