#i made a mini me on the kitchen floor

[orcelito]

Living room:

Still a little cluttered, but so much FLOOR SPACE without all the many many plastic bags :D

Kitchen:

Similarly still cluttered, but the floors are clear and there's no longer a mound of bowls molding in the sink! :D

Bedroom:

.......

We can't win everything.

[ddejavvu]

this is cheesy but when spencer and reader start getting more comfortable in their relationship and they exchange keys to each others places, reader starts going over while hes away. just to chill because she misses him or borrow something or get something she left. but then dhe notices his apartment is a little messy and he doesnt have a lot of food in the fridge.

the first time he comes home to a full fridge and clean apartment he's a little confused, but when he brings it up and she confesses hes just sooooo touched and appreciative.

the first time he comes home and shes asleep on the bed or couch or wherever he just MELTS. like an actual puddle on the floor kinda melting bc hes just so overwhelmed with love 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Spencer Reid is, quite possibly, the smartest motherfucker in the FBI. As an esteemed profiler, he notices right away that you've been in his apartment, from the post-it note grocery list sitting on the top of what's in his trash can, and a lack of dust over his kitchen counter like there typically is after he's gone on a case for a few days.

He spots 'donuts' on the list, and when he pulls the fridge open, lo and behold, there's a bag of mini chocolate donuts on the top shelf. He smiles to himself, giddily so, more than elated that you'd remembered an offhanded comment he'd made about liking them so much, especially when they're chilled.

He remembers everything anyone tells him, but people rarely stop to listen to his own words. So often it can be cast aside as nerd babble, so knowing that you'd picked up on the small tidbits of personal information he'd given you makes his seldom-fluttering heart do just that.

He feels a little bad that you'd stocked his fridge and ran, but he doesn't have to for long, because when he heads to the living room to drop his messenger bag there, and restock it with a different book, you're snoozing in his chair.

It's a recliner, one he'd splurged on so that late-night reading would be more comfortable. You've popped the footrest up, but your feet barely touch it, because you're curled up closer to the seat. Your head rests on one of the arms and is dangerously close to slipping off, so he kneels by the armrest, joints cracking.

His face hovers millimeters away from your own, your breath hitting his cheek and vice versa. He smooths a stray wisp of hair away from your face, leaning in to kiss the skin it had been covering.

"Hi, angel," He croons, keeping his voice as soft as humanly possible. He doesn't want to ruin this, whatever heavenly moment that the seldom-kind universe has decided to grant him.

Your lashes flutter at the feel of his lips on your skin, and you turn your face to lean into the touch you don't yet know is there. He can't help but laugh at the way you arch like a cat to be closer to him, and the breathy huffs fan out against your forehead.

His slender hand comes up to hover beneath your head, because when you worm closer to him, it slips off of the armrest. He holds your head up but you're finally starting to stir from the movement, and you lift it to blink groggily up at him.

"Spence?" You ask, like you're verifying his identity and not asking why he's home.

"That's me," He smiles, dimples puncturing his cheeks. His hair is slightly sloppy, frizzed and out of place from the day's hectic activities. At his confirmation you hum sleepily, resuming your cat-like activities by shutting your eyes again, leading with your nose as you nudge your face into his own. From the angle you're at his lips can only pucker to hit an awkward spot between your cheek and your nose, but the skin there is warm and soft from a facial mask he knows you used last night.

"Morning," You grumble, and he won't inform you that it's 7 at night.

"Hi, sweetheart." He croons, unable to stand up straight before you decide you want a hug. It means his butt hits the floor when you lunge for him, and he laughs as he tries maintaining an upright position.

"Oh- ah!" He laughs, eyes scrunching in a gleeful smile-turned-laugh when you knock into him. He cradles the back of your head, feeling you settle into his embrace like he's your new reclining chair.

"'Missed you, Spence." You mumble against the fabric of his jacket that's covering his shoulder. He curls his fingers into your hair at your admission, stroking briefly through the strands.

"I missed you too," He agrees, "I saw you bought me donuts."

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I did." You recall, eyes already drooping again, "We can have some for- for dessert later."

"That sounds like a good plan," Spencer grins, but you can't see it where you're nestled into his shoulder. He's waiting for you to get up, not because he doesn't want to hug you anymore but because he wants to stand and move, but when you stay firmly in place he realizes you're sleeping again, and that there's no way he's getting off the floor in the meantime.

He could wake you, tell you it's time for a late dinner and ask you to work on the eggs so that he can chop up the add-ins for an omelet. He could corral you back into the chair and take the bed for himself, read for a bit after getting changed. He could do any number of things to make himself just a bit more comfortable, but instead he chooses to commit his butt to the floor, surely flattening it for all eternity. He scoots back carefully until his back is up against the couch, so that his less-than-perfect core strength isn't relied upon as much.

From there he rests, disinterested in using his phone and too far away from his bookshelf to read. But he finds just as much meaningful entertainment in counting the breaths that you release against his shoulder, as well as counting the different possessions of yours he can see scattered around his apartment.

Your shoes, one. Your water bottle, two. Your sweatshirt, three. Your snack, four. Your keys, perhaps the most meaningful possession of all, the spare that he'll never regret giving you, five.

[serotonins-stuff]

3am pregggy cravings

~BNHA

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♡︎ Bnha boys

♡︎ f!reader

♡︎ Sypnosis: You suddenly get strong pregnancy cravings in the early hours of the morning

♡︎ Includes : Bakugo, Izuku, Todoroki , Aizawa, Hawks

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(characters are aged up)

Bakugo

He shuffled in his sleep, while low grumbles and sniffles echoed from downstairs.

He guessed he was having a dream till the cries sounded way too real and familiar. He patted the space next to him, expecting to feel your warmth but it was empty.

He jumped up from his sleeping position in the warm blankets, shirtless and disheveled as he scrambled out of the bedroom in a panic. Concerns flooded his head but he had no time to stand and think.

Were you ok?

Why the hell are you crying?

He strumbled on various things in the dark, causing him to curse lowly but he moved on.

"Y/n!?" He half yelled, still hearing your sobs echoing through the house. The sound guided him to the kitchen downstairs, so he made sure to be cautious moving toward it.

He clutched a broom nearby, in case something bad was happening so he could prepare. Hell- he didn't even know why you were crying in the first place.

The kitchen was pitch black, although the pantry next to it was beaming with light. The alarm didn't go off which means you were safe.

He strolled into the pantry quietly and the sobs grew louder. He was temporarily blinded by the bright light but blinked repeatedly so his eyes could adjust.

And there you were, sitting cross legged on the floor while holding onto your big tummy.

"Shit-Whats wrong?" he rasped and squatted in front of you, holding onto your shoulders and looking over your features just to make sure nothing bad had happened to you.

"You hurt?" he asked and you shook your head no. "Is the baby ok?"

"Yeah" you cried. "The baby's fine"

Your face was tear-stained and your eyes a little puffy. The baby seemed fine, and you also seemed fine physically so what was the problem?

He positioned himself to sit behind you and placed his hands on your stomach from behind, rubbing it soothingly in hopes to calm you down. "Shhh," he cooed onto your nape softly.

Whatever he was doing seemed to work because, you had calmed down.

"This is gonna sound so stupid but-" you began talking "We don't have any of the food I'm craving!" You wailed in his arms.

Your husband's eyes widened at your mini rampage. He honestly didn't know where to start. "Listen I'll go get you some right now ok?"

He understood that your hormones were all over the place at the moment, so you couldn't control your emotions.

"I don't know why I'm crying so much over ice cream" you sobbed quietly "M'sorry Kat"

"Oi don't apologize for that alright?" He consoled you, still drawing soft circles on your enlarged stomach. "You've got our kid in there, and your hormones are all over the place right now"

He helped you up and guided you to the couch, wrapping a blanket around you and switching on the tv while he walked over to the door. " Call me if you need more stuff." he glimpsed back at you while searching for his cap.

He wouldn't want to be recognized by fans this late at night. Luckily there was a 24 hour convince store nearby your home, so he'd be back before you knew it.

He completed his look with a black face mask, not bothering to change out of his oversized tee and sweatpants.

"I'll be back" he stated, but before he left he made sure to glance at you once more to make sure you were ok but your eyes were glued to the tv screen.

He scoffed a smile as he closed the door and locked it. You had the spare key so it wasn't a problem. Off he was to the covience store.

He didn't take long, only about 15 minutes when the sound of his shoes and the opening of the door could be heard.

He headed over to you first thing and pulled out the food you've been craving the whole night.

"Thank you!" You beamed widely as you accepted it, already eager to open it. Katsuki exhaled a chuckle at your cuteness, flopping himself next to you on the couch and pulling out a tub of ice cream.

He brought another spoon for you in case you would want to taste some. You snickered at dramatic shows on the tv enjoying each others company.

Eventually Katsuki could feel the weight of your head on his shoulder. He peeked to the side to find you snoozing peacefully, some ice cream smeared across your lips and soft snores pouring from your nose.

He sneered back the grin that wanted to appear on his face, giving your stomach one last rub before getting you cleaned up and heading to bed.

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Izuku

"If I can just figure this out" Izuku mumbled from where he sat on the bedroom floor, holding his chin while he stared at the various papers scattered across the carpet.

He knew that you were fast asleep on the bed. You needed the rest as your belly grew each day, nourishing the little bean inside of you.

A shuffle from the bed made him freeze slightly. He didn't want to make any fast movements that would wake you up.

Once you had stopped moving he continued, but as soon as he turned his head away you called out to him.

"Izuku?" You rubbed your eyes "You still up?"

"Um-yeah I just had some work I had to finish" He rubbed the back of his head. feeling a bit guilty if he were the reason you woke up.

"Did I wake you?" He stood up and walked over to your side, leaning down behind you to rub your back.

"No you didn't do anything I just-" you sighed, not wanting to sound silly by telling him that you were craving something at such an early hour.

"Is it the baby?" he asked with slight panic, pulling the blanket down so he could come eye to eye with your stomach.

"Well yes and no"

He raised a brow in confusion.

"This is going to sound stupid but I'm craving some food " you looked at him apologetically.

"Hey" he held your hands and you turned around so your body could face him.

"Nothing you say is stupid" he smiled At you softly. "It's completely normal to feel what you're feeling and I don't blame you because you've got a whole life growing in there" his hands made their way to your stomach.

You smiled at how reassuring he was. This is exactly why you fell in love with him in the first place, he was able to make your troubles vanish just by flashing a smile.

"I'm going to drop some paperwork off at the agency anyway, so I'll get you some by the store alright?"

You nodded.

"Alright then, I'll be back soon" he placed a kiss to your cheek. "Do you need anything else?"

"I need you to eat it with me when you get back". You glanced at his tired features, he was working hard to make his agency successful but it was taking a toll on him.

He's more stressed than usual, and you only see him for a few hours a day because of his messed up sleep schedule. He promised that it would only be for this week, but it's only been 3 days yet you've been missing him like crazy.

He misses you too. He calls you everyday from work and sends a caretaker to look after you and the growing baby in your tummy while he's not around.

"Okay I promise"

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Shoto

He could feel you shuffling uncomfortably beside him. He was half asleep but woke up to check if you were ok.

"Love are you alright?" he rasped sleepily, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing your belly. His hot breath tickling your neck as he spoke

"Yes I'm fine Shoto" you stretched your legs.

"Are you craving something?" He asked and you looked at him in bewilderment.

"H-how did you know that?"

"You were staring at pictures at it all day, so I figured you'd crave it at some point" he rubbed his eyes and yawned "You also mumbled it while you were sleeping"

You squealed in embarrassment, covering your face with the blankets. Could you have spoken about food while you were sleeping? You could barely even remember what you were dreaming about.

This only made Shoto laugh lightly, you had such a cute reaction and he just couldn't help it.

"I can order us some right now if you'd like?" You heard him shuffle towards the nightstand, and the light from his phone blinded you temporarily.

"What store is open at a time like this Shoto?"

"There's a twenty-four-hour convenient store nearby that delivers," he said nonchalantly, tapping away at his phone "Looks like they have more than enough"

He proceeded to buy so much of the item that it was out of stock. You scolded him for that but he didn't have much of a reaction

Eventually the items you were craving arrived and you sat onthe bed together, devouring them.

"You are so amazing" you groaned in delight, taking another delicious bite.

"Anything for you," he said with a half-full mouth, also enjoying the delicacy.

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Aizawa

"Shota" you whined, shaking the sleeping man next to you.

"Hm?" he answered almost immediately, meaning that he was probably awake for the whole time this early hour. You knew his insomnia bothered him, but he refused to take pills or anything like that because of the side effects they gave him the next day.

"Trouble sleeping?" He inquired cuddling up to you.

"Yeah I'm having really strong cravings right now" you sighed into his chest. "Insomnia keeping you up again?"

He hummed an agreement at your question, It was a bit difficult to cuddle with the little human between the two of you, but you were excited that soon you could meet your cute little chunk. Who hopefully won't cry throughout the night and keep you awake. You heard a conspiracy theory once that children could inherit that from their parents.

"Did you cry a lot as a baby?" You asked suddenly, playing with his hands that lay on your stomach.

"Never let my parents sleep a wink" he huffed, recalling the stories his mom would tell him. "My mom often called me the pub crawler"

You snickered loudly at that name "Pub crawler....seriously?"

You went silent and he knew you were up to no good "Don't even think about calling me that" he cut your thoughts off.

"You're no fun Shota"

"How would I take you seriously if you called me a pub crawler?" He deadpanned.

"I think it suits you considering you're up at this hour"

"Then I'm calling you a incubator"

Now it was your turn to deadpan. "On second thought I think Shota suits you better"

Shuffles could be heard from him when he slowly arose from your intertwined position on the bed. You pouted your lips at the sudden emptiness next to you.

"Maybe I could get some sleep if I get some fresh air outside" he rasped slowly, stretching as he put on his shoes "I'll go get your cravings from the store nearby"

"Let me go with you" you also sat up from your position but he halted you, placing the blankets nice and snug around your body while a chuckle of amusement left his lips.

"I appreciate the enthusiasm, but you need to rest"

"Party pooper as always" you rolled your eyes.

"I won't be long" he stepped out of the room, stopping in the middle of the doorway to wait for your reply.

"I'll see you then pub crawler" you smirked sheepishly before he breathed a chuckle and swiftly closed the door.

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Hawks

He had never panicked so much in his life.

He didn't even have time to think when he jumped out of bed shirtless with pajama shorts. Your soft sobs echoing in the living room downstairs. Luckily his feathers sensed your discomfort and that's what woke him up.

He jumped down the staircase gracefully, his wings making it possible for him to land softly.

His eyes caught your figure, sitting on the couch while the tv playing in the background. He walked up to you slowly, calling your name to not scare you by suddenly appearing.

"Keigo?" You sniffled and the couch dipped slightly next to you from his sudden weight. He hooked his arm under your legs from where he sat beside you, his other arm gently making its way to your back. You couldn't feel a thing when he lifted you into his arms. Cradling you on the couch as he also tried to figure out what was going on.

He smiled softly, sensing that it was just your hormones making you feel this way. "Is nugget keeping you awake?"

You nodded your head pointing to the tv. At first, he didn't understand what you were implying till he saw delicious food being made and eaten on the screen.

"Ah I have just the trick" he yanked out his phone, typing for a while before placing it down. "It should be here in about 20 minutes Peach"

He was expecting to see you smile and thank him for being the greatest lifesaver ever but was surprised to see tears still spilling out of your eyes as you looked away.

"C'mon talk to me" he clasped your chin so you could look at him.

The truth was that you felt bad for waking him up at such an early hour just for some food. You know very well that he has work tomorrow and he has to be up early.

"Keigo, I feel bad" you whimpered. For some reason, having a baby was making you cry at every single inconvenience. "I know you must be really tired from work and I'm over here ruining your sleep schedule for cravings"

"You have nothing to be worried about, you're waaayyy more important than work," he said making sure to exaggerate the way. "And if anything you're doing me a favor, I haven't been getting much food in because of everything that's been happening lately, so thank you"

He made sure to order some for himself so you could enjoy it together. Spending time with you and nugget makes him feel unstoppable.

"Being with you and nugget gives me extra strength to face the next day." He pecked you on the lips.

"I also think that your cravings might have affected me 'cause now I'm hungry" he deadpanned and giggled slightly.

He would do anything if it were to see that sweet smile all the time.

[sailortongue]

Special Delivery

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

summary: your husband forgot his lunch at home so who better to bring it to him than his lovely wife and son

an: is it Jujutsu High or Jujutsu Tech?? i've seen it both ways

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Your husband was an idiot. A handsome and talented idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. You had reminded him countless times that his lunch was on the kitchen counter. Even put a sticky note on the door so he’d see it before he left. And yet there it was, still sitting right where you’d placed it for him. You sighed in exasperation, resigning yourself to the fact that you’d have to bring it up to the school. Of course, Satoru was more than capable of procuring his own meal. There was no shortage of good restaurants in Tokyo, but you could practically already hear him whining over the phone that nothing would compare to your homemade cooking.

You looked over at your son, Hitoshi, who was staring back at you from his high chair. You still couldn’t believe you had housed him for nine months in your own body just for him to disrespect you by looking like a carbon copy of his father, the same charming combination of snowy hair and vibrant blue eyes lingering in your vision. Your genes didn't even put up a fight. 

Satoru had joked that, if he didn’t know any better, he’d say he made the baby all by himself. But even though he got the satisfaction of genetic superiority, you still got the bragging rights for  your son’s first word being “mama.”

You smiled at the sweet memory and briefly wondered if you should call Satoru first or let your visit be a surprise. The more you thought about it, the more you wanted to surprise him. So, shortly before his lunch hour, you packed another two lunches for yourself and your son and set out for Jujutsu Tech.

-❀-

As you approached the classroom, you could hear the rowdiness through the door. It was amazing how loud Yuji and Nobara could be together (you were quite certain Megumi’s quiet demeanor wasn’t to blame for the noise). You gently released Hitoshi’s hand and handed him Satoru’s bento. “Do you want to bring Daddy’s lunch to him?” you asked him gently, the pitch of your voice slightly raised as it naturally tends to be when talking to your mini Satoru.

“Yes!” he responded eagerly, taking the carefully-packaged lunch in his small hands. You pointed him to the door and watched as the adorable two-year-old knocked on the door of his father’s classroom. It was Yuji who opened the door, a broad smile quick to spread across his face as he looked down at a mini version of his teacher. “Gojo-sensei,” he called over his shoulder. “Special delivery for you.”

Yuji stepped aside from the doorway to allow the toddler inside, who immediately and unceremoniously dropped the bento on the ground upon spotting Megumi. “Gumi!” he exclaimed, running as fast as his little legs would allow straight into the arms of the dark haired student.

You heard your husband’s dramatic gasp of indignation at the sight, thoroughly offended that his own son was clearly more excited to see one of his students than him. With a laugh at Satoru’s typical antics, you finally entered the classroom yourself, accepting the bento that Yuji had kindly picked up off the floor. You thanked him and walked over to Satoru, handing him his lunch as you kissed him on the cheek. “Forgot your lunch. Again.”

He smiled sheepishly before eyeing the bag in your hand. “Gonna stay and eat with me?”

You nodded in confirmation, and he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug. “Can’t believe I have such a perfect wife,” he said sappily.

“Yeah, neither can we,” chimed Nobara.

Satoru glared at her, but it didn’t last long as Hitoshi had hopped off of “Gumi’s” lap and was happily running to his father. Satoru separated from you and caught his son in his arms, using the momentum to gently toss him in the air before catching him and securing his little frame against his chest. Your son’s giggles permeated the classroom, and it seemed to have a contagious effect, the students’ laughter joining in as they watched their teacher entertain Hitoshi, who cried “Again, Again!”

Once the excitement had died down and your son was being held comfortably in your husband’s arms, Satoru glanced at the clock and deemed it close enough to lunch to dismiss class. It wasn’t like anything else was going to get done anyway, especially since all of Satoru’s attention was focused on the two most important people in his life. 

