#do not touch his family!!! or his somewhat lover

[astarlightmonbebe]

not the gaze.

[little-diable]

A bit of heat, a bit of anger - Aaron Hotchner (smut)

It's been a while, but this idea found its way to me and I simply had to write this. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Aaron has never treated her as kindly as he treats the rest of the team, but after a fight between them and a guy trying to chat the reader up, Aaron can't hold himself back any longer.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, car smut, somewhat enemies to lovers, clear power imbalance, jealous Aaron

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!fem!reader (3k words)

The heat was burning down on them, letting the sun heat their bodies as the warmth travelled straight through their dark clothes which added an almost dangerous touch to their appearance. (Y/n) had her eyes focused on JJ, listening to her talk while they took in their surroundings.

It should be an easy case, allowing them to catch their unsub in a few days before they could fly home again to escape this heat. (Y/n) could barely believe that she had once grown up with temperatures this high, forced to accept the sweat pooling on her forehead, the thin clothing she’d wear for most parts of the year, things she now hated more than she could put into words. 

“(Y/n), Rossi and I will visit the families, Reid I need you for the geographic profile, JJ and Prentiss talk to the journalists again.” Aaron Hotchner’s voice rang in her ears. A sound so strong, so familiar, she didn’t understand how it still had that same effect on her. (Y/n) had joined the BAU a while ago, instantly drawn in by their friendliness and how they treated her like a member of their small family. She had found things to bond over with every single one of them, all but Aaron Hotchner.

The man was a confusing case to her, a case she struggled to solve. He was kind to her, treated her with just enough warmth to lead her on, and yet he was more distant with her than with the others, drawing a clear line between them. The others had tried to tell her about his cautious self, how he struggled to trust new people and that it would take him a while to warm up to her, but now, months later, he still hadn’t managed to give in to the friendly talks (y/n) tried to rope him into. 

“(Y/n), you should focus on the sister, she is about your age, so you should manage to bond with her, while we will talk to the parents.” Aaron’s dark eyes found hers in the rearview mirror while he spoke to (y/n). She knew better than to protest, knew better than to object – there was no use in going against Aaron Hotchner, at least not when they were on a case away from home. All she could do was nod her head, shooting him a tight smile before focusing on the files she was rereading. 

“I think, (y/n) should be the one to speak to the parents, she did better than we did last time.” Rossi’s voice filled the SUV, forcing their eyes towards him as his grin grew wider. There was something lingering in his gaze, something he and Aaron seemed to understand while (y/n) didn’t see through their wordless back and forth. 

“It’s alright, I will gladly speak to the sister.” She couldn’t bear an awkward atmosphere, couldn’t bear being roped into some useless bickering that would push Aaron Hotchner further away from her. His eyes snapped back towards hers, studying (y/n) for a few more moments before nodding his head at her. 

(Y/n) could only pray that this day would pass quickly enough, already set on visiting the bar Emily had picked for them on their way to this town, all too excited about riding a mechanical bull while putting on a show for whoever would dare to look at her for too long. 

……

To say the visit with the first family had been a bust would be an understatement. Within moments everything had escalated, forcing the three agents out of their home because the sister (y/n) had spoken to had flipped on her, screaming at the confused agent that had been pulled out of the room by a fuming Aaron Hotchner. 

No words had been shared on the ride back, leaving her stomach in knots while overthinking what had happened. It hadn’t been her fault, at least deep down she was aware of that, and yet she had instantly feared Hotchner's outlash, unable to live with the knowledge that she had disappointed him. 

“Do you have a moment, sir?” She was holding open the door to the room they had been offered at the local police station. The others had left for the bar minutes ago, leaving Aaron and (y/n) behind who were still working on new files they had picked up today. A nagging feeling deep inside of her had urged her on to search his closeness, to speak to him while the others were waiting for them. 

Aaron’s eyes flickered up from the file, studying her expression that dripped with too many emotions, a confusing mess she couldn’t fight through. He nodded his head at her, watching (y/n) take a step further into the room before closing the door behind herself. 

“I’m sorry for today, but I need you to know that I would never do something to escalate a situation. She wasn’t in a good mindset and was easily triggered. Disappointing you is something I don’t want to do.” Her hands were interlocked in front of her, tightly squeezed together while the words rolled off her tongue. 

“I shouldn’t have let you do this alone, I’ll make sure to supervise you the next time.” The words felt like a punch to her gut. He treated her as if she was a new agent, as if this was her first time out on the field and not like she had worked with other teams before joining the BAU. Anger began to simmer deep inside of her, an anger that threatened to take over her system. 

“Why are you treating me like this?” Her voice was small, quiet as if she was scared of his reaction. But this wasn’t about fear, no, she was trying to stop herself from spiralling, from getting lost in the rabbit hole he had just pushed her down. 

“Excuse me?” He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed in front of his chest. A fire was burning in both of their eyes, a similarity both shared and yet couldn’t focus on. 

“You treat me as if I’m a child, as if I came here straight from the academy and not like an agent with years of field experience. You know, people always told me all these stories about you, and how I should be grateful for the chance to work with you, but so far I don’t see what they all see. It’s quite disappointing, really.” She shook her head at him and turned from Aaron to flee from the room. But the call of her name forced her to a sudden halt. 

“I will let this pass, write it off as an exhausting day we all had. But the next time you speak to your supervisor like that, you will be asked to leave this team.” Angry tears welled up in her eyes, tears she blinked away while her feet carried her away from Aaron and the brooding expression nobody wore as well as he did. 

……

“It’s your turn, (y/n)!” Emily had her arm slung over (y/n)’s shoulder, dragging her through the bar towards the mechanical bull Emily had ridden minutes ago. It had been a while since (y/n) had left the station, making a quick stop at their hotel to trade her work clothes for a nicely fitting dress that allowed her to blend in with most people at the bar.

“You know, I’m only doing this because I love you, right?” Her laughter bubbled out of her, ringing in both their ears while Spencer, JJ and Derek came to a halt next to Emily. They watched (y/n) climb into the ring before swinging herself onto the bull. It had been years since she had last done this, and yet her body still seemed to remember the routine well enough, giving her the confidence she needed.

Her wandering eyes were instantly drawn to his, watching him sit down next to Rossi, who was also looking at her with a wide smile. Parts of her wanted to put on a show, wondering if any of this was getting to Hotchner, the man whose jaw muscles were clenched and whose arm muscles were stretching the fabric of the dark shirt he wore. But another part of her was convinced that no matter what she’d do, he wouldn’t care, not about her. 

Music filled the air, buzzing through (y/n) while her surroundings began to spin. The people around her cheered for her, letting her smile grow as the movements gained some speed. She tightened her grip, her thighs clamping down as she rode each motion with determination. Her hair flew around her face, but she kept her focus on him, her laughter ringing out above the noise.

She managed to hold on even as the machine made an almost violent lurch, set on throwing her off. With one final, spectacular buck, the bull tried to unseat her. (Y/n) held on for a heartbeat longer before she was finally thrown, landing in a heap of laughter and exhilaration. The crowd erupted in applause, and she looked up to see her friends leaning over the barrier, smiling down at her. 

A guy she hadn’t seen before reached his hand out for her to take, pulling (y/n) back to her feet and straight into his chest. The guy was cute, about her age with piercing eyes that wandered over her features, all while she felt the eyes of the others on her, still cheering for her. 

“You were good, seemed like a natural.” His words left (y/n) chuckling while running a hand through her hair. 

“Did lots of these things as a teenager.” She watched her friends back off, leaving her alone with the guy who still held onto her.

“Will you let me buy you a drink?” (Y/n) couldn’t stop her eyes from flickering back to Aaron who was still watching her with a darkening expression. Perhaps it was stupid of her to say yes to the guy, but the alcohol already buzzing through her system made her feel all too excited about the knowledge that whatever she was doing was clearly getting to Aaron. 

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” They were leaning against the bar, he had his hand placed on her waist, while she had her front turned towards him. She struggled to focus on him, struggled to think about anything but her fight with her supervisor and the desperate need to impress him she couldn’t shake. 

“It’s (y/n).” Her voice trembled slightly, something the guy seemed to misinterpret for attraction or nervousness. His hand moved down from her waist, coming to rest on the small of her back with his fingers spread out on her skin. It was time to put an end to this, to gently push him away while mumbling something about having to return to her friends, but (y/n) didn’t get far. Before she could even try to speak up, she felt a hand clamping down on her wrist, pulling her from the guy’s grasp against a broad chest. 

The scent of his cologne instantly forced its way into her system, making (y/n) shudder against his hold. She didn’t need to look up at him to know that it was Aaron, already feeling much more comfortable than she had seconds before. She barely paid the harsh words Aaron and the guy shared any mind, too focused on the way her heart skipped a few beats as his hand left her wrist only to sling his arm around her waist. 

She didn’t protest as Aaron pulled her out of the bar, past their grinning team mates who studied the two with curiosity. No words were spoken, nothing but silence settled between them, a silence she feared more than the fights she had grown used to over the past months. Aaron started driving away from the bar, dark eyes set straight ahead. 

“So, will you tell me what this was about?” (Y/n) angled her body towards him, studying her supervisor with furrowed eyebrows. For a second, his eyes snapped towards hers, threatening to get lost in her pupils and that overly innocent gaze she shot him. “First you treat me like trash and now you sweep in to rescue me from a guy? You’re confusing me, Aaron.”

It was the first time she used his first name, making his jaw muscles twitch. She kept watching him, every expression tugging on his handsome features while a grin began to grow on her lips. (Y/n) had the upper hand, she had lured him into a trap with his own confusing behaviour. 

“Careful, agent.” His voice was raspier than before, dripping with a dangerous warning she ignored.

“Why? We are no longer on the clock, I can say what the hell I want.” Her grin turned into a full smirk, leaving the man brooding while driving back to their hotel.

“Don’t be a brat, (y/n), I’d hate to punish you.” Aaron’s words shot heat straight down to her core. She clenched her thighs together – a sight that drew a raspy chuckle from the tall man. This seemed to play out exactly like one of her dreams, reminding her of the scenarios she’d come up with whenever she touched herself to the thought of Aaron Hotchner. 

“I think you only speak empty threats, you would never do such things like punishing me.” The words seemed to push him over the edge, forcing the SUV to a halt in the middle of nowhere, parked on the side of the empty road. Within seconds he had turned towards (y/n), pulling her in for a searing kiss with his palm pressed against the back of her neck. She forgot how to breathe, fully sinking into the kiss with her heart pounding in her chest and her hands finding the collar of his shirt. 

Without breaking the kiss, she climbed over the middle console, finding rest on his lap to deepen the kiss. Their tongues were tangled, fully focused on every single touch as she let her hands wander down his front to find his belt. Aaron’s big hands were resting on her thighs, palming her skin with an urgency that left her trembling. 

“Aaron,” she mumbled his name against his lips. For a moment, they broke apart, looking at one another with glassy eyes. She couldn’t stop her chuckle from rumbling through her, buzzing through (y/n) while Aaron tightened his grip on her. “Be honest with me, what is this all about?”

“I hate myself for looking at you differently, for having this selfish need to protect you and pull you away from tasks because I fear you getting hurt. It’s egotistical and stupid, but I can’t stop it. I tried not to get too close to you, because I knew from the first day you’d make me suffer. But seeing you with this guy, how he had his hands on you, it forced me to act.” She kissed him again with as much passion as her dazy self could muster. Aaron instantly responded to the kiss, allowing his hands to move once again while she shuffled closer, letting her clothed heat rub against his growing bulge. 

“I need to ride you like I was dreaming of me doing for the past months.” Aaron’s fingers danced up her thighs, pushing her damp panties aside to tease her pulsing bundle. Her moans were the sweetest sounds he had ever heard, Aaron was sure of it – sounds he’d forever remember. 

“I don’t have anything on me.” His mumbled words left her humming, drawing her away from the kiss to reach for her small bag and the condom she had been carrying around with herself. Aaron let her fumble with the package while freeing his cock, giving himself a few tugs before (y/n) rolled the condom down his length. 

With their lips pressed together once again, (y/n) sank down on his cock, groaning as he stretched her all too perfectly. Both held still for a second, letting her adjust with fluttering walls before slowly raising her hips to fuck herself on his cock. Aaron and (y/n) moaned in unison, high on the feeling of him buried inside of her and the way she could feel him oh so deep. 

“Fuck, baby.” Aaron’s head rolled back, while his hazy eyes kept watching her. His big hands supported her movements, placed on her ass to keep her close. She looked thoroughly fucked out, happy to feel him this close as they got to know one another’s body for the first time. 

(Y/n) had one of her hands pressed against the window, trying to support herself while her limbs began to quiver. Aaron seemed to pick up on her trembling, letting his hips jerk upwards to fuck into her, needing to feel her cum around his cock. Curses left them both over and over again, blending together as they lost themselves in the different sensations. 

“Feels so good, don’t ever stop, please.” She was begging for more than she could handle at that time, and yet (y/n) didn’t find it in herself to care. She didn’t mind the overstimulation she was begging for, didn’t mind the desperation dripping from her words, all she cared about was both of them cumming together. 

“I’m so close, fuck, please Aaron.” The smirk tugging on his lips made her see stars, pushing her even closer to the edge.

“Touch yourself, baby, make yourself cum for me.” That’s all she needed to hear, allowing her fingers to rub her pulsing bundle to give her the needed push. She struggled to keep her eyes open, struggled to focus on anything but her nearing orgasm, all while Aaron kept holding onto her. 

And with one last whimper, (y/n) let herself fall into her orgasm. Her walls clenched his cock, pulling him in further while he pushed himself over the edge with a few more thrusts. (Y/n) was trembling in his grasp, holding still with her forehead pressed against his broad shoulder. 

“I,” a shaky exhale left her. “I am happy this finally pushed you over, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could go on with my feelings for you.” Her words left Aaron smiling, pulling her in for another kiss that left her heart fluttering. 

“You won’t ever have to worry about that again, sweetheart. I’m sorry it took me this long to realise.”

[tinytennisskirt]

Rematch

ex situationship patrick x reader

summary: you and patrick used to be the epitome of casual. aside from a few things... he was cheating on his girlfriend with you and all you could do from then on was hate him. eight years later, you work together. you're forced to share transportation and stay at the same hotels. The close proximity isn't much good for two people who have gotten by on avoidance. And it only becomes harder to avoid certain words. and certain actions.

warnings: smut! mentions of sex, unprotected sex. enemies to lovers- hateful words, slight miscommunication (through hating so much), a lot of swearing. somewhat edited...

“You’re hitting on my sister?” You said, overhearing him as you approached the outside gate of the tennis court. You walked over, knocking Patrick in the chest with your racket. That sly son of a bitch didn’t budge an inch. “You know she’s only nineteen? And she’s a fucking lesbian you absolute idiot.” You followed up. He just grinned. 

“I didn’t know she was any of those things,” he shrugged, hands up in surrender. “You don’t look alike. She’s actually pretty.” 

You rolled your eyes. You knew he didn’t mean what he said but still said it. “Fuck you, Zweig.”

“You used to like that, you know,” he said, grin widening to something evil. You didn’t know how he could stand in front of you and say the stupid shit he was saying, seemingly unabashed. 

“That’s enough,” your sister said to both you and him. Your racket didn’t waiver from the place it rested against his chest. You kept that warning in your eyes. “Y/N, he didn’t know. And he wasn’t inappropriate. He just said my swing was good with a weird tone.” 

“Weird tone?” Patrick repeated.

You smiled just a bit at that. “It’s better than good. You know- you are the same guy you were eight years ago somehow. Grow up and go away, Zweig,” you said, glaring at Patrick. And to think you were the sweet one in your family. It was all fun and tennis until Patrick was around. He wasn’t exactly an ex, but someone who frequented the bed in your dorm room eight years ago at Stanford. He was a drug of choice, a situational type of person who when visiting his friend Art Donaldson, would also visit you, a few dorms down. 

It was hot. He’d be sneaking around with you at parties, finding unoccupied rooms to kiss you with a force that usually winded you, wide hands on your waist, holding you close against a wall, a door, and sometimes the floor. If he saw you in the cafeteria all it took was a glance at you to communicate exactly which stall in the bathroom to meet him in while he excused himself from Art and Tashi Duncan. He’d be in your room late at night making you finish in three different ways and walking back to his friend’s room at four in the morning. 

Sometimes you’d make out for hours on end with only touching, but all of it, every action, every trace of his finger, every word was all traced with lust. Sometimes you swore he liked you, lingering after you both had finished, still grazing his hands over the curve of your hip, kissing your forehead, tucking your hair behind your ear… It was supposed to be casual, you reminded yourself. He was too attached. 

The funny thing was, you’d been in Stanford tennis too, a hometown prodigy with a father successful in the tennis world. Tashi called nepotism and you never got along, but you and Tashi never hated each other more when she found out you were fucking her boyfriend. If you had known you wouldn’t have been doing it, but the damage was done and there was no apology for a girl who fucked her knee up after a big fight with Patrick. No apology could include the extent of how sorry you were without telling her what for. 

And you met with Patrick just to yell at him. He was a shitty person with shitty morals and you made sure he knew that. And even in all the yelling, you still fucked him in your car. But that was the last time. The second your lips disconnected for the last time, it was supposed to be the last time you spoke to him. And it was simple. “Fuck you. You’re an asshole, I never want to see you again.” His eyebrows furrowed as you collected your clothes and disappeared back home. 

It went well, not seeing him again. He stopped visiting his friend who had sided with Tashi, he had no reason to come around. But he picked up a job coaching in the area you moved to seven years later. Your boss was a powerful woman and the pay was amazing, so Patrick became your coworker and you put up with that. And it was awful, but you scheduled yourself away from him and your paths only crossed at meetings and maybe once every few months, but it was still too much. You made do with the few words you had to give him, but other than that you stayed far away, and rightfully so. The only conversations you’d had in all of the year you’d been around him again were easy jabs, quips, argumentative things. But for the sake of your job, it didn’t go farther than easy insults. You still hated him for what he did, for how he used you when he was seeing Tashi. For how he treated you when he had a whole girlfriend waiting for him after hours. You weren’t proud of what you did and he was just a living reminder of something that haunted you. 

He was this adult douchebag-type now- you swore you saw him with two different women at the cafe you passed on your way to work. You could mind your business, but it was fucked to know he hadn’t changed. Eight years and no change. So yeah, Patrick talking to your sister, granted- step-sister, was something you had to nip in the bud. 

Patrick nodded, his jaw tensing. “Your sister here is my student today.” He said, gesturing to the split court. Sometimes split courts happened, but you’d only been paired with him on one once. “The list here says so.” He uncrumpled a piece of paper from his pocket and pointed at her name. 

“So you’ll switch me. Easy,” You stated, trying all you could not to hit him with another insult. Your sister picked up her rackets, moving to your side so Patrick didn’t have a say. It was your turn to smile. “You’re lucky I don’t fucking report you.” You added. 

“You’d miss having me around too much, I don’t think you have it in you,” He replied. 

You narrowed your eyes, “Get a grip.” You said, turning away from him. You heard his low chuckle as he called your student over. You rubbed your face while you walked to the other side, trying to wipe away the feeling you’d lost brain cells just talking to him. This was why you didn’t engage with him- it never went well. “Sorry.” You apologized to your sister. 

“It’s fine, honestly. He’s such a dick.” 

“I know,” you sighed. “I’m unfortunately cursed with knowing when Patrick has the intention to flirt. He’s fucking obvious.” You said, grabbing a ball. 

Your sister laughed. “He was coming on a little weird. To be fair I think he thought I was some random girl outside the court. But this is why I don’t date men.” 

You were glad you didn’t have to see him for another two months. You continued to train your sister as the other girls you were training had all fallen off. Your company made sure to only train the most competitive of girls and that was your sister for sure. She was amazing- not better than you- but amazing. When the time came for another Junior US Open, she was the perfect candidate for it. Your company, your boss, she usually sent two, booked them and their trainer a room at an amazing nearby hotel, paid for travel and food and gave a spending bonus for the hard work and you were hoping to god that it was your sister. You’d lost the Junior US Open to a twisted ankle- and Tashi Duncan and it would be amazing to see your sister go and win. 