The three students filed out of the classroom, all of them waving goodbye back to Hitoshi as they discussed where to go for lunch.

Once the door was firmly shut behind Nobara, Satoru turned to you, his pupils practically resembling hearts. “I meant what I said. I have the most perfect wife any man could ask for.”

You rose to your tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to lips. “And I have the most perfect—and most forgetful—husband.” He rolled his eyes at you playfully before placing Hitoshi back down and grabbing the lunches.

“C’mon, we can eat in the staff break room.”

You held out your hand for Hitoshi to hold, and you walked alongside your husband, intently listening to him recount the day’s antics of his students, namely Norbara and Yuji.

The three of you spent lunch seated at the round table in the break room, simply enjoying the company of your little family. Before you knew it, his lunch hour was over, and he unfortunately had to return to class. In typical Satoru fashion, he cranked the dramatics up to the max, instantly pulling you and Hitoshi close as soon as you expressed the slightest intent to leave, refusing to let the two of you go. Each time you tried to pull away, he whined and held fast. “You’re squishing Hitoshi,” you said in an attempt to get him to release his grip, but to no avail.

“Toru,” you giggled, a small smile playing on your lips.

He groaned and hugged you both tighter to his chest. He seemed deep in thought and said, “Y’know, I bet they wouldn’t mind.”

You questioned what he’d meant by that, but, instead of answering, he plopped Hitoshi back on his feet and dashed out of the room, telling you to wait there and that he’d be back in a sec.

When he walked back in a few minutes later, he bent down to Hitoshi’s eye level and asked with a knowing grin, “Wanna go get some ice cream?”

Hitoshi’s eyes sparkled as he gasped, and both you and Satoru melted at the look of joy on your son’s face. He had definitely inherited his father’s sweet tooth in addition to his features.

You gave Satoru a questioning look. “What about your class?”

He shrugged. “I canceled it. They’ve been working really hard, so I think they’ve earned a break. So,” he changed the subject, “what flavor sounds good to you right now? Because personally cookies and cream is calling my name.”

[choso4u]

AN IMPORTANT LESSON. ft. gojo satoru

cw: fem!reader, smut, age gap, voyeurism, exhibitionism, squirting, overstimulation

a/n: consider this my christmas gift to y'all

"C'mon, no one will see." Your boyfriend coos. You're currently in your boyfriend's house, in your boyfriend's room, in your boyfriend's bed with him hovering on top of you, coaxing you to have sex. You push his hands away from where its settled beside your head as you sat up. "Not now, not in the mood." You smile at your boyfriend, who was now pouting at your response. You giggled and pulled him up, sitting beside you. He huffs and pulls you in for a slow, deep kiss. But there was something you weren't telling him. It's that... you don't get satisfied with him fucking you. I mean, the both of you are still 19, naturally, he doesn't have that much of an experience. You understand that. But of course, you have needs. And it's frustrating that your boyfriend can't help you with those. Another reason was... because you were attracted to his dad. Your boyfriend was the most attractive man you've ever seen. Tall, white locks, blue eyes. That's what you thought— until you saw his dad, Gojo Satoru. You now saw where his features came from. It was disgusting because the first thing that popped in your mind when you saw Gojo Satoru was "Fuck, he's hot. Certified dilf." The both of you have interactions, yet brief only. Such as curt nods, polite smiles, small chats, and that's it. But you were hungry for more. You wanted his attention. Scratch that. It was him you wanted. Ever since, you started wearing crop tops, mini skirts, and extra tight shorts. But it just doesn't seem to get his attention. And it made you even more sexually frustrated. You pulled away from the kiss when you heard Gojo calling your boyfriend downstairs. He tells you to wait as he goes downstairs. He comes back, telling you that his dad has sent him on an errand to pick up something from the mall. You walk with him to the living room where there was Mr. Gojo Satoru himself, manspreading elegantly on the couch, giving you a nod and turning his attention back to his phone. Your boyfriend bids the both of you goodbye and you watch him get in his dad's car and drive away before you closed the front door. Then it occurred to you. You were all alone with only Gojo for company. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Your mind was reeling with the many possibilities that may occur. You were so lost in thought, staring at the door and got snapped back to reality when you head Gojo calling your name about four times already. You turn around and was met by his scowling face. "You inlove with the door or somethin'?" The man asks. You laugh nervously and shook your head. "N-no I was just thinking about something." You reply sheepishly and started your way towards the kitchen when he calls out "Like— what could happen between me and my boyfriend's dad?" You froze in your steps and looked at him with wide eyes. Gojo stands up and heads to his room. When he didn't hear your footsteps, he stops, turns around and casually says, "Follow me."

Clothes scattered on the floor, but that didn't matter anymore. His attention was now in between your legs, lapping your pussy like a starved man who hadn't had a meal or a drink. Ravishing it in a sinful yet heavenly way. Your inner thighs now littered with hickeys. He's made you cum two times with just his mouth, but he just keeps going. You feel yourself getting closer and closer but this time, the knot felt tighter. What with the awfully skilled tounge sucking on your swollen bud and three fingers going in and out of you in a fast pace. "Daddy— gonn—" You didn't even get to warn him when clear fluid suddenly came gushing all over his fingers, soaking them with your arousal as your vision turned white, wanton moans filling the room. Gojo laughs as he laps up the liquid from your cunny. "God, so fuckin' beautiful when you squirt huh? My son sure got himself a pretty little girlfriend." You whimper as his tounge glide over your sensitive clit, cleaning you up. "Did it feel good?" He asks you. But before you could reply, the door swings open. "Hey dad, what's th—" Your boyfriend stops at the scene infront of him. You try to cover up but Gojo swiftly pins both of your hands above your head with one hand. "Good timing son, Well, since you're here, let me teach you a very important lesson."

The lesson basically consisted of Gojo making his son sit on the chair beside the bed as he fucks you in a mating press in front of him. Your mind wasn't working well anymore. All you could think about is how deep Gojo's cock was drilling into you. Your hands wrapped around his neck, wanton moans slipping out of your mouth all the time, drool dripping on the sides of your chin, and practically crying on how good his cock felt inside you. "Ah, fuck— shit. Gonna loosen you up." Gojo says and turns his head to his son who was staring at you, boner evident in his pants. Gojo just smirks at his son and chuckles, "This is how you properly fuck a girl. Need to fuck her limp and dumb." His hard thrusts kissing your cervix every time he pulls it out and slams it back in was enough for you to go dumb. Even forgetting the fact that your boyfriend was forced to watch you get ruined underneath his dad. You were about to cum again, but before you could, Gojo pulls out, flipping you around, ass in the air... facing your boyfriend. Your eyes widened but before you could say a word, he slams his cock back into you, resuming the most mind blowing earth shattering sex you've ever had. Gojo reaches down to your head, pulling your hair, forcing you to face his son. "Look at him. Look at him while I fuck you dumb." He orders. You could barely see your boyfriend as you rolled your eyes back to your head. It was humiliating. But it felt so fucking good to care. Felt so good you clamped around his cock so hard, Gojo's hips stuttered for a moment before resuming. Gojo smirks at his son, who was practically salivating at the salacious sight in fron of him. "Like what you see?" Your boyfriend couldn't answer, but the answer was clear as glass. He then lowers his head into yours and asks, "You cummin' again darling? Think you can squirt again f'me?" He waits a good five seconds before he raised his head, threw his head back and laughs. "You feel so fuckin' good, can't even talk?" Gojo slaps your ass hard, and that was all it takes for you to cum hard around his hard and squirt uncontrollably, letting out the most pornographic moan the man has ever heard. Your moans also brought him to the edge as he throws his head back and moans, painting your walls white. He stilled inside you for a minute before pulling out, groaning as he watched your cum leak out of your hole. When you didn't move for like twenty seconds, he panics a little and flips you over. "Shit, Y/N, you still with me?" He asks, voice laced with concern. He exhales with relief when he saw you smile at him and shakily reach out both of your hands. He smiles down at you, lowering his head as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kisses you deep. He cuts the kiss to look at his son, still frozen, cock hard, and wide eyed. "You can go now. Lesson is over."

[buckyandgeraltsupremacy]

remus x shy!reader (part 2)

i'm a whore for slow burns and so this little mini series will be a slow burn

author: sj

warnings: fluff, full moon possessiveness, slow burn, reader is described as having longish hair and uses she/her prounouns

part one / part three / part four / part five

masterlist

---

this was your first full moon around remus since discovering he was a werewolf. you weren't nervous, just relieved you finally knew what was going on.

remus was terrified. everyone knew he got a little snappier when it came close to the full moon. he got wound tighter and tighter until happened and the last thing he wanted to do was snap at you.

you were 3 days away from the moon and you just finished with classes, following the boys to their common room to study with remus like normal.

you collapsed on the couch and remus fell into the cushion next to you. you both worked silently together for a while until you found remus significantly closer to you than he was before, your thigh pressed to his.

you weren't bothered by this, but remus was slowly combusting silently. he just felt this unexplained need to be touching you at all times. it started this morning when you were in class with him. your slytherin desk partner had his arm touching yours while you were both taking notes and remus thought he was going to lose. it.

at lunch he made sure he was next to you and that helped his need to be touching you. he usually started to ache before the full moons, but it seemed when you were close that he suddenly forgot about the pain and was only thinking about you. hence why he was trying to get closer to you while in the common room.

you sighed and put your books on the floor. you yawned and you slouched into the couch. remus studied you and noticed the tension you were carrying.

"lay down, bun. close your eyes for a while." remus said, patting his thigh. you nod and lay down your head on his thigh, hair cascading into his lap. remus felt his nerves start to calm and gently started running your hair through his fingers. he delicately plucked at your hair and fiddled with it.

about an hour later, sirius got restless and groaned dramatically on the floor.

"ughhhhh. i'm so bored. wake flea up so she can sneak to the kitchens with me and charm the elves." he said, rolling towards remus. remus stiffened.

"no. let her sleep. she's stressed and is actually resting right now. and if you wake her up, i will wait till you fall asleep tonight and find an insect to crawl into your ear and eat the little brains you have left." he said, it coming out a little more aggressive than remus intended, but feeling extremely protective of you.

the next day, all remus could think about was you. it was a saturday so he didn't expect to see you unless you wanted to come to the common room. and low and behold, you came through the portrait hole and came over to the boys with a small smile.

almost reflexively, remus' hands flew up to grab you as you passed, pulling you down almost on top of him as you passed. you gasped and giggled as you fell onto the couch next to remus, extending them over remus' sideways. remus sighed and pulled you into a hug and mumbled into your hair about how much he missed you.

"ew." peter mumurs.

"i had a theory that you would get possessive near the full moon and this is only proving me right." james says. your cheeks flush red and remus pulls back to look you in the eye.

"i just missed my bun is all. doesn't mean i'm some possessive alpha male." remus scoffs, looking towards the boys.

"your bun?! she's all of ours mate. not like you're dating the girl." sirius says, trying to get under remus' skin. remus' hands tighten around you, sirius' words already making remus' hypothetical hackles rise. remus, not wanting to admit sirius is right, just puts his head back to your shoulder and whispers, 'my bun'.

thus how you found out that remus gets a little possessive close to the full moon.

[ja3honey]

♡ 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 | 𝐊.𝐇𝐉 ♡

【Synopsis】 : Hongjoong wanted your first time to be special and romantic. Soft.....this is not what he had in mind. Whoops.

『Word count』 :  5.17k

-> Genre: So Much Smut. Fluffy. Romantic.

Pairing: Dilf!Hongjoong x Park!Reader

[Warnings] : I want to make this a realistic first time. It's funny, there's jokes and mistakes. It's loving. The reader is scared but not of Hongjoong. Insecurities. Oral. Fingering. Squirting. Making out. Praise kink. Bratty sub reader. Soft dom Hongjoong. Lots of lovey-dovey shit. Cute little kisses. Confessions. Daddy kink. Pet names. Unprotected sex cause these two forgot about it until after. Whoops. There is so much dirty talk and slight degrading. This is so filthy and soft and all over the place. Listen man I’m so hooked on sappy romance. And to the bitch that hated angels outfit cause it ‘not 10pm dinner date worth’, theres a part I wrote in here just for you.

Masterlist | Navigation | Part Five | Mini Series Masterlist.

 “If you don’t get back in my car right now, I’ll drag you into it.” His words were dark, tainting on your lips. It was like a drug you’d never get enough of. Quickly, without slipping, you got back into his expensive car, your hand never leaving his thigh as he drove and your lips suckling on his neck. Hongjoong was glad it was almost two in the morning and no one was on the road otherwise he would of most likely hit someone with how fast he was going. He made it back to his apartment in no time and without another moment to spear, he dragged you towards the elevator by your hand. Fingers entangled with yours.. he pinned you against the wall in a feverish kiss, holding the back of your neck, guiding your mouth with his. This was not what he wanted your first time to be like. But god, did he need every second of it.

The way his hand crept up your dress, crawling at your hips. Feeling your frilly panties along his fingertips. His tongue raked down your hot skin, suckling a bright red mark on your neck. He was going to litter you with his marks, every part of your beautiful untouched body. Taint it like you were made for him. He was going to fuck you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do. Because you deserved every treatment he gave you.

-

You didn’t get time to take in your surroundings as you kept your lips flushed against Hongjoong’s. It was only when it was proving difficult to get your docs off when you both ended up laughing and grinning like idiots. Hongjoong was the first to pull away, pushing you slightly to lean against the hallway table so he could kneel down in front of you. You’ve never felt such a feeling like you had right now…This powerful older man, on his knees in front of you, slowly and carefully taking your shoes off. If he wanted you to feel like royalty, he was doing a bang-up job. 

“You like me on my knees, hmm? Angel?” He seemed to notice the way your mind had wandered off. Blush erupted over your face, feeling embarrassed of being caught bluntly staring. 

“I..Uh..” You looked around the hall, trying to find something to distract yourself as Hongjoong placed your right foot back carefully on the floor, having finished removing your shoes. Your sight caught the most amazing thing you’ve ever laid eyes on. “Holy shit…”

“Excuse you?” Hongjoong laughed at your potty mouth, but you walked down the hall, entering the large, dining, kitchen, and lounge room area. It was all opened with floor-to-ceiling windows. You could see almost the whole city. You’ve never been this high up before either, so it made the view even more grand. You watched in awe as the city light captivated you. You were so distracted you almost didn’t notice Hongjoong’s hands snaking around your waist, tugging at the strings on your corset, ever so slightly loosening it with every pull. his eyes never leaving the side profile of your stunning face. “It’s beautiful isn’t it.”

But he was not talking about the city view…

"It is..." You whisper. His lips inched against your neck, kissing down until he got to your left shoulder. Your shall had been forgotten long ago, most likely still in the car. And as you stood frozen watching the scenery beyond the thick glass so intensely, you felt Hongjoong finally slip off the belt around your plump hips, chucking it somewhere in the room. His fingers played with the fabric of your dress while you tilted your head to the side to give him better access. He could smell the sweet perfume on your skin. Feel the way he created goosebumps on your soft skin from the hot breath from his nose. His fingers would tangle, tug, and pull any part of your delicious outfit. The outfit he swooned over at dinner. The outfit he couldn’t help but smile at, thinking how sweet you looked, just like those strawberries that were embroidered on it. The outfit he was going to take great pleasure in taking it off you. Or maybe he’d fuck you in it first, watch how your nipples would peak through the layers of cotton. Feeling the roughness of the frills on his thighs as he thrusted in you hard. He’d keep those pretty little white socks you still have on as well. You’d be the most perfect little treat for him. “Hongjoong…”

He took a step back as you called for him. Standing so still, you didn’t dare to turn around. You could hear him move, the sound of fabric shifting, leather rubbed against jeans until… The clank of something metal hit the carpeted ground. 

“You wanna turn around Angel.” His voice was smooth, deep. Hypnotic. His words made every nerve burn in anticipation. This was really happening, he really wanted to have sex with you. Your heartbeats were hard, like a low base bashing on your chest. Thump, thump, thump. You could feel yourself become high head. Dizzy. Like your mind was slipping into a subspace of your mind you’ve never been before. “Baby.”

He called again but this time he was back right behind you, his hands on your hips made you take in a sharp breath. And without a second thought, you reached behind your body, pulling at the string that held the waist hem of your dress taught to your frame. Hongjoong didn’t dare take his eyes off your delicate fingers playing with the string, not until it was completely loose and the dress started to sag. Only having your shoulders keep the fabric up. Neither of you spoke, it was like you were both holding your breath. Waiting for the other to do something. You finally turned around.

His shirt was gone, the top button of his jeans was undone and his belt by your feet. You would never get enough of this man. The way he was built. The scars and tattoos decorated him like a human canvas. Everything was perfect. He was perfect. “H-Help me…”

He didn’t know he could move so fast, his fingers lacing under the cotton resting on your shoulders, slowly... go slowly god damn it. He screamed to himself as he pushed the fabric off you. The dress fell quickly, pooling by your feet. But he did not dare look down. No. His eyes stared into yours so desperately. he felt like he was in a dream and if he looked at your body he feared his cruel brain would wake him up. You took the ranes this time. Unclasping your bra without breaking eye contact with him. He could see the swell of your breasts out the corner of his eyes but he refused to look. The thump from the article of clothing falling to the floor made his heartbeat fall into his throat. And then his eyes widened, audibly gulping as you reached for his left, tatted hand. He felt your soft skin against his, and then he felt your hot plump chest in his rough palm. You hitched in a breath, feeling your overly sensitive nipples scrape along his hands. 

Hongjoong finally looked.

Taking in a big shaky breath, he saw you. He saw your soft curves, your juicy breasts. The way the balls of flesh rose and fell with each sharp breath. He made a mental note to kiss every stretch mark, scar, and blemish on your body. You are perfect. His other hand gripped your free breast, fondling your flesh. Your eyes fluttered close, tilting your head back slightly. Little pants would slip from your parted lips, as Hongjoong would start to leave light feverish kisses on your jaw, neck and collarbone. He would lower himself slightly, before slowly, pushing you backwards. you’d gasp loudly when your bare back would hit the ice-cold glass of the window. Hongjoong quickly knelt in front of you. Kissing between your breasts before latching his mouth on one of your nipples, while his free hand gripped your right thigh slowly, softly… parting your legs. You looked down at the older man, seeing his intense stare as he watched your every move closely. “Yes, I do….”

He looked confused for a moment, curious as to what you might be answering… and then you spoke out again. “You on your knees…I like it.” You felt like crawling out of your skin, feeling embarrassed at your words. But Hongjoong had a different expression. He growled, kissing down your pretty tummy, finding your stretch marks on the side of your hip, before kissing each and every one. He could do this for hours if he so wished, but for now, he just quickly pepper kisses a few before stopping just above the hem of your panties. He glanced back up at you one more time, slowly without breaking eye contact his fingers hooked under the soft cotton fabric before slipping them off down your legs. You were now completely bare in front of him.

“Fuck, angel. Aren't you the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. So soft.” he kisses your thigh. “So plump.” And gripped the flesh of your legs to move apart until he could see your dripping pussy. “So wet and ready for me.”

“F-fuck Joong!!” His name slipped off your tongue like it was your favourite thing to say. Fingers dug into his fluffy hair as he pressed his nose against your already sensitive clit and inhaled. You were the most delectable thing he’s ever had, and your taste was all he was craving. So he dived right in, his tongue flatting against your hole before licking all the way up, swiping over your nub. He did the same motion a couple of times before he shoved his tongue inside. He needed to prep you well. Get you nice and wet, and he was loving every minute of it. The way your head was thrown back against the glass, moans spilling from you, becoming his new favourite melody. 

He could feel you were close by the way your body started to shake, struggling to keep yourself up. He, without a second thought, pulled away, nearly knocking the wind out of your lungs at the sudden loss of pleasure. But before you could say anything, he was tugging you down to the soft carpeted floor with him. He wasn’t expecting to fuck you on the floor. God no. Not today anyway. But he wanted to make you cum a few times first before pounding you into his mattress. 

“There, there angel. I’ve got you.” His soft voice made your head spin as you laid on your back with your legs spread as far as they could go. You needed him in every way as he latched back onto your soaked cunt, sliding in a finger. You knew you were already falling over the edge. You’ve never climaxed so hard before, seeing white and hearing a light buzz in your ears. Those romance novels had seemly been correct when it was the right man, he would be able to give you everything. Including the most mind-blowing orgasms.

“Fuck, J-joongie I f-feel weird.” You needed to come again, rolling your hips against his now two scissoring fingers his tongue didn’t stop its desperate antics and then Hongjoong sucked harshly against your clit. You swore over and over as your legs began to shake, you cried a silent scream in the next breath as you felt Hongjoong sit up.

“Holy shit…” His deep chuckle caught your attention, opening your eyes you see in horror… Hongjoong was covered in a wet liquid. His chin, cheeks and chest dripping… d-did I just squirt? “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You felt your face heat up, wiggling a bit so you could sit up. The floor was a mess, and so were your inner thighs. But Hongjoong couldn’t care less, all he was thinking about was if he could get you to do that again. “Come on baby. Let’s move to somewhere more comfortable before I fuck you on this floor.”

He spoke so casually, but you could hear the lust dripping from his tongue. He was holding himself back, wanting to restrain himself and your little bratty attitude caught onto it quickly. Smiling, you pushed yourself up on your knees, while he watched intensely. You crawled over to him before resting your hands on his shoulders, his face so close to yours. “You gonna take me to bed Hongjoong? You’re best friend's daughter?” You whispered, inching closer. “What would he think? Hmm? Tainting my innocence.”

“I’ll do more than taint your innocence baby…” He knew what game you were playing, grabbing your hair, and tugging it back, making you forcibly look up to the roof. His nose glided across your neck before he suck a harsh red mark on your soft skin. “I’m going to fuck you until your head is filled with nothing but me. My cock. The way I fuck you. The way I’d make love to you… I’ll ruin you for any other man.” He bit down hard on your collarbone surely leaving indents of his teeth. “Cause you’re mine now princess. Mine alone.”

Him saying he’d love you causes a different feeling to grow in the pit of your stomach. A feeling you know you’d have to discuss tomorrow. But for now, as he led you to his bedroom. Your wobbly legs found themselves perched at the entrance of Hongjoong’s lavish room. It was not as you were expecting. He looked like such a minimalistic man, with a simple, sleek style. But yet his room... was filled with unique forms of art, house plants—some fake and some real—an abundance of vinyls, CD’s and a beautiful vintage record player, sitting in the corner of the room. The dark brown wooden stand the record player laid on matched his spruce bed frame well, and his dark near black bed sheets screamed the mystery man you knew him to be.

There was only one thing out of place. On his desk, besides two custom-made motorbike helmets that he most certainly painted himself, was nail polish. Rows of bottles of nail polish. All different colours and brands. Who knew a big tough tattoed, ex-military businessman wore colourful nail polish. “Sorry about the mess.”

He spoke so casually as he picked up some clothes off the floor and threw them in the direction of an ensuite. His cute simple smile was so innocent as if he hadn't just made you squirt all over his floor just minutes before. “No, No…it’s perfect.”

Your smile eased his racing mind as he kicked himself for not cleaning up before. But yet again, you being here wasn’t planned. It was supposed to go so differently. But such as life goes, nothing goes the way it’s planned every time. He chuckled lightly, walking over to your figure that stood still in the middle of the room. You weren’t standing awkwardly by any means but more so like you were admiring everything. Taking in as much detail, fearing you’d never see the inside of his mind like this ever again. His hands found their place on your hips once more, tugging you lightly towards the bed. You giggle, grabbing his face with both hands, you squished his cheeks as you kiss him messily. His smile grew against your own and as the back of your knees hit the end of the bed, you fell with him causing you both to laugh. 

“God, I could get used to this.” He murmured against your lips, crawling with you until your head hit the nice soft pillows. You just hummed in approval, letting him deepen the kiss by sliding his tongue into your mouth. You couldn’t see what he was doing, but you could feel him shifting around as if he was looking for something. You had to break away from the kiss, so he could finally see what he was doing. You tilted your head back, seeing him grab a pillow, rolling it long ways until it was like a little cinnamon roll. He lifted up your hips slightly, making you eye him in confusion as he placed the pillow under your lower back.

“w-what is that for?” You help him by planting your feet on the bed before wiggling your hips into a comfy position on the pillow. 

"It's to help me fuck you better." He said with such cheek it almost knocked the air out of your lungs. He laughed at your wide-eyed expression with a slightly parted lip. "Hah, it's so you don't feel any discomfort when I penetrate you, darling. Don't worry. I just don't want to hurt you for your first time."

"Oh god." You moaned, covering your eyes with your arm. You knew he knew you weren't experienced, but him explaining the pillow made you feel like you were having an awkward sex ed class with your much older teacher. 

"Hey, It's okay. You don't know these things, Angel." He pulled your arm away from your face lightly kissing your wrist, then forearm before kissing your cheek and the corner of your mouth. "I know you're not as experienced as me. But I want you to know, baby." He gave you a peck on the lips. "I don't care. In fact, I'm honoured you want me compared to someone younger, less...me"

You knew he was gesturing to his scars. His battle wounds and how he carries a lot of trauma and PTSD from the military. You remember your father had spoken about healing and struggling with society after being in wars. But you knew Hongjoong was on the battlefield a hell of a lot longer than your father. "Hongjoong."

You grabbed his face again, gently rubbing your thumb along his rough skin. "What you went through, what you've done. It doesn't define you now. You're such a caring, sweet, sexy, and kind man. I couldn't ask for a better person to be my first."

You've never confessed such a thing a loud before. Sure you have a big crush on the older man, but you've never actually said it to him. You were falling in love with him and you wanted him to know that. He smiled, kissing you again. It was slow, passionate, and soft. You could feel his love spilling from his heart to yours, and then he pulled away. "So you think I'm sexy."

"That's what you got out of it!!" You whacked his bare chest, making him huff out a breathy 'hey'. You went to hit him again, but he grabbed your wrist this time, pinning your arms above your head. Everything fell silent after that, his lips find your cheeks once again, littering your face with kisses. 

"I want to take you out. I want to spoil you." He kissed down your neck. "I want to call you mine and be with you without the thought of anyone judging." His kisses trail down to your collarbone, than the valley of your chest, kissing every part of skin he could. "I don't care about your father. If he doesn't approve then fuck him. I want to call you mine. If you'll let me."

He gave your nipples a suck each before kissing back up to your face, locking his lips with yours. You could feel him shuffling around, using his free hand that wasn’t holding your wrists to fondle your breast. You were becoming lost in your feelings. Mind spinning as you felt Hongjoong’s tongue dance around your own. Teeth clashing against teeth as the kisses become hotter… messier. Everything was perfect, letting you slip into complete bliss until Hongjoong panted against your swollen lips “Take a deep breath for me.”

You didn’t understand but followed his order obediently anyway. that’s when you felt his warm, wet tip slip against your hole. You quivered, whimpering at the feeling. You needed him so badly, that your mind was short-circuiting. “S-sir, please. Please. Put it in me.” 

“Fuck baby, you can't say those types of things.” He moaned, resting his head on your shoulder, his hand that was needing your breasts was now stroking his cock. He had pulled his jeans down to his thighs, making you pull your leg up to help push them further down until they started slipping off his thighs and pooling at his knees. He kissed your shoulder before sitting up fully. 

"Hong—fuck...." You gritted your teeth as you saw his cock resting against his leg. He wasn't huge, but his girth made you swallow a harsh ball of saliva. How on earth was that thing going to fit inside you? You couldn’t help but take him all in, eying his whole figure. This man was built like a god if you’d ever seen one.

“You like what you see angel?” he laughs, finally throwing his jeans somewhere in the room. you sat up, spreading your legs wider so he could get a full view of your soaked cunt. Your smile was devious and dangerous. Just like the one you put on the first night, you were both together. The brat in you was showing. He had to chuckle watching you intensely with a bitten lip as you touched yourself. Your hand inching slowly towards where you needed him most.

“I don’t know. Do you like what you see, Daddy?” 

He was back on top of you with a growl in his throat. His face inches from yours and his cock rubbing against your clit. Your eyebrows knotted together as he breached your hole, tip sitting tightly inside you. You gulp, trying your best to take a deep shaky breath. His eyes never left yours as he watched you come undone. Your mouth fell open as each inch slipped into your abused cunt. Your moans were weak, breaking into a cry as he finally bottomed out completely. “Fuck, your cunt is so tight baby. So warm. You are doing such a good girl. My best girl.”

“H-Hongjoong t-too big.” Your whimpers were high-pitched and whiny. Your bratty nature out of sight. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you pushed against him slightly. It wasn’t that you wanted him off you by any means but your mind was racing. From feeling so full, pleasure surging through your whole body mixing with a sharp pain coming from being stretched out by his cock. And then there was the overwhelming feeling of having failed your father, letting his best friend fuck you…. But as Hongjoong kissed your tears that ran from your eyes. He whispered back to you lovingly, tenderly.

“It’s okay princess. You are doing so well. Keep taking deep breaths for me. Relax.” What he really wanted to say was how fucking tight you were. How good you felt around him. How he wanted to bust a nut right then and there. “C-can I move..fuck…” His pants became more frantic as you nodded your head with a little ‘please’. his hands that rested on either side of your head, now one rested on your hip and the other behind your neck, holding you in place. Your legs wrapped themselves tightly around his waist, letting him thrust slowly and deeply into your wet pussy.

His nose rubbed against yours, while his mouth left agape mere inches from your own. Your breath mixed with his with each pant and battered breath. Your eyes had snapped shut, focusing solely on his cock inside you alone. Hongjoong felt like he was on cloud nine, the way you moaned his name. Hugged him tightly. The way your body needed him just as he needed yours. Everything was just as he imagined if not more. His little angel. His sweet best friend's daughter. “Fuck, angel. You feel so good. My dirty little girl.”

“D-dirty?!” You gasped as his hand left your hip to push the pillow up more so he could fuck you deeper. His chuckle felt cold, chilling and oh-so-pleasurable. 

“Hmmm yes, my dirty...” He tilted against your ear grunting with each thrust. “little cocksleeve. So tight and warm for me, fuck.” You whimpered at his filthy words, digging your nails into his skin, fearing to draw some blood as his thrusts got sharper. Hongjoong didn’t mean to slip up with his rambles but he couldn’t help it. It just felt so right. And you felt the same.

“Yes, daddy. Please. H-Harder please.” You gasped throwing your head back. Hongjoong sat up this time, hooking your right leg over his shoulder, chuckling darkly. Your smile grew feeling his cock sink deeper inside you. He held onto your plump thigh for deal life as he humps his cock into your pussy, grunting at the feeling of your walls spasming around him. He swallowed in a sharp breath, snapping his eyes shut with a loud hiss going blind by the tight feeling of your squeezing cunt. 

“Fuck, baby. How did I wait this long to fuck this tight cunt? I should have fucked you the night we screwed around.” He lent down bending your body at an odd angle but the burn made your head spin in the best way possible. He cupped your chin, pulling your focus back to him, staring into his hot, lust-filled eyes. “You would have liked that huh darling? Me fucking you while your father is in the next room.”

“Jesus fucking christ.” You snapped, yelling at you felt the tingle in your gut grow quicker. “Yes, Joong. I wanted you to fuck me then and there so so badly.”

“Ha, See you are a dirty girl. I should punish you. Maybe I’ll wake you up tomorrow to eating this deilous pussy until your screaming me to stop.”

“Yes, Yes Yes. Please.” You babbled, squeezing tightly around him. You were so close to the edge, and Hongjoong could tell. By the way your face scrunched and how your legs started to shake. He knew you just needed a little push.

“You gonna cum baby? Come on, let go. I wanna feel you cum around my cock darling.” He growled in your ear, moving your leg back around his waist so he could move closer to you. Your lips found his against in a heated moment. Passion spilling out with each thrust as he swallowed your moans.

“Joongie please come with me. Come inside me. I wanna feel you.” You mumbled against his mouth, making him let out a groan. His stomach tightened as he tried to hold on just for a little longer. He needed to feel you come first. He needed to feel you as you tightened around him. As your eyes rolled back and you finally let go. You swore over and over again as felt him empty his load deep inside you. Your scent mixing with his as his groans harmonized with yours. 

“God, I love you.” His hips stuttered before stopping entirely. Your heart was thumping so hard against your chest that you could hear it in your ears. Hongjoong was the same, panting like he had just run a marathon. He kissed your cheeks, then your jaw and lips, littering your face in soft pecks. The silence that consumed the room suddenly felt comforting, like a blanket you’d wrap around yourself on a cold day.

You could feel Hongjoong slowly soften inside you, but didn’t pull out. Your fingers raked through his hair, scratching his scalp. You couldn’t have sworn he was purring for a second. “H-Hongjoong.”

“Yes, dear?” He hummed so casually like this was just a normal night shared with a lover.

“I-I think I love you too.” You whispered unsure if it was the right thing to say. He had blurted out the words of devotion in the heat of the moment and it worried you that he might not have meant it. But it was in fact the opposite. He had to constantly bite his tongue so he wouldn’t say it. And in the moment it felt right. His smile grew, sitting on his elbows so he could see your sweaty, beautiful face, dancing in afterglow.

“I’m glad. Cause I mean it. I’m foolishly in love with you.” He tried to act dramatic which caused you to hit his chest lightly. He sat up with that action finally pulling out of you. You shivered as he did it, feeling his cum slowly slip out of you. “Sorry about…that. I should have put a condom on.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed that he, a supposably mature man, couldn’t control himself. You sat up slowly, reaching for his bicep before rubbing him lovingly “Hey, it's okay. I asked for it. And I’m on birth control so it's fine.”

“Well in that case.” He smirked pulling you onto his lap. You hissed slightly at your sore limbs and overly sensitive sex. His arms wrapped around your waist, letting your chest rest flushed against his.

“Now now soldier. I think definitely cannot go another round without some rest.” You laughed peppering his cheek slowly. He hummed knowing you needed rest and a part of you knew he was half joking about going another round…

“shower and sleep.” He mumbled against the crook of your neck, feeling his fingers draw shapes into your back. You sighed feeling so much contentment. Safe in his arms. You both knew that what had now happened was something forbidden, and you both were going to have to confront your father at some point.

But as Hongjoong helped you to the bathroom and slowly lathered you with body wash that smelt like him with giggles and laughter echoing in the spacious shower room. Neither of you cared for the outside world. Not when Hongjoong's lips brushed against you every so often as you rinse the soap off your body. Not when he put you in one of his shirts and dragged you back to bed with his fingers tangled with yours. 

And not when he held you tightly, whispering how beautiful you are. How lucky he is and now he was never going to ever let you go.

-♡

[its-rach-writes]

Cotton Candy Kisses - Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After a revelation at dinner, you realise that Spencer isn't as innocent as he seems.

Warnings: fluff, fluff and more fluff!

A/N: This is part two to my artist!reader mini series, you can read part one here but its not neccessary to understand this one. Thank you for your love on the first part, I love you all! xxx

You were saying goodbye to everyone who had stopped by your art class as you cleared away the paint and wiped off the splatters. As they filed out of the café, a couple of people stopped to ask you if you needed a hand in clearing things away but you waved away all their sweet offers. As you wiped the counter, the door opened and you spoke without looking up.

“I’m sorry, we’re closing up.”

“I know; thought you might need some help.”

You could hear the smile in his voice without looking up, when you did look up, your heart jumped in your chest as you saw the handsome Doctor grin at you, “Spence! Hey!” you gave him a hug, giggling as he lifted you from the floor.

It was hard to believe that this was the same man from a couple of months ago who hated physical contact. He still had his limits of course, “when did you get back?”

“Last night,” he smiled as he set you on your feet.

“How was the case?” you asked and his smile dropped just a fraction but it was enough for you to notice, “it doesn’t matter,” you said quickly.

“Need a hand?”

“I’m nearly done but I’d like the company,” you smiled.

Spencer helped you clean the paint and scrape the paper-mache from the tables. He laughed as he looked at some of the paintings that were left behind. He carefully picked up a landscape painting, “these are way better than my stickmen.”

You laughed as you glanced up at him, “I don’t know, the one you did of Hotch funnily enough, was a striking resemblance.”

It didn’t take long for you to close up shop and Spencer offered to walk you home. It was a beautiful day and Spencer’s shoulder brushed up against yours every so often which did nothing to quell your developing crush on him.

“Oh,” he said as if he’d suddenly remembered something, “the team are going to Rossi’s tonight for dinner, he wanted to know if you would like to come.”

“That’s really nice of him.”

As soon as you started hanging out with both Spence and Emily, the team found ways to include you every time they got together outside of a case.

“I’d love to come.”

“Great,” he grinned.

You smiled, your cheeks flushing as you pulled your new lip balm out of your pocket, and applied it. The sickly sweet smell must have washed over Spencer because he glanced down at you.

“Is that cotton candy?”

“Uh huh, it’s new.”

“Can I get some?”

His request shocked you, you knew he had a thing with germs, he hardly shook hands with people and now he wanted to share a lip balm with you?

“You have a thing against germs and this has glitter in it. Are you sure that you want some?”

“No, that’s not what,” he sighed, “never mind.”

You narrowed your eyes at him but you didn’t say anything in reply, and he didn’t bring it up again.

“I’ll see you tonight then?”

Spencer nodded as he smiled down at you but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and his eyes looked almost sad, “yeah, see you.”

You had gone shopping a few weeks ago and you’d bought a new dress that you hadn’t had a chance to wear yet. The excitement of having dinner at Rossi’s pushed whatever was up with Spencer to the back of your mind. The hot day turned into a warm night so Rossi set dinner up outside. The wine was flowing and chilled – only the white wine, Rossi would execute you himself if you tried to chill red wine, when Derek spoke up.

“So, what’s up with Reid?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder and into the kitchen where Spencer was talking to Hotch.

When no one answered, you looked around the table to find everyone staring at you, “why are you asking me? How should I know?”

Garcia made an impatient noise, “every minute he’s not working or with his mom, he’s with you. And, even when we’re on a case he finds a way to tie you into the conversation.”

“He does?” you flushed as you turned to look at him, when Derek cleared his throat, you turned back to the group, “I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

After dinner, Spencer was forgotten, that was until Savannah, Derek’s girlfriend pulled out her lip gloss and started applying it.

“Can I get some of that mama?” he smirked, she rolled her eyes but leaned over to kiss him.

JJ groaned, “god, we get enough of that at the office, we don’t need it here too.”

Your mouth fell open as you put two and two together, your heart dropped like a rock and you suddenly got up and walked into the kitchen were Spencer was getting a drink. He glanced over his shoulder as you cupped his cheeks and kissed him. He didn’t kiss you back and you second guessed yourself, maybe he’d meant what he said. You pulled away, his thumb brushed against your jaw, your red lipstick smudged against his lips.

“I still want to try the cotton candy flavour,” he grinned as he pulled you into another kiss.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || He Throws His Wedding Ring [Hyung Line] [Mafia Edition]

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - February 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of blood, killing, sex trafficking (not involving the reader) murder and fighting.

CHAN:

You couldn't even remember how the argument had and now you and Chan were standing in his living room staring at one another. Your breathing was rapid as you fought back the tears that were threatening to spill.

"Chan, I can't do this anymore. This life, the constant worrying and danger...Secrets...Not knowing if you're going to come home or not." You were exhausted from fighting with him, it had been going on for hours now and it felt as though he was never going to see your point of view behind this.

"This is who I am, Yn. You knew that when we got married, I can't just walk away from this."

"I didn't sign up for a life where I'm constantly worried if you'll come home alive! Or worried that someone will grab me!" You sniffled a little tears streaming down your cheeks.

"I want a normal life, a family without the fear of losing you every fucking day!" You finally yelled out but Chan scoffed at you like you were a child talking back to him.