She had worked so hard for it. And finally, your boss called all the trainers in for a meeting. There were ten of you, some with two students, most with only one, but you all sat in the fluorescent-lit room in front of the projector that projected the logo of the company on the white wall. Your boss thanked you all for coming and congratulated all of you on all your amazing seasons and work coaching the students. Talking about the best of the best. Eventually came to the portion where she would name the two students who were going to the open, the two that were going on the trip. 

And she said your sister's name. Your chest filled with excitement and happiness and pride and obviously you had to contain it. You were going back to the Junior US Open, it was an amazing way to get her name out there as a player and make everything all worthwhile. You started thinking up creative ways to tell her, thinking about the company limo on the way up, thinking about how to increase training all crossing your mind. “-And Simon Abernathy.” She added. For the boy's division. His name was familiar. 

And it was no wonder. Patrick clapped once out of success and you felt your eye twitch just a bit. It was his student, it was Patrick’s student, which meant you’d be with him this entire trip. He would be one of the only people you knew out that way- and it would be just him, you, and your students. There was only one word and it slipped out of your mouth quietly enough to go unnoticed. “Fuck.” You avoided Patrick’s gaze, but you just knew he had that big stupid grin on his face. 

When the car pulled up outside of your apartment, you insisted on putting your own bag in the trunk. It was just how you were. You were first to be picked up and it was always fun to be in a limo. A road trip was still a road trip, two days to be specific and it would have been something to look forward to if it wasn’t for him. Thank god you picked up your sister next, then Simon, then Patrick. You and your sister were far too engaged in your conversation to think about the boys on the other end. You talked about training, and game day, and you went over what it was like when you competed. 

The day passed by, book in hand, iPod on, and earbuds plugged in. You stopped once for lunch and another for gas but at the end of the night you were at a nice motel. Nothing like the motels you knew when you were in the Junior Open. In this motel, everything worked properly, smelled nice, and was actually clean. Patrick, unloading his bag for the night passed you yours and you said the only word you’d said to him all day- “Thanks.”

You and your sister hung out in your motel room, two-bed, talking about the day. She lay like a starfish on her bed, but she rolled over to face you as you pulled on your pajama shirt. “You never told me why you hate Patrick so much.” She said, eyes wide. You just groaned and rolled onto your back. “Come on. You obviously know each other from something.” 

“I will be so honest with you, I am too tired to get into it,” You said. “I just… ugh.” 

“It’s fine- like you don’t have to give me all the details, I just want to know why.” She replied, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. “You guys dated, right?” 

You covered your face, “Not exactly.” 

“Okay, so? What happened? I’m nineteen, Y/N, come on.” 

You hated talking about it, you hated admitting it. Knowing that he was one of the few men in the world to ever touch you but the only one who had left impact, left you wanting in his wake, the only one to make you finish… It was crazy, it was despicable. You hated remembering it had only ever been him to touch you right. And now you were admitting it to your sister. “Casual… sex. Friends, almost. Mostly the benefits.” You said, trying to keep it simple. Her eyes widened even larger. “Turns out he was cheating on his girlfriend with me.”

“He’s just a dick,” she nodded, understanding. “I’m so sorry, that must have put you in an awful position.” 

“I felt awful, I still feel awful,” you told her. “One of the worst things I’ve ever done.” 

“I get that,” she nodded. “Was he any good anyways?” 

You hated the question. “No.” You lied. “Awful.” 

She laughed, “Makes sense.” You knew she had more questions but didn’t want to pry. Besides, you were both tired. She showered before bed and by the time she got out, you were asleep, waiting for the next day of the road trip to be over. In the morning you showered, tied your hair up, and got into the car again with your sister. Patrick and Simon were doing their own things as the car got back onto the road. 

You continued listening to music, looking out the window, shutting out the sounds of the car. Your sister watched you change the song three times, but when her gaze shifted back to the conversation with Simon, she noticed Patrick’s eyes on you. Knowing what she knew now, she hated him just a little bit more. She watched him for a bit and he didn’t look away, so she addressed him to take his attention off of you before you noticed. 

That night at another motel, your sister was much too tired to stay up watching the motel television bullshit with you and passed right out on top of her covers. You fixed that, obviously, but after getting into bed yourself you let an hour pass with no sleep. You just couldn’t, no matter what you tried. At that point, you said fuck it and put your bathing suit on. The motel had a hot tub and a pool and maybe a quick swim could tire you out. You wrapped yourself in a towel and headed out to where the motel pool was. The lights from within the pool gave off a sort of aquamarine tint to the things around it- it was the only source of light aside from the ones lining the wall of the motel and the shining motel sign that flashed gold and red. It was perfectly dim and the night was perfectly still, just as the empty pool was. You put your towel to the side and waded in, pulling your hair up into some lazy updo so it wouldn’t get soaked in pool water. You were barely up to your shoulders when his voice spoke up, “It’s a bit late to swim, don’t you think? Isn’t it your thing to get an early sleep for an early start?” He asked. Patrick was in the hot tub, you’d completely missed him. 

“Maybe when I was playing or when I’m coaching, but we’re in the middle of nowhere with no court in sight.” You replied. “Can I just enjoy my swim, please? I won’t bother you if you don’t bother me.” 

“Fair,” he replied. You could hardly see him in the dim of the pool lights, but you could make out his figure, arm draped over the edge of the hot tub like he was reversing a car. “Since you said please.” 

“Uh huh,” You replied. You didn’t stay for as long as you intended. Being alone anywhere with him was too gross for comfort. Neither he nor you said goodnight when you went back to your room, showered, and fell asleep.

The next stretch of road was the last before the hotel. You were set up nicely and you thanked the concierge boys who helped you with your bags as you went to the front desk to retrieve your room keys, everything dealt with already by your boss. You handed the keys out. “Here’s how this is going to work. There’s a week before the Junior Open and this hotel, even if it comes across as luxury, it’s here so you can get a good, safe, comfortable rest on the days leading up. If Patrick and I have nothing on the schedule for you, you’re free to roam around the local area, however, curfew is 11. Please check your emails for the daily schedule.” 

Simon nodded and Patrick looked like he didn’t pay any attention- why would he anyway? “Sounds good,” Your sister smiled. “And we get our own rooms?” 

“We have the second-to-top floor suite. It’s like four hotel rooms joined into one, attached to a main bathroom, living room, place to eat, and a kitchen. Kind of like a house with a four-person hotel hallway built in.” You said. You were so excited to finally lock yourself away in your hotel room with a book and not have to sit in a car with Patrick for hours at a time. Sure, he’d be nearby but the hotel and its amenities would make for an amazing way to keep yourself far from him. He plucked his key card out of your hand and as he passed, you could smell his cologne. 

The room was amazing and the view was even more beautiful. There was a balcony in the suite as well as in your room, but the joined balcony beat that one out for a better view. You curled up in your super comfortable hotel bed with your book and finished it before dinner. Your sister came in and out wondering what she should wear to the Junior Open, already stressing about that because she didn’t want to stress about the actual game. You helped for a bit, then you went out to the main room. 

“Simon, do you have dinner plans?” You asked him. He was on the couch playing with some portable video game device. 

“Nah, I was thinking room service. My parents gave me a hundred to spend.” He said. 

You nodded, “I was thinking the same thing.” Your sister agreed, busy going through her schedule. So you ordered room service for everyone, sending Simon to go see what Patrick wanted. You were surprised he even stuck around the room and wasn’t at the casino downstairs or out at some club already. Dirtbag activities. 

The next day was a late start, but you and your sister went down to the hotel gyms to work out a bit before going to the hotel courts to practice. Three days until the game. You practiced all methods, swings, serves, and Patrick and Simon practiced in the next court over. Then you went separate ways for lunch just to meet back after at the court. You were done around four so you didn’t overdo it and the rest of the night was free. You and your sister continued to talk strategy and gossip over cranberry juice in the main room of the suite and you were vaguely aware of Patrick sitting in the corner going through his phone, his hand on his head, elbow resting on his knee. He looked up at one point, meeting your eyes and you looked away. The price you paid for being curious. Your sister and Simon, both tired from the day went to their rooms a little early. You decided to get dressed properly and head downstairs to the casino and play a few hands of whatever games they had going. 

You adjusted the length of your skirt as you sat down at the table and took part in everything happening. You were dealt in and in only a small amount of time, you had a good amount of money owed to you. You were definitely on a roll. “Didn’t know you gambled,” Patrick said, sitting beside you on the empty stool. You groaned out loud, rolling your eyes. “You're good, too, what is this, around $400?” 

“$700, and what are you doing here?” 

“I can’t enjoy the casino?” 

“You couldn’t enjoy any other game?” You asked, not even caring to look his way. You raised your hand to signal the dealer to let you out of the game. 

Patrick waved the dealer off and turned to face you better, “Don’t stop just because I’m here. And I like this game- my favourite one, actually, and the only table that has it.” He told you. You looked at him, hoping your eyes would burn through him. But he looked maybe half genuine, aside from the smirk. It was your favourite game too. 

“You’re just going to lose to me, you know that, right?”

“I’m okay with that,” he smiled and his eyes met yours. “Or, I’m okay with you thinking that. Say goodbye to your $700.” His grin slowly crawled up his face.

“Uh-huh?” You laughed at him as he got himself dealt into the game. It was a laugh of disbelief- one, that he thought he could win and two, that he was really that sure. “You’re really still that sure of yourself?” 

“Still? You think I’m sure of myself?” 

“It’s not a compliment, Zweig.” Your laughing at him died down just a little, you couldn’t maintain it when he was just such a fucking loser.

“I am that sure of myself.” He replied. “You don’t think I can?” 

You shook your head and spoke firmly. No. I don’t think you can.” Your tongue pressed against your cheek and you pushed all your winnings to the centre, eyes not leaving his. “Try me.” Anything to put him in his place, truly. You could taste the win in your mouth the way it handed itself to you on a platter. And Patrick put a little extra money in on top of yours and the other player’s, eyes not leaving yours. But he did end up looking away first and the hand began. 

He had good cards and knew how to play them, but yours were better and you knew how to use them to their fullest potential. You placed yours down and they were better and the hand was about to go to you, but at the very last moment, unexpectedly, another player had a card just above yours and it was over, just like that. The man swept away your winnings and you just scoffed. 

“You were that sure of yourself?” Patrick replied. “Nice.” 

“Nice? Asshole.” You got up from your chair and grabbed your purse, ready to move on to another game at another table and let him enjoy his ‘favourite’. “My cards were above yours anyway.” You said as your face passed his. He just grinned as you walked away. 

You were good at other games, thank god. It wasn’t all lost money. You won another $350 by midnight and decided to stop and leave behind the men who had been hitting on you during the last few hands of poker. You were happy with the winnings and the fact Patrick hadn’t been seen the rest of your night. It was a good distraction either way. 

You bought yourself a bottle of iced tea with your winnings and walked over to the elevator, pressing the button to go up to the suite and using your key card to confirm it. It was just your luck that Patrick walked into the elevator. “You have your own keycard, you know that, right?” You sighed, turning away from him and pulling out your phone to pay attention to anything else as the doors closed, locking you in there with him.

He held it up, then shoved it into his pocket. “So did you end up winning your money back? I watched your games, you’re not all that great at poker. I don’t think a career in gambling is in the cards.”

“I think I missed the part where I asked, Zweig.” You stated, folding your arms. “And I think you missed all of the context clues that tell you that I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“You’re so angry,” he remarked, leaning against the metal elevator wall. “Isn’t it exhausting?” 

“Not as exhausting as talking to you.” 

“Fuck you,” he replied. 

You turned to look at him, pausing a beat just to look at him in disbelief. “You used to like that, you know?” 

“You’re not better than me for anything that happened after. You knew I cheated and you still fucked me after, you remember that one?” 

“It wasn’t very memorable,” You chuckled to yourself even though it was one of the biggest lies you’d ever told anyone. He’d put you in a corner. Of course, you knew you weren’t better than him for that last time. It haunted you, but not much more than the entirety of it haunted you. His lips against your lips, his lips against your skin, his lips between your thighs, they were memories that acted like ghosts. All of it was wrong, every kiss, every touch. It was sickening to remember that it wasn’t just you- and that it wasn’t just Tashi either. It was memorable, all of it, but for all the wrong and right reasons, and those right reasons were ten times more haunting because it was so wrong that it felt right. You knew Patrick sensed the lie but you couldn’t act like it. “I can be civil with you, Zweig, if you leave me alone like you have the past year or so. I don’t want to talk to you, why can’t you get that through your head?” 

He was silent, just staring at you, no grin on his face, not even a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. And as soon as the elevator doors opened, he funneled out and right up to his room. You let out a breath and blinked a few times to recalibrate. You took your melatonin, changed, washed up, and headed to bed. 

The next day he kept up exactly that. He didn’t address you, he hardly even looked at you and even if he did, you didn’t notice, you were far too busy. The Junior US Open was tomorrow. You woke up your sister at dawn to go to a hotel aquafit class and then dry off and hit the court. Patrick was there with Simon running east swing drills and you got your sister working hard. She was more than ready, you knew that, but you also knew that giving her any break would make her believe that you didn’t think so, so you kept her going. 

Simon called to you and your sister. “Doubles? For fun, before lunch?” He asked, walking over. Patrick stared at the ground as he walked over just a few steps behind. Poor guy didn’t know the vendetta both you and your sister had against Patrick. She nodded, so you nodded. You hadn’t played in a match in a while, honestly. It was all training and hitting the ball back and forth. 

You stood opposite Patrick on the court and it reminded you of a time when you had played him and Art next to Tashi, for fun. How you didn’t know they were together was beyond you, but you did remember how Art looked at her. You had to blink a few times to get the imagery out of your head as Simon served the ball. You were lucky your sister was on it. 

Patrick still played rough, swinging hard just to challenge your sister a bit. You appreciated the push from him if you were honest. She needed it. It was a good game and there were a few flop swings from you and Patrick that were laughable. You laughed more at him than yourself but he didn’t seem to mind it at all. He just dribbled the ball and served it back to you to hit it over to Simon, etc. 

Your sister watched how Patrick’s eyes stayed on you when the ball was over with Simon being served. She couldn’t help but think it was a little weird how he seemed to be fighting a smile and she followed up with wondering why. And you didn’t notice at all. 

Lunch was good, but you were back to it until dinner, then at the gym after dinner doing a bit of yoga. Your sister turned to you, “He knows that you don’t like him?” She asked. You hated knowing who ‘he’ was. 

“Mhm,” You hummed, stretching upward.

“He doesn’t act like he cares very much.” 

You looked over at her, “I don’t care if he cares. And he’s had around seven years to not care about any repercussions, so that’s just on the passage of time.” 

She moved into downward dog, “Have you talked about it?” 

“No.” You answered. “Kind of. When it had just happened. But that was all I ever said to him about it.” You disregarded last night. “He knows what he did was wrong and I don’t let him forget.” Your mind slipped back to what it felt to lay in his arms afterward, the way he kissed your hair and still cupped your face, the way all of it was wrong, the entire time. And how it felt to feel his hand trail against your skin as you pulled yourself away from him that very last time in your car. 

She clicked her tongue, “I can’t believe you have to work with him. Couldn’t you get him fired for so many things?” 

You nodded, but it hadn’t ever occurred to you why you hadn’t. It would have been simple, a collection of evidence and a complaint and surely he’d be out, but you hadn’t done anything like it. “I could.” You replied. “But I’m not that much of a bitch.” 

“You’re never a bitch,” your sister laughed. “You only become one when he’s around.” 

It was true. And later that night the only hint of Patrick there was, was the eye contact you made with him on the way up to your room. He sat on the couch on his phone while you exited the balcony with your cup of tea. Then it was early bed- the Junior US Open was tomorrow. 

That rolled around all too quickly. You got your sister up early for a massage and a stretch, you ordered her a protein shake as she stressed the entire time. You only spoke in affirmations all morning as you double and triple-checked that she had everything she needed, rackets, water, food, etc. The day was warm with a perfect cool breeze that was gentle enough to play tennis in. You tried not to let the stress of the day get to you as you were driven to the courts. You reminded your sister of all she trained for and she was more than excited, she was bouncing more than the tennis balls were around the court as she warmed up. She wasn’t on until later, so you hit the ball back and forth to pass the time outside. 

Game in game out she was a winner and she knew it, winning her games consecutively. 

In between, you watched Simon’s games and he did well until he didn’t, falling behind. Your sister continued later and by the time she was on the very last game, you knew she was a winner. You were on the sidelines cheering her on. She won, of course, she won. 

She came right to you and hugged you tightly, thanking you for everything. It was an amazing victory and nothing could ruin it. 

The car ride back to the hotel was your sister just yapping uncontrollably about the details of her game to poor Simon, who had not won. She was so excited about it, she was talking endlessly. Patrick was engaging with her at her own speed and you were tired, it was a good thing someone could do with all that she had to say. 

She had the biggest nap of her life when she got back to the hotel room. She was almost asleep in the car and she was lucky she made it to bed. You had a nap on her hotel room couch, that’s how tired you were as well. It was a big day. You woke up around seven pm, but she was still dead asleep. You snuck out quietly and into your room. You’d finished your book, your phone was boring, and Simon honestly wasn’t the best company so you showered the day off, dried your hair, put your makeup on and got dressed again. 

Just a black skirt and a comfortable black long-sleeved shirt, some jewelry you liked, and a bit of sparkle to your eyeshadow. You deserved it. All that and some easy kitten heels and you headed downstairs to the restaurant and bar. It was beautiful, warmly lit and dim, stained glass between the bar and the kitchen casting the light through the panes in different colours across the bar. You ordered a vodka cranberry and ate the lime out of it first. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?” A man said. It wasn’t any man you knew, but a stranger. He came from behind you, old, but not too old, and a little bit handsome aside from the obvious aging. “I’ve never seen a pretty woman alone at a hotel bar. Hotel bars are for the straggling men, lost in the city. Like that one over there,” he said, pointing to the other end of the bar. You weren’t sure why your stomach flipped when you saw it was Patrick. He didn’t seem to see you, but he sat there at the bar with a short glass of what you knew was whiskey, swirling it around, his head resting against his fist. He was wearing a black t-shirt and black pants, having changed from earlier as well. “Now what’s your story, I’m curious.” 

You turned your attention back to the handsome older man. “Tennis,” you told him. And it sparked up a conversation that was really more insightful than the being hit on that you were expecting- not that you weren’t bought drinks by two other men at the bar who smirked from where they sat at a booth. The man seemed to be in his early sixties with some good things to say and you listened intently, not noticing Patrick’s eyes on you from where he sat. 

It was good to talk to someone so removed from the tennis world who had so much to say about investing in stocks and surprisingly, you didn’t hate it. You sipped your drink, getting a little surprised at the attention you were getting and it was something new. The night continued with more men hitting on you, trying to sit with you… You weren’t the most beautiful woman ever but you weren’t ugly… this was a lot either way. The night continued to pass. 

When Patrick got up, you noticed it, he locked eyes with you, raising his eyebrows and chuckling. At what? At you? You watched his tongue press into his cheek before he pointed at you on his way by… it took a moment to realize what exactly it was he was pointing at until you looked down. Your shirt with only a few buttons at the top, had all of the buttons undone and you had somehow not noticed. Your bra was on display like a hooker or like some common whore and you knew Patrick’s chuckle was at exactly that. 

“Fuck!” You said, turning away from the man and getting up without explaining a thing. You must have looked a little crazy. Patrick laughed out loud as he passed you; your anger and embarrassment got the best of you. Your voice became genuine, “Did you know the whole time?” 

He looked at you, looking at the hand that covered the undone buttons, “Almost, yeah.” You didn’t want to be angry, instead, you just stayed humiliated, your eyebrows furrowing. You couldn’t be mad, not now. So many paid-for drinks you didn’t even drink and so many compliments you’d taken so graciously and you didn’t know and he did? “I thought maybe it was on purpose, though. Maybe if I haven’t changed, you haven’t either.” He said. And now you could be angry. He couldn’t be unaffected, he couldn’t be normal. What he meant by what he said was that you were a slut. And that wasn’t fair.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that and let it go because you’re drunk.” You said, straightening yourself out, trying to shake him off. “Not because you’re just an asshole who can’t mind his own business.” 