"Normal? You think we can just walk away from this and be a normal couple?" He stared you down and shook his head at you, 

"It's not that simple. I have responsibilities, they won't just let us go." He grumbled at you, pouring himself a drink from the mini bar in the living room as you stared at the back of his head.

"Responsibilities?! Chan, you have a responsibility to me, you know...your wife! I won't be a widow before I'm at least 80!" You yelled at him finally losing your last bit of patience.

"You'll always put this life above me...Won't you?" You questioned, waiting for him to tell you that was crazy and that he loved you more than that,

"You knew when you married me that this was our life. Don't go trying to change the rules now." He downed the glass in one and you stared at him, the tears finally stopping as you felt nothing but anger for him now.

"Then maybe I made a mistake. Maybe I never should have married a man who thinks throwing his life away is honourable," The words flew from your lips before you had a chance to process them and the air turned thick and silent. You swore you could hear the faucet in the kitchen dripping, that's how quiet it was in the home now.

Chan silently twisted the ring around his finger before slipping it off and hurling it across the room, the ring clattered against the wall and onto the floor,

"There, happy now?! Is that what you wanted?!" He screamed at you, and your eyes searched him for any sign of your once-happy husband, the one you wanted to spend your life with.

"No, Chan. I wanted a husband, not some mafia boss..." You slowly slid the ring off your own finger and placed it down onto the coffee table,

"I can't sit here night after night waiting for that phone call to tell me you're not coming home." You wiped the tears from your face and walked toward the front door, Chan didn't stop you he just stared down at the wedding ring on the floor, the weight of his choices crushing him down onto the floor.

It had been two days since the huge blowout with Chan and you'd been hiding out in one of your friend's places for those two days, no phone or tracker for Chan to find you with which was why it was surprising to find him waiting for you at the door.

"What are you doing here?"

"Kat called," You scoffed a little, she'd been threatening to do it but you never thought she would. Whatever happened to the girl code?

"I'm not interested in fighting anymore. If you send divorce papers I'll sign, I don't want anything." You explained as you moved around him, unlocking the front door to head inside. You'd been apart and it killed you but anything was better than worrying every day about whether he was alive or not.

"Yn." He called out but you shook your head at him,

"You can keep everything,"

"I have nothing." The words stopped you in your tracks as you slowly turned to face him,

"What?"

"I walked away. Not without consequences but I did." It was then you noticed the sling around his arm, within seconds you were by his arm and inspecting it.

"It's just a minor break," He whispered as you stared up at him,.

"You walked away?" You whispered in shock, staring down at the ring that was back on his finger.

"Given the choice between that life and the love of my life? I needed to." He held out your wedding ring and you stared into his eyes, the mafia life was everything to him,

"But-"

"I'll still work for them but mostly low-level stuff...You're looking at a desk boy." He said proudly to you, it hurt his ego but he'd rather be chained to a desk than risk losing you. You slipped your ring back on before throwing your arms around Chan and hugging him tightly.

MINHO:

The living room was thick with tension as you paced back and forth in front of Minho who lounged on the sofa with a sombre look on his face but it only made you more frustrated to look at him.

"You promised me," You seethed out, shaking your head at him.

"You promised me that you were done with this...Done with all of the killing." You gestured to his shirt which was drenched in blood and then looked at his face. Streaks of blood and skin were dripping down his face as you felt the bile in your throat beginning to come up again. He'd walked through the door all nonchalant thinking you weren't home today only to find you waiting for him,

"I did what needed to be done, Yn!" He didn't yell or scream he just sighed at you. He thought he might have been able to get away with it if he could get home before you and shower before you had a chance to see him. 

Sure he would have been lying to you but anything was better than getting into a fight with you over the same thing you always thought over.

"You told me things were going to change once I got pregnant," Your sight began to blur from the tears that were building up,

"You said you wanted our child to have a father but look at you!" You gestured once again to the state of him,

"If our child sees this what are they going to think!?" You yelled and threw your hands up in frustration. All of this was supposed to stop once you got pregnant, he promised he'd take a step back and leave the dirty work to his minions. 

"You think it's easy for me?!" He finally screamed, getting up from the sofa and staring you down.

"Do you actually think I enjoy living like this?! Killing people?! Sometimes there is no other choice!" He yelled at you, your eyes unblinking as you stared at him.

"There's always a choice! You could have found another way." You grumbled at him, you were sick of this fight. Every time it was the same, he'd promise to stop killing only to pick it back up a few days later.

"I won't raise our child in his environment, Minho. I won't let him grow up to think it's normal to kill people in order to get what he wants."

"Yn. It wasn't to get what I wanted."

"No? Then what was it? He looked at you wrong? Flirted with me?" You listed off all the excuses he'd given to you before and Minho finally snapped, pulling off his ring and throwing it across the room. It skittered across the floor coming to a stop at your feet.

"Whatever. You want something so normal, go on and try it." With that he walked out, slamming the door behind him as you stared down at the wedding band on the floor. Something that had once been a symbol of your commitment to one another now meant nothing as it sat there.

"Changbin told me everything." You told Minho as you sat in the hospital waiting room together. It was deserted since Minho would never let anyone be alone with you,

"Hmm." He answered blandly, staring down at the floor. It had been a week since your fight and despite living in the same house you'd barely spoken a word to one another.

"Why didn't you tell me he was a sex trafficker."

"Would it have made a difference?" He slowly turned his head to look at you, your eyes were already staring into his as you nodded at him,

"Yes."

"I only kill who I have to. It's not something I do for fun." He admitted, his voice shaking a little. It wasn't as though it didn't affect him, he was taking another person's life which twisted him up in a way.

"I try and limit what I have to do myself but sometimes I have to do it." He told you with tears running down his cheeks, you nodded a little before kissing his cheek and squeezing his hand in yours.

"I understand,"

"I won't bring work home with me...Please, just don't leave." He begged, Minho wasn't the type to beg anybody for anything and you nodded.

"Wouldn't dream of it," You whispered before kissing him once more.

CHANGBIN:

You stared at Changbin from across the table with an unimpressed look on your face, Changbin had sweat dripping down his forehead as he glanced down at his phone for the time again.

"This was supposed to be our night," You were pissed at him, you wanted to yell at him for standing you up but you were in such an upscale restaurant you couldn't even do that.

"A simple dinner date and you couldn't even make it on time." You mumbled at him, 

"I got held up. Business came up." Changbin answered as if it made the whole thing better

"Business always comes up. I'm tired of being second best to your business." As you spoke Changbin took out his phone clearly not listening to you as he began texting with someone, probably one of his men if you knew him well enough by now.

"It's not like I enjoy this but it's the life I have." He shrugged his shoulders as you stared at him, his head still in his phone, he didn't even see the tears rolling down your cheeks in a silent cry. 

It seemed that was all you ever did lately when it came to your relationship, you'd be left crying while he pretended he didn't notice or maybe he didn't even notice, you didn't know anymore.

"We're drifting apart, Binnie. You're never here and I need more." Your voice broke as you spoke to him, your frustration getting the better of you.

"I knew who you were when we got married but I didn't sign up to be stood up, or for anniversaries and birthdays to be missed." You'd finally broken, he'd missed so much of married life you weren't even sure you could count each other as a married couple. 

"I want a life with you, not one where I'm always waiting for you to show up and magically decide I'm worthy that day." Changbin stared down at the ring on his finger before he twisted it, throwing it onto the table and gaining attention from nearby diners.

"Maybe you're right. I can't give you what you need." Was all he said before storming off, leaving you to stare down at the ring on the table as people around you muttered about what had happened.

"You know this is getting a little exhausting," Changbin told you as he followed you from the car to the house just like he had been doing every day since the night he'd given you his wedding ring back.

"I want a divorce." You told him plainly as you headed into the house you once had called home and he followed swiftly. 

"You know you can't walk away. I've been trying, Yn."

"I'm not interested in you trying anymore Changbin, I'm tired of never being put first..." Your voice trailed to a stop as you walked into the living room, there must have been thousands of your favourite flowers around the living room in vases and different arrangements.

"A thousand and one flowers...To make up for the dates I missed." He explained once he saw you trying to work out how many there were.

"W-What?" You stuttered a little walking toward them and running your hands on them to make sure that they were real.

"I missed too many to count so a thousand and one seemed fitting." He shrugged his shoulders and you turned around to stare at him.

"You didn't miss anywhere near a thousand." You laughed weakly and he stood in front of you, running his hand gently over your cheek as he stared down into your eyes,

"I won't miss a single one again...If you'll take me back." You wanted to, more than anything but it was going to take a lot more than flowers to make up for all of the time you'd lost together.

"It's going to take more than some-"

"I know." He told you with a smirk on his lips,

"And you're going to have to show me change." He planned on it, he had a plan in place for everything he was going to do.

"I know."

"And I- I wanted to go out regularly, once a week." You told him, right now Changbin would have given you whatever you wanted and one date a week sounded too easy on him in his eyes,

"Okay." He smiled at you,

"Okay?" You frowned as he smirked down at you.

"Yes, okay. Now will you let me kiss you?" You went to speak but it was quickly stopped as Changbin kissed you deeply.

HYUNJIN:

You couldn't believe it was coming down to this, you stared at your husband as he stared back at you with a scowl on his face clearly unamused by what was happening but you were tired of all of this. Tired and hurt about second guessing where you fell in Hyunjin's life.

"I need to know..." Your voice came out shakey as you stared at him,

"Do you even love me anymore?" You finished before he scoffed at you, downing the glass of whiskey he'd been nursing and shaking his head at you.

"What kind of question is that? Of course, I do." It wasn't a silly question, it was something you'd been agonising over for weeks now, months even.

"Your actions say otherwise." You scoffed, staring at him as he poured himself another glass and began to slowly nurse it as you stared at him.

"You're always so caught up in your business and I'm always here wondering if I even matter to you."

"This is the life of a mafia wife Yn. You knew that when you married me." You did, which was a fair point but he'd shown you that while it was a lot of waiting for him it was supposed to be a lavish lifestyle the two of you could share. You couldn't even remember the last time you'd gone out together that wasn't an obligation to the both of you.

"I didn't sign up to be a in loveless marriage! You promised me it would be in sickness and in health, for better or worse." He drank from his glass before pouring a third one for the night, usually two were his cut off so you knew you were getting under his skin a little and if that's what it took for him to see your point then you didn't care.

"I need more than lavish gifts from you every now and again and empty promises that we'll do something eventually."

"I take you out." He defended angrily but you didn't back down. There hadn't been a real date since you got married to one another, everything else was parties you had to be seen at or charity events you couldn't miss.

"To your stupid parties where your presence is required. You never take me somewhere we want to go."

"You don't think I provide for you!? Is that it?!" He finally yelled, losing his patience with you. Hyunjin adored you, practically worshipped the ground you walked on and for you to suggest otherwise was a knife to his chest,

"No-"

"I work like a dog, day and night and I give you everything you could ever possibly need in life!" He shouted out, not meaning to shout at you but he'd snapped that last bit that was holding him back,

"I don't NEED material things, I need you! I need your love! I need your presence!" You yelled at him.

"You know what I feel when we go out to your parties?" He doesn't answer you, instead, he stares down at the liquid in his glass that is burning his throat,

"I feel like a fucking trophy on your arm, something you can show off as the "Ha I got her" look." You started down at the wedding ring on his finger. Hyunjin had no idea you felt that way, his heart broke a little as he stared back at you, how could he have not seen it before?

"If you love me, then show it. Actions speak louder than words." In a fit of frustration, Hyunjin takes the ring off his finger and hurls it onto the table, the metal echoing around the room.

"You don't love me." You barely whispered before walking out of the room,

You'd walked out on him two weeks ago and since then he'd been nothing but sweet to you, showing up every day to walk you to work and bring you lunch.

"Why are you doing all this?" You asked as you stared at the picnic that was on your office floor.

"I'm starting again." He told you as if it explained everything he'd been doing for the last two weeks.

"What?" You slowly sat down on the floor noticing that everything he had was all of your favourite foods.

"You said actions speak louder than words. I'm starting from the beginning with you, more dates, more time together." He held out a glass for you and you took it from him,

"To new beginnings." Your eyes stared down at his hand as you noticed the ring was back in its rightful place.

"New beginnings." You said, clinking your glass with his and smiling a little. Maybe it wasn't the best way to start again but if it was him truly trying to change you were going to give it your best shot.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @xakx @sleepb @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @kpopmenace143 @minhosify @loveforred @b1nn1e-1s-cut3

[bambikisss]

To make an album: K. HongJoong

(Bambi's ver!) Producer bf HJ X Famous singer reader

'To make an album, you need three things: a studio, a mic, and a damn good producer'

📙: You have been on the rise since your debut album almost 4 years ago. Now, your millions of fans are demanding a full album from you and the company is on you about finishing it before the deadline, giving you one big choice: who will produce your album?

⚠ : Unprotected sex (always wrap it up and keep it safe), Mentions of past poor producers, Sex in the studio, Multiple rounds, recording sex, car sex, use of handcuffs (reader), L bomb, use of mirror, Spanking, HJ calls reader names (baby girl, slut, puppy, baby), Slight Dumbification, slight degradation, pussy obsessed HJ, basically smut with barely plot, Producer HJ (whole warning)

🎶: Mushroom Chocolate - Quin ft 6lack, Lil Freak - Usher, Take Me -Miso, Gorilla - Bruno Mars

Bambi's notes: SO what happened was that I got carried away because producer HJ is a version of him I will NEVER get over lol. Smut with semi plot, not really.

TAGLIST: @teez-the-time @yawnzshit @sugarnspice630 @sarah-55213 @certifiedmoa @scarfac3 @woohwababes @doritochoi @wisejudgedragonhairdo @yourfatherlucifer

ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY | REBLOGS + COMMENTS APPRECIATED | buy me a coffee?

'Y/N L/N is set to release her long awaited full album in two months. Fans have been waiting for a full album from her since her debut almost 4 years ago. What kind of sound do you think she'll go for? Please let us know via social media at-'

"Alexa, turn this off." You ran your hands through your hair as you walked through your large apartment, your feet padding against the floor as you entered the kitchen. It was far too early to hear anyone talk about you, even if it was positive.

You raised to the tips of your toes as you grabbed your coffee bag from the cabinet, the dim morning light lighting the kitchen for you as you began to make your morning coffee. You had a long day in the studio ahead of you and knew you couldn't get by without any sort of caffeine.

You were at the top of your career after debuting 4 years ago. You had gained millions of fans and had put out award-winning singles and mini-albums. You even went on a sold-out tour a couple of months back.

However, while you were more than content with your singles and mini-albums, your fans had been getting vocal about wanting a full album from you, just like when you first came onto the music scene. You had put it off for as long as you could, not finding the process of making the full album interesting enough to hold your full attention. Plus, the producer who produced your debut album was an asshole, which made you unwilling to make another one. But, the company was now placing their foots down, not releasing any more of your music until you presented them with a full album.

You jumped lightly as you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back to rest against his chest. You relaxed at the feeling of his lips pressed against your cheek, a small hum leaving his lips as you rubbed his arms. You tilted your head back to admire the man who held you close, his dark brown hair still a mess from sleep. His eyes scanned your face as if you were a piece of art, the corners of his lips curling up as you smiled back at him. It felt like such a sweet moment between you and him, forgetting all about your problems.

"Did you make enough coffee for the two of us?" HongJoong's deep, sleep-laced voice made your smile grow as you loved how he sounded when he just woke up. You nodded, leaning forward to check the pot before turning around in his arms to face him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he placed a sweet kiss onto your forehead, his hands resting on your hips as he did so. "Good. How's the last 4 tracks of your album coming along?"

You frowned as he mentioned your album, placing a kiss on his lips as you tried to shut him up about it. It was bad enough that all the fans and the company were constantly asking you about it, you didn't want your boyfriend to ask you about it too, especially before your coffee.

HongJoong only chuckled at your attempt to silence him, pulling back to look down at you with knowing eyes. He knew you'd rather forget about it, but he wanted to help, especially since the company had their eyes on you. "Baby, you can't just kiss me whenever you want to shut me up, you know?" He laughed.

"I wasn't trying to shut you up, but I don't wanna talk about the album right now, baby." You smiled, moving to lean against the counter as HongJoong moved to grab you and him a mug for the coffee. He chuckled again, filling your mug with caffeine before sliding it over to you, a smile on his lips as he said "But we should talk about it, especially with that deadline you have coming up."

You took a sip of your coffee as he returned to stand in front of you, leaning against the opposite counter with a comforting smile. HongJoong knew about your past producer who treated you poorly when you were putting out your debut album. He had met you right afterward, so he understood when you didn't want anything to do with him unless it had to do with music. But, as time went on, you and him grew closer. Now you two had been dating for 2 years.

"Y/N, baby." HongJoong tilted his head to meet your gaze, offering you a comforting smile as he took a sip of his coffee before standing back up straight. Only when he is sure that he has your full attention does he ask "Did you find a producer yet?"

You hadn't. You had been writing and recording demos all by yourself, choosing to put off picking a producer till the very last second. You didn't know any other producers you trusted with a project like this. You shook your head, meeting your boyfriend's eyes over your coffee cup as you said "I'll probably just take whoever the company assigns to me to produce this."

To your surprise, HongJoong's eyes lit up at your words before he said "Well, let me produce it."

You narrowed your eyes over the mug of coffee at your boyfriend, trying to see what he meant by that. At your sharp and questioning gaze, he placed his mug down on the counter before saying "I'll produce your album." You and HongJoong had only worked on two other songs together, those two songs doing well on the charts and even winning awards. However, you wanted to keep your relationship and your music separate, but HongJoong wasn't having that. He placed his hands on your waist, a small pout on his lips as he asked "do you not have faith in me and my skills? I know what it takes to make a good album, you know."

"What do you need, HongJoong?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest as your boyfriend smirked, his hands moving to your thigh, his fingers playing with the edge of the large t-shirt you slipped on after your many rounds with him last night. His fingers slowly dragged up the sides of your thighs, small goosebumps being left in his wake as it moved underneath your shirt, cupping your ass as he spoke with confidence ''To make an album, you need three things: a studio, a mic, and a damn good producer''

You were no longer paying attention to his words, his lips grazing yours as he placed a small kiss onto the corners of your lips, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he pressed his chest against your folded arms. HongJoong lips dragged against your cheek to your ear, his hands moving up the small of your back as he spoke into your ear "plus, think of all the fun things we can do in the studio. I know you like riding me while I produce"

You bit your lip at the memory of you riding him in his studio while he tried to focus on producing: you had been missing him while on tour and was on break for a week when the company asked him to produce a song for Yunho. You had been begging him to just take an hour's break and come home to fuck you, but he was very insistent on finishing the song that night. He responded to your needy texts with a simple "If you want me that badly, you better come and get it."

"You were so wet for me, babe" You shivered as he placed a kiss onto your neck, his hands now moving back down to your ass, his finger dipping underneath the panty fabric to tease you before he whispered again "I remember that I had to cover your mouth while I bent you over my keyboard because you were so goddam loud, moaning and whining like a bitch in heat."

"HongJoong" you whispered, the desire in the air making you forget what the conversation was even about. You closed your eyes as your panties snapped back against you, his hands soon moving to grab the sides, teasing you by pulling them down slightly before snapping the fabric back against you. HongJoong smirked at the sight in front of him, his cock pressing against his thin boxers as he repeated his process a few more times till your hands were gripping the countertops. He had you right where he wanted you.

You closed your eyes as he leaned in close to your lips, hoping he would take mercy on you and just kiss you. You were soon filled with disappointment as his hands left your body, opening your eyes to see his proud orbs. He placed one of his hands underneath your jaw, making sure you kept your eyes on him as he said "just think about it, baby."

You sighed silently as he let go of your chin, grabbing his coffee cup before walking away to begin getting ready for his day. You took a deep breath, hoping to calm down as you looked outside your apartment windows. You pressed your legs together as you felt your wetness pool in your panties, your boyfriend's touch having lingering effects on you.

You thought about ambushing him while he showered, but your phone buzzed with a text from your manager, letting you know that she was on her way to pick you up and take you to the company so you could work on your album. You bit your lip, realizing that you had an hour to go get ready.