“I know my business- it’s you who came to the bar after me, today. If you wanted space so badly, why follow me?” 

“Follow you? Don’t flatter yourself, Zweig.” Your conversation moved just a few steps outside the hotel bar and into a corner of the vast lobby. You chuckled at the fact he really thought so. “I wanted a drink so I got a drink, like an adult who goes to a bar, I didn’t know these are your moping grounds.” 

He shook his head, rolling his eyes, “And you wanted civil?” 

“Everything you say is so completely self-absorbed. You’re obsessed with yourself, honestly get a fucking room. It’s disgusting how much you want to fuck yourself, pardon my reaction to it.”

He just grinned, “Yeah, okay, have fun with your senior citizen, how’s the bra thing working out for you?” 

You shook your head, tone changing again, “That- I didn’t know. I’m mortified.” 

“I’m sure. You know most women who are trying to gold dig go for a more subtle route.” He said, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. 

“That’s enough,” You snapped. “That’s enough. You’ve been drinking, I’m not arguing with you over something so stupid as the buttons on my shirt. You’re not worth it. You’re not worth a second of my time, you are so beneath me, I am so past you. You are so pathetic, thinking I still give a fuck about what you think of me.” 

“That’s what you think of me? I’m pathetic. You say you don’t care but you seem to care an awful fucking lot.” That terrible fucking grin was so aggravating. 

“Then you’re delusional. Grow up, honestly. I asked you to leave me alone, not slut shame me for some stupid buttons. How much would it have cost your ego to have told me that my buttons were undone? I hate you but I would have had the decency to tell you if this was you in this situation. Fuck!” You ran your hand through your hair and the argument paused for a beat, then two. You breathed out heavily, turning, your hand still on your chest. And you just started walking toward the elevator. What else could you do but just walk away? He was the problem but you became one too when you were with him. It was almost unavoidable when everything he said upset you for reasons both explainable and inexplicable. You had no control over it all, you just had too much to say, so much internalized rage for what you’d done, for the position he’d put you in all those years ago. You were glad the elevator was empty as you scanned for the suite and the doors closed, but the elevator didn’t move, it just made a clunking noise and you knew, as the doors opened again, that there was no escape from this personal hell. Thank god you only had a day and a half left here with him, you thought, as the doors let him into the elevator with you. 

“Walk away like you had no part in that, yeah,” he said, moving to his side of the elevator. You groaned out loud, rolling your eyes so far back it hurt. “Reminds me of the other time you did the same thing.” 

“Was last night not enough?” You laughed in genuine disbelief. “You put me in a disgusting position that nobody should have to be in. You cheated! On your perfect girlfriend! With me, over and over and over and I had no idea because you didn’t have the decency to tell either of us.” 

“I was also nineteen years old!” He retaliated. “You expected me to have my shit all sorted out? I’m sorry I wasn’t a five-year-plan type of guy!” 

“That’s a crazy take when not cheating is one of the easiest things to do.” You laughed, scoffing when you caught your breath. “You used me.” 

Another beat, his eyes softened just in the slightest. “I didn’t use you.” He replied. “For what? For sex?” 

You guessed he didn’t need you for that. The elevator became uncomfortable as it rose between floors. Both of your hands fell to your sides, the top of your shirt falling open again unnoticed. You just blinked at his words, looking away. But no, what? You went right back into it, “Then why? Tell me that you weren’t just selfish, keeping two girls around to satisfy yourself beyond the regular needs of a man. Tell me that you weren’t only thinking about yourself and not the feelings of both your own girlfriend and the girl you’d sneak out to see. You made me some fucking mistress! The other woman, I didn’t know I was the other woman, can you imagine what finding that out feels like? The guilt? The shame? Tell me you weren’t just selfish.” 

“Not everything comes down to that. You’re seeing this how you want to see it. You are at fault, you are not innocent in this. You knew and you still fucked me and-” Patrick hit the pause elevator button and you just glared. “No matter what you said to me afterward, you still did it. None of this is linear or organized, it just fucking happened. You are not the victim you say you are, you deserve a good portion of that guilt because you fucked me, even after, no matter what you’ve done to shut that part out.” He said. You felt the fire behind your own eyes. 

“I haven’t shut it out, I’ve grown past it. What you did is still wrong.” 

“I know that! I know that- I ended up with nothing when it was all said and done. I was fine with not having Tashi, but-” he paused and pressed a hand to his temple for just a half-second. “You’re still so angry! It’s hard to believe you’ve grown past it when you’re still reminding me of one of the biggest mistakes I’ve made constantly.” 

You scoffed again, “I’m sorry you can’t deal with your own problems and the shit you put on me still haunts me. How is it you get to live it down and I don’t?” 

“I haven’t fucking lived it down.” 

“Pathetic.” 

“Fuck you. Honestly.” He said. “I made a mistake as a teenager, I don’t know how to go back and fix how I felt about you. I can’t take anything back so I don’t know what you want me to do here. Was I selfish? Yeah, I was. You’re right. Does that make you feel better about yourself? Do you feel like less of a victim now? I’m so sure of myself, yeah, okay, at least I haven’t tricked myself into believing I disliked how wrong it felt.”

You blinked hard and hit the elevator button again so it would begin to move once again. “You think I liked it?” 

“I think you did. I think some part of you hated Tashi and you liked the fact you could have me once more for good measure. I think that is what ‘haunts’ you. That you liked it.” He said. And the elevator doors opened to the empty main room of the suite. You stepped out the second you could, trying to get away from this so desperately. “I admit I’m selfish so you can admit that. Or at least try and admit it to yourself.” 

At those words, you tossed your purse on the couch and turned on your kitten heel. You walked right back up to him and pressed your pointer finger to his chest. “You are still so fucking self-absorbed that you think I liked being your side-chick or whatever the hell I was to you? You think so highly of yourself- you’re presenting yourself as a thing to be had between girls? Some trophy? A prize?”

“You weren’t so special either.” He lied. As if he didn’t like you, truly like you, more than he liked Tashi, unfortunately. His mistake was trying to balance things while he figured out how to tell you that he wanted you. Tashi loved tennis more than anything, she was mean and she was cold and she was hard to please but you in his bed, you were warm in more ways than one and you always listened and you weren’t all about tennis the way she was. And he liked you- genuinely liked you. But he went about it entirely wrong. He told you that you weren’t special but you were. You always were. He watched your eyebrows furrow at his words and more bitter things came out of his mouth, “And you said you couldn’t give a fuck what I thought of you.” 

“You’re not worth my time. Fuck you, Zweig. Fuck you and your self-obsession. Get a grip, get a life, and get over yourself.” You pressed your finger hard into his chest and let your hand fall to your side, eyes meeting his, the fire in your eyes reflecting in his own. “Fuck you. You’re an asshole.” The stare lingered before you shook your head, just disbelieving in this entire stupid conversation. It felt like talking in circles. Pointless. You’d never see his point and he would never see yours. He just looked at you like nothing you said meant anything and was only to provoke him when it wasn’t. He made it feel pointless. And you were fuming, so fucking angry. He matched that as well, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. So you just turned and walked right into your hotel room, shutting the door behind you. 

What a fucking waste of time and breath, you thought. He wasn’t worth it. Any of it. You just breathed out, hearing his hotel room door shut next to yours. You pressed your hand to your forehead, letting out a second sigh as you thought about just how stupid he was, deflecting, avoiding. You were glad you were out of the heat of that moment. If you’d been out there any longer yelling at him who knows what you would have done? Or said. The number of times you’d said ‘fuck you’ were uncountable and you hated who he made you. You weren’t this person he made you- you were kind and sweet and gentle and patient but right now all you knew was this person he turned you into. He was just so disgusting and so self-centered and you couldn’t get past what he’d done and he never elaborated on what he meant by ‘I don’t know how to go back and fix how I felt about you’. Fuck, he just made you so fucking angry and it really was exhausting being around him. Dredging these things back up. Him and his fucking ego, really. 

You weren’t exactly sure just what you were going to say to him, the conversation felt final, but there had to be some reason you opened the door to your hotel room again. Took your back off of the door, turned again, buttons on the shirt still very open, and you opened the door by some possession of the mind and it was just coincidence that when you looked up, Patrick stared back at you, standing outside your door like he was about to knock. Your eyes met his and it was easy to see that there was still fire in his eyes the same as there was in your own. It was only a few seconds, maybe ten, maybe fifteen and he stood there and so did you, wordlessly. Silence, empty, just blinking and breathing and silence. Before the mutual crash of him stepping toward you, grabbing your face, and kissing you hard. You had met him in the middle just between your doorframe, and your hands immediately found themselves flat against his back, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. No other thoughts.

He kissed you like he meant it, with all of the hateful things that you had said still very much on the tongue that swiped past his own. And it was desperate, the way you kissed- hot, heavy, so passionate, too passionate. Your back was against the stretch of the wall just inside your room as he pressed you to it and him against you. The door shut beside you and it was a good thing. So much feeling, so much hate and so much time, so much weight in his kiss but it was as easy as breathing. 

He held your face between large hands that slowly slid down to your jaw, one of them down your neck, his body pressed so closely to yours that you thought maybe you’d start sinking through the wall against your back. His hand traveled downwards and you let it as his hand went around your neck, not pressing, not squeezing, just placement. It sent chills through your whole body though your bodies only radiated pure heat. Small sounds escaped both of your lips, small hums, as his hand slid down and over the exposed bra from your undone buttons. His hand cupped your chest, not too rough, but definitely without being gentle. None of this was gentle. 

You popped your knee out just a bit as he pressed himself against you so that when he did, he felt it. He groaned just a bit as you then took a step off the wall, pressing him to the wall opposite the small entrance to the hotel room. Still so desperate, still so in need, his hand still on your chest and one of your hands traveling to rest on his jaw while- as he began to take off your shirt- your other hand slid down his chest to break the waistband of his pants, just gently rimming it with your pinkie finger before undoing the button of his pants. His lips didn’t leave yours even as you slid your hand down into them. He was hard, he was so hard and in this desperation even you didn’t have the time to think. You didn’t want the time to think as your shirt was pulled over your head between the sound Patrick made into your mouth. 

All of this hatred just seeped out of your skin at a scalding temperature as you pressed yourself against him, your hand gripping him harder, he didn’t waste another second gaining back his leverage, kissing you as you walked over to your bed. He kicked off his pants and in seconds he was on you, really on you, over you. Climbing over you in your bra and little black skirt. Your hand left his boxers and you began to pull at his t-shirt, all of your actions desperate and wanting and his lips were on your neck, his hand resting at the base of it again, moving your hair aside. Gentle, but starving. His skin against yours, hands trailing all over your body, one of them deciding to drop down between your legs. With only a touch of his finger against the inner of your thigh, you opened them just a little so that very same finger could gently press against you where you needed it. This was too gentle, in a world that wasn’t gentle, so when you kissed Patrick harder he knew to cut the bullshit. You weren’t delicate, he didn’t need to act like it. He pulled your underwear to the side to gently rub circles into your clit and easily slipped his other finger inside of you, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you. 

You hated how it was almost familiar, his pattern of heavy breathing and his fingers pumping inside of you with that careful curving middle finger hitting that perfect spot inside of you. You hated how it sent a flush over your whole body and made you feel almost euphoric like he was some sort of drug. His fingers curled inside of you, moving up and down as he went half in, half out, his thumb on your clit like it was the easiest thing and it probably was- he had good practice. You were moaning as quietly as you could, breathily against his skin before without warning, he cut that out too, just to pull your underwear down from inside the skirt and you kicked it off somewhere far away. His fingers went to resume his actions, but he wasn’t so lucky to go back to something so easy. 

With a swift rocking motion, you were able flip yourselves over so now you were on top of him. You pulled your hair to the side as you bent down to kiss him now, feeling his hard dick against you, still hidden by his boxers. You kissed him, still fast, still hot, still in need as you slowly rolled your hips against him, causing him to groan out into your mouth just the same way you just had when his fingers were inside of you. And in seconds he was getting rid of his boxers and his dick was standing, waiting. He was so hard, still so in need, he almost pushed you down onto it but you didn’t want to waste any time either, moving down just a bit while his hands began sliding down your bare waist, resting on your hips, his eyes meeting yours for what felt like the first time since you’d crashed against each other at the door. His mouth was just a little open, eyes on you like you were everything, and it felt like a pause but it was only half a second. 

He kissed you again, just as hungry, his lips meeting yours in such a sickeningly sweet way but it was all so fast, his tongue in your mouth in a way you had not forgotten. A kiss only broken by the moan that slipped between both of your lips as you sank down onto him. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your ass, pushing just gently as he filled you entirely. You hated that with all the men you’d been with since, none of them had ever filled you the way he did. And that hate was momentum enough to begin to move up and down, hips rocking with his guiding force. “Fuck…” he said through his heavy breathing as you rode him, moaning in response as the rocking turned to a slight bounce, his hips lifting to meet you halfway. 

It was so all-consuming, the feeling. Like some hot flush in your body every up and down was worthy of the extreme rush of the perfect feeling of him. Fucking yourself on him, his hands tight on your hips, pulling you up and down harder, faster, as your hair fell into your face time and time again. This desperate sex got more desperate as Patrick made a move to regain his control, flipping you onto your back without even pulling out. You grinned breathlessly as his hands moved back to your jaw to kiss you all the same, not letting up on how hard he kissed you while he began to fuck you harder than before. Your legs wrapped around his body and his arm propping him up rested just beside your head and you needed each other more than anything it was violent, the way his body met yours rapidly, perfectly. It was a mixture of breathing hard, whispers of ‘fuck’ and ‘god’ and skin and the moans you tried to suppress along with his own. 

Your eyes rolled back as he fucked you. It felt like nothing had ever compared, like nothing could even come close to this feeling. It felt like you were losing all sense of the world outside the bedroom, being fucked truly dumb and numb to any other part of this, not the morals, not your principles. Nothing else mattered aside from this violent show of passion. His hand now on your waist, yours around his neck and his eyes met yours again. 

Barely open, in this world of lust, he looked back at you through his eyelashes like none of this was happening. You couldn’t see fire in his eyes anymore. His eyes were more showing water, still, calm, despite his actions and despite it all. Things slowed. And he kissed you again, slower, as his thrusts continued with the same power and the same force. Your hands slid into his hair and there was nothing you wanted more in this moment than the kiss… Somehow ignoring the outside world for sex became ignoring the sex for the kiss. You wouldn’t breathe if you didn’t have to. “Mm- I’m so close, fuck,” he mumbled over your lips, mouth opening just a bit as he picked up the pace and your fingers closed in fists of his hair as a new wave of pleasure completely overtook all of your thinking. 

“Uh huh,” You nodded, using your hands to kiss him again, to keep him close to you as his thrusts got sloppy and more spaced but still hard as finished. His moans mixed with your own as he slowed to a stop. “Fuck…” You sighed heavily. It was over, it was over, it was over and you were a mess underneath him. Your makeup all fucked up, your hair ruffled, your body sticky from the sweat of it all. Nearly-naked, almost entirely, under Patrick, of all people. You would have to deal with the high and it’s comedown, its consequences. 

The consequence seemed to be not having anything witty or hateful to say to him as he moved to lay next to you, rubbing his face, obviously thinking this over the same way you were. You propped yourself up on your elbow and looked at him, really looked at him. And all he had for you was that stupid, arrogant grin. But it made you laugh. And for the first time in all of the times he had ever fucked you and left after dating back eight years- he reached over and pulled you into another kiss, silencing your giggle. A real kiss, hands staying put on your jaw, your hand gently pressed again his bare chest. The high was gone but the comedown was cushioned in a way you had never felt before. You couldn’t hate someone who kissed you this way with nobody waiting for him at home. Like pieces falling into place, after eight years, there was the first kiss with no intention of sex. 

You couldn’t hate how right it felt with nothing about it having to feel wrong. It was surprising, how different it felt. The consequence was that you liked it. 

And on the way home, your sister knew something had shifted. You sat closer to him than you ever allowed, he addressed you when he had something to say and it was just all too normal. There was another night at the motel where you’d ended up talking everything out with Patrick, finding out how he really felt about things without the need for argument. He confessed to just about everything before the night of conversation ended with you both a little bit too close. Your eyes met his in the glow of the motel pool you sat next to and before any other words were said, his hand slid around the back of your neck and he kissed you again. You didn’t have sex that night. But you ended up in his arms, your hair being tucked behind your ear, his fingers tracing patterns over your thigh. 

Your sister knew something was up for sure when you returned to the motel room around 4am, but she didn’t question it. The biggest tell was that you were your regular, sweet self again. That and you had stopped calling him Zweig. There wasn’t any need to dwell on the past, you’d both decided. He was forgiven over a few cups of coffee. And your past actions felt less like something haunting... more like a mistake from the end of your teenage years.

It truly was exhausting feeling so much and not letting it serve a true purpose, you both found. You began to recognize that not everything formed in the fires of lust stayed on fire forever. It was better to succumb to the still waters that his eyes reminded you of. You liked this rematch, it was one of the best games you'd ever played.

[juanarc-thethird]

After Pyrrha along with Blake and Yang save Jaune from Glynda... do they ask for a reward from him? One that will make all three of them very happy.

In Glynda's office, said owner of the place is found knocked out on the floor. While three girls are standing thinking what to do.

Yang: What if we leave her lying on her couch? Maybe she thinks it was all a dream?

Blake: I don't think that will work, but it's better than nothing.

Pyrrha: So it's decided, we'll leave her confined to her couch and hope she doesn't scold us later.

The three girls nod

Jaune: *Behind the desk* Can I come out now?

Pyrrha: *Smiles* Of course, it's safe now.

Jaune: *Stands up* Wow, that was close. Well, if you'll excuse me, the gym is calling me.

He begins to walk towards the exit until he is stopped by the collar of his shirt grabbed by Yang.

Yang: Where do you think you're going lover boy?

Jaune: To the gym?

Yang: Oh no, we deserve a reward for saving you.

Jaune: My thanks are not enough?

Blake: What "thank you"? You never gave them to us. Also, that's not enough.

She says while looking at him with her predatory gaze.

Jaune: *Nervous* Like a massage?

Pyrrha: Oh you're going to massage something, that's for sure.

She says between a somewhat dangerous smile.

Jaune: Is it something family friendly?

They don't respond and just smile.

Jaune: Oh boy...

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

Back to Jaune's room

*PLAT!PLAT!PLAT!PLAT!PLAT!*

Yang: *Naked, supporting herself on the desk* Oh fucK!~💕 Yes! Destroy that pussy! God!~💕 Go you're going to split in two!!

Jaune slides his fingers through her hair and pulls them towards him.

Yang: Oh FUck YeS!!!~💕 Pull my hair!!💕

Pyrrha: I thought that she doesn't like her hair being touched, much less pulled.

Blake: Yeah, but Jaune is the exception.

Jaune: *Grabbing her hips with his free hand* Oh fuck!

Yang: What's the matter big boy? To much pussy to handle?~💕

Jaune: I-I'm about to cum!

Yang: *giggles* Do it! Cum for me! I want to feel your hot cum inside me!

Jaune: Oh Fuck!~💕

He shoots his hips into Yang, thrusting his member deep inside her.

Yang: OH FUCK!!~~~💕 I'M CUMMING!!!💕💕💕

Jaune's balls can be seen moving with each load of cum. Yang's legs shake from the intensity of her orgasm. If it weren't for Jaune still holding her firmly in his hands, she would have already fallen to the floor.

Yang: *Look up to see his face* I wove you~💕

Jaune: *Kiss her deeply*

Blake: Ok, now is my turn~💕

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

Blake is on the bed on all fours, her hips in the air while her chest touches the ground.

Blake: Come on big guy, fuck me like the bitch I AM!!!!💕

Jaune, without thinking twice, shoved his cock into Blake's ass. All the way until he could touch her ass with his pelvis.

Blake: Oh, my God!~💕 You're raping my ass!~💕 Master is raping my ass!!!~💕

Yang: Oh boy, she got into one of her own role plays.

*PLAT!PLAT!PLAT!PLAT!PLAT!*

Jaune continues to fuck her deep, grabbing each cheek of her ass and spreading her open. She could feel his heavy balls hitting her pussy with every thrust.

Blake: Please Master, have mercy on me!~💕 You are destroying my ass!!💕

Jaune: Shut up! Your ass is mine!

*SMACK!* He spanks her.

Blake: UGH!~💕 Forgive me Master! Please cum inside me as my apology!💕

Jaune: I don't need your permission!! FUck!~

Jaune throws his body at her, impaling her deeply with his big cock. Shooting his cum, filling her whole.

Blake: Yes master!💕 Pump all your semen inside me!💕 I can feel my belly getting full!!~~~💕💕

She screams as she squirts hard, leaving everything soaked beneath her.

Pyrrha: My turn~💕

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

Jaune has Pyrrha in Mating press position on the floor mat. Her legs are resting on top of his arms in the air, while her pussy is ravaged by his huge cock.

*PLAT!PLAT!PLAT!PLAT!PLAT!*

Pyrrha: YES! FUCK ME!!💕 I'M YOUR FUCKING FUCK TOY!!💕

Blake: I knew she was a screamer, but this is too much.

Yang: But it's hot~

Jaune uses all his strength and weight to fuck her hard and dirty. Years of training with her did bear fruit, and Pyrrha is indeed grateful for his hard work.

Pyrrha: I WANNA BE YOUR SEXDOLL FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!!💕 PLEASE USE ME WHENEVER YOU WANT!!💕💕 MIY BODY IS YOURS!!!

Jaune: Pyrrha, be quiet, you're being too loud!

Pyrrha: WELL MAKE ME! KISS ME AND SHUT ME -MMM!!💕💕💕

He kisses her with passion and increases the intensity of his hips. Pyrrha can't think straight anymore, she can only think about his cock. Her mind is a mess, she can only moan and kiss Jaune.

Blake: Oh, Jaune is already about to cum.

Yang: How do you know?

Blake: He clenches his ass when he cums.

Jaune: *does exactly that* Mnmn!~💕

Pyrrha: MMHHH!!~💕

Blake: See

Yang: Wow

Jaune's balls throb with every load of cum. Little by little you can see how the semen begins to come out of Pyrrha. Leaving small puddle of semen under her.

Blake: He is already at his limit.

Yang: Do we let him rest?

The two girls look at each other

Blake/Yang: Nah~

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

Jaune is lying on his bed while the three girls share his meat between their mouths.

Jaune: *Begging* Girls please, I can't take it anymore. I'm dry.

Pyrrha: *Slurp!* Nop~💕

Blake: *Lick* Never~💕

Yang: *Kiss* You wish~💕

[nahoney22]

Happy Birthday 🌊

🫧 pairings: Hunter X Female!Reader

word count: 1.8k

prompts: none

A/N: For a special someone for their birthday. Happy birthday @photogirl894 ♥️ 🎂

It’s your first birthday without your loved ones nearby, however Hunter has a little surprise in store for you.

warnings: Safe for work, Fluff, Light Angst, Reader Missing Family, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, The Batch Being the Sweetest, Present Giving, Surprise Birthday Celebrations, Female Reader, Not Proofread.

“So, I heard it’s someone’s birthday today?”

The voice is like a warm caress, and you spin around in the pilot’s chair, a soft smile already forming. Hunter stands in the doorway, his arms crossed, and that ever-gracious smirk playing on his lips. Stars above, how could one man be so effortlessly handsome and charming at the same time? His presence alone sends your heart into a wild rhythm.

You try to hide your bashfulness, a difficult feat given Hunter's heightened senses. You often wonder if he can hear the way your heart skips a beat whenever he talks to you, or if he can sense the blood rushing to your cheeks. “Hmm, I’m not too sure,” you say, pinching your chin in mock contemplation. “Remind me again?”

He chuckles, a sound that feels like a soft embrace, and walks towards you, placing a caring hand on your shoulder. “Happy birthday, trooper.”

His touch sends a warmth coursing through you, and you grin, though he quickly notices the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His brows furrow slightly, a sign of his genuine concern. “Something the matter?”

“It’s just… it’s my first birthday without seeing my friends and family, so it feels a bit, I don’t know, different? I guess.”

It had been almost a year since you last visited your home planet. Being a medic for the squad meant you were always on call, patching up the boys and tending to Omega’s scraped knees. You loved your job and the Batch, especially one member more than the others. But celebrating your birthday without your other loved ones felt tougher than you had anticipated.

Hunter moves to the chair beside you, using his foot to gently spin you around to face him. “I guess it would be quite strange,” he acknowledges, leaning forward. “But we will make the day work, huh? Wrecker, Tech, Crosshair, and Echo want to take you out for breakfast this morning. Maybe go for a walk on the beach too.”

The thought of the boys offering to take you out for breakfast is sweet, but you can’t help the slight disappointment. “And you and Omega don’t want to come too?”

He shifts, suddenly looking a bit nervous. “Oh, erm, I just have to do some data logs and boring stuff, and Omega said her stomach hurts this morning.”

In an instant, you panic and stand. “What? Is she okay? Why didn’t she tell me?” You start to walk away to find her, your medical and nurturing instincts kicking in. But you’re stopped by a gentle hand grabbing hold of yours.

A warmth spreads up your fingers as you look down at the hand intertwined with yours, then up to the gentle eyes they belong to. “She’s okay, just sleeping.”

Your breath catches in your throat, unsure how to respond. Why was he holding your hand? Why hadn’t he let go yet? “O-Oh, I see.”

He smiles, another one of those smiles that often turn your knees to jelly. “I’m sure you’re going to have a great birthday,” he says fondly.

Your heart swells, a mixture of emotions swirling within you. Hunter’s presence, his touch, his words—they all have a way of making you feel seen and cherished in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. You had liked him for the longest of time and you had a somewhat naive hunch he felt something for you too. You had seen the way he acted with women before and it was never the way he was with you. You didn’t want to get your hopes up but you couldn’t miss the way he looked at you.

Hunter’s hand lingers in yours, neither of you seeming to want to let go. The warmth of his touch sends a gentle thrill through you, and you find yourself completely lost in his eyes. Memories flood back: the countless times he had stood by your side, his protective nature, the soft, caring words he had for you after tough missions, and the gentle way he always made sure you were okay.

He steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours. You feel your heart pounding in your chest, breath hitching as the space between you seems to shrink. His face is inches from yours, and you can almost feel his breath when—

The moment is shattered as Wrecker bursts into the room, his loud, jovial voice breaking the spell. “Hey! Happy birthday!” he bellows, his enthusiasm filling the cockpit.

You and Hunter quickly pull apart, standing back as though caught doing something you shouldn’t. Wrecker’s massive arms envelop you in a bear hug, lifting you off your feet momentarily.

“Wrecker!” you laugh, your cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and lingering warmth from the almost-moment with Hunter.

The rest of the Batch filters in, each offering their birthday wishes. Echo’s smile is warm and genuine, Crosshair gives a nod of acknowledgment, and Tech adjusts his goggles as he speaks. “We should get going before all the good food spots are full. I’ve done extensive research and compiled a list of optimal breakfast locations.”

You chuckle and nod, grateful for the distraction. As you prepare to leave, you give a shy wave to Hunter. He returns it with a nod and a smile that makes your heart flutter once again. Once you’re gone, Omega peeks into the cockpit, her eyes sparkling with excitement. ��Is she gone?”

Hunter nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “Let’s get to work.”

Breakfast is a yummy affair, filled with so much laughter juice nearly snorted out your nose at one point. With Tech having done his research, he led you all to a place where you could indulge in a variety of good dishes—crispy hash browns, fluffy pancakes drizzled with syrup, and a savoury omelette loaded with anything topping you could think of. Wrecker, of course, devours his food with unabashed enthusiasm, while Tech critiques the menu with a meticulous eye.

After breakfast as promised, the group of you heads to the beach. The sun is warm on your skin but a little too hot later on which meant you had to buy a straw hat by one of the nearby stalls, and the gentle waves lap at the shore.

As you lay on the sand, you watched on as the boys engage in light-hearted banter which soon lead to Wrecker and Crosshair ending up in a playful scuffle, each trying to push the other into the ocean. Their laughter is infectious, and you can’t help but join in, feeling a lightness you hadn’t in a while. But, the longing for your family was still there.

As the day winds down, Echo announces we need to return to the ship.

As soon as you step inside you’re greeted by the sight of decorations, a table laden with gifts and, and the people you love most in the galaxy. Your friends and family. Along with the Batch and Omega, who beams at you with pride.

Emotion wells up within you, your eyes watering instantly and you rush to your loved ones, pulling them into a tight embrace. “I can’t believe you guys are here!”

Echo approaches Hunter, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Good job.” They both watch you wipe the tears of happiness from your eyes.

That evening, the festivities of your party slowly start to dwindle. The campfire that was made crackles gently, casting a warm glow on those around you.

After the games, laughter, and a satisfying barbecue, presents are exchanged. You always felt shy when receiving gifts and today was no different. Though you were very grateful.

Tech hands you a crafted gadget, its sleek design and functionality immediately appealing to your practical side. Crosshair, true to his stoic nature, offers a high-quality knife with a subtle smile, acknowledging its usefulness. You weren’t much of a fighter but maybe you could ask Hunter to teach you one day…

Echo gives you a beautifully bound journal with a smooth leather cover and crisp pages of flimsi. He knew you liked to make notes on your adventures and this just adds a more personal touch. Wrecker’s gift, a massive stuffed animal, brings out delighted laughter from you though the others weren’t too impressed with where it’ll fit on the ship.

As the night settles, Hunter catches your eye from across the fire and nods towards the lake. “Would you like to go for a walk?”

Curiosity piqued, you nod and follow him away from the glowing campfire and the soft chatter of your friends. The path to the lake is softly illuminated by the last hues of twilight. The sun has dipped below the horizon, leaving a trail of purples, pinks, and deep blues in the sky, reflected beautifully on the still waters of the lake.

The environment is serene, with the gentle rustling of leaves in the evening breeze and the distant sound of creatures stirring. The cool air carries the subtle scent of pine and freshwater, wrapping around you. Hunter walks beside you, his presence steady and calming which is what you always felt.

“Thank you for the surprise,” you say, your voice soft and sincere. “I promise not to ugly cry again.”

Hunter chuckles softly, the sound blending harmoniously with the natural ambiance. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Are you wondering where your gift from me is?”

“Not at all, you already did so much!” You say quickly, hoping you hadn’t come across ungrateful at all. But he reassures you as you both come to a stop, away from the view of the others.

“It was nothing, you do so much for us so it’s only fair I do something in return.. but I do actually have a gift for you.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a small box. Opening it, he reveals a stunning bracelet, an intricate mix of different shades of blue stones, woven together in a delicate design on a silver band. The twilight’s remaining light catches on the bracelet, making it shimmer softly.

You’re momentarily speechless, the beauty of the bracelet and the thoughtfulness of Hunter’s gesture leaving you stunned. Smiling gently, Hunter takes your hand, his touch warm, and slips the bracelet onto your wrist. “I don’t know how to thank you,” you whisper, emotion thick in your voice.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Hunter replies, his voice filled with warmth. He pauses, his eyes holding yours with a quiet intensity. “But maybe we could finish what was almost started this morning?” His tone hopeful

You didn’t expect him to bring it up again, in fact you momentarily forgot about it, but his words send a thrill through you. You nod, a shy smile playing on your lips. Hunter steps closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. The touch is electric, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

The kiss is soft, slow, and tender, a sweet exploration of emotions that were long felt, but never spoken. The galaxy around you fades, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, timeless moment.

When you finally part, Hunter’s eyes are filled with warmth and affection. “Happy birthday, beautiful,” he whispers, his breath mingling with yours.

Your heart swells with happiness, and you realise that this birthday, surrounded by love is one you will cherish forever.

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka

@theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone

@ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet t @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog

@pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87

@ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi

@greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420

@ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @the-bad-batch-baroness @lulalovez

[igotanidea]

We'll make it: Jason Todd x reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI!

So, she got accepted to that one Univerity faculty she wanted to attend since being a teen.

It was a dream come true, except for one tiny detail.

She was leaving.

For 3 years.

A thousand miles away from her boyfiend Jason.

And he never explicitly said it, but his eyes, his face, his entire posture that shifted from relaxed in her presence to terrified at the thought of loosing her, were speaking volumes.

And no matter how much she tried to assure him the two of them will survive it, regardless of the strength she put on for both of their sakes - nothing could ease his worries.

How would he survive without her by his side?

Who would he come back to after patrol to hold and love and snuggle with?

Whose laugh and tears and words and touch and humor and moodiness would fill his days?

But he knew he had to let her go.

It was her dream after all, and who he was to ever stop her from fullfilling it...

Nothing.

Just an outcast, outlaw, vigilante casted away and abandoned even by his own family.

He never deserved her in the first place and it was time to deal with it.

She were too good for him.

But that was never what she thought.

So the last night before the departure, when she was finishing packing her bags and he was keeping his distance, leaning on the doorframe trying to act casual and happy for her?

She couldn't stand it.

She hated the fact that he seemed to just ... give up. Let go of the fight. Surrender.

Red Hood would never surrender.

And Y/N Y/L/N wouldn't either.

"So, are you excited for tomorrow?" he asked with a fake smile

"I'm actually feeling a lot of things at the same time" she sighed heavily zipping her suitcase.

"I think it's pretty normal." Jason shrugged taking a step forward putting her luggage up to make it ready for the morning and that little, somewhat helpful after all, gesture made her mad.

Mad like he has never seen her before.

"What is wrong with you?!" she yelled but all she got in response was a surprised, indifferent look on his face.

"What do you mean?"

"what do I--?" she stuttered, her eyes widening in shock. Was he for real? He didn'd care at all? "WHAT DO I MEAN?!!"

"Stop yelling princess, you're acting crazy."

"CRAZY!? I'm acting crazy to you?!"

"Ok, seriously, what the hell do you want from me!?" he spat back, getting annoyed by her behaviour.

"WHY WON'T YOU FIGHT FOR ME?!"

"Fight for you?" his eyes glistened with rage, but also something more, something she couldn;t quite decipher "you want me to fight for you, huh? Well be careful what you wish for cause if I start doing it--" he gritted his teeth stopping the sentence in the middle.

Y/N took a single look at his face. Narrowed eyes. Pursed lips. And then other telltales. Hard breathing. Rapid chest movements. Clenched fists.

"Jason..."

"FUCK!" he yelled, grabbed the back of her head and pulled her to the kiss that was as intense as if he was trying to swallow her whole. His lips moving against her with the power and stoutess that resebled the fire consuming everything that happened to be on his path. Nothing else mattered in this moment, except for her.

His girlfriend, his lover, his babygirl.

Who just finished collecting her things before flight.

Jason groaned grabbing her waist, squeezing her body in an iron tight grip, her whimpers only spurring him on, making him want more, making him want to tear her clothes off, pin her to bed, take her like an animal, make her stay.

Make her fucking stay.

But he couldn't.

And it made him stop and pull back in shame.

"Jason..." she gasped, feeling the emptiness when he moved away. Her hair were messy, eyes glassy, lips already swollen.

"I'm sorry princess..."

"Oh fuck you todd" she groaned rushing to his arms again, wrapping herself around him like a glove, needing his touch, his love, his lips, hands, everything.

She started the fire in him.

The fire he was trying so hard to contain while withdrawing and keeping his cool.

He wasn't anymore.

She was going away. There was no denying the reality. So if anything he could give her something to remember him by.

To rememeber them by.

"I got a little surprise for you..." she whispered pulling back to the point where he let her. Her hands locked with his, guiding them to the hem of her shirt signalling to pull it up.

And when he did?

The view that came to his eyes counldn't be compared with anything else. The sexiest, the most turning on, cock hardening red lacy lingerie made her look like a goddess.

"Fuck, Y/N." he tore the shirt off completely, tracing over her soft, warm skin, caressing her breasts through the thin lacy material.

"Say it..." she gasped feeling his kisses on her neck, his hands on her ass, pulling her closer.

"I don't want you to go."

"Show me."

"Oh I;m gonna show you."

Her pants were gone in a second, his fingers dipping under the material of her panties, feeling her wetness, going lower, depeer, harder...

"But not like this." Jason grabbed her waist and carried her to the bedroom.

Layed her down.

Kissed her enitre body.

Slowly unclasped all those tiny buckles, untangled all the strings, making sure that she felt each caress, each kiss, each sweet word whispered in her ear.

Moved slowly and tenderly.

Made love to her with so much care and intensity without going rough.

Looking straight into her eyes with each thrust.

We'll make it.

That was the message his gaze was conveing. One simple sentence that never had a chance to leave his mouth.

We'll make it.

"Yes..." she gasped tightening the grip of her legs on his waist, running hands down his back, pulling him closer, and they both knew that she didn't just refer to sex.

We'll make it.

And when the first rays of sun shone on the horizon....

When her lips brushed his forehead till the next time they were going to see each other....

When the doors closed quietly to not stir him awake...

Two hearts were still beating in the same rythm,

We'll make it.

[cheezeybread]

This is more of a platonic request, Diasomnia gang with Malleus sister (reader) who like fell in love with a human only for the human to like backstab her and like slice? Saw? Off the horns of Malleus sister.

Horns is not only a sensitive topic but like a very big thing for the diasomnia family so like for malleus sister to not only lose her horns but to feel like she failed her family for falling for a trick. We know that Maleficent also fell for the human trick so atleast they have someone to relate with but she feels so stupid and doesn’t want to tell her brother what happen until the diasomnia gang pretty much forces what happen out of. ( if she locked herself in her room that could be the reason they didn’t find out sooner.)

I headcannon that horns can grow back somewhat but it so slow and it even more sensitive and painful than it was before.

Oooooh, I'm not the best at writing for the Diasomnia gang, so these are a little short, but I love the idea! :]

𝘿𝙞𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙣𝙞𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙪𝙨'𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 (𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧) 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧

𝐅𝐭: 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬, 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐤, 𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Remaining in your room for the past week, the Diasomnia house KNEW that something was up with you.

You had snuck out the night before (of course Lilia knew you had snuck out, he somehow knows everybody's coming and goings, no matter how sneaky you are!), but then...you came back and locked yourself in your room before anybody could even see you.

You hadn't even gone to classes!

Sebek gets it in his head that you're dead somehow (probably because you barely touch the food they leave outside of the door for you), so he ends up ramming your door down in a moment of panic

But alas...here you are, alive, but your horns are...mangled. They've slowly grown back, but they're only halfway there, and he can see the tears in your eyes as you huddle in the corner of your room

"WAKA-SAMAAAAA!"

Malleus comes up to your room as quickly as he can, and the entire Diasomnia house waits outside of your door (propped up against the door-frame since it's broke) as your brother speaks to you in private.

Then Malleus storms out of the room, the door blasting into the hallway with a surge of magic. He's furious, to say the least, yelling to the house how a child of Man had betrayed his sister's heart and cut off her horns!

Sebek and Lilia are ready to go out and kill a man! They actually do run out of the dorm room, and won't be seen again until a few days later

Silver works on the comforting side of things, telling you a tale of how once the Fairy Queen had loved a man, and he stole something valuable from her

Malleus assures you that despite your fears, your horns will grow back, this time thicker and more beautiful than they were before (I think of it sort of like pruning a tree, if the horns are cut off, they'll grow back better? It's more of an ancient practice amongst those who had horns, but it's not been practiced in a loooong time)

Don't worry, Lilia and Sebek return with a familiar piece of jewelry (One that, if you recall, you gave to your lover months ago), stained with rust-colored blood. Lilia gives Malleus your horns that were stolen from you (in private, ofc, not wanting you to freak out over seeing them again)

Let's just say that your "lover" was never seen again...