Today was going to be a long day.

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"No, he called me a bitch for not wanting too much autotune in my songs"

Your manager ran a hand through her hair as you denied another producer, sitting across from you in the meeting room at your company. She had a whole stack of worthy candidates to produce the album that you had worked with in the past, but you turned them all down. You had bad experiences with all of them that you didn't want to think about when you were working on an anticipated album.

Your manager called for a break so she could find another list of possible producers, sighing as you shot out of your seat and made your way to the doors. She called out to you before you could leave, a motherly look on her face as she said "Y/N, you have to let someone produce this album. You can't keep putting this off."

You nodded, walking out of the room silently. She was right, you couldn't keep putting it off, but you didn't want just anybody touching your tracks.

You ran your hands through your hair as you walked through the long hallway, looking for a practice room for you to record another song you had written. Maybe you could release an album full of demos?

Before you could enter the room, your eyes fell onto your boyfriend's studio down the hall. His door was covered in stickers that his visitors had placed there when they worked with him. The familiar feeling from this morning returned as you made your way to his studio, hoping to just get a glimpse of your boyfriend. You carefully opened his office to see him working on a track, his headphones snug on his head.

You smiled at the sight of your boyfriend producing, bouncing his head to the beat of the music while his fingers added to it. He was in his element and you found it incredibly sexy. You bit your lip as you closed the door behind you, making your way to him carefully as he continued to produce, not noticing you till you placed your hands onto his shoulders. His eyes glanced over at your manicured nails, smirking when he realized it was you.

He let your hands drag up his shoulders and neck, carefully taking off his headphones as he saved the track, knowing that he wouldn't be getting back to it for a while. He turned his chair around, looking up at you as you moved to his lap, both of you sighing as your warm, clothed pussy pressed against his clothed cock. He watched as you began to grind down against it, craving any sort of friction you could get. He gently grabbed your hips, helping you as he placed kisses along your neck.

"Did you think about what I said this morning?" He hummed against your neck, his tongue peaking out to lick your sweet spot, making you purr out "Hmm, what did you say this morning."

Your words were met with a bite from him, tsking as he pulled back to look at you, his hips meeting yours as you both ground against each other on his chair. "Don't tell me you didn't pay attention to me, baby. Or, were you distracted by something?" He played with you as he looked up at you, chuckling at your already fucked out looking state. He gently patted your cheek, licking his lips as he asked "Were you distracted, baby?"

At your nod, he let out a soft "aww," his voice laced with faux care as he unbuttoned your jeans, leaning down to place a kiss on your stomach as he looked up at you through his eyelashes. "I'm sorry baby, I'll make sure not to touch you when I'm talking to you"

You knew he wasn't really sorry, your hands running through his hair as his hands slid into the back of your jeans, pushing them down as much as he could. HongJoong loved it when you got distracted by his touch, loving the sight of you trying to remember what he was talking about while he picked you up from his lap, smirking at the wet patch that was on his own jeans.

"I was talking to you about me producing your album, baby," he said, unbuttoning his jeans as you took off your jeans and shirt, now standing before him in nothing but a thin thong and bra. You let out a playful "Oh? Were we really?" as you turned around, bending over as you pulled down your panties. You made a show out of it, smirking when you heard your boyfriend's breath hitch. You bit your lip as his hands made contact with your ass, his hands massaging the globes of your ass before he stood behind you, his cock slipping in between your thighs, making you moan softly.

"Yes, we were talking about me producing it. You need to learn to focus, babe." He hummed, pressing a kiss to the bottom of your neck while his hands moved up your sides slowly to your hair, his fingers making a ponytail out of your hair. Once he was satisfied, he kicked your legs apart further, making you lean forward to place your hands onto the couch he had in his studio as he spit down onto his cock, his spit coating the head of his thick cock before slowly pushing into you.

"Oooh, that's it baby" he groaned deeply, closing his eyes as your wet pussy welcomed him back in warmly. HongJoong couldn't get enough of your pussy, always wanting to be balls deep in you whenever he could be, even if you two of you weren't fucking. He swore he felt his brain turn off as he began to fuck you, his eyes shut tightly as fucked you. You gripped the couch as he fucked you, his cock stretching you out perfectly as you moaned into the couch. At the sound of your muffled moans, he pulled on your hair, tugging you so your back was arched, your head no longer on the couch as he drilled his cock into you.

You tried to keep quiet as he praised you through your moans, even lifting one of his legs to the couch so he could drill his cock deeper into you at an angle. He had you seeing stars in no time, panting out his name and moaning as he fucked you.

HongJoong soon pulled out of you, making you whine at the loss of his cock and back your ass up to where you thought he was. You were met with a hard spank to your ass, making you moan as your boyfriend dropped to his knees behind you, kissing your puffy pussy before whispering "hush baby, lemme taste you, then you can ride my cock till I fill you up."

You moaned at the thought, your moans only growing as HongJoong's tongue licked your pussy, flattening his tongue against you before sucking on your lips. You reached behind you to grab his hair, pulling him closer to your pussy as his hands gripped the flesh of your ass, spreading you for him to eat you.

One of the things you loved about him was how loud HongJoong got when he ate you out: you could vividly hear every time he sucked, licked, and spat back into your pussy. You bit your lip as he moaned lewdly into your pussy, his secret desires and your praises being moaned into your wet pussy, the vibrations making you shake. After one long lick, he pulled back, helping you to stand up (more like he held you while you leaned against his body) before leading you to his chair, sitting down on it before he pulled you down onto his lap.

You instantly knew what to do, sinking down on his cock with a pleasure-filled sigh. You began to grind down as his hands returned to your hips, guiding your hips to spell whatever he wanted. "You still haven't answered me, princess, come on." Your eyes snapped to meet his dark ones, your bottom lip quivering as you tried to remember what the hell he was talking about.

HongJoong tsked at your fuzzy memory, shaking his head before saying "I know you're in heat, baby, but you should at least be able to remember what I just said. Don't tell me my cock is stopping you from thinking." He leaned forward, biting your shaking bottom lip as he began to fuck up into you, pulling back as you moaned loudly, tossing your head back as he clicked his tongue. He suddenly stopped, smirking when you began to whine and try to move again, his grip on your hips tightening, warning you. "Look at me, baby, meet my eyes."

You did as you were told, his head falling back against the head of his chair as he opened his legs a little wider to make it more comfortable and to firmly plant his feet against the floor. "Tell me, baby, what were we talking about?"

Your brain once more short-circuited as his thumb began to rub small circles on your clit as your thought, your boyfriend's lips soon wrapping around your nipple as you stumbled out "You producing my album?"

"There we go, baby" HongJoong praised, helping you resume riding him as he fucked up into you. He watched as your face contorted to show pleasure, your head now tossed back as you eagerly rode his cock, making him moan. "That's my smart baby, huh? She may be a slut in heat, but she knows what's important, right?"

"Yes, yes" you moaned, HongJoong lips returning to your nipple with a soft "good girl." You let his words motivate you to move faster, no longer even registering that you were in his studio in the company with an album that was due soon. Nothing else mattered when he fucked you so well.

"Hmm, so what about what I said this morning, baby? Are you going to make the right decision and let me produce your album?" He hummed against your breasts as he moved faster, watching as you bounced faster to match him. He could tell you were about to cum and that he was getting close too, his own moans growing to match yours. It made him glad he soundproofed his studio that morning.

You nodded at his words, desperate to agree to whatever he wanted so you could cum, his lips crashing into yours as you both came. You held him close as you both kissed, your tongues locking in the kiss as you both ground against each other, both of your cum mixing and leaking out of you onto his cock, balls, and even a bit on the chair. Once you both had calmed down, you placed your head onto his shoulder as you took a deep breath, your eyes closed as HongJoong turned the chair around to face his setup, his hands running through your hair as he whispered "Whenever you're ready, baby, we can get started recording the tracks. We got an album to make."

Yes, the two of you did.

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"Looks like you found your main producer, huh?"

You smiled as you held your glass of champagne, turning to look at your boyfriend. HongJoong was across the party with his own glass of champagne, his custom-fitted dark purple velvet suit against his body while his freshly bleached hair was styled perfectly. He was talking to someone else, but with the feeling of your eyes on him, he suddenly made eye contact with him.

Throughout the whole album-producing process with him, you both had not been able to keep each other's hands off each other, fucking multiple times all around his studio.

"Yes, I did." Your eyes drank in the way HongJoong leaned against the wall, his eyes doing the same as walked around that night. HongJoong couldn't wait till the two of you got home, excited to rip off your short, dark purple dress that hugged your body perfectly. His eyes moved up your legs and thighs, his body heating up knowing what was between your thighs. He felt like he could pounce on you at any minute, not caring if everyone watched as he fucked you on the table. In fact, that was on his bucket list.

"Baby?" You turned around to see HongJoong now behind you, his lips still puffy from the make-out session you two had in the hallway 30 minutes ago. "I think it's time we go, Y/N. The party is winding down and I have another surprise for you at the apartment." A surprised "Oh really?" left your lips at his words, not expecting him to have a surprise for you waiting at the house. Before you could try and ask for hints, HongJoong's hand interlocked with yours, pulling you from the party. You tried your best to keep up with his fast walk as he walked outside, unlocking the car you and he shared before he opened the back door. You looked at it with confusion, HongJoong's only response being "Get in the backseat, baby. It'll all make sense later."

You sat in the backseat as he climbed in the front seat, the car ride silent as he sped home. You bit your lip as your eyes fell on your boyfriend's hands as they gripped the steering wheel, his veins popping out from how tightly he was holding it. Your eyes moved from his hands up his body, noticing how fast his chest was rising and falling. Your eyes soon looked into the rearview mirror, meeting HongJoong's hard gaze. You hadn't noticed that he was looking at you throughout the car ride, biting your lip as you spread your legs, giving the mirror and your boyfriend a perfect view of your soaked panties.

When HongJoong glanced into the mirror once again and saw your new position, he swore he almost pulled over right then and there. He smirked, glad to see that you were just as horny as he was for you. He reached back to touch your knee as his other hand stayed on the wheel. His eyes never left the road, but his voice let you know that he was still watching you.

"Why don't you run a pretty finger up your panties for me, baby? Tell me how wet you are for me" You did as you were told, dragging your fingers up your clothed pussy, shivering at how your panties stuck to you. "You're so wet, aren't you baby? Just a few more minutes, then we'll be back home. I'll take good care of you, I promise, just keep yourself wet for me."

You nodded, feeling a jolt of excitement rush through you at what was about to happen.

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"Joong, please" You closed your eyes as HongJoong ripped open the door to the car, his knees meeting the floor of the car in an instant at the sound of your voice. HongJoong has made you touch yourself over your panties constantly, not letting you give yourself any relief. He parked in a spot in the parking garage that was hidden from everyone else and from the security camera, making sure that no one could interrupt you two. He closed the doors behind him as he cooed at you, promising to ease your pussy's ache as he placed kisses along your inner thighs, moving closer to you.

He soon hooked his fingers into your ruined panties, tugging down the fabric. He had to pause when he saw a string of your arousal connect with the panties, making him look away to ensure that he didn't cum in his pants. He wanted you to have all of his cum, not wanting to waste a drop.

He finished removing your panties, placing the fabric into his pocket before he took in a shaky breath; it wasn't out of nerves, but to control himself. He spread your legs as wide as they could go, biting his lip at the view of your spread pussy. "Such a wet and naughty pussy. Did you want me as much as I wanted it, baby?" You nodded as he leaned in, licking a long, slow stripe up your pussy. Both of your loud moans mixed in the car as he repeated his motion, slurping up any more wetness that leaked from you with urgency.

HongJoong soon sped up, his licks moving faster as he pushed a finger into you, curling it as his tongue played with your clit. He loved watching how you rode his tongue and fingers when he ate you out, wanting more of him as he drowned in your pussy. He licked up his wrist, catching more juices before his tongue replaced his fingers, making your hands rush into his blonde hair, your back arching against the car seat as you came and squirted. HongJoong moaned loudly, cussing as he cleaned you up. You lay limp against the seat as he finally pulled back from your pussy, moving up the seat to stand in front of you.

"Talk to me, baby. Let me know you're still here with me" he cupped your face as he spoke, his thumbs rubbing along your cheeks as he waited for you to come down. When you finally nodded, he smiled before pressing a small kiss to your forehead. "There you are, baby. You came so much for me."

You smiled at his praise, reaching for his cock that was now pressing against his velvet pants, HongJoong's hand gently grasping your wrist to stop you. "Not right now, baby, not in here. Lemme move the car closer to the elevator and take you up to the apartment." You pouted as he got out of the car to move to the front seat, meeting your eyes in the mirror as he said "trust me, baby."

You trusted him as he moved the car to park in front of one of the elevators before helping you inside. When you both finally made it inside the apartment, you had to pause at the doorway.

The apartment was decorated with tons of flowers and heart balloons, led candles were lit all around the place. It looked so romantic. You turned to HongJoong as he locked the front door and removed his shoes, an obvious smile on his face as he walked past you. "Did you do all of this, Joong?" You followed him into the living room, smiling as he finally faced you with a smile on his face. "Of course I did. My girlfriend put out an album despite not choosing me two weeks before it was due" You rolled your eyes playfully as he pulled you close to him, smiling as he placed a kiss on your cheek. "But, I did this to show how proud of you I am, Y/N. I mean that."

You smiled as he kissed you again, the kiss this time sweet as you cupped the back of his neck as he began to lead you down the hallway, stumbling with you into walls. When you both finally reached the bedroom, the kiss had intensified to the point where your tongues were caressing each other. HongJoong pressed you roughly against the door, his hands moving around your body before he ripped down the front of your dress, shoving his face in between your tits as he picked you up. You moaned his name as he carried you to the bed, laying you down on it with ease before he pulled back, standing up.

For the first time that evening, you saw HongJoong's desire in his eyes fully. He looked at you as he began to unbutton his suit, commanding you to watch when you tried to move closer. His eyes drunk in your sprawled-out body on the bed before he removed his jacket, making his way into the closet that was adjacent to the bed. You kicked your heels off as you watched HongJoong toss the velvet jacket onto the floor carelessly before he roughly separated some hanging clothes. He leaned into the clearing he made before he took out a dark blue box that was covered in stickers and had a ribbon on it.

That dark blue box was your and HongJoong's sex box. HongJoong called it 'Joong's box', a play on Pandora's box. Inside the box contained anything either one of you had bought to use during sex, having decorated the box so if anyone saw it, they wouldn't think anything of it.

When HongJoong turned to exit the closet, the two of you made eye contact for a brief moment, and you felt your body shiver. He looked so far gone, not even recognizing the depth of desire he had for you. He gently removed the ribbon as he approached the bed, his thumb flicking off the top of the box as he stood in front of you. He smirked as he looked through the box, picking what he wanted to use on you tonight before he placed the box down onto the nightstand.

He moved you to your knees, allowing your hands to run up and down the fabric of his pants before you began to unbutton his pants, eager to get a taste of him as he fiddled with the box. As you pushed his pants down his thighs, your eyes zeroed in on his cock as HongJoong soon pulled out something from the box, placing them on the bed before he moved to grab the box top. You took the opportunity while he put the box back to see what he took out, moaning softly at what he picked out.

Sitting on the bed next to you was a black cannon camera and a pair of fuzzy red handcuffs. You bit your lip as he returned, picking up the camera to inspect it. "I think there's enough memory in here for tonight, don't you baby? I mean, we are celebrating."

You watched as he positioned the camera on the nightstand to get the perfect angle of you and him before pressing record, leaning down to give you also a sweet kiss. His lips gently rolled with yours as he kissed you, taking all the air from your lungs as he held the back of your neck, keeping you in the kiss. His hands slowly moved down the back of your dress, dragging the zipper down with him as he did so. "Are you going to be good tonight, Y/N? Say it loud enough for the camera to hear, baby girl."

"I'll be good for you, HongJoong. I'll always be good for you" you moaned as he bit your bottom lip, a proud smirk on his lips as he pulled back. "Of course you'll be good for me, baby. That's all a dumb puppy in heat like you wants, huh? Just my cock pleasing you?" HongJoong watched as you nodded, pushing down his boxers with a proud smile lacing his lips.

"Yeah? Come get your cock then, baby. I know you've been craving it since we got home." You rushed to give his cock a few pumps as your tongue dragged along his tip, gathering his precum on your tongue as he leaned over to grab the camera, holding it in one hand as another hand went into your hair, pushing you down onto his cock. You and HongJoong closed your eyes as you began to bob your head, your hand pumping what you couldn't take as he tossed his head back, offering you praise through his moans. When you couldn't meet his eyes, you looked into the camera, doing whatever it took to hear him curse and moan your name.

HongJoong tossed his forward, forcing himself to watch as you bobbed your head on his cock. He then leaned over to place the camera back on the nightstand before the hand that was in your hair pulled you off his cock, some of your saliva mixed with his precum dropping from your lips as he tilted your head back. He smirked at the sight before leaning beside you, grabbing the handcuffs while you pressed kisses to the side of his face, desperate for him.

"Place your hands behind you, baby." You did as you were told, looking up at him as he handcuffed your hands behind you, stopping you from being able to feel him. You whined softly, about to complain when you felt a sharp sting on your ass, the spank echoing in the room as HongJoong hissed "Shut it."

You nodded as he eased you down on the bed so your head was hanging off the edge while the rest of your body rested on the bed, his hands moving to knee your breasts as he positioned his cock at your mouth. "You shouldn't need your hands to take my cock baby. No, baby girl, you're a pro." He moaned as he pushed into your mouth, gripping your breasts as he began to fuck your throat. You gurgled around his cock as he used your mouth, your hands gripping the sheets as he continued to speak.

"No, my baby is a slut. My baby knows how to take some cock, especially when it's mine. You even made a whole song about sex with me, didn't you?" HongJoong asked, his voice now deeper than usual as he pulled out of your mouth, looking down at you with dark eyes.

Near the end of producing your album, you had chosen to get inspiration from your many nights in the studio with your boyfriend and write a bonus track. When HongJoong heard it, he fucked you all around the studio in one night. To say HongJoong liked it was an understatement.

You nodded as he turned you over onto your stomach, cupping your jaw as he fed his cock into your mouth, resuming his rough pace as he moaned. "Wrote a whole song surrounding getting me cock, didn't you, baby? Fuck, and when everyone hears it, they're going to wonder who you're singing about, not knowing that you were on your producer's cock while you sang about riding it."

You couldn't help but moan louder at his words, grinding down against the bed for comfort. With the sight of you grinding against the bed, your moans, and his own words working him up, HongJoong pulled out to cum all over your lips and chin with a loud moan of your name. You gently licked your lips as HongJoong calmed down, his still hard cock pressing against his stomach as he finally opened his eyes to look at you. He smiled at the sight before his thumb moved along your lips, cleaning you off before he grabbed a towel, wiping off your face fully.

HongJoong uncuffed you before he got on the bed next to you, his hands helping you move to your back as he slowly pushed into you. You whined, wrapping your legs around his waist as he leaned down to place his elbows onto either side of your head as he met your eyes. His eyes we not as dark as before, but softer as he slowly moved his hips. His hands soon intertwined with yours as he began to rock his hips to meet yours, placing small kisses around your face. "I know you're tired baby, just one more for me, ok? God, you're so perfect."

"One more" you purred against his lips, making him moan at your true fucked out state. He nodded, moaning against your lips "yeah, one more for me, baby. Fuck, I love you."

You felt your heart swell at his words, whispering that you loved him too as you both got lost in each other. HongJoong pressed his forehead against yours as he moved, pressing small kisses to your nose whenever he could before he moved to stuff his face into your neck. He felt his body heat up as he felt his climax approached, his breath now short as he let out a broken moan of your name as if he was calling out to you.