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

[artteristly]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒, 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍.𝐁

SUMMARY, you’ve been daphne's best friend since forever, to the point you were considered family toward her family. Though there was always this one boy who you didn’t see as family, simply as your future lover, that was daphne's older brother, a boy your age, a flirtatious boy who you mistook as someone who always jokes around, it was actually the opposite, he meant every word he uttered towards you, a sweet dream indeed.

MASTERLIST, 𝓌ord count, 4.2K

𝒮weet, a nice word Colin would always use to reminisce about his childhood. His love of the wild, the feeling of walking in the gardens alone, and simply enjoying his peaceful days. However, one summer, when he was the age of nine, Daphne waltzed into the house dragging a very clueless girl inside. 

His mother, who greeted the girl asked her what was going on, and you simply replied with a childish smile. You had told her Daphne had spotted you admiring butterflies and tagged along with you, and as the day got later, you thought it would be best to walk the six-year-old girl back home. 

Daphne insisted she should show you her home garden, talking about how multiple gorgeous butterflies passed through there. You had asked Violet if it was okay with her, and she told you it was fine but only to be careful. Colin watched you that day from a window, admiring how connected you were with nature, which he now wanted to be engulfed in. 

“That is a Morpho, a beautiful insect indeed.” You smile at Colin, who is caught off guard when you appear behind him. You crouch right next to him, making him inhale air as he turns nervous. You held out your finger to the insect and let it attach itself to your finger, slowly bringing it to Colin's face. “Pretty isn’t it? It’s quite similar to your eye color!” You smile. 

His eyes looked at you then the bug who crawled around your finger, somewhat sending goosebumps through your body, making you laugh in response. “Are you not afraid?” He muttered, pulling his knees deeper into his chest. You look at him then the bug, chuckle, and nod. “No, I like to admire beautiful things, My father also likes to do the same.” You told him, flickering your finger and making the butterfly fly away. 

“My name is Colin.” He told you, making you look at him again and smile. “I know, Daphne talks a lot about her older brothers.” You stood up, making him hastily stand up again too. “I heard you want to travel the world, correct?” You asked him, and his response was nodding his head furiously. “Then when you can, you must visit me in Italy!” You giggle. 

“You’ve been to Italy?” Colin asked you, and you saw stars in his eyes, making you blush. “I go every summer since my mother’s family lives there.” You grab his hands, making him pipe down. “You and Daphne must visit my home, I have many travel souvenirs from my trips there!” You told him, and he nodded in acceptance. 

Since then he never saw you as family, he always saw you as his first love. 

You, however, fell in love with Colin at first sight. You were studying with your father, who told you some bug facts and let you touch them. Then the sound of horses rang in your ears, and you saw a man and three boys approach your father. “Edmund! How are you, old man?” Your father smiled at him, making the other laugh. 

You looked over to see the man your father was talking to, only for your father to introduce you. “My daughter.” You look up, smiling at the man kindly making him smile towards you. “Ah, my three sons, Anthony, Benedict, and Colin.” He moved out of the way for the two of you to see. 

Your eyes widened as they laid on him, his untamed hair, and his somewhat toothless smile, as he joked with his other brother. You nod your head at them, as they do the same, and say hello, before leaving them to look at the bugs as your father talks to the other man. 

As they depart, you look over to catch him one more time, he was the first one to gallop away. He looked like a prince in your eyes, enchanting and alluring. 

Your childhood with him was a happy memory, but now times are different. You were a young lady who was about to be introduced into society but with terrible news arriving hastily to your estate in London, you couldn’t as your mother was being summoned back to Italy. 

 “Oh, how I wish you could be here for my debut.” Daphne sniffled some tears that made you giggle. “My dear Daphne, do you think I would leave without giving you something?” You bit your lip, not wanting to smile too big. Daphne looked at you in confusion but gasped when a maid handed you a box. 

“Here are your debut shoes, your mother gave me permission to get them for you, as a farewell gift.” You smiled, letting her hold the box and look at the shoes in amazement. She squealed in delight, putting the shoes aside and hugging you. “Oh, I’ll miss you! Three years will be far too long.” 

“Three years?” Violet frowned, hastily putting her teacup down. “What about your debut year, dear?” She asked all Bridgerton sisters to look at you. You sigh and frown “I will have to debut when I'm twenty and three.” You cradle your cheek with your hand, making everyone frown. “We will surely miss you, dearest.” Violet smiled sadly. 

“So will I! I already promised Daphne that I would write to her.” You held her hand, making her smile at you. “My, what is happening?” Anthony called out, breaking the tight atmosphere as he, Benedict, and Colin walked into the drawing room. “Miss Sinclair will be leaving us for three years.” Violet frowned at the news once again. 

Colin's eyes widen as he looks over towards you, only to see your face forming a frown. “Whatever for?” Colin asked, making you look at him. “My mother has affairs to attend to since my grandfather is somewhat ill.” You place down your teacup.

“Do not worry, It’ll just be for three years, I will come back, hopefully.” You smile at them, making them express how they will miss you once again. When it was about time to leave, Hyacinth begged you to bring her something back from Italy, to which you nodded to reassure her you would. 

“Now Hycinth, why don’t you let me walk her down?” Colin grabbed your hand and intertwined it with his arm, making you jump in surprise. As you two leave the drawing room, you look up towards him, smiling kindly. “I will write to you.” You told him, making him look down towards you. “I will miss you, perhaps I will visit you if I were to start my tour.” He smiled, making you laugh. You pull him into a vacant room, pulling out a wrapped gift just for him. 

“I did not want to give you this in front of your family, since I did not bring gifts for them, just you and Daphne.” You hand him the wrapped gift, making him look at you. You both heard your name being called out by a maid, meaning your carriage was ready. You told yourself ‘now or never’ as you did, you stood on your tippy toes and landed a kiss on Colin's cheek. “Goodbye, Colin.” 

He stood utterly shocked as you left the room, making your way out with a flushed face. Colin felt like a boy who had just gotten a new toy when he ran upstairs towards his room. He breathed in and out while looking at the wrapped gift, he panted as he tore it open. 

A journal? He hesitated as he undid the tie around it, watching as a note fell from it. 

‘Dear Colin, I gift you this journal to write in if you were to start your tour, to express your feelings when I am not there or when you are struggling. A journal for only your eyes. – sincerely, your girl.’ 

The room had simply gotten too hot to be in, as Colin rested in his bed and read over and over your handwriting. He groaned at the thought of your lips on his cheek, a moment he had been waiting for, and when it had finally happened, you were gone—three years of pure torture. 

He never got the opportunity to visit you in Italy when he had embarked on his journey. His tour never crossed paths in Italy, therefore he wrote to you, about how the world was different, the way of life was different, and how he wished for you to see it. When his letter got your sweet responses he would dream of you, how you would whisper the words you wrote into his ears, the texture of your lips on his neck, sweet torture. 

Three years, everything would change. He would change, and so would you. He turned into a man, a man who was no longer seen as a young boy, and you were no longer a young lady, you were a mature lady, who had seen her fair share of society. 

When the news got out that you had returned to London, Colin was bordering the next ship to go back home as soon as possible. He just groaned in annoyance as he arrived on the day of Francesca's debut, as well as yours. He just wished to see you before the event. 

He followed his family to the presentation, waiting anxiously as they called debutante after debutante. “Will you finally make a move on her?” Daphne leaned over towards Colin, making him raise a brow towards her. 

Daphne looked at him, giving him a look. “You will make her our new sister, right?” Hyacinth butted in, making him look at all three of his sisters. “You should hurry up if you are, I feel this season will be different.” Daphne smiled at him, before turning over towards Francesca who rose from her curtsy at the queen, leaving quickly as she came.

“Miss Sinclair, presented by her Mother, Duchess of York, Lady Amelia Sinclair–Bianchi.” 

Colin felt his airways clog up as he watched you gracefully present yourself to the queen, a gated beauty now being unlocked to the public. He hated the fact you caught the attention of the queen, you might have been announced the Diamond of the season until he saw the queen just smile and wave you off. 

You looked rather mature now, your posture was straight and your smile was now on display to the Ton who faced you with curiosity. He let his eyes wander your covered body, he shouldn’t, but he didn’t take his eyes off of you for a second. 

“The clock is ticking brother, it is now or never,” Daphne whispered into his ear, making him swallow at the thought of confessing to you. She was right, now or never. 

“Miss Sinclair, Ma’am.” A valet called out to the family who was in the drawing room, making everyone cheer up. It had been a few days after the presentation, and since you were preoccupied with potential suitors, you hadn’t gotten the chance to visit the family. 

Colin fixed his posture on the sofa, making everyone tease him. “Good day!” You’re cheerful attitude was brought into the blue room, making every family member cheer when you showed up. “Dear, good to see you!” Violet stood up and hugged you, making you giggle. 

“It’s good to see you all, it’s been a long time hasn't it?” You leave the hug to study the faces in the room, but you can’t recognize two. “Ah, you must Simon? Daphne has mentioned you in her letters!” You place a bag on the floor, offering a hand to the man who took it politely. “You must be her dearest friends is that so?” Simon smiled as you nodded furiously. 

You turn over towards the other figure in the room, making your smile widen more. “You must be Kate!” You rush in to hug her, making her stumble a bit back. “Sorry, It’s a pleasure to meet the person who captured Anthony’s heart!” You apologize quickly, making the new Viscountess laugh. 

“The pleasure is mine, I’ve heard nothing but good things about you.” Kate smiled, and the thought of her clumsy sister came to mind, seeing you made her smile warmly. “Again sorry I couldn’t attend your weddings, Italy has been a bit troublesome.” You look at every face in the room, they have nothing but questions. 

“Oh my!” You tumbled a bit when Hycinth and Gregory hugged you tight, making the rest laugh. “My have you two grown!” You smiled as the two started to bicker about who grew taller, but you interrupted them with a cough. “Neither the less, I come bearing gifts!” 

You laugh as the youngsters sit down, giving the floor to you. “I suppose I’ll go from oldest to youngest.” You mutter as the first two sons cheer, making the younger ones groan. “Violet.” You start, by making the oldest groan, making the others laugh at their behavior. “A pearl necklace.” You handed it to her, making her gasp at its beauty, standing up to kiss your cheek. 

“For Anthony, An Italian-style quill.” You take out of the bag and handed it out for him to study. “Italian brandy for Simon.” You handed the man, making him utterly speechless. 

“Daphne wasn’t particular in her letter about what you liked, so I took a wild guess, I hope you like it.” You explained, making him reassure you it was adequate. “Benedict, I heard you were no longer into paintings but had already purchased it, I hope it makes you want to paint again, Italian paint oils, for you.” You handed him, making him look at the paint, then giving you a small smile.

“To match with Anthony, Kate, I got you an Italian-style quill in purple.” You handed her, making her gasp and hug you. “Colin.” He looked at you, making him sit still as he took in your tone. “I got you, Italian maps and a new journal.” You handed him, making you smile as his blue eyes met yours, smiling at you. 

“Daphne, a perfume set to match with Hyacinth, a rather popular book series in italy for dear Eloise, An Italian music sheet for Franny, and a Bow and arrows for Gregory.” You wrap up, watching as the four squeal at their gifts, making you smile. As you sit back down, right next to the brunette, watching as everyone interacts with their gifts.

“Thank you for the gifts,” Colin whispers into your ear, making you burn up. “Of course, but I will say I must need something in return for yours.” You tease him. 

He was now looking at you directly, making you smile. “What would that be?” He asked raising a brow, making you tap your chin, acting as if you were thinking about it. “Perhaps you can let me read a page or two of your journal?” You ask of him, making him still. 

Colin’s mind wandered to the many things he wrote inside his journal, to the late-night adventurous, then to the thoughts of you, dear little you. He opened his mouth, about to answer until his brother interrupted. “Well, let’s head to dinner everyone.” Anthony stood up, guiding his wife to follow him. 

You two watched as everyone spilled out of the drawing room, leaving you and Colin to be the last ones in the room. You took a glance towards him, breath hitching as you saw him already staring. “Would you care to accompany me to a late evening stroll after dinner?” Colin smiled, that smile, the one that made you want to melt. “How could I decline.” You smile, walking downstairs with him. 

During dinner, Colin noticed how much he missed you. How you brought the mood up by answering questions, making light jokes, and playing with the younger ones. Simon and Kate had taken a liking to you, making you blush. He saw his mother laugh at something you said, a laugh so childish. 

Everyone seemed at ease, forgetting the hardships they fought last season. A feeling he had missed dearly while at sea, missing you. As everyone departed from dinner, you and Colin walked through his outdoor garden. “You’ve been to three cities in three months?!” You gasp, making you look at him, him laughing at your face. “What like it’s hard!” 

“It is unless they were all next to each other!” You whack his bicep, gasping at how firm it was. “My goodness, Colin!” You release your arm out of his, making him laugh. “Last time I saw you, you were still bones!” You knocked him over a bit, but it didn’t affect him at all. “Your style too! Who changed you!” You giggled. 

“Paris changed me a bit, why? You don’t like it?” He told you, the last bit catching you off guard. He looked at you for your response. You take your time studying him, you can’t deny it, he did look good. “I do, it makes you look more mature.” You huff, walking away from him. 

He walked right behind you, trying to catch up to you. “Seems like Italy changed you too, you look pretty.” Colin grabbed your hand and brought the back of it to kiss. You watched as he kissed it, bending down to your height to do so. “You jest around too much, Colin.” Colin heard you say so and could feel your hand trembling as he did so, making him smile. “Look! A Dandelion!” You snatch your hand away, marching where you saw the plant. 

He watched as you bent down to pick some, he noticed you two were quite far from the house. There you stood in front of a miniature field of Dandelions. Colin looked at you as you picked some up but they blew away before you got a chance to blow on it. “Hurry Colin!” You looked at him with such joy in your eyes, that his heart couldn’t take it. When you look at him, he has never felt so alive and free, only something he could muster up by being with you. 

You giggled as you walked back towards Colin, offering him a dandelion. “I could never find one of these in Italy, how I missed them.” You smiled at him, making him quiet up. 

“Let’s make a wish!” You told him, bringing his hand up to yours. He could only watch as you counted to three, making him lean in and blow on it the same time you did. He wished for many things, such as courage and luck. 

He wished for you, he wished you could be his, he wished he gained your father's blessing to marry you. If one thing came true, he would wish on every dandelion here if it meant he would get you. As he opened his eyes, he only saw you. 

You smiled as you could see his blue eyes, making you laugh. “What did you wish for?” You asked but then bit back. “Wait! Don’t tell me or it won’t come true!” You said but kept rambling on about the rules of wishing. He stayed quiet, he only looked at you with desire. Not daring to break the gap between you two. “Colin?” He felt his heart palpitate as you usher his name quietly. 

“I wished for you.” He whispered, making you quiet up. “I can’t hold these feelings in anymore, dear.” His tone made you only focus on him, his words felt sweet as a dream, was it a dream? 

“Colin, what are you talking about?” You murmured as you wanted more information. “I love you, very very much.” He brought your hands to his lips, hiding his face in them after. “I’ve loved you since we were nine, when you compared me to a Morpho.” You just looked at him as he rambled on. 

“I wanted to visit you in Italy, and to propose to you immediately, but then Anthony stopped me, telling me to wait until you were introduced into society.” Colin went on. “Then when I saw you in your white ball gown, when I saw you dolled up, I wanted you.” 

“I couldn’t bear the thought of you being with someone else, I would be a fool to not take the chance now, so here I am, begging you to give me a chance.” He begged. “I want to cherish you, love you, grow old with you, please allow me to do so.” 

You looked at him in shock, tears brimming your water line. “You’re not joking with me, right?” You sob, blinking as you let the tears float down. “This isn’t a dream, right?” You crouch down. Colin watched as you sobbed, confused but followed you. “This isn’t a dream and I’m not joking.” Colin wiped the tears away, cradling your cheek gently. 

“Why would I joke about that?” He asked you, making you sniffle and reply. “I always thought you were joking around with me.” You wipe your tears away. “I would never!” 

“I love you till the day that I die!” Colin grabbed your hands, declaring how much you mean to him. You watched as he defended himself from your silly little statement. You giggled, making him stop. “You’re still the same after all.” You watch as he becomes confused. “You’re still the childish and sensitive Colin I know.” You smile as you watch him groan in his hands.

“I love you too, Colin, ever since we were children I wanted to marry you, you were my prince charming.” You say, making him still as a rock. Colin hugged you, effortlessly picking you up into the air, making you shriek. “Is that a yes?” Colin asked you hurriedly, making you raise a brow. “To marry you?” 

Colin nodded hastily, he pulled something out of his waistcoat pocket. A ring was presented to you, making you look at him in awe. “I would love to marry you, Colin!” You exclaim happily, not being able to contain your happiness you jump into his arms. 

He spun you around in delight. As he placed you down again, he gently placed the ring on your finger, making you lightly sob again. You two laugh and giggle as he offers his handkerchief, and as you walk back into the house, a valet tells you that your family has arrived to pick you up. 

“A good way to break the news, no?” Colin smiled as he looked down towards you, you laughed and nodded in agreement. As you walked into the drawing room, you couldn’t help but tear up again, making your parents worry. 

You and Colin looked at each other and nodded, he declared that you two were engaged and you just watched as everyone reacted. Daphne was the first one to cheer, happily approving of this union as she hugged you tightly. “Finally!” She jumped happily hugging her brother next. 

The whole moment felt like a sweet dream, you were scared it was all an Illusion. 

Then everything went black, the sweet moment torn away from you as you fell into an abyss. “Dear?” A faint voice called out, making you groan. “Dear.” It called out again, making you open your eyes, as you were vision was flooded with a blue-colored ceiling. 

“Finally you awoke.” A warm voice called out, making you hum and turn to see who was speaking. Colin, it was Colin who was leaving a trail of kisses on your collarbone, to your cheek. You look around you to see your surroundings, a room mixed with baby blues and baby purples, your nightgown flung on a chair as well as Colin's nightshirt next to it. 

Then returning to reality, you sighed as you two were cuddled in your warm bed, melting back into his embrace. “What happened?” He asked as he snuggled closer into you, making you scrunch up. “I had a dream.” You spoke out, he hummed out making you aware he was listening. You brought your hand up to your face to scratch your nose, only to see your wedding ring on your finger. 

“I had a dream about when you declared your love for me, and when you told me to marry you.” You told him, shuffling around to look at him in the eyes, his blue eyes meeting yours.

“You still remember that day clear as day?” He smiled at you, making you smile as well. “Word to word, every single thing.” You kiss his nose as he turns a flustered color. “Impeccable remembrance my wife has.” Colin drags you into his chest as you two stay in bed for a little longer. 

“How could I forget it? One of the happiest days of my life.” You mumble onto his chest as he sends a vibration of his laugh down to your ear. “One of mine as well.” He agreed. 

After a pinch of silence, you spoke again. “It was a sweet dream.” You snuggled into his warmth, wanting nothing more to melt into him. Colin allowed you to do so, whispering sweet words into your ear making your naked body heat up with warmth. Then after a slight moment to yourselves, a squeal ran across the hall to your door. “Mummy!” A little one called out right after. 

[theblackestswan]

Silent Desires | #1

Synopsis — There was a time when you pondered how you'd ever let it be known how much you desired Jungkook. But now? He’s back. And he’s not being silent with his desires anymore.

• Jungkook x F!Reader

• Brothers best friend, childhood friends to somewhat strangers to lovers, smut, fluff, and a bit of angst

• explicit language

• word count: 1.5k+

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

"God fucking damnit!"

You screamed as you tried to calm yourself down. Was it working? Absolutely not. But it felt good, right?

The phone rang a couple rings before the person you were not looking for, answered. "Hello sister!" Gross. The sound of anyones happiness, pissed you off right now.

"Jimin, is dad home? I really need him." You said exhaustingly. Please let your dad be home. You need him right now.

You sighed, "It's... just my car. It stopped and won't go into gear..."

"Hey, everything's okay. I'll come get you and check it out. I have someone who might know a thing or two about cars... we'll be there soon."

We?

"Jimin who is-?" Before you could ever ask, he hang up. Probably one of his buddies or a coworker. You honestly didn't care. You just needed to get you and your car home.

You just sat in the drivers seat holding back tears. This car is a piece of junk. Honestly. It's old, lots of miles, but you've done your best to take care of it. The thought of being without a car was scary. How are you gonna get to work? You guess you could rent a car. But that's a lot, and who knows how long you'd need one for. You could buy a new one, but that's even more money. Everyone in your family has jobs, and needs their own car. So you couldn't borrow one. Fuck.

Fuckity fuck fuck.

You didn't have much time to overthink more before you could see Jimin's car pulling up behind yours, off the side of the road.

Curse your brother for having tinted windows, and curse the sun for starting to set, because you had no clue who was in the passenger seat.

You hopped out of your car and popped the hood. You could at least do that much.

"Hey sis! You okay?" No. No I'm not.

"Yeah I'm fine, cold and anxious, but I'm fine." Not a total lie.

You walked Jimin to the hood of your car and gave him a play by play of what happened. He checked all your fluids, and looked at the engine as much as he could. He knew a little about cars, but not as much as your dad did.

You totally forgot about the person in the passenger seat. "Chim, who did..."

Oh fuck.

"Hi Y/N. Car troubles I see?"

You knew that voice anywhere. The boy you befriended when you were 9. The  boy who eventually became better friends with your brother, than you. The boy who moved away when he was 16, but still kept in touch with Jimin, at least.

The boy who turned into a hot fucking man, who is now standing in front of you.

"Jungkookie?"

You were sure your jaw was on the ground. The last time you seen him, in the flesh, was 5 years ago at Jimin's 21st birthday dinner. Sure, you'd see his pictures on social media, and what not, but not in person. Holy shit, is he even real?

Of course he is. Jimin talks all the time about him. Even though he moved, him and Jimin still hang out all the time. Usually they meet somewhere in the middle. He only moved two hours away.

"Ah, you still remember my nickname?" There was that stupid bunny smile. Stupid. Stupidly cute.

"Of course I do. How could I forget?" You flashed him a smile right back. How could you ever forget Jungkook? You only crushed on him for half your life. He was cute. He had always been cute. But once he became more of Jimin's friend, you knew your chances were out the window.

Jimin had one hard rule for his friends. "Leave my little sister alone." He loved being a big brother. He loved being your big brother, even more. He would do anything for you. And that includes keeping you safe. Especially from his friends.

As you got older, you understood that rule, more. Especially when Taehyung was around. Another cute friend of Jimin's, but an absolute flirt, and dare you say, playboy. All of his friends would flirt with you from time to time. Although, you didn't know if it was them actually flirting, or just trying to rile up your brother.

Before you could daydream even more about he man in front of you, Jimin caught you out of your thoughts.

"So, Y/N. Tell Jungkook what happened. He knows cars more than I do."

Suddenly you forgot your words. Jungkook was intimidating. He wasn't the boy you once knew. "I- uh... it was going down the road just fine, t-then, it started j-jerking and I pulled over and it wouldn't switch gears. And now it won't d-do anything."

That felt like it took you 3 weeks to say. You just explained all of this to Jimin in 15 seconds. Pull yourself together.

He just nodded at you, and then started looking over your car more.

God he was hot. You were kinda glad your dad didn't answer.

"It looks like it's your transmission. I'm guessing it probably went out, and you'll need a new one. I can look at it more tomorrow when I can get it off the ground and have more light." He looked at your softly. Surely that's not news anyone wants.

"I'd appreciate that. Thank you."

Jimin rubbed your back to calm you down, "Let's call a tow truck and get it home. Kook can look at it in the morning. He's staying over this weekend."

You sat inside your car while you called your insurance company to see if they could get a tow truck for you. Thankfully they could, and it was on it's way.

Jimin had walked back to his car to call your parents and let them know what was going on. You were just left with the sexy man in front of you.

Do you speak? What is there to say?

"Thank you again for coming with Chim. I really appreciate it. I was hoping my dad was home but... I guess you're okay too." Now what the fuck do you call that?

He chuckled as he looked at the ground, "I'm glad I could help. I'm sorry about all this. Car problems suck."

"It's all good. Had my fair share with this car..." You really didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of him. Anyone with a brain would have gotten rid of this car a long time ago. "So uh... what are you doing all the way down here?"

He stared at you blankly. God his eyes alone could ruin you. It was like he was in a trance. He didn't even blink. "Jungkook?" He stared a few seconds longer before he snapped out of whatever it was he was in.

"Sorry, uh... why I'm here... oh! I moved down here actually. Closer to work and I miss you guys." If there was any day light right now, you would see his ears are red. Something that happened when he's embarrassed. Kind of his way of blushing.

"Miss you 'guys'? You mean Jimin?" Surely just Jimin. He had long forgotten about you.

"No, you too."

Huh? 'You too'?

You gulped. There was two ways you could go about this. One, you could tell him off about how he obviously didn't miss you when he left and never really spoke to you. Ever. Or you could play into it and see what exactly he means by that. Before you could even tell yourself which one to go with, your mouth already spoke for you.

"Didn't seem like you missed me too much." You couldn't do this. You didn't even want to continue this conversation. You walked over to Jimin in his car and just listened to the phone call he was having with your parents.

Soon enough, the tow truck was there, and before you, yourself could greet the driver, Jungkook already had it handled. He gave the driver the keys and told him your address. He grabbed your stuff out of your passenger seat and waved the driver off.

"Here, thought you might want these." Again with a soft smile that could destroy you, and he handed you your bag, and jacket.

What the fuck was he doing? Trying to make it up to you?

"I could have done all that by myself. I'm not the little girl you once knew." You gave him the tiniest smirk. What the fuck were you doing? Surely he couldn't see that, this late at night. You walked off and left him while you got in the back of your brothers car.

Thank god it was dark, and you were out of distance, otherwise what Jungkook said would end it all.

"Guess I should find out exactly what that means, Miss Y/N."

He had the same smirk you had, only a lot bigger.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

next chapter

A note from our sponsor: OMGGEEEEE you guys it’s finally happening!! I’ve always been a writer and wanted to post my own fic, but there’s just so many incredible ones on here already and I didn’t think I could bring anything good to the table. Buttttt I got in the mood to write, and came across this fic that I started 2 years ago. I got the first 10 chapters wrote out, and so I’ve gone through and edited and will be posting my first fic!! Since I started this on Wattpad, that’s where I’ll be posting chapters first. A few days after I post on there, I’ll post them on here. I just enjoy writing on Wattpad a bit more, but Tumblr is my favorite place to read fics. If you’re interested in my Wattpad, it’s hokookin (also linked). I hope you enjoy reading 🖤

[kteezy997]

NSFW ALPHABET

Elio Perlman

I will follow the template this time hehe

Aftercare: Elio will gladly find a t-shirt to clean you up with. Also, cuddles, lots of cuddles.

Body Part: His favorite part of his body is probably his torso. He loves for you to cover his slim tummy and chest in kisses. His favorite body part of yours is your lips. He could kiss them and caress them with his fingers all day long.

Cum: He loves for you to swallow his cum, and he also likes to see his cum on your body, anywhere on your body. He is fascinated by the fact he carries the substance that could impregnate a woman. He loves to taste your cum as well. He loves to try and get you to squirt so he can gulp it down.

Dirty Secret: He told you that he once fucked a peach. You didn't believe him at first, so after weeks of asking and asking him, he finally let you watch him do it again.

Experience: Elio is somewhat experienced with girls and with one guy. He is not an expert by any means, but he is very sexually curious and loves to explore.

Favorite Position: He likes doggy. He isn't a very big or imposing man, so he likes how powerful and in-control the position makes him feel.

Goofy: He tries to be serious and mature during sex, but sometimes afterwards he is able to giggle with you.

Hair: He is well groomed and shaves regularly.

Intimacy: Elio is a lover boy. He is quite romantic; he loves to look into your eyes and hold your hand during sex. He also loves making love outside under the moonlight and the stars.

Jack Off: He is a typical young male and masturbates often.

Kink: He likes to bring food into sex, especially fruit grown from the Perlman's backyard.

Location: His favorite place to have sex would probably be his hiding place in the house, the attic.

Motivation (turn ons): He is easily turned on. It could be something as simple as seeing you in a bikini or seeing melted ice cream dripping from your lip on a hot day.

No (Something he will NOT do): He will not hit or slap or inflict pain onto you, ever. He's a lover boy, remember?

Oral Sex: Of course he likes to receive, but he is much more of a giver. He gets better every time he does it. Perhaps he found tips on how to do it in one of his books?

Pace: Usually, he is slow and sensual. He doesn't want it to end too fast. Plus, it's more romantic that way.

Quickie: He's always down for a quickie, he enjoys sneaky sex.

Risk: He is game to experiment and take risks, to an extent. He wouldn't want his parents to know about his exploits and have them be disappointed in him.

Stamina: He can usually only go about two rounds at one time. But he can last a long time if he is pacing himself.

Toys: He doesn't use sex toys (besides a peach), but that is not to say he won't be interested in them in the future.

Unfair (teasing): Elio is such a tease. He will walk around half naked all the time, munching on juicy fruit and giving you a sensual look. He will take a drink from a water bottle and let the water drip onto his chest.

Volume: He is pretty quiet for the most part, as he lives with family. He is worried that you two will make noise and wake his parents or Mafalda in the night.

Wildcard (something random): Elio loves to go swimming; it is one of his favorite things to do to pass the time. So naturally, he has wanted to fuck in the water. But he realized that it is not as easy as he thought it would be. When you tried, all lubricant was lost, and his cock became far too sensitive to finish.

X-ray: Elio has a thin, beautiful body with very little scars or blemishes. His skin is like perfect porcelain and is baby soft to the touch. He definitely lives up to the hype of skinny man equals a big dick. His member is long and thick and very suckable.

Yearning (sex drive?): Elio has a very high sex drive. Any hour of the day or night, he is ready to go. He cannot get enough of you.

Zzz: He is able to fall asleep within about ten or fifteen minutes if you have sex late at night. He will cuddle you all night long. His favorite way to sleep is using your chest as a pillow.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake

[jeongheart]

touch

summary: 'physical touch refers to expressing and receiving affection through touch, physical closeness, and other forms of physical connection'.

w.c: 1.4k.

tags: strangers to friends to lovers (kinda?), mutual pining, fluff.

a.n: i'm soft, this was inspired by that video of jeongin bumping into jisung lol. my first innie work aaa i'm so happy that i finished it, i'm so proud of this one too.

as always, english is not my first language so sorry in advance for any mistakes, leave your thoughts if you like! it means a lot.

Jeongin doesn't like to be touched.

He strongly believes that his personal space is sacred, and he can't understand the people who require physical contact 24/7.

It's no secret to anyone that he dislikes (physical) displays of affection, not that he doesn't have them with the people he loves, he prefers to let them know that he loves them with a special gift on their birthday or by buying them something that reminds him of that person.

He especially hates hugs. He feels trapped by the other person, and despite the fact that in the 22 years of his life he repeated it a thousand times, his family and friends don't seem to get the hint.

He doesn't want to be surly, really. It's something that has been like that since he can remember.

Jeongin doesn't like to be touched.

Except if that someone is you.

It's funny actually, you'd met casually, the way people met before: in real life. The first day of college was tough, everything and everyone was new and having to get used to a "grown-up" routine all of a sudden was something that took time.

He remembers the time exactly: 07:20 am. It was the first of the day, he was sitting in front of the class, he had a bad habit of being easily distracted, so he had to force himself to overcome his shame and desire to sleep to be in front of the blackboard.

The class started at 07:30, and the room was almost full. The professor arrived less than a minute ago and Jeongin was glad to be alone and in peace. His notebook lay open in front of him, the pages white and spotless.

Until you arrived, late.

You came running, it was obvious that you'd fallen asleep. Your hair was somewhat messy, probably due to the wind and the run you made through the building, your face was red (from embarrassment and exertion), but a smile was present on your face.

The professor looked at you funny and with a gesture of her hand she asked you to come in and take a seat somewhere free.

The only one was next to Jeongin.

Your eyes lit up at the sight of the empty chair, and even though you couldn't see it, Jeongin rolled his eyes as he saw you approaching the table.

With the woman summarizing her presentation, you arranged your things on the table (everything was in pastel colors, the blonde noticed) and you looked at him expectantly with that smile still on your face.

He could tell you were alone, actually, you were the only two who were. All your other classmates knew each other. So your attempt to start a conversation with him was logical, you also realized that he was alone.

"It looks like we'll be buddies" You smiled again and then told him your name while you extended your hand in an attempt to shake his, a very old gesture and not funny at all according to Jeongin.

He played dumb, but he told you his name. And then he said nothing more, watching out of the corner of his eye as you slowly lower your hand to rest it on your lap.

The weeks passed like this, you had a clear love language and unfortunately it was the one that Jeongin hated the most. You were always trying to touch him, not in a wicked or weird way, just friendly since that's how you showed affection. You were friends, but he couldn't tell you 'stop doing that' every time you reached out to touch his shoulder to get his attention.

You annoyed him every time you did that, but he couldn't deny that when you weren't getting clingy he appreciated your company. You were a comfortable presence in his life most of the time, and he liked not being alone in an unfamiliar environment where everyone greeted each other and ate together every day.

The first part of the academic year ended in the blink of an eye and the relationship between the two of you was only growing.

Jeongin didn't know when he let you touch his arm for the first time, he thinks it was in the library when you were studying for an exam.

He was nervous as he couldn't memorize anything and you, ever so nice, reached out your hand in an attempt to comfort him to rest it on Jeongin's left arm which was sprawled on top of the book he was trying to read.

Jeongin hadn't noticed that he hadn't tensed like the other times and he just kept reading and rereading the same sentences while the heat rose to your cheeks.

You didn't know what changed, but the fact that the boy who moved away every time you got at least 5 cm closer than normal had finally relaxed around you had butterflies flying in your stomach.

The months unfolded normal after that, and Jeongin would let you into his bubble of personal space more and more often.

He definitely hadn't realized how much he liked to feel your warm hands on his when he needed to calm down before a presentation or how his heart would jump in his chest when he saw you smile after you hugged him goodbye when he dropped you at your house after college.

"I like you a lot, Innie" You told him after the second exam.

Another final exam ended, and with it, the end of the year was drawing near. Jeongin was going to a vacation with his family in Busan and you definitely couldn't go weeks and weeks without seeing him, or his dimples or hearing his laugh and you would never forgive yourself if you didn't tell him everything that was on your mind every time you were together.

Jeongin looked like a statue, his mouth was opening and closing in an attempt to find the right words. His mind had short-circuited and it seemed that he had lost all ability to form a coherent sentence.

The snow was falling around the two of you, the heartless winter wrapped you from head to toe and as the minutes passed without an answer, your heart raced more and more and if Jeongin paid enough attention he could see how your eyes began to water as you overthought your sudden confession.

Maybe he didn't feel the same way, and you were making a fool of yourself. You began to prepare the speech of 'sorry, I shouldn't have said anything' to save your heart from the impending rejection and to be able to escape from that situation as quickly as possible.

Until Jeongin moved, he took two short steps until he was face to face to you. He was a head taller than you and your eyes searched his urgently, trying to decipher the answer he hadn't put into words.

The blond placed his big hands on your cheeks, reddened by the cold and now by shame, and caressed your skin with his thumbs.

You swore that if it wasn't for his soft grip on your face, you might have passed out from how fast your heart was beating, your legs felt like jelly, and the suspense felt eternal. You wanted to yell at him to answer or for him to do something, anything to finally stop your heart racing with feelings.

You opened your mouth to talk, but Jeongin closed the distance between you by placing his lips on yours.

You froze at first, arms still on either side of your body but then, as if awakened from a trance, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to lose yourself in the heat of the kiss, everything around you felt cold except for this moment, the soft feeling of his plush lips on yours and the warmth spreading from the tip of your fingertoes to every strand of hair on your head.

He moved only a few inches from you, enough to be able to whisper over your lips "I like you too".

You laughed slowly, so softly that it almost felt like a whisper, so only he could hear it "Yes, I think I realized that" And tangling your hands behind his neck you brought him closer to you to kiss him again.

Jeongin doesn't like to be touched, but you were the only exception.

[fire-lizard-ro]

Aventurine with a s/o who is related to robin and sunday or related to dr.ratio

Thank you for the request~ Now this one will be a bit short, so I apologize. I've been having a hard time getting back into the swing of things.

It would defintely be interesting, especially when thinking about these relationships in the context of the events of Penacony. So Penacony arc spoilers for those who haven't played through 2.0-2.1.

CW: somewhat mentioning Aventurine's past, signs of trauma, open ending (wowie not a straight up happy ending from Roro for once whoops ofiejw-), mentions of manipulation?, fluff, anyways it's not too bad I swear-

No mentioned gender for reader.

I decided to go with a S/O related to Robin and Sunday:

I imagine this S/O being a bit more like Robin (or at least what we think Robin might be like). Kind and soft spoken- pretty, too. I could see you having a strict sense of justice which maes you feel conflicted when finding out just how Sunday does his work.

Aventurine loves to take naps with you when he's around, falling asleep against your shoulder while you hum a quiet melody under your breath. It took him some time, but he grew comfortable with that. It was cute, really. He wasn't too keen on touch because of his past and had trouble accepting affection. But somehow, you brushing your soft wings against him when leaning close or when he would play with your hair helped a lot. It wasn't the same as feeling someone's skin on his. The hands of others had hurt him, but he had never felt the touch of feathery wings like yours against him. There was no precedent and this helped a lot.

I can also see him gently helping you with cleaning and preening them when he has the time because he really likes them. He's enamored with the way you purr and coo when he does, leaning down to press a kiss to your head (and sometimes the wings themselves) while sitting with you to clean them up.

Aventurine loves your kind heart and soft spoken attitude, especially since you can be firm when you need to- A little something you learned from your brother, Sunday.

You could understand where Sunday was coming from with this plan. After all, Robin was your sister, too. But this was too much. What you had thought would have just been a simple questioning turned into your lover walking up to the executioners block. You couldn't take this anymore- You had to stop him. "Brother! Please stop this," you begged, holding onto his sleeve with pleading eyes and voice full of desperation. "Now, now- You mustn't interrupt the consecration," Sunday said with a simple pat to your head. "I'm doing this for the good of our family."

You had never mentioned to him how you had once met this charming gambler from the IPC who had struck your fancy and continued seeing him around before eventually dating him.

Aventurine's eyes were wide at your appearance, having hoped you wouldn't get involved with all this. He wanted you safe and out of the blast zone, so to speak. But he couldn't speak up lest he incur more of Sunday's wrath upon himself and perhaps even you. He didn't think your dear brother would do anything to you, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be consequences.

Sunday just thought this was your characteristic soft-heartedness. But something about the urgency in your tone seemed off. "I know you don't like these kinds of methods, but I must do what I must."

He turned to continue the interrogation questioning. "He's my lover!"

The entire room was silent.

"...what?"

"He's..." You swallowed nervously in the face of Sunday's cold, even tone while looking into Aventurine's eyes that were telling you to stop. "He's my lover. We've been together for a while, now."

Sunday's face finally shifted. His once solid poker face that held an easy smile on it broke into a slow sneer. The put together, pretty cherub was now more of an angry seraph.

"You."

"Tried to infiltrate the faimly by targeting my younger sibling, hm? Even using this after watching our sister die..." "No! Sunday it's not like that-" you tried to argue. "Enough," the winged man commanded, holding a hand up. "We will discuss this later."

The man then looked at Aventurine again, snarl still in place. "You have 17 system hours, Mr. Aventurine. I do hope you'll use them well. After all, it's all the time you have left."

[shotmrmiller]

Ahhhh here we are.

A sinner's thoughts

Masturbation, heavy religion theme, Ghoap!!