"Y/N...baby, I'm so close for you, I love you so goddam much" he moaned, moving to see your face as he moved faster, wanting to watch you fall apart. "Say my name, baby. Say my name while you cum for me. Let everyone know who you love"

"HongJoong," Your eyes rolled back as you came, your name leaving HongJoong's lips as he came with you, his hands slipping from yours to hold your face in a deep kiss as he shook. You wrapped your arms around him as you both rolled over onto your sides, the kiss slowing down to simple pecks. You both panted against each other's lips, holding each other as you both slowly came down.

HongJoong was the first one to move, standing up to go grab a towel before returning to you with shaky legs, both of you laughing when he fell onto the bed. He gently cleaned you up, whispering more praises to you and your pussy before he pulled you to his chest, rubbing your sides.

"So, you love me, huh?" Your question made your boyfriend of two years blush before turning away, making your smile grow. You moved to place your hands onto his shoulder, making him face you once more before you said "I love you, HongJoong. I wrote a whole damn album about you, so don't be the one getting embarrassed"

Your words made HongJoong smile and laugh, nodding before pulling your back down into his embrace, smiling at you snuggle into him. "How do you think your album is doing on the charts right now?" He asked, grunting as he stood up with you in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. You hummed against his shoulder, shrugging as he placed you on the toilet before going to turn on the shower.

HongJoong handed you your phone as he went into the bedroom, letting you check while he gathered shower stuff. When he returned, you had a bright smile on your face. "Number one everywhere and trending. Everyone is complimenting me and the producer."

Your words make your boyfriend laugh, placing the towels, lotion, and clothes onto the bathroom sink before he aimed the black camera to face the shower, making you smirk. "Why'd you bring the camera in here, baby?"

HongJoong smirked as he helped you to your feet, walking back into the shower with you as he said "I'm help you get inspiration for your next album. That's what a good producer does, baby. And, you're lucky, because you have one of the best helping you. Now, make sure you're loud enough for the camera baby, this all might be useful for another secret track."

Bambikisss | 2024

[multifandomgirl08]

Change [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: It's the end of the F1 season. Some things are changing for the Verstappen's.

Warning(s): Make out session (Non graphic), Time jump from Part 1, Google Translated Dutch, mention(s) of Christian Horner in passing, Mixed Media (Story + Social Media)

A/N: It's not August, but since Part 1 got 1k notes I figured this deserved to be posted early. It wasn't supposed to be this long, I got a little carried away in the end... Should have the next (mini) part up after Belgium. Please don't be afraid to fill my ask box with ideas for this series.

Words: 3.1k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

In the year that you met Nico, a lot of things changed. Most of them were changes for you. A change of job, a change of address, and a lifestyle change.

After two years of dating Max and spending time with Nico, you realized that you didn't want to be half in half out. It took a bit of time but you had found a job that let you work from home, so if Max needed anything you were only a phone call away. Moving to Monaco was a little tougher given that you were on a work visa, but it meant that you got to spend more time with Max when he wasn't working.

It was easier to pack a small duffle bag and go to his apartment than it was to get on a flight to see him for a few hours. And spending time with Nico was a joy.

He was quiet, but he had a way of expressing his emotions with his eyes. If you put food he didn’t like in front of him, he would pout and then he would scrunch his brows together in disgust.

It was nice though, Max would be stuck on his driving sim for a while, so you would take Nico and play with his trains or read him a book until he had to take a nap. Once Max was off the sim, it gave you a chance to answer emails and get through the tasks that you had to do that day. Then, in the evening, you would make dinner together and then eat before putting Nico to bed.

"Mimi," Nico had taken to calling you. You stood in the doorway of his room waiting for him to get into bed so that Max could tuck him in while you packed up your things to take home.

"Yeah, Neeks?" You asked.

"Can you and Papa tuck me in?" He asked. You were surprised that Nico wanted you and Max to tuck him in. He and Max had a routine and you didn't try to make yourself a part of it. You would watch as the father-son pair went about their nighttime routine.

Max would go and do the dishes while Nico went to brush his teeth and change for bed. It gave you and Max a few minutes to yourselves. A few quick stolen kisses before little feet started to run on the hardwood floor. Max would give you another quick kiss before picking up Nico in his arms and taking him into his room before tucking him in for the night.

You looked on into Nico's room to see him in the middle of his bed under the sheets waiting to be tucked in.

"Let me ask him. Okay?" You told Nico seeing the little boy nod his head.

You did need to tell Max, you didn’t want to insert yourself into a routine that wasn’t yours. You had only spent the night at Max’s apartment a few times, and it was mostly when you were too tired to go home. Those few times had been happening more often given that Max was back to traveling for work and the sitter that Max had hired was also moving back home.

You had made your way back into the kitchen to see Max closing the dishwasher before wiping his hands.

“Is he ready for bed?” He asked you.

“Yeah, he asked if… if we could both tuck him in.” You slowly said. You could see his smile growing wide. He already knew that Nico had asked that you both tuck him in.

“Why wouldn’t he, you tuck me in pretty well when you stay over.” You knew exactly what Max meant. So you just shook your head at him, you couldn’t help but laugh that he would be thinking about that now.

“Max!” You couldn’t believe him. You gave him a light shove before he started laughing. “Please come tuck in your son.” You jokingly pleaded before kissing Max on the cheek and feeling his hands move down to your waist. You moved to hold Max’s hand as you walked to Nico’s room.

“Ready for bed, kleine man,” Max said as you both walked through the doorway.

Nico gave a nod, “Ready, Papa.”

You helped Max turn down Nico’s sheets before tucking the covers around the little boy’s feet.

“Vergeet het haar niet te vragen.” Nico muttered before snuggling into his bedsheets.

Max spoke Dutch to Nico every once in a while. It was mostly simple phrases but Nico seemed to grasp the language rather well.

“Ik zal het niet doen.” You looked at Max and saw him lean over and kiss Nico’s forehead.

Both you and Max walked out of Nico’s room, “Night, Nico.” You said.

“Sleep well,” Max said before turning the lights off in Nico’s room and closing his bedroom door.

You knew that Nico would be out like a light once Max closed the door. You walked into Max’s living room and put your computer back into your bag. Once Nico was asleep you would stay until right before Max needed to head to bed. He did have a race the next day, so he wouldn’t stay up too late.

“Movie?” You asked him.

Max gave a slight nod, you wouldn’t finish the movie. You would get just over halfway through before Max would need to get some sleep.

You picked up the remote to hand to him before getting comfortable on his couch settling yourself in his lap. It was easy to snuggle up to Max. You both started looking through all of the options he had on Netflix, he stopped clicking at the remote, “I was wondering if you would want to come to the race next week.”

You were surprised. You had never gone to one of Max’s races, mostly because he had never offered so you never asked. You were okay with just being with him without all of the extra things that came with dating him.

“Are you asking for-” You knew that Nico was going to the race. He had been excited to see Max race in person. Max tried to keep Nico away from the track as much as he could, but that boy loved it just as much as Max did.

“No.” So he wasn’t asking just so someone would be there to watch over Nico. “We’ve been together for two years, and I’ve never asked you to come because I don’t want to pressure you into dealing with the fans and the media.”

In that regard, you were glad that Max understood that all of those things weren’t for you.

“But it’s the last race of the season and I would like both my son and my girlfriend there.” Max did have a point. It was the second season that you were together, and it would be nice to actually go to one of his races and be there to support him instead of sitting at home with Nico watching the race.

Flying to Abu Dhabi for Max’s race would be interesting, you knew that Nico had a passport but you have never spent more than a day or two with the little boy without Max present.

“Yeah, I would love that.” You would probably have to work from your laptop that Friday while Max was at practice but Nico would love watching qualifying and then the race the next day if he didn’t fall asleep halfway through.

Max looked at you and smiled wide, it was so genuine that you couldn’t help but reach over and kiss him. As your lips met, Max was quick to pull you under him on the couch, letting the tips of his fingers trace the bare skin that was just under the hem of your shirt. Your head met one of the pillows on the couch as he slowly laid you down moving between your legs. Your hands moved over the plains of his back which was covered with a thin black shirt that hugged his arms. It was unfair how good he looked.

It wasn’t long before Max turned off the TV and pulled you with him into his room to get some sleep. You wouldn’t be going back to your apartment tonight.

One Week Later - Sunday

Before going to where you would be sitting during the race, You and Nico were on your way to Red Bull hospitality. Max had made sure to drop off your passes on Friday when you had gotten in after he was done at the track on your first day in Abu Dhabi.

“Well if it isn’t the next generation of Red Bull racing,” You heard from the one and only Daniel Ricciardo as you and Nico walked around the paddock before the race.

“Dan!” Nico said letting go of your hand and then ran to Daniel, throwing his arms around the older man’s shoulders as Daniel kneeled on the ground.

You had come to learn from Max that Daniel was with him the day that he found out about Nico. He had gone with him to see Max’s agent and offered to be there the first time that Max had met his son. Max was lucky to have a friend like him.

“Look at you, all ready to go.” He pulled Nico back a little to see his replica racing suit. “If your dad wasn’t in the car, I would think that you were after his job.” Nico had insisted on wearing the replica Red Bull racing suit that Christian had gotten him for his birthday a few weeks ago. Christian treated Nico like the grandson he didn’t have, which included getting him gifts that Max didn’t know about. He wanted to hide it from Max until this weekend, not wanting to jinx a third-world championship win for him.

Given that Max made Pole during qualifying you had unpacked the racing suit from your bag that was hidden in one of your sweaters in case Max ended up looking in your bag.

“Maybe I am.” Nico muttered at Daniel. You couldn’t help but slightly raise your brow at Nico before you saw Daniel shake his head. “Nico.” You warned.

“It’s okay Y/N. If he were any more like Max, he would be Max.” Daniel was used to it by now. He knew that Nico was just like his dad in so many ways. It wasn’t just that they looked alike.

“Very true.” You agreed with him.

“So you here for the whole race?” Daniel asked. Nico walked back to you before he started messing with your paddock passes.

“Yeah, hopefully, someone doesn’t fall asleep until it’s over.” You brushed your fingers through Nico’s hair.

You hoped that Nico would be able to stay awake long enough to see Max by the time the race was over. You knew when you got back to the hotel Nico would be dead tired and go straight to bed.

“Well, I’m sure him sleeping through one race won’t hurt too bad. Max’s been winning championships almost as long as this one’s alive.” That was true, Max had won his first championship just after Nico had turned 1. “Maybe, you’re his good luck charm. Ay, Nico.”

Nico gave a small shrug of his shoulders before pulling at your shirt.

“I should take him back to hospitality before the race starts.” Nico hadn’t eaten lunch earlier claiming that he wasn’t hungry. “Don’t want to get hounded by cameras.” You knew that it was going to be harder after the race.

“You and Max still haven’t…” Daniel didn’t have to finish his sentence for you to know what he was talking about. Both you and Max had agreed that you didn’t want the media to know about Nico yet. It was still too soon. Maybe once the season was over.

“Not yet.” Daniel just nodded in understanding.

“Alright, guess I’ll let you go hide Mini Max from the vultures,” Daniel said with a smile.

“Okay,” You lightly chuckled. “Have a good race.”

Nico quickly walked over to Daniel to give him a hug and a big wave before reaching to take your hand again.

It was a short walk over to where you and Nico would be sitting during the race.

It wasn’t long before the race started when Nico pointed down at Max’s car and muttered, “Papa.” while holding food in his little hands. Nico kept watch of the cars zooming around the track and made sure to pay attention when there was an announcement about something that happened.

Halfway through the race, Nico moved to rest his head against your arm, his eyes would close every once in a while. You leaned down to kiss the top of his head feeling him snuggle closer to your side.

The race seemed to pass by rather fast. Max made the next 20 or so laps around the track in record time. Nico had woken up with 10 laps left for Max to complete. Hamilton had tried to overtake at the start of the last lap but never managed to pass Max. It wasn’t long after that you saw everyone from the Red Bull garage walking out to the track watching as Max’s car crossed the finish line as the checkered flag was waved.

Just after you heard it over the speakers. “Max Verstappen wins the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix and is a 3-time Champion of the World!”

You were quick to collect Nico into your arms giving him a kiss on the cheek, “Papa won.” The little boy threw his arms around your neck at the words. Max’s car was making donuts not far from where you and Nico were. Fireworks were going off as you moved out of your seat.

You were quick to grab your bag and take Nico down with you to the garage where you saw people hugging. It didn’t take long for you to see Max, he was still in his helmet but you let go of Nico’s hand so he could run up to his dad and gave him a hug. You watched on as the father and son pair embraced in their matching fireproofs.

You had caught Max’s eyes which were normally hidden by his visor and could tell that he was smiling. Max was holding Nico with one arm and stretched his other hand out for you. You walked closer to him and clasped your hand in his before he gave you Nico moving to take off his helmet. He pulled it off and you could see the lines from the inside padding of his helmet. You reached up passionately kissing him on the lips.

“Congratulations!” You had to yell over all of the other noise that surrounded the three of you. You could see a few tears falling from Max’s eyes as he took in you holding Nico.

“Mijn familie.” You had a pretty clear idea of what he just said, letting a stray tear fall from your eyes. Nico tried to curl up into Max’s chest but somehow ended up squashed between the two of you in a cocoon-like hug.

“Go, enjoy your podium. We’ll wait for you after.” You said into his ear.

“You sure?”

You nodded at his question. Nico had taken a nap during the race, you could wait to take him back to the hotel later. He should get to see his father achieve his dream in person. Nico gave Max another hug, and the older Verstappen kissed you quickly on the forehead before being dragged away by the men in navy blue. Charles found you not long after a small celebration with the guys in Ferrari having finished P2.

You watched from the crowd as Max got sprayed with champagne and then proceeded to cover Christian in it as well. You watched on as Max celebrated. You had to wonder. How often did someone get to achieve their dream three times over?

Max was on the podium with Christian for a little longer before being pulled off to go and answer some questions.

Christian had come over to you and taken Nico to get a few pictures with Max’s trophy. Geri assured you that she would bring Nico back. You trusted her, how could you not trust a Spice Girl?

You didn’t have to wait a long time after that to see Max again. The top of his fireproofs had come off and now he was just in the shirt that was underneath it. He was standing there covered in sweat and champagne with a dopey grin on his face.

You walked over to him, cupping his cheeks and pulling him down to meet your lips. You ran your fingers through his short hair feeling how sticky the sweet liquid was, and wanting him as close as possible.

“Move in with me.” he said as he pulled back from the kiss.

“What?” You questioned letting your eyes drop to his lips. “Move in with me, Y/N. Help me take Nico to school, and be there every day to see him grow up.” You knew that it wasn’t a marriage proposal. It was Max asking you to move in with him and help raise Nico. He wanted Nico to see you as more than just his papa’s girlfriend.

You met his eyes, seeing as he searched yours before nodding. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes again, and your lips met his again, savoring the taste of champagne from his lips. You knew that you would be covered in it by the time you left the track.

“I love you.” You felt him mumble against your lips.

“I love you too.” You let your fingers sink into the fabric of Max’s fireproofs.

“Where’s Nico?” Max’s eyes looked around to see if he would find him anywhere.

“With Christian. Geri said that she would bring him back.” As the words left your mouth you saw the redhead out of the corner of your eyes holding your little boy.

Nico saw the two of you and started to squirm in Geri’s arms before running to both you and Max.

You couldn’t help but slightly stumble back into Max as Nico crashed into both of you, Max’s arms now around your waist holding you so you didn’t fall. Nico gripped you around your knees, his light brown hair brushed against the fabric of your jeans.

You leaned back a little to kiss Max, gripping the side of his neck. You couldn’t wait to have this every day.

wagsoff1

3,543 likes

wagsoff1 Max Verstappen and his girlfriend Y/N L/N seen leaving a private party in Belgium for New Year's

fan40 Is she wearing Alexis Mabille?

fan34 Who is that man? And what had Y/N done to Max Verstappen?

fan80 It's official! She's met Sophie.

fan58 Is Mad Max gone?

fan29 Doesn't seem like it. He's still competitive when he's driving. Just because he cares about his girlfriend doesn't mean it's going to affect the way he performs in the car.

Jan 2, 2024

Translations:

kleine man - little man

Vergeet het haar niet te vragen. - Don't forget to ask her.

Ik zal het niet doen. - I won't.

Mijn familie - My family.

[luveline]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

You learn how to be someone’s girlfriend. Or, 5 times Hotch raises your expectations (+1 time you raise his).

7k words, new established relationship to established relationship, lots of fluff and some small angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, civilian!reader, calls him aaron, basically hotch treating you well

༺༻

1. Soup. 

"Are you hungry?" Aaron asks, hands at the neck of his shirt as he loosens his tie. 

You've never seen him do that. It's a lot to take in.

"A little, are you?"  He's lucky that you remember to answer.

His smile lights you up inside and out, a warm, casual quirk. "Famished." 

"Should we make something?" 

He turns from the doorway and moves into the kitchen. You have to twist on his couch to see his movements. 

"No need. I should've asked if you like it, but I made vegetable soup. The kind with mini dumplings." 

You look down at your legs and squeeze your thighs together until your knees tap. You're too shy to go and meet him where he's standing, but perhaps sitting and having him wait on you is arrogant. And awkward. 

The couch is plush under your hands as you stand. You'd slipped off your shoes at the door, and your socked-feet slide over the tiled floor of the kitchen as you make your way to his side. Aaron lights the stove, atop which stands a tall cooking pot. 

"When did you have time to make that?" you ask, soft with awe. 

"I knew you'd be coming over. I started it this morning." 

"And if I didn't like it?" 

He turns his gaze to yours, pot lid held aloft. "Then I would've ordered in for us. You're sure this is okay?"  

You've never had somebody cook for you before. Homemade, fresh ingredients, and the intricacy of the dumplings too, it all impresses and amazes you. You feel very special. Like you're worth all the effort. 

"I'm sure. More sure if you let me try it." 

His laugh startles you for its rarity. "Okay. It's not done," he warns. 

"Just to taste it." 

He stirs the warming soup with a big spoon for half a minute, the heat on high, before scooping up some broth and holding it above a cupped palm. "It's probably not very hot," he says. 

Oh, you think, excited and sick with nerves at once. He's going to feed the soup to me. 

Something out of a movie, something you didn't know people actually did for their significant others, Aaron waits for you to open your mouth and offers the spoon. You slurp and feel heat rise to your cheeks at the clumsy sound. 

"Aaron," you say, soft and obsessed after you've swallowed, "it's really nice. You made that yourself?"  

"I can cook," he says defensively. 

You lick your lips, giggling. "I can tell. That was really good. Though it was definitely too cold." 

"Mm. It has to cook through some more. Reduce. Do you want to shower?" He puts down his wooden spoon, head tilting to one side gently. He assesses your expression, and brings a curved hand to settle over your cheek. The tip of his index finger kisses the delicate skin under your eye. "No, maybe not. You look tired." 

You probably shouldn't say something like that to your brand new girlfriend (you scream internally at the word, every single time since he asked you a week ago) but Aaron speaks factually. You don't think for a second that there's any malice there, any hidden critique. His words shine with concern. 

"It's Friday. I'm always tired at the end of the week." 

His hand falls to your shoulder. "I can imagine." 

"You can go shower, if you like. I'll watch the soup." 

"I need one, huh?" 

He must know how well-kept he looks even now. You're not sure you've ever seen him dishevelled. 

"Definitely need one," you try to tease. It comes out murmur-quiet, and Aaron takes pity and kisses your cheek. 

He leaves to shower and you 'watch' the soup — you stand at the stovetop and soak in it's emanating warmth, stirring it every now and then to prevent the bottom from burning. The shower runs muffled from the bathroom, and your mind wanders as it tends to do. It's an undeniable fact that Aaron is naked right now, the thought opening an avenue of images you've been trying not to think about all day. It's your very first time spending the night after a couple of weeks of dating, and now you're together, if Aaron wants to have sex tonight you'll say yes. He's handsome, and his build suggests a certain… tenacity. 

His hands would convince you alone. Big hands. 