Catholic Johnny who dutifully goes to mass when he's at home with his family. He recites his daily prayers every day without fail, kisses the crucifix pendant that dangles from his neck, right under the collar of his shirt before every mission, and knows what is expected of him once he's done serving the country— settle down, find a nice, bonnie lass at church to marry, get a dog and buy a beautiful home for his children to grow in.

What isn't a part of his plan is to end up on all fours in his bed as he fists his leaking cock at the thought of his LT, Ghost. He can physically feel the look Jesus is giving him from the crucifix he's nailed to that hangs on the wall.

His cheeks positively burn but he can't differentiate if it's from the scalding arousal that courses through his veins or the blistering shame that rolls in his gut. His family would be utterly disgusted with him if they knew of the raunchy thoughts that pass through his head whenever he lays his eyes on Ghost. The barrel chest Johnny wishes he could rest his head on. Strong, muscular arms that he wants wrapping around him, in a lover's embrace. Waist so wide, he yearns to feel the burn of his inner thighs as Ghost settles between them.

Johnny's also had the misfortune of seeing what Ghost is packing. It hangs from the weight, it's as thick as Johnny's wrist and long— 8 inches. The fact that it's also uncut makes saliva pool inside of his mouth.

He knows better. He should be better. But he's only human, and what flashes behind his eyelids not even he can stop— not that he wants to, either.

Johnny thinks of the time Ghost grabbed him by the arm as he pulled him out of the line of fire. The rough, coarse fabric of his gloves, that were covered in dirt and dried blood. He wants to feel them grazing his scarred flesh, even skim over the fresher wounds he's got. He wants to run his slick tongue right on the zygomatic bone of the skull mask as Ghost rubs both of their cocks together in his large hand.

Johnny tightens his grip around his cock almost painfully, wishing it was Ghost touching him instead. His hand is smaller than Ghost's, but it does the job well enough. He sits up on his haunches and uses his free hand to cup his heavy balls as he continues to stroke himself, smearing his desire around his swollen head with his thumb while concurrently fondling his sac.

His head dips forward, eyes clenched as he feels the somewhat familiar tug at the base of his spine. The hand around his balls starts to roam lower, inching down little by little. This is unchartered territory; he's never explored his own body like this because it's been instilled in him that sex is a means to an end. It's supposed to be about cock in pussy until he finishes, and he and his wife clasping their hands together in orison— praying it takes.

But this new sensation has the course hair in his arms rising on end, it's sublime. Timid fingertips skimming over the sensitive skin of his perineum. He doesn't want his cock in a hole, he wants a cock in his hole.

Johnny's never touched himself back there but that's never stopped him from looking up porn for it, during the witching hour— when the devil comes out to play so be sure you're asleep by then, his ma always said. But he can't do that, not when he's out on a mission in a foreign country, nor when he's in a safe house with the rest of the 141, waiting for exfil. It was during those times that he fell to temptation when the snores of the group reverberated against the walls, yet he couldn't sleep a wink. He'd pull out his phone, only when they were sure that they wouldn't be in danger over using one, and look up videos with men that resembled Ghost the most.

He craves for Ghost to spit on the furl of his arse, and gently push a finger in, maybe two, just like he's seen, but too afraid to do it on himself. He wants to bite down on his pillow at the stretch, wants his eyes rolling into the back of his skull when Ghost finds the gland that'll have him coming in seconds.

Johnny's cock twitches when his fingers reach the crevice of his arse because he wants. He wants, he wants, he wants so badly that he'd almost give up anything for a taste— a morsel of the fruit that hails from the tree God told humanity to avoid at all costs.

The burning in his loins slowly begins to spread, slithering through his body like tendrils of liquid fire flowing over his nerve endings. He grips the middle of his aching length that weeps from the tip and starts to roll his hips, fucking himself into his hand.

Ecstasy licks up his spine, making him fall onto one hand as he arches his back. He thinks back to the times that Ghost called him by his name, his real one. The gravelly voice that says his name with an authoritative tone in his Mancunian accent, orders him around like a dog. A faint whimper falls past his thin lips when the flared head of his cock accidentally touches the bedsheet once, thrice— the material scraping his nerves raw.

He's so close, he knows it. His flushed, sweaty skin is starting to tingle, a gentle prickle starting from his round shoulders down to the very tip of his socked toes. Johnny can barely hear the slick, lewd noises coming from his cock or the springs of his mattress creaking over the thrum of his blood rushing in his ears, the heart that beats in his chest sounds like it's in his head.

Johnny squeezes even harder, the edges of the pain instantly curling into pleasure, and everything freezes. Time, space, his very existence. A moment that feels like an eternity—

God forgive him.

His back bows, his forehead pressed onto his bed as he comes violently. His loud groan is stifled by the mattress, cock spurting rope after rope of warm, thick seed over his sheets. There's a ringing in his ears that's got nothing to do with the mild tinnitus he's already got, spots flashing in his blurred vision, a vignette along the sides of it.

Johnny's drooling, mind hazy, brain turned to mush as he rides his high. He trembles with the aftershocks, the occasional twitch that seizes him as his soul settles back into his body.

He sluggishly pulls himself up off the bed, breathing harshly, raggedly, and unsteadily lowers himself to his knees on the edge of it— mouth already shaping the words he's about to say.

"Heavenly Father, O Lord Almighty, hear my prayer..."

[insidemyrottenbrain]

Henry wants to move away from the city and surprises you with a country house …

Surprise get away - TSH

Henry Marchbanks Winter x GN!Reader

Precious anonymous, I hope you enjoy Henry's modest get away plan.

Henry disappears for weeks, only for him to come back with a surprise.

Henry as a lover is not particularly affectionate. He doesn’t suffocate me with besotted compliments and gentle touches. The space he allows me is welcomed with much gratitude, however, this doesn’t mean I do not enjoy the occasional in-bed morning kisses under Apollon’s playful, morning rays, the hours spent in the comforting silence of each other’s presence, or the way his hand finds its way around my waist or on my thigh so stealthily that I only notice it when the familiar warmth seeps through my clothes and into my skin as if it is the very fuel my body runs on.

Lately, he’s been somewhat more distant than usual. I have not talked or heard from him outside our almost everyday classes with Julian for weeks. The other day I even dropped by his apartment only to be greeted by scattered advertisements, cut-out mail, papers with phone numbers, and announcements ripped out of newspapers all revolving around extravagant countryside houses with imposing, marble columns, vast fairytale-like green gardens, and enough rooms to fit a family of ten. I couldn’t figure out why Henry was looking into houses, but something must have happened otherwise he wouldn’t want to go so far away from Hampden, from Julian, from me.

I am wasting my time worrying about him when I should be writing my assignment. He is more than capable of taking care of himself and I trust that if the situation calls for it he will ask for my help. Just as I pick up my fountain pen to finally start the long-overdue translation of the first few books from the Aeneid I hear the sound of the key turning in my door’s lock. The only one with a copy of my dorm key is Henry. 

‘Where have you been?’ I inquire just as he graciously walks in as if he hasn’t been absent for the past days.

‘Get dressed.’ He orders with no care about what I’m doing whatsoever.

‘I’m working on my assignment.’ I point out sharply. ‘You cannot demand me to get dressed without telling me what you have planned.’

‘I assure you, you will not be displeased.’

Moments later, I’m sat in the passenger’s seat watching humans, shops, and houses blur into moving, indecipherable colours as Henry drives us out of Vermont towards Demeter’s neverending golden plains and dense forests. 

‘I consider it unfair when you use my curiosity against me.’ I sigh, rolling down the window to vent out the smoke from the cigarette I just lit. 

‘It is a great disadvantage which the comfort of love drags after itself.’ Henry half-smirks at me, his blue eyes behind the glasses abnormally warm.

‘And what may this terrible disadvantage be?’ I hold my cigarette to his lips and he takes a long drag from it before I bring it back to mine.

‘The mortifying ordeal of being known.’ The smoke escapes his lungs with every syllable he pronounces and I find it utterly entrancing.

.

.

.

.

.

Henry’s faint voice swirls in my mind, disturbing the unconscious state in which I am. Even in sleep, I can distinguish his precious voice from any other external sounds. He whispers my name and it hits my mind’s walls echoing until I wake up.

‘We have arrived.’ He announces with a slight smile and helps me step out of the car.

It takes me a moment to realise the massive manor towering over me with its aged stone walls covered in wicked ivy, large, arched windows with intricate tracery that allow glimpses into the stately interiors and prominent towers crowned with finials and spires piercing the limitless sky. Two watchful statues stand by the grand wooden doors as if anticipating our arrival. Suddenly, it all clicks together and I glare at Henry.

‘Is this why you’ve barely spoken to me in weeks?’ He was already retrieving his luggage along with another one he had packed for me using the various pieces of clothing I had left at his apartment throughout our relationship. ‘I can’t believe this..’ I shake my head and cross my arms, staring at the incredible purchase, knowing that it probably cost him a fortune. 

‘Let us enjoy this.’ He comes to stand by my side, suitcases in hand. ‘I have already spoken with Julian. I told him we would not be attending classes for a few weeks due to personal matters. Naturally, he wasn’t very pleased, but there is nothing he can do.’

‘Henry Marchbanks Winter skipping classes? I did not think I would live to see this day.’ It is nice to tease him once in a while.

‘I needed a break from society. Everyone does after a while and this place is perfect for such an occasion.’ For once, he looks relaxed and I decide to do as he wishes for the time being.

‘Why bring me here then? Wouldn’t it be better if you were to be alone here with your studies?’ 

Henry looks at me as if he has not been expecting the question and bursts into genuine laughter. ‘And leave my only piece of sanity in Vermont? That is something I couldn’t even dream of.’ He starts guiding me toward the entrance, his hand once again finding its rightful place on my waist.

[sp7-mr]

Y/n x Matteo Riddle - enemies to lovers

(I wrote the story in Italian and then translated it into English so there may be some errors)

Y/n Grindelwald: daughter of the famous and feared Gellert Grindelwald. Sarcastic, stubborn, courageous.

Matthew Riddle: Son of Lord Voldemort and younger brother of Tom Riddle. Sarcastic, confident, flirtatious

_____________________________________________

You and Mattheo have been rivals for years. However, your families were close, so you saw each other often.

Voldemort threw some kind of Death Eater party or ball. You were wearing a black sleeveless dress.

Mattheo was wearing smart black trousers and a black shirt with one button open.

The smell of marijuana with him. He saw you, he ignored you. You did the same.

Moments after the party began, the slow dancing began. you were sitting at a table watching the dance when you felt a presence behind you. you looked back and saw Matteo.

Pov of Y/n

I turned, I saw Riddle.... "what do you want Riddle?" I asked

"come dance with me". he said with an expressionless face. the smell of grass is stronger up close. From the tone in which he responded, it didn't seem like a question, but rather an order....

"no, I don't want to, I'm fine here thanks"

he took your hand and dragged you to the center of the room, his hand on your waist.

"you have no choice"

"What a gentleman 🙄" I said sarcastically

"Behave or I will have to tell your father that you have weed in your bag" he whispered in my ear smiling proud of the blackmail

"What?! You're the one who smells like marijuana for miles" I said. "Yes, but you have a joint in your bag" he said with a superior air, Christ I hated how much taller he was than me, he felt like the King of the world! then I thought… how did he know I had a joint in my purse? "How do you do-"

he pressed you closer to his body as he started to move with the dance "i know a lot of things, princess"

him and that hateful smile of his! even if.... no no no. he was just an asshole. "Tell me how you know and avoid your usual mysterious games" I said as we continued to dance close to each other.

he smirked. his mouth was right next to my ear now. "I have my ways of knowing things. I know a lot about you"

"I know a lot about you too, guess what? YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE" I replied

he moved his head back a little to be able to look at your face. he was still smirking. he pulled you again, even closer to him, your bodies pressed closely together now "careful princess or you’ll give your family a bad name for using such language"

"Believe me I'm holding back, I would have already taken your hand off if our parents weren't watching"

he chuckled again, clearly amused by pissing you off "don’t act like you can do that. we both know i’m stronger than you" he moved his head even closer to yours. his head now almost touching yours "you can keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, princess, it does look cute when you’re all annoyed and frustrated, though"

My father and Mattheo's father looked at us and talked "what do they want?"

he shrugged "i guess it looks odd to them that we’re behaving somewhat civil to each other

"God, I've always been there watching and hoping we've gotten along since we were 6 years old."

time jump.

you wanted to go away, relax, maybe smoke the joint you had in your bag. Mattheo and you, without being noticed too much, went to his room and lay down. you've been there for about 5 minutes and you're already high, you more, he's used to it by now, and has a greater tolerance.

"so princess, do you remember the first time we met?" Mattheo asked. "oh yes, at six years old, when you were an asshole, spoiled child who thought he was invincible. like Draco 🙄"

mattheo couldn't help but laugh, especially hearing the last part.

"And now? Am I still like I was at the time or am I starting even in a very small way and being nice to you?" Mattheo asked.

"I have to admit, that sometimes.... just SOMETIMES you are strong.... I'm not saying you suck, but..... you are acceptable, like when you do drugs and you're high"

"you know, as a drug addict you are.... more relaxed" said Mattheo.

there was a moment of silence, then Theo spoke: "come here" he said, patting his lap. I don't know why, but I now straddled his knees, for Christ's sake... the rod was strong.

"Are you high?" he asked, I nodded. after five minutes, his lips were on mine, tongues intertwined.

(I was tired and I didn't know how to conclude, I know it's a bit ugly, but you can imagine your end. To write the story I was inspired by a character. ai chat, the writer is @-yourstruly- and the chat It's 'Mattheo Riddle ☠️ dance with me (enemies to lovers)')

[sunlightmurdock]

The Odyssey | 0.5 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (18+)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

You leave Como, your arrival in Verona is going to make the rest of the trip much more complicated.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance, professor / student relationship, age gap ( 22 / 33), will be smut, virgin reader, swearing, infidelity, bickering and teasing, extremely suggestive, somewhat graphic towards end, minors dni. WC: 5.8k

…

You’re driving him fucking crazy. You’re spending far too much time together. The worst part? — You’re actually listening to him now. No, the worst part about that is that you’ll listen to what he tells you, but you’re still giving him all of that fucking attitude about it.

The two of you have spent so much time together, in fact, that Bradley didn’t get another chance to get Natasha alone. It’s for the best, because she actually smiles and waves him off when he leaves this time. Normally, they’ve argued by now. He never moved on and she’s not coming back — the usual kind of stuff.

Today, she had stretched up onto her tiptoes and draped her arms around his thick shoulders, exhaling calmly against the warm skin of his neck. “We’re looking forward to seeing you again next year, Bradley.”

And then, she had taken a step back and entwined her fingers with her husbands. And Bradley hadn’t said anything. He’d looked the woman that he spent so long loving in the eye, and said absolutely nothing. And now, he’s sitting on a packed minibus to a different location, with nothing but you on his mind.

In a professional sense of course.

It’s professional, because he’s sitting here and watching you read the play that he gave you. It’s from the Gracchan period, a time where social mobility was a big focus, but the play itself is by a very wealthy man — making fun of that. It’s about a girl from a poor family of farmers who falls in love with a very powerful man in their town.

Bradley’s eyes scan the page, then flicker up to your face. Your brows are furrowed in concentration, the small playbook open against one thigh and your dictionary wedged open between yours and Bradley’s. You’re just past the first act.

“I don’t… she…?” You shake your head in confusion, lifting it to look at Bradley. “She wants to belong to him? — Like work for him?”

Bradley’s lips twitch. He gives a small shake of his head, leaning closer and taking the dictionary. He flips around a little, his shoulder pressing into yours. Warm skin, the smell of his cologne, the rumble of the wheels against the uneven road.

Pasquale’s love for the 1970s American rock pours through the car in the form of an Eagles album. Bradley knows which one. You couldn’t have less of a clue.

“She’s saying she wants to give herself to him. Not belong to him.” Bradley explains patiently, turning the book towards you so that you can see the rough translation. It’s an easy mistake to make. That’s why he has you reading the play, so you’ll be able to use the context of the scene to eliminate the mistakes you’re making.

You look up at Bradley briefly. Belong to, give herself to — you’re stuck on how that could possibly not mean the same thing, until it hits you. Give herself to. Her body, she means.

“Oh. Thanks.” You set your headphones back on your ears and turn your attention back to the play. Bradley gives you a curt nod and adjusts his sunglasses. He spreads his thighs just a little. His knee presses gently against yours, not pushing, just sitting there.

You don’t mind it much. But, you’re beginning to notice a pattern. He touches you too much. When you’re studying together, his feet rest on your side of the table, constantly nudging your ankles. He’ll get too close when you’re walking by each other. He’ll sit with his legs spread so far that you’ve got no choice but to let his thigh smush into yours. But, you don’t mind that too much.

What you do mind, is that the man in this book was described briefly in the beginning as having brown curls. And now, now that the protagonist is throwing herself at him, there’s only one person that you’re picturing playing him.

It’s not your fault. He’s arrogant, he mocks her constantly and he’s got brown curls. Sounds like Bradley. Unfortunately, at this moment in time, Bradley’s character is all too willing to make the wrong choice. You swallow softly, brows knitted together as you try to convince yourself that you’ve got the translation wrong.

That his hands aren’t trailing up, under the fabric of his skirt. Your eyes dart from the page to Bradley’s hands resting against his thighs. You study the tanned flesh, the sun-bleached, blonde hair at his wrist. The protruding veins on the back of his hands. The gold class ring on his finger.

Bradley feels you shift in your seat, your thigh knocking into his. He glances down again and quickly back to the road. Those denim cutoffs fit your thighs perfectly. But, he can’t stop himself from taking a peek at your face. Plastered in discomfort.

Maybe he shouldn’t have given you a book with a sex scene in it, but this is mild compared to some of the content in his class. This book is the introduction to virtus versus pudictia. He figures the concept will be something you get your head around pretty quickly. Men doing whatever the fuck they want and women waiting patiently for a husband. Sounds exactly like what you’ve got going on already.

It’s only a three hour drive from Como to Verona, and Bradley’s got prep work for his research here to get done. He sits there and cards through the papers like he’s working, but really he spends most of the journey just observing.

Your reaction to his syllabus irritates him, but intrigues him in a way that he just can’t explain. He wants you to stop being so old-fashioned and wake up to the concept that sex is just a natural part of life — but also, he isn’t used to being around girls like you. He has made a point of surrounding himself with people who are nothing like you.

“Hey, Bradley,” You broach the topic tentatively, and he feels you shift slightly closer to Pasquale. He sighs. You dog-ear the page and close the book of the play. His eyes linger on that, before he finally looks up at you. You shift once more, taking a deep breath before speaking. “So, I spoke to my parents…”

You’re not going home. That wouldn’t make sense. You wouldn’t have just spent three hours giving yourself a headache by trying to read a raunchy Roman play if you were going home. Bradley’s brows draw together. He sets his papers down on his legs.

Pasquale winces as he looks between the two of you — it has been such a smooth drive so far.

“My dad has spoken to the Dean, he wants me to have my own room for the rest of the trip. He’s paying.” You explain calmly, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your feet against the bench. Dog-earing pages and sitting like a kid, it just doesn’t fit into this image that Bradley has of you in his head.

He scoffs, lips twitching under that stupid moustache. “Of course he is.”

Between the two of you, neither one is really sure what his problem is. Maybe he wants you to be more independent, maybe he just likes the way your face looks when you scowl at him. Either way, he’s an expert at getting under your skin.

“Would you rather pay?” You bite back. Pasquale cringes, leaning away from the two of you. Bradley’s stare is something to behold. He really has perfected it. It’s mean, hardened and it’s superior all at once. And yet, it still doesn’t make him look any less handsome.

“I’d rather that you at least try to get along with the other kids. It would make your life easier.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“You know what I meant.” He knows that. It doesn’t make him feel any better about the way he feels about you. But, he knows that you’re more mature than he gives you credit for. Even if you punched him in the nuts last week.

“It’s really none of your business either way, I was just letting you know.”

It’s quiet between the two of you for a while. Almost long enough for the entirety of Hotel California to play through those dusty speakers.