You look down into the simmering pot of soup and smile harder than you have any right to smile. He's done everything right, all the romance; he'd asked you out clearly with no doubt of his intentions, which had shocked you; he'd brought you a bouquet of flowers on your first date, which had delighted you; and he hadn't tried to take you home, which had surprised you. 

Modern romance often doesn't feel very romantic. Things with Aaron are different. 

Hell, he's so sweet he probably won't make a move unless you make one yourself. 

You'd prefer to be squeaky clean tonight, you've decided, just in case. When he gets out of the shower, you'll tell him you've changed your mind.

The shower shuts off. He appears a little bit after that, in new clothes, towel around his neck and feet either side of your own as he sidles in for a damp and quick cheek kiss. 

"Sorry I took so long. Are you ready to eat?" he asks, taking the spoon from your hand to give the soup a big, gran stir. 

"Actually, could I shower?" 

If he's surprised at your changed mind he says nothing, only turns down the heat of the stove. "Of course you can. Come on, I'll show you how it all works." 

His 'come on' is accompanied with a guiding hand at the small of your back. You let yourself be guided. The heat of his touch fills your stomach and doesn't abate, no matter how cold you run the spray. 

2. Phone calls. 

It's the week after that when you're supposed to be spending the night again. You're excited for two reasons, the first and smallest being that he had been what you thought and more in bed, that itself an expectation raised, and it had felt like connection at its brightest — he'd been sweet, and he'd been rough but never, not ever once cruel. A perfect night. The second, and biggest, is that he's honestly just the nicest person you've ever met. He's your boyfriend, a phrase you don't say in front of him because he's admittedly older than you, and you can't imagine he calls you his girlfriend. Partner might be more apt. He's your boyfriend and he's openly fond of you. Openly more than that. It's new to be doted on as ardently as he dotes on you. 

He touches you like he can't believe he's touching you. He talks to you like you're gold dust, all smiles and laughs heavy with admiration, and he listens. You've never felt listened to in the way you do when you're with him. 

So many conversations are just one party waiting for the other to stop talking until it's their turn. You think, maybe, Aaron would let you talk for hours. He would listen the whole time. 

In summary, you're basically thrumming with excitement to see him again. You've missed him some, but mostly you've spent the week bouncing off of walls waiting for the next time you get to talk to him. 

His text is disheartening, to say the least. 

Hey, honey. I have to cancel our plans tonight. I'm sorry, and I'll explain as soon as I get the chance. Please take care of yourself for me until I can.

It doesn't make you mad. While it is extremely short notice, and your heart hurts to the point of frustrated tears, you know it isn't his fault. He's been clear about his job at the FBI and what that means for you both. How it will without a doubt pull him away from you during dates, the middle of the night, special occasions, the works — this had been after a small disclosure about his commitment to his son, Jack, and how he's a father first — and how it will definitely cause some strain. 

"But," he'd said, "I want you, and I want this to work. So if you can be patient with me, I'll try to make it worth it." 

He's been successful every time. After he'd cancelled your third date, he'd quickly rearranged it and apologised with a modest but beautiful bouquet of flowers. 

Somewhere between the fifth and sixth date, you hadn't seen him for two whole weeks, and every worry you'd had about his intentions had been abated by a steady stream of encouraging text messages and the occasional photograph. Nothing crazy, but sweet things, like the cookies he and Jack had made that night, captioned, I'd save one for you if I thought Jack would let me, or a sunrise in a different state, captioned, This looks like the dress you wore to Lemaira. 

Later that night, you're unhappy and frowning still, a small carton of ice cream freezing your fingers to the cardboard and a spoon in your mouth when your phone starts to ring. 

You aren't expecting it to be Aaron. You aren't in the habit of calling one another, even though you'd secretly wished he would while he's away beforehand. 

It's nearing eight o'clock. 

"What time do you call this?" you joke, smiling despite yourself. Again, the excitement that comes with talking to him wells at the surface. 

"I know, I'm sorry," he says, sounding very tired. 

You slouch down into your couch cushions, ice cream on the armrest, remote for the TV on your chest. You click the volume button down, down, down until the TV's near silent. 

"I'm kidding, mostly. Are you okay? I've been a little worried." 

Understatement of the century. You know sudden cases of violence often draw him away from Virginia, but this had been sudden sudden. The lack of information had made you think the worst, worse than serial killer and bombers and hostage situations. You'd thought Aaron was in danger himself, and then you'd tried to suffocate that thought. He'd never worry you like that even if he were. 

"I'm fine. Sorry to miss you tonight." 

"I'm sorry to miss you too," you say, voice disjointed, too earnest. You scramble to hide the depth of your feelings. "Where are you?" 

"I'm in St. Louis. Where are you?" 

You laugh, curling onto your side with the phone pressed up against your ear. "Where am I? I'm at home." 

"What are you doing?" 

"I was watching TV." 

"Yeah? Did you eat anything yet?" 

You think to the takeout you'd bought and shoved in the microwave, not hungry at the time but knowing knowing would be. "Not yet. Why are you asking?" 

"I want to know." 

"I told you in my text I would take care, Aaron." 

"Honey," he says, pet name like a warm palm over your heart, "my definition of taking care and your definition are very different. Promise me you'll eat something."

"Of course I will. Easy promise." You scratch the couch fabric absent-mindedly. "Have you eaten?" 

"Yes," he says, the sound of a closing window in the background. "It's awful how much take out I eat. All these cases, there's never any time to cook real food." 

"Why, what did you have? And surely there's some uber healthy options out there, like, a chickpea salad-" 

"That costs thirty dollars? I'm not struggling, honey, but we both know that's obscene." 

You're laughter takes on a giddy quality as you cross your leg over the other, picturing his smile as his laughter echoes breathily down the line. You really, really wish he were here right now and that you were having this conversation face to face. You know he'd smile and try to hide how smug he feels at making you laugh. His hand would reach over any gap to touch some silly part of you, forearm or collar or the skin under your ribcage. 

"Are you okay?" You say his name to drive the point home. Your voice is quiet — you're hesitant to offer, worried you're crossing a boundary. "Aaron, I know you don't like bringing it home, but you aren't home, so… I'm here." 

"I know. It's nothing I want you to worry about, there's an ongoing situation here, bomb threats coming in quicker than the local P.D can handle. They need us to vet them and figure out if any of them are real." 

You think about it for a few seconds, the silence small but not uncomfortable. If you were under that kind of pressure, you'd be hurting. Chest pains, anxiety shakes, a migraine. 

"You'll be safe?" you ask. 

"Always. I'm not in any danger. And I need to get home, I owe you a Friday." 

"You do," you mumble. 

There's the creak of a box spring mattress, and the sound of a lamp being clicked. On or off, you don't know. When Aaron speaks, his tone is dulcet and hushed but distinct. You feel it in your chest. 

"Tell me about your day," he murmurs. 

You lay it all out for him in detail. He can barely reply when you hang up, sleep thickening his affectionate, "Goodnight, honey." 

3. His bleeding heart.

"What kind of kid were you?" he asks.

You look up from your notebook, surprised. Aaron has been silent for what feels like an hour now, laid out on the picnic blanket with your sweater bundled up under his head while the sun warms your skin. 

"I was…" You let your pen roll into the centre of your notebook and close it. He's laid his paperback flat across his chest. You think he might be very interested in the answer. "It was a long time ago, but I think I was lonely." 

He nods like this is what he'd been expecting. "Me too." 

It's a gorgeous day out. The sky is a light, bright blue with few clouds. They block the sun occasionally, providing a short and bittersweet shield from the heat. The grass surrounding is shockingly green, rippling in the breeze. 

"You were?" you ask. "What were you like?" 

"I was quiet." 

"That's not surprising," you say mildly. 

"No, I guess not." 

You abandon your notebook and lay down beside him. Worrying what you look like from this angle, you cover your jaw with your hand and turn toward him ever so slightly to show you're listening. 

"I liked affection. I remember my mom used to say I was a siphon for it. I'd be all over her, and she'd have nothing left to give anyone else." 

"That's not true," you deny. Every ounce of affection that you given him, he has returned tenfold, and that's inspired a lot of kindness in you, for him and for the world. "You're like an amplifier, if anything." 

He smiles to himself and turns his gaze skyward. "I wish we'd met before." 

"Me too," you say, leaving little room for debate.

"You're so kind," — he adorns you with each word like a gift, a tiny star of praise — "I think you're the kindest person I've ever met." 

He laughs. It's a catching sound, contagious as anything. You giggle with him and shift closer. Your arms touch, your hips. 

"Baby," you murmur, almost lamenting, "d'you ever think your ability to see the good in people is- It's indicative of the good in you... You've given more of your life than most to keep other people safe. That's the kindest thing a person can do." 

He tangles your hand with his where it had been resting on your stomach. You're pretty sure you can feel every line of every fingerprint as he works your fingers together, a snug fit like one of those wooden brain teaser puzzles: How do you pull these two pieces apart? From the outside, it looks impossible!

"I think I'd be different, if I'd met you before. I'd be kinder," he says. 

You can't agree with him. It's obvious who he is. You know more about him now than you ever have before. His late wife, how she'd been the best mother they ever made. His son, and how he moulds Aaron everyday into a better man. His friends, who trust him, who adore him. All these people have a hand in who Aaron is now, and while you wish you'd been around from the start, now will have to do.

"You're plenty kind," you say. Understatement of the century. 

"Sorry," he says with a laugh, "With you-" He cuts himself off, head-shaking from side to side as he pulls your joined hands up slowly. 

Your arm bends and then turns as he pulls it toward his face. He unlinks your fingers to steer your forearm, aligning it flat over his lips. The first kiss is a surprise, light like the feathered edge of a flower petal, and the second isn't dissimilar. 

The third melts you, veritably, the parting of his lips emphasised by the dull scratch of teeth against your pulse, the wet heat of his tongue. Three becomes four, and a final fifth, crescent moons pressed into your skin like he's trying to tell you something. 

You've no clue what. You likely couldn't say which way the world turns, not when he's kissing you. Not like this. 

Aaron has an acute ability to talk without talking. Hello's and thank you's and I care about you's woven into quick kisses, the swift squeeze of his hand over the slope of your shoulder.

These ones say something you don't want to speak aloud, lest you jinx it. 

The sunlight fades. A big grey cloud covers the sun.

"I think it's gonna rain," you say. 

A raindrop splashes in Aaron's eye. 

"Fuck," he says, which is hilarious, because he never swears in front of you. You hadn't known he cussed at all. 

The downpour is slow and then sudden, spitting rain dotting over you both like a fine mist as you stand, a thicker, faster outpouring chasing your heels as you hurry to the car. You realise you can't outrun it even if you sprint, and so you stop, Aaron's hand in yours tugged like a rubber band. He bounces back into your chest with the picnic blanket under his arm, your books tucked somewhere inside. 

He doesn't ask what you're doing. He's made the same deduction as you, or maybe he trusts you, or maybe he's indulging you. 

"Your hair," he laments. 

"Doesn't matter," you say. 

You lift your chin up for a kiss. Aaron ducks down to give you one. A raindrop runs down the bridge of his nose to the tip of yours. 

4. In sickness. 

You insist that it wasn't the rain that made you sick, but honestly there's no way to tell. You'd kissed for slightly too long, and the rain had been surprisingly cold. Now you aren't very well, and you have to cancel Aaron's sleepover. 

You hold out as long as you can, but come Friday afternoon it's clear you aren't getting better. You wake to a text from Aaron, two texts, and it makes you smile through shivery coughs. 

I can't wait to see you tonight. Do you need anything before I get there? Miss you. Sent 6.26AM.

Is everything okay? Sent 9.17AM. 

Usually you'd have answer his morning text within the hour. 

Hi, I miss you too, so much, but I don't think we'll be able to see each other tonight. I've got the flu :( I'm sorry. And sorry I couldn't answer your message until now, I was sleeping. 

It's another hour before he answers. You rouse from your gross snotty stupor to squint at the phone. It's surprisingly long. 

I'm sorry it's taking me so long to get back to you, things are tense here right now. You don't have to be sorry for either, I'm glad to hear you're resting. You could have told me you were sick. Is it okay if I come and see you tonight anyways? I would love to check on you. Don't rush to answer, and call me if you can. 

You call him with reservations. 

"Is this a good time?" you ask weakly, forgoing a hello. 

It takes him a little while to speak. You assume he's leaving a room, closing a door. "Now's fine. How are you?" 

"My throat hurts and it's a little hard to breathe, but I'm sure I'll live." 

"You've been to see a doctor?" 

"It's not that bad." 

He sighs. "You sound tired. And sore. Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" 

"You don't have to baby me, I'm really okay." 

"Have you considered that I'd like to baby you?" 

Not really. You can't imagine anyone would want to deal with you. You're a mess, you look awful, you don't smell great, and you're not good company. You can't think of a single reason Aaron would want to be anywhere near you right now. 

"No," you say, "I hadn't." 

"I'd love to look after you." 

"You could be doing something fun with your Friday. You could see Jack." 

"Jack's going to Kings Dominion. And Fridays are our day, you being sick doesn't make me want to see you less."

You hadn't said that, but he'd inferred it. Of course he had. 

You and Aaron decide that your sleepover will go ahead after all. Or, he persuades you very gently. You spend three hours doing tasks that should only take one. You shower, you clean your room, and you do the dishes. By the end of it you're sweating enough to need another shower but you aren't a quitter, so you open the freezer and stick your head in, hands braced against the refrigerator door. 

You're excited to see him. You always are. Too bad you look so wiped out. 

It's almost 6.30 when you hear his knock on the door. You'd been waiting for him and started dozing at the kitchen table, your neck a mess of twisted nerves, your hand numb from supporting your head. You shake it out and open the door, sheepish. 

"Hi," you croak out. 

He has a lot of stuff with him. His familiar overnight bag, a briefcase, two grocery bags, and a bouquet. 

"Aaron, why," you moan, covering your face with one hand as you move back down the hall to let him in. 

"Not the greeting I'd hoped for." 

"I can't greet you, I'll make you sick." 

You get all the way to the kitchen and think, triumphantly, that you've escaped his 'greeting'. He puts the flowers down carefully on the kitchen counter as you try to come up with a thank you that doesn't make your eyes burn. The grocery bags are placed without ceremony on the floor, and his overnight bag falls onto the kitchen chair. You watch him unbutton his rain spattered coat, and your triumph fades when he peels out of it and instantly reaches for you. 

"Aaron," you mumble, stepping into his arms. He knows you can't say no to a hug, not after a week of not seeing him. 

"I missed you," he says, arms around your back, lips at your temple. "You're running a temperature." 

"It's not that bad. 101." 

"Honey, 101 is bad." 

"Not as bad as 102." 

"Not as bad as 102," he concedes. You can hear his voice rumbling in his throat, and feel it in his chest and yours.

He takes as much of your weight as he can, leaning back so you're forced to arc forward. Your face slips into his neck, and you're thinking, this is what it's like? To be held, sick, with nothing to give? It feels good.

"Please tell me the next time you're sick," he murmurs. 

You definitely will. If this is what it's like, roaming, cautious hands over your shoulder blades, a strong nose stroking lines against your warm forehead. 

"Thank you for the flowers." 

It's squished against his skin but he hears it. "You're welcome. Do you want me to put them in a vase?" 

"I can do it." 

"I think that might defeat the purpose. They're a gift, not an extra chore." 

"Nobody ever got me flowers before you, so it doesn't feel like a chore at all." 

He encourages your face back enough to look at you. You have to mouth breath on him because your nose is all stuffed up, and it is not something you're happy to do. You look down so he can't feel it. 

"I'm gonna do something really cheesy, and you can tease me about it later, okay?" 

You look at him from under your lashes. "'Kay." 

"Close your eyes," he whispers. 

You let your eyes shut. Aaron cradles your face in both hands and pulls your face toward his chin, in your rough approximation. 

Heat fans against your eyes. He kisses your eyelids, the left and then the right, the most gentle press of his lips you've ever felt. 

"It's killing me to see you like this," he says, and you're grateful for the pinch of humour behind it. "Couch or bed?" 

"Couch. I wanna watch a movie with you." 

"Good. I wanna watch a movie with you, too." 

Aaron does everything. You're too tired to notice, but when you're better, you'll add it all up. He makes you dinner and breakfast and lunch and enough for the day after that, too. He trims down all your flowers and places them in a vase on your window sill. He recleans your room, cleans your bathroom, and plays nursemaid diligently. He makes you take your temperature in front of him, and then he fawns and makes you hug an ice pack, stays the night again when he's supposed to go home. 

It sucks, but your temperature falls, and when your insides stop cooking themselves you start to feel better. On Sunday morning, when he has to leave, you feel the strange pang of being cared for unconditionally like the wind being knocked out of you. He'd done all of that because he cares about you. He'd wanted to see you fed and well and happy, and he hadn't gotten anything out of it in return. 

5. The test-drive.

"Hi, Jack," you mumble, rubbing wetness out of your sleep-heavy eyes. "Good morning." 

"Good morning," he says cheerfully, of his father's disposition. 

"Did you," — you yawn wide and turn your face so neither of them can see — "sleep well?" 

"Yeah, thank you. Why are you so tired?" 

Aaron's standing at the stovetop making oatmeal. You stand at the counter beside it, hips touching but facing opposite ways. "I'm still getting used to your dad's bed." 

It's true. There's something about someone else's mattress that makes you ache. 

"What is it about my mattress you can't get along with?" Aaron asks in good humour, adding a generous pinch of salt to the saucepan. 

"It's more comfortable than mine," you say with a self-satisfied laugh. 

Aaron pecks your damp cheek and skirts around you to fill three identical bowls of oatmeal next to three identical glasses of orange juice. Jack cheers when his portions are placed in front of him, and he digs in even though it's ridiculously hot. 

Aaron had explained once that he's basically trained Jack to eat it scorchingly hot by accident. Years of oatmeal straight off of the hob versus a growing boy with no patience. You watch in awe as Jack scarfs it down. 

You and Aaron are doing this thing. You've called it the test-drive in your head. He wants to see how well you and Jack get along, likely, and how well you handle living together, too. (Though you absolutely don't think you'll be moving in together quite this soon.) That's your working theory. He'd asked you if you'd be interested in staying for the week a month ago, and you had, and it had been a dream. This is week two, and it seems to be going just as well as the first. 

It's definitely revealing. To see each other's routines. And an adjustment. You have to see all the gross stuff, no avoiding it. 

Though stuff you might consider gross he enjoys. Like watching you put on body lotion, he'd loved that more than words could express. And watching him shave, you'd loved that more than you'd thought you would. You'd sat on the lip of the tub and he'd listened to your morning murmurings, half asleep and excited as always to talk to him about everything. 

Getting to know Jack more has been a joy, too. You've met him nowhere near as many times as you would've liked and done family things: bowling, pizza places, the movies, a baseball game. 

Eating breakfast together is way more fun. Especially because Jack likes you. 

As soon as you sit down he starts to tell you about school. You listen, sipping your orange juice while you wait for the oatmeal to cool from lava. 

After breakfast, the three of you head back to your respective bedrooms to get dressed. 

That's something else you adore, you and Aaron undressing and redressing together in the space in front of his closet, the intimacy of casual nudity, and the way his hand closes around your hip to move you out of the way of his shirts. 

You're pretty much inseperable until you get to the car park. A firm believer in kids receiving as much love as they can from everybody, you offer Jack a hug before you part ways everytime. Sometimes he says yes, though most times he says, "Thank you, Miss Y/N, but my hug quota is full." 

Today, he squeezes your waist really hard and says, "Have a good day bye," like it's one word.

"Have a good day, baby," you tell him, laughing as he jettisons into the passenger seat of Aaron's car. 

Aaron usually gives you a swift kiss and goodbye like his son. Today, he brings his hand to your neck. You stare him straight in his dark eyes as he does, marvelling the shock of straight lashes outlining each one, and the permanent wrinkle between his brow from frowning. 

Placing two hands on either shoulder, you use his frame to rise on tiptoes and kiss it. 

"Don't frown too much today, okay, handsome? Have a good day." 