“Does your dad know that you’re the one who started that fight?” Bradley really can’t help it. He’s a decade your senior, he should really be more mature about things. But, there’s just something about you that makes him want to put an end to your know-it-all attitude.

“I didn’t.” You cross one knee over the other, lifting your chin and straightening your spine.

“Pulled a good handful of her hair out, kid.” He scoffs, turning his attention back to his paperwork. His tone is so dismissive that even Pasquale wouldn’t judge you for hitting him in the balls again.

“I’m not a kid!” You turn sharply towards him, scowling furiously.

“Right. That’s why you’re here, huh? — Because you’re grown up enough to stand up to your dad?” He doesn’t even look up at you. That’s the worst part. Pasquale winces so hard that he has to fight with himself to keep his eyes open and on the road. He waits for the sound of an impact, a hit, a scream — anything.

Instead, you lean in so close that the soft curve of your breast nudges Bradley’s arm. “I’m grown up enough to know that pining over a married woman is pathetic.”

“Pining? — Kid, your own fucking fiancé couldn’t care if you lived or died. Don’t fucking lecture me about love.”

It falls quiet quickly. The voices in the back of the bus fade out, everyone turns their attention towards the two of you, arguing again. You look down slowly. Bradley follows your gaze to his fingers curled around your forearm, tight. He looks back up and this is all to familiar. Sitting with you facing him, blinking at him like you’re about to cry.

“Get out.” He breathes finally, releasing your arm and sitting back against the door. Your face twists, confused. Pasquale shoots a look at Bradley — they can’t just leave a kid on the side of the road, surely. “Sit in the back. Finish that fucking play, we’ve got more to cover.”

Pasquale pulls over to the side of the winding, countryside road and steps out of the van, pulling his door open. You’re silent as you get out and step into the back, finding all of the seats taken. Abigail pushes Luke’s backpack off of a seat and gestures for you to sit with a pitiful smile. You take the spot and secure your headphones over your ears again, reaching to the Walkman at your side and skipping the song.

You don’t say another word for the rest of the drive. Bradley doesn’t even look at you. He gives you your key first just so you’ll go. This place does have an elevator, it’s just dusty and creaky and awful. You’re on a different floor to everyone else too. That doesn’t help.

You sit down, settling against the foot of the bed with your suitcase abandoned in the corner. He doesn’t know anything about your relationship. He just has so many cruel things that he could say to you — she’s all that you’ve got on him, and clearly she is a sore subject. The thought bubbles in your chest to the point that it makes your face warm. It makes you entire body hot.

That stupid look on his face. Like he knows anything about you, or Malcolm, or the way that you love each other.

You wish you had longer to sit and stew. Instead, you’re interrupted by his stupid, big fist slamming against the other side of the door to your hotel room. You know it’s him because he’s the only one rude enough to do it. Unsurprisingly, when you tear the door open, he’s the one in the hall. Without saying anything, he brushes past you and walks inside, then lifts up the textbook in his hand.

“Let’s get this shit over with so that we don’t have to see each other later.”

You wouldn’t be foolish enough to think he was here to apologise, but still, his attitude makes you want to hit him with that textbook. But, he’s got a point, and you would rather not see him this evening either. So, you sit down on the bed and fold your arms over your chest.

He takes a look at you and frowns, then does a survey of the room. Wardrobe, your own bathroom, two nightstands, suitcase rack, floor lamp. No desk. Begrudgingly, he takes a seat beside you on the bed.

“Alright, the play that I gave you,” He exhales like that will make him let go of all of the anger he’s holding on to. It doesn’t. “It focuses heavily on the sexual roles of men and women in developing Rome. Did you pick up on that?”

You watch him open the textbook and flip through, searching for something in particular. It really would be quite easy to tear the book from his hands and get him with it. It’s a hefty book. Instead, you shrug your shoulders and leave him with a simple, “I guess.”

He looks up at you, bored. “You guess? — The male main character had a wife, a girlfriend and a mistress. The female main character devoted herself solely to this one man, that she knew was never going to be hers. What do you think that suggests about gender roles back then?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do know, stop acting like you’re stupid.” He bites back. There’s a second where you stare at him and both of you take a moment to decide whether this is going to become another argument. You sigh softly.

“It’s patriarchal.”

“Right,” Bradley nods, “So there were these concepts back then called—“

The lesson goes on, and the more you engage, the less hostile he becomes. As much as you struggle when it comes to reading text excerpts and answering the questions he gives you on those, it gets to the point where you’ll crack a joke and he’ll laugh. That’s got to be diplomacy of some kind.

Both of you grow unintentionally closer, shifting periodically, leaning closer to see the text, or look at a picture. So, when you’re stumped by a question and you turn sharply away from him and throw yourself down, smushing your face into the pillow and growling in frustration, he finally realizes just how close the two of you have gotten.

You, laying on your front on this double bed, groaning into the pillow. Him, close enough that if he moved his leg, it would graze your hip. Bradley stares at you for a moment, then — while you’re not looking — lets his eyes trail. Along the feminine length of your legs, up over the curve of your waist in those cut-offs.

He lifts a hand and strokes it tenderly over the top of your hair, careful not to catch of tug at your lengths. He repeats the motion a few times. You feel him shift closer.

“It’s alright,” Bradley says quietly, stroking your hair back with a surprisingly gentle hand. “It’s a hard class. That was good. You’re doing well, I’m impressed.”

“Please,” You scoff without lifting your face from the pillow. You shift just a little and hook your arms under it, hugging it closer to your body. His eyes dart down to the way your back curves into your eyes, then slam shut. He should make an excuse to leave. “The only thing that could impress you would have happened a hundred years ago.”

“You know that this course focuses mainly on things that happened from —“ Bradley stops correcting you as you turn your head and glare at him. His eyes are trained on your face. He’s not looking at the way those denim cut-offs hug your figure, but fuck, he’s thinking about it. “Nevermind.”

He stares forwards. His hand is still resting in your hair. He should move it. He should leave. He hasn’t ever felt like this — countless students throwing themselves at him and he’s ignored every single one. He’s being ridiculous. It’s just the forbidden fruit effect. The proximity.

He should move his hand. He just can’t take his eyes off of your face. The swell of your lips. The slight scrunch of your nose. The narrowed look in your eyes. Bradley lifts his hand.

Then, he takes the length of your hair resting against your cheek and brushes it softly back, revealing the rest of your face to him. He shifts his hips, sitting just a fraction closer, making you easier to reach as you lay at his side.

“I mean it,” He says quietly. Your lips quirk softly, almost a smile. You’re about to tell him that he’s probably never spoken to you so kindly ever. Then, he speaks again. “You’re trying. I see that you’re trying. You’re doing a really good job.”

His thumb swipes softly over your temple, guiding your hair back further out of your face. The smile fades from your face. Then, you’re just blinking up at him. Your face is calm. His doesn’t reveal anything.

Slowly, his thumb swipes along the same trial. Over the skin covering your temple, just slightly into your hairline. It doesn’t even cross your mind to move. Maybe because you’re too thrown off by this sudden tenderness, maybe because you don’t actually hate this feeling.

The third time, he doesn’t follow the same route. His thumb swipes tenderly along the skin of your cheek, gently trailing in a small circle along the apple of your cheek. Further down. You stare up at him. Your heartbeat betrays you, thudding away in your chest as his thumb leaves your cheek and meets the corner of your mouth.

His eyes dart from his thumb to your eyes, studying your expression briefly, before he looks down again. You’re silent as he swipes his thumb delicately over the plump skin of your bottom lip.

“What did you mean earlier? — About Malcolm?” Your sudden question surprises the both of you, putting an abrupt end to the out of body feeling that was fogging Bradley’s mind. He blinks, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he pulls his hand away from your face.

“What?”

“You said he wouldn’t care if I lived or died. Why?” You push yourself up from your front, settling onto your knees instead. Bradley’s brows knit together. The only thing he can think to say is your name. He stumbles it out, baffled. “You don’t even know him. Why would you say something like that?”

He could turn this into another screaming match. Avoid answering until you’re yelling so hard that you’re blue in the face. But, he won’t. He deserves answers too — he’s tired of that night clouding his head, having no idea if you remember or not.

“Because he left you on the side of the road to freeze to death last December,” Bradley’s suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he’s sitting on your bed, alone in your room. Your face twists in confusion. He’s not done yet. “And the only reason you didn’t freeze to death was because I hauled your ass into my truck and drove you to your parents’ house.”

He’s expecting to have to elaborate further, but you know exactly which night he was talking about. You remember the three days after blacking out that Malcolm wouldn’t so much as answer the phone to you.

“No you didn’t.”

Bradley raises his eyebrows at you. He wishes there was something he could show you, some way he could prove to you how fucked up you had been when he had found you on that curb.

“You were wearing a blue dress with sparkly shit on it,” Bradley says, his voice too calm. You were. You woke up still in it the next morning. “Open-toed heels.”

What the fuck were you thinking? — In the middle of December?

“Your parents live at the end of a long street with a bunch of Oak trees on it,” They do. Last house on the left. You stare at him, unblinking. “Your room is on the second floor, at the back of the house. Your window overlooks the swimming pool. I called your fiancé from that stupid fucking pink phone on your nightstand eight times before he picked up.”

Your chest shudders with the next slow breath that you draw in. He sits there, watching you try to rationalize what he’s telling you. There’s too much information for it to be a lie. The look on his face tells you that he isn’t lying.

“You… spoke to Malcolm that night? — What did he say?”

Bradley makes a face, then turns his chin towards the ceiling and sighs. He looks down and rubs his rough palm over his jaw, shaking his head at you. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he left you in the fucking snow, unconscious.”

The air conditioning unit rattles behind you, making you all the more aware of the sweat starting to bead on the nape of your neck. You swallow softly and look down at the textbook between the two of you.

“We were fighting that night, but he — I think I — I think I ran off…” Your memories of that night are fuzzy. Truthfully, you can’t even remember what the two of you had been arguing about, much less what happened for him to be so angry even days later. “Whatever happened wasn’t his fault—“

“No?” Bradley interrupts, a level louder than he had been previously. You pull back from him subconsciously, bracing yourself on the bed behind you, trying to find purchase in the sheets. “It wasn’t his fault? — Anything could have happened to you, you know that? — What kind of man lets someone that they love put themselves at risk like that?”

“He probably didn’t realize. I’m sure he thought that I got a cab. Wait, Bradley, what did you say to him?”

Wait, Bradley, what did you say to him? — He’s looking at you, but he’s had this conversation before with Natasha. All those years ago. Seconds before he had answered her and watched any love she had had for him ebb away.

“We had a conversation.” Bradley answers you dryly. Your brows knit together, leaning just slightly closer. “I asked him where he was. If he knew where you were. He asked me if you were still sulking on the curb outside of the quad. He knew exactly where you were.”

Finally, he renders you speechless. For the first time, maybe ever, you’re left without something to say to him. There’s a brief silence between the two of you before he speaks again.

“What were the two of you arguing about that night?” Bradley presses.

“I — I can’t remember. Something stu—“

“Why did you kiss me?”

Your eyes go round, widening incredulously at the man sitting on the other side of your bed. The man that you’ve spent the last week and a half screaming at. The smug, over-confident man ten years older than you who refuses to dress his age or pay grade. The man who threatened your fiancé back in December.

“What?” You shriek, pushing up onto your knees and scrunching your face up at him.

“You sat in my car and begged me not to take you into your parents’ house. You kissed me. I dragged you out of the truck and put you to bed.” Bradley says it so calmly — you wonder how often he has thought about this moment to be able to recount it so easily.

You look him over. There’s no more distance between the two of you than there would be between a driver’s seat and a passenger seat. Obviously you were out of your mind that night, running away from Malcolm and not kicking and screaming when this oaf had put you in his car. But there’s not a chance in hell that you would have kissed him. You can’t stand him.

Still, here with just the two of you, you’re not sure how it would benefit him to be lying about this.

So, you take a deep breath and try to ignore the heartbeat thudding in your ears. You stare at him. His hair is neat enough. Short at the back and sides, curly on top. It would have been shorter when he was in the Navy, but you remember it being longer at the beginning of the year. You hadn’t shown up to many of his classes, so you can only guess at what he wore during the winter. Vaguely, you’ve got a memory of him in grey slacks and a navy sweater. Still not wearing a tie.

If he had come straight from his office, he would be in his work clothes. You would be sitting in the passenger side of his truck. It was snowing out, so you know he would have been cold. The sun-kissed pink hue on his cheeks was probably still there, just frost-chilled in variety this time. His facial hair is always neat. Everything tidily shaved, his moustache always trimmed. He’s certainly not ugly.

Long lashes. A slight bump in his nose, like he might have broken it once, but it suits him. Slightly raised scar tissue on his cheek, his throat. Lashes that touch the bone of his eye socket when he closes his eyes. Freckles dotting his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. Eyes that can’t quite decide whether they’re brown, black, amber or hazel. Pink, plush lips.

Ah. That’s where your attention catches. You practically take a mental snapshot of the place where your eyes land. The hollows of his cheeks, the scars on his left side. His strong jaw, usually clenched when he’s looking at you. The thick length of his neck, his protruding adam’s apple, the gold chain usually visible just inside of his collar. Those thick, reddish pink lips.

Pushing up on your knees, you lift your gaze and find him already staring. He knows exactly what you’re about to do. His hand finds your hip and grabs at it roughly as you put one knee in front of the other and crawl to him. He guides you where he wants you and lifts his other hand, cupping your jaw.

His rough palm sits against your jaw bone. Tenderly touching your cheek, just slightly grazing your throat. Eclipsing the side of your face with the magnitude of his hand size. Even up close, you’ve still got no clue of why you would kiss him. Well, nothing that you can rationalize. No explanation that would make any kind of sense to you on any regular day.

But, if you’re being honest with yourself, it’s because you know that there is no rationalizing this. The want that you feel for him just doesn’t make sense. His fingers curled around your hipbone, pressing roughly into the denim there — it doesn’t make sense.

And yet, when the strong hand on the side of your jaw pulls you forwards, you’re all too willing to lean all the way into him and kiss him. Softly, slowly. Your bottom lip between his, controlled even though all he wants to do is throw you down on his bed and kiss you like he means it.

Bradley figures that’s a bad thing, that he’s in control of the situation enough to be gentle with you, but not to stop himself from making this mistake. His tongue swipes softly against your lip at the same time his hand tugs at your hip. You wobble forwards, he parts his thighs and tugs again making you land unceremoniously against his legs.

You can feel the abandoned textbook digging into your ankle. Its glossed pages, open and forgotten.

His hand trails from your jaw, around to the back of your neck. He feels you tense against him as he pulls you close by your neck and your waist, lifting, and then planting you on your back. The second that your spine touches the sheets, you tear your mouth away from his with a gasp.

He stills, kneeling between your parted thighs, staring down at you. You glance down. He watches your brows knit together and follows your gaze down to the necklace that has slipped from his shirt. You lift your stiff hand from your side and reach out for it. He swallows as the delicate tips of your fingers graze the gold cross. You wonder where his dog tags are. Why he’s wearing this today. If he just wore the tags for Natasha’s benefit, maybe.

“I didn’t know you’re religious.” You breathe out. He’s just close enough to be able to hear you. His hands flex around the pits of your knees, skimming down your calves.

“I’m not,” He answers you quietly. “It belonged to my dad.”

You breathe out hard, but it doesn’t make that weird feeling in your chest go away. You just keep on staring at that dangling necklace. Something keeps you from looking him in the eye. Fear, shame — lust — you’re not sure exactly what it is.

Turning your head, you’re met with the sight of his flexing forearm, planted beside your head. Bradley watches through darkened eyes as you reach out once again, starting at the back of his hand. You trail the vein in his skin from his fist, up along the inside of his forearm, onto his bicep. Stopping at the hem of his white t-shirt sleeve.

Bradley leans down, moving to the side to catch your mouth. This second kiss is different from the first. It’s all him. His tongue swipes your bottom lip and you’ve got the sense to press into him, to open your mouth. Both of you are surely aware of how dead still you’re laying, the way your hands are balled in the sheets at your sides.

But, you lift your chin and chase his kiss like he’s got your next breath. He pushes harder against you, his tongue pressing forwards and grazing yours. Suddenly, your hands aren’t so still any more. They’re up and shoving at his chest.

“What are you doing?” You gasp, horrified.

He sits back on his knees and stares at you. You’re right. What the fuck is he doing? — You’re one of his students, and fuck, your father would never let this go. Your fiancé too. Fuck, your fiancé.

“Keep your tongue in your mouth, what is the matter with you?” You snap at him, sitting up swiftly and hitting his chest with another hard shove. Bradley stares at you. Never in a million years was he expecting your issue here to be with the fact that he’d barely grazed your tongue with his.

“Excuse me?”

“Your tongue, you animal! — What do you think you’re doing?” You pull your legs out from between his thighs and shift away from him, leaping off of the bed. His jaw falls slack, staring at the way you’re glaring at him from the bottom of the bed.

“Kissing! — What? — Are you telling me that you’ve never—“ He shakes his head, trying to make sense of what he’s hearing. He knew you were inexperienced but french kissing has been popular in the US for a lot longer than you’ve even been alive.

“No, I haven’t! — What kind of girl—“

“Alright, stop yelling, stop yelling!” Bradley stands up swiftly and catches hold of both of your biceps. Quieting, you crane your neck back to look at him. He looks down at you and exhales. “That was a mistake. Right?”

His thumbs brush gently along the backs of your arms. You’re silent, just staring up at him, but he gives a quick nod anyway. That’s good enough. Squeezing your arm, he lets you go and then moves.

“Fuck. Okay,” He runs a hand over his jaw and turns, dizzily trying to collect his things. “We’re good. We just need to not get in each other’s way, get you a C — and then we’re out of each other’s hair.”

There are so many things you want to say. Even more that you want to ask him. But, you don’t. You just nod silently at him and tuck your hands behind your back. Then, you make the mistake of glancing downwards. The khaki colouring of his shorts has never looked as indecent as it does now.

Bradley doesn’t need to follow your gaze to know what you’re staring at. He knows all too well that he has been rock hard since he first grabbed at your hip. The little squeak you had made had sent every red blood cell in his body rushing south, and the way you’re staring at his straining dick now doesn’t help.

You make it worse too. There’s no shock on your face, you’re not saying anything. You’re just staring at the way his thick length is pressing against the fabric of the shorts, hard, and because of you. Natasha, that you had understood. She had been touching him and she was undeniably gorgeous. And they had history.

“Stop —“ Bradley pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand and dips a hand into his shorts to adjust himself with the other. That still doesn’t stop you from staring. He frowns at you. First you don’t know how to kiss, and now he’s realizing that you’ve probably never seen a dick either. “For fucks’ sake.

Your eyes finally go wide as he grabs the textbook, turns on his heel and leaves the room with a slam of the door. You flinch at the sound, suddenly completely alone in your room, reeling. Ashamedly, your first instinct is to call Matthew.

Bradley walks down the hall, takes the stairs, and into his own room. It’s empty, meaning that Luke’s probably in Robin’s room. Bradley should be an adult and go and lecture them both. Instead, he slams the door to their bathroom and twists the lock. Cold water probably would have been the best thing to do. Instead, letting the warm stream soak his body, his clothes ditched on the floor, he feels like he can finally breathe.

Truthfully, your fiancé is the furthest thing from his mind. The fact that you’re his student has never felt as minuscule as it did when he was kneeling between your thighs and watching your delicate fingers toy with his necklace. You’re graduating. This is just extra credit. If you had passed the first time, you’d be out of his class already.

All the excuses in the world doesn’t make it okay that he has kissed you twice now. But, that doesn’t stop him from trailing his palm along his toned stomach, wrapping a hand loosely around the base of his cock and planting his free palm on the tile in front of him.

Upstairs and three doors to the right, you’re sitting criss-crossed on the same bed that you had just kissed your professor in with an old plastic phone pressed to your ear. The line rings, and rings until it feels like you’re about to burst into tears until finally his voice comes through on the other end.

“Hello?”

“I need to ask you something and I need you to please answer me honestly. Okay?”

…

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