He cups your face in both hands as your heels touch the ground. His hands are warm, kind as he pushes both palms over your cheeks and your ears. He covers them, and your heartbeat amplifies, a thumping sound fighting his skin. Then he slips his fingers behind your ears and the roaring fades. 

"I love you," he says. 

You beam at him. "Really?"

"Really. I love you, honey. Have a good day."

As if. If he thinks he can walk away after dropping that on you he's got another thing coming. 

You throw your arms around his neck and all your weight into his front, almost barrelling him over. You have to stop yourself from wrapping your thighs around him, 'cause then he really might fall over. 

You dig your face into his neck, searching for something, for the perfect place to rest your cheek. "I love you, Aaron." 

There isn't a chance in hell he didn't already know it. 

"I got you something," he says. 

You laugh in surprise and tighten your hold on him. "Why? This is gift enough." He loves you. It bounces around in your chest. 

"Because I'm not stupid enough to miss what I have right in front of me." 

You lean back so you can kiss him, ignoring his hand as it reaches into his pocket. 

"Baby," you say, a hair's width from his lips. You kiss him again for a second, thrilled, but curiosity pulls you back. "You have it now?" 

He takes a step away from you and reveals the box in his pocket, long and thin. It clicks open on a silver hinge, and inside velveteen lies a simple chain.

"Is that a diamond?" you ask, breathless. The stone at the end of the chain shines like nothing you've ever seen before. 

You don't know a thing about them other than that they're expensive. You can't see Aaron Hotchner of all people buying a fake. 

"A small one," he says modestly. 

Your eyes burn. You're happy to the point of tears but you refuse to cry. 

"And it's for me?" you ask. 

He laughs and you laugh too, the sound slightly sniffly. 

"Of course. Do you want to wear it?" 

"Now? Yes, more than anything," you say, smiling hard, cheeks appled and aching. "Are you serious?"

"More than anything." 

Corny, you think desperately. Do not cry, that's so cheesy. 

"Are you sure you don't want to wait until my birthday?" 

He gestures for you to turn around, the chain hanging from his finger. You turn, feel his hands brushing against your neck as he lays it across your chest and pulls it together behind your nape. 

"Your birthday gift is better than this." 

Better? You could burst. 

The clasp closes and he rubs his hands down the backs of your shoulders. 

You turn back around, face dipped to your chest in efforts to see the necklace. It's short but long enough to spot the diamond hanging under your collar. 

"I've never had a diamond, before," you mumble, hands pressed to your chest. Your heart bumps under your hand. 

"Thank you," you say, looking up, "baby, you didn't have to. You don't have to get me stuff like this, it's a lot." 

"I don't think it's too much. You give gifts when you're grateful. I'm grateful to love you." 

He's expecting you this time, unwavering when your arms slide over his shoulders. You breathe in the smell of his skin and he does the same, his face pressed to the top of your head.

Jack is late for school that day. You apologise to Aaron more times than you can count, and every time he only smiles and says, "It's okay. I love you." 

+1 

Aaron misses your first anniversary. 

It's a very important date to miss, and you have a right to be upset. 

But. 

You always knew from the very first date that this was something that could, unfortunately, happen. You'd been lucky to get him for your birthday, luckier still to see him on his own and treat him with the delights he deserved. You'd figured eventually something would happen to throw a spanner in the works. 

What you aren't expecting is the lack of anger. 

You aren't mad at him, not one bit. It would be okay if you were, even though it's not his fault, because this is so big. You're celebrating the best year of your life alone, and that's no fun. You and Aaron had planned to go away, two days in a fancy hotel, Jack with Jessica and no worries. 

He can't ignore a bomb threat in the capital, and he wouldn't want to. 

You know a missed anniversary is a lesser weight than innocent people dead. You know Aaron wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he didn't go. You know he regrets leaving you on such an important day. 

Maybe one day, you'll be angry with him. Today, you only miss him. 

I love you. I'm sorry. I'll be back very soon. Happy anniversary. 

He sends that after a grovelling, short phone call, in which you assure him that it's fine. Your voice is tight with tears, you miss him like crazy, and he hears it though you try to hide it. 

I will make it up to you. 

You don't have any doubts. 

You feel a little sorry for yourself, and then you send him a text of your own. 

I love you, so don't be sorry. Get back safe and sound and consider yourself forgiven. Happy anniversary, my love. 

Followed with what's likely too many hearts for good measure. 

Still, still, he doesn't believe it's okay. You know he's human, and he loves you, and that makes it easy to predict how he's feeling — worried that you're angry, worried that you'll leave him, worried this won't work for you. 

And you're only human yourself. You can't say how you'll feel in another year, or two, or five. You can't imagine how depressing it might be to miss the holidays and birthdays and anniversaries with him year after year, but you want to be patient. You want to forgive him for the things he has no hand in, and you do. 

You get a visitors pass for his office once you're cleared and take the elevator up, checking your text messages for the fifth time, just to make sure. 

I'll be home in a couple of hours, the plane touches down in two. Love you. Sent 4.53PM. 

It's the day after your anniversary, a Monday, and it's nearly 7PM. You smile at people you've seen in passing the few times you've visited his office before and don't bother trying to sit in Aaron's office, knowing it's locked while he's away. You travel the spare steps and sit at the top of the landing, hands clutching the neck of the bunch of flowers you're holding nervously. The cellophane crinkles. 

You hadn't answered him. It was cruel to leave him hanging, but you didn't expect him to come home so soon. He's too damn good at his job. 

The elevator doors open in the quiet. Barely anybody lingers now in the late hour, and the voices of the BAU echo. 

Spencer sees you first. Morgan second. They stop at the beginning of the office. 

Aaron sees you third.

You spring to stand up on your feet, and then you feel very tall and very seen and descend the steps rather than draw more attention. 

"You said seven," you say, not sure what else to say, not with people watching you. "This is definitely closer to eight." 

Aaron thankfully isn't too proud to speed walk to you. Your heart skips as you meet him, flowers crushed half to death as he gets his arm behind your neck, hooking your head in the crook of his elbow. 

He kisses you roughly. Heat floods every inch of skin, your breath rushes out of your nose with a sigh. 

He pulls back. 

"Happy anniversary," you say quietly, smiling at the sheer relief in his eyes. 

"It was yesterday," he says, quiet too. 

"Happy one year and one day, then." You push him away from you gently. "Don't suffocate your roses." 

"You got me flowers." 

"You get people gifts when you're grateful," you parrot. 

He takes a step back and accepts the flowers. On the message card, you've written, bashful and clumsy and adoring, I'm grateful to love you. One year and more. 

He moves the bouquet into one hand and wraps you up in another huh, firm-armed, chin over the top of your head, though he intersperses his embrace with dainty kisses pecked from one temple to another. 

"You aren't mad?" he asks, worried about the answer. 

"No," you say honestly. "Not mad. Missed you like crazy yesterday, but I get you today. I can make it work." 

When you break apart a second time, you both buckle under the weight of his colleagues watching.

"Thank you," Rossi speaks up, grand and wry, "we thought we'd have to endure his moping for at least a week. Your understanding spares us all." 

"Nice, Dave," Aaron says. 

"I've got your paperwork, Hotch," Morgan offers. 

Aaron has the good sense to accept it before Morgan can change his mind. His friends say goodbye, and Aaron pulls you by the hand back to the elevator bank. You couldn't wipe the smile off of his face if you tried. 

The elevator doors have barely closed when he's leaning down to kiss you again. 

"Thank you," he says. 

"You really don't have to say thank you," you murmur, bumping your shoulder with his. "You got home safe. That's all that matters." 

His next kiss is bruising. The sound of cellophane crushed between you makes you laugh. He kisses you through it, his smile pressed feverishly to yours, over and over and over.

༺༻

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed please consider reblogging, i promise it makes a difference to me <3

[ventique18]

This is so dumb and embarrassing, but all this egg talk recently has made me think about how Lilia had to potty train Malleus...

LOOOOL baby Malleus attempting to do his business in the kitchen and Lilia moving like lightning to bring him to the toilet omfg 😂

I just thought of a dialogue because of this!

Mini Mal 🐉🍼 did something bad in his mini dragon form and papa 🐉 is reprimanding him for it.

🐉: "Go back to your crib, child!"

🐉🍼: *trudges forward strangely

🐉🍼: *peeks behind him to look at dad

🐉🍼: *trudges forward again, and 🌸 notices that he's got his butt on the ground while he's dragging himself with his front paws

🐉🍼: *peeks behind him again

🌸, whispering: "Why is he dragging his ass on the floor--"

🌸, recoiling in shock: "Oh my god he's wiping shit on the floor--"

🐉: *covers his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud

[sailorholly]

Red

Summary: Spencer can’t keep his eyes off your mouth. It must be your new red lipstick.

Warnings: Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI. Oral (M receiving)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F. Reader

See My Masterlist Here

“At least try it on. I’m sure it will look great on you.” Penelope pleads with you. You sigh, picking up the tube of red lipstick Emily got you for your Secret Santa gift. You had never been a big fan of colorful lipstick, always sticking to the nude shades you were comfortable with.

You look down at your dress, a sparkly, black mini dress that hugged your body in all the right places. You were going to a New Year’s Eve party at Rossi’s. JJ, Emily, and Penelope were going to be dressed to the nines. You didn’t want to feel left out. So, you hesitantly bring the tube to your lips, slowly applying the color. You push your bottom lip out, pouting to get a good look.

Surprisingly, it looked great on you. “Wow! You’re a total babe!” Penelope squeals, lightly shaking your shoulders. You take a few selfies together before leaving for the party.

“Baby girl, looking good as always. And who is this stone cold fox?” Derek jokes pulling you in for a hug. Spencer peeks around the corner, to see what all the commotion was. You smile at him, waving slightly. He smiles back, dark eyes twinkling as he looks at you. His gaze stops on your lips.

You notice he swallows thickly, large hands wringing together nervously. His eyes fall to the floor when he notices you watching him carefully. You frown, wondering what that was all about.

Drinks are flowing as Rossi sets the table with the dinner he made for everyone. While you’re eating, you can’t help but be aware of Spencer, who can’t keep his eyes off you. No, not you, your mouth. Every time you take a bite, Spencer’s fork loudly clinks against his plate.

A drop of sauce falls on your bottom lip, when your tongue darts out to lick it off, Spencer chokes on his wine. He puts a hand up, shyly signaling that he is okay.

After dinner, the team separates in the back yard. Emily and Hotch are talking, suspiciously close together. Penelope is almost in Derek’s lap, giggling as he whispers in her ear. JJ, Will, and Rossi are filling up their glasses at the wine station Rossi set up.

You and Spencer finish cleaning up in the kitchen. He walks way, heading for the back door. You catch his wrist, wrapping your hand around it. “Come here.” You walk toward the guest bedroom Rossi said was yours for the night. You open the door, the creaking so loud, you’re afraid you might get caught sneaking around.

You shut it quietly behind Spencer as he walks in. “What are you doing?” He asks, scrunching up his nose. “I noticed that you keep staring at me, or my lips I should say.” He swallows, his adams apple slightly bobbing. “I - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ You push him toward the bed, the back of his knees hitting the mattress as you shove him down.

“Shhh. No need to apologize. I don’t mind the staring. I like it.” He runs his hands through his mess of curls as you sink down on your knees in front of him. You reach for the button on his slacks, when you feel him grip your wrists to stop you.

“You don’t have to do that.” You twist your hands, freeing yourself. “I know I don’t have to, Spencer. I want to. Loosen up, live a little.” At your request, he helps you by undoing his pants, and sliding them down his legs.

His impressive length throbs as you stroke it gently, bringing it to your lips. You slowly trace a vein with your tongue, loving the way he shivers under your attention. You drag your tongue languidly over him, swirling around the head as your hand grips the base.

His breath hitches when you finally take him all the way in, lips sealing around him. You lock eyes with him as you begin to suck. “Oh fuck, that feels so good.” He praises you. You clench your thighs together, Spencer hardly ever cursed. It was beyond sexy to watch him come apart because of you.

Spencer whimpers as you bob your head up and down, taking him deeper. His long fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you further down on him. Saliva drips off your chin onto his thighs, as you struggle to take him. When you adjust to his size, you swallow around him, earning a whimper from him. His knuckles turn white as he grips the comforter on the bed.

“I’m gonna c-“ He starts, tapping on your head so you can stop if you want. The fucked out look in his brown eyes makes you pick up your pace. You lock your arms around his thighs, pulling him to you. You flatten your tongue, pursing your lips as you suck harshly, tightening your throat around him. Your name falls from his lips like a prayer as he spills down your throat.

You remove him from your mouth, confidently sticking your tongue out to show him you had swallowed every drop he gave you. Spencer blushes, throwing his arm over his face as he lays back against the mattress. “I need a minute.” He tells you. You walk over to the mirror on the wall, using your thumbs to wipe away the mess on your chin and tidy up your smeared lipstick. You look at your phone to see it was a little after midnight. “Happy New Year.” You say over your shoulder, as you leave the room.

Tags

@cindylynn @potter-puff007 @multifandom-worlds @mochie85 @wheredafandomat @cynbx @lover-of-books-and-tea @lamentis-10 @zzumkii @megharat-barnes-reid @anonymously-ominous @kats72 @vivian-555 @itzdarling @emarich7 @nomajdetective @aelinismyqueen @wildernessflora @academiareid @loz-3

[abibliophobiaa]

right where you left me;

chapter two: can i be close to you?

summary: steve harrington is unlucky when it comes to matters of the heart. for years he’s been in love with his best friend, but circumstances have made it impossible for him to make his feelings known. fate seems to have other plans, when you ask him to help you escape your wedding day, with nothing but his hand to hold and a car to drive off in. you suddenly find yourself headed back to hawkins, back to the place that feels so unfamiliar now — back to the place where you first fell in love.

warnings: 18+; smut in later chapters; alcohol mentions; class differences; financial insecurities; purposeful vignette-like/short scenes to cover a larger span of time in this mini-series (11k words).

steve harrington x f!inexperienced!reader || best friends to lovers, mutual pining, second chance romance with the town handyman who lives in a cabin in the woods.

masterlist | previous chapter

——

Those first few days pass in a blur.

You wake, often in Steve’s arms, your bodies coming together like moths to a flame. Like magnets. Neither of you says anything on the matter, merely brushing it off as the typical nature of your friendship.

He readies for the day, you watch him dress and go, and you take it upon yourself to clean up around the cabin in the woods. It’s odd, being that it’s the first time in a few years you have responsibilities like this. If you can call them that. Really, you only want to feel like you’re contributing something to the place you’re currently staying at.

Steve’s been kind enough to uproot his life for you, so it’s the least you can do. And when he comes home later in the evening, he cooks and you sit on the kitchen countertops, talking to him about his day. Soaking up the fact you can spend all this time with him now, without the societal pressures, parties, and social events to weigh you down.

About a week in you decide you want to contribute something. A fact which Steve laughs at, reminding you, “If you’ve forgotten, I want you here. Don’t feel like you need to do that.”

Both of you walk side by side on the sidewalk, him in a sweater and jeans, and you in a pair of newly purchased jeans and a dark knitted sweater. Wind prickles against your cheeks, the puffer vest you’re wearing doing very little to block out the cold. Leaves crunch as you walk, dancing along the streets as people pass on by, kicking them up as they go.

The Hideout comes into view, dim lighting highlighting the ‘Now Hiring’ posted hanging in one of the windows. “It’s like the universe is sending me a sign!” You giggle brightly, hand wrapping around Steve’s wrist like a bracelet, dragging him into the restaurant behind you.

It’s different than you remember. Still that darker interior — all wooden floors, wooden bar, wooden walls. Against the side wall is a sprawling bar top, with steel stools full of patrons sipping on drinks. There are some bent low in conversation, others looking like they’re on first dates, all blushing cheeks and bashful smiles. Others are cheering, wearing jerseys of whatever team they support, likely coming home from a football game.

The dining area is different than you remember too. Wooden chairs around wooden tables, beautiful lighting hanging from above, the room cast in an ethereal glow. From where you're standing you can see families and couples, friend groups and bachelorette celebrations occupying the spaces. Smiling servers and wait staff weave in and out of the aisles, before your gaze swivels to the hostess at the front booth, asking how many in your party.

“Two, please!” you say, leaning into Steve’s shoulder excitedly, giving his hand a squeeze as the woman leads you toward a table near the back of the restaurant, your mind still whirling a bit at how successful Eddie’s place has become. Once seated, you whisper, “This restaurant is insane. Can’t believe this is the same bar.”

Steve nods. “He really did a great job with the place —”

“Says the guy who put together a good chunk of the furniture here,” Eddie teases, placing menus on the table in front of you both. “Fancy seeing you two here. Thought you’d still be holed up in the love shack. Rob's going crazy.”

“I could only take off a few days for the wedding,” Steve reminds him, shoving the older man lightly. “We’re seeing her tomorrow, if you must know.”

“Good, because she’s been parked on my couch the past few nights and Abi and I haven’t had any alone time,” Eddie says with a grumble, but you know there’s no malice there. “Get whatever you want — it’s on the house. My ‘welcome back to Hawkins treat.’”

Eddie moves to leave, but you stop him with a hasty, “The door. It says you’re hiring.”

The man in question turns back around, arms crossing over his chest. His eyes travel up and down your form, a question burgeoning in his gaze, “Yeah, I’m in need of waitresses for the busy season. You keep your tips. Why? Do you need a job?”

You swallow. “I don’t want to mooch off of Steve the whole time I’m here. And I don’t really know what I want to do long term, but I figure I need money to do anything. So…yeah?”

“Then you’re hired.”

Steve grins, but you shake your head. “No, no. I don’t want you to just give me a job. I want an interview, just like anyone else.”

“Okay…” Eddie glances Steve’s way briefly. His best friend only shrugs. “Do you have any customer service experience?”

“I worked at a clothing store in Starcourt?” Before it burned down, obviously.

“How long was that for?” Eddie asks, pulling out a free chair and settling in front of you.

“Few months,” you tell him, and then blurt out, “I also babysat for the Sinclair’s for a bit!”

“You babysat the younger Sinclair?”

“Yeah,” you say, a little quieter this time, not quite sure what he’s getting at.

Erica had been nothing but lovely to you in all the time you babysat her; if not quite a bit sarcastic and oftentimes blunt, but given you’ve spent years in the company of Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson, it was never anything you couldn’t handle.

“And survived?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods rapidly. “She —”

“Quiet, she’s interviewing.” Eddie raises a hand to silence Steve.

“I…survived…” Your words are quiet, and Eddie leans backward against the frame of the chair, contemplative.

“Abi makes the schedule on Sunday usually.” Tomorrow, then. “I’ll ask her to put you on for Monday, and then we’ll go from there. How does that sound?”

You swallow, a little miffed, brows knit high on your forehead. “That’s…that’s great. Yeah. Monday is good.”

He claps you on the shoulder and ruffles Steve’s hair, grinning at a server that passes by as he shoves his chair back into place with a loud screech against wooden floors. And then he’s off, leaving you to stare across the table at Steve, trying to hide the smile that creeps along your lips at the realization of what just happened seconds ago.

“So…” Steve takes a sip of his drink, grinning ruefully, “that happened. How are you feeling? First job in a few years, yeah?”

“I…I have a job.” Steve bursts out laughing as you nearly topple over the table in pursuit of wrapping your arms around his next. “I have a job!”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he chuckles, sliding a hand over the small of your back, grinning into your cheek. “I'm so proud of you. Think we should order a bottle of wine and celebrate a bit?”

That’s exactly what you end up doing.

——

In the mornings, you and Steve share coffee and breakfast. You’ll take turns cooking. Some days he’ll wake you with coffee in bed, Garfield lounging across your thighs. Others, he’ll stumble into the kitchen, eyes bleary and in search of the coffee pot, while chocolate pancakes cook on the stove.

Those mornings are your favorites, because you’ll often hear him murmuring to himself how much he loves you — and you try to deflect that feeling that crawls up from deep within you, the part of you that craves for him to mean it in the sense that he’s in love with you.

Later, he parts for work and you ready yourself for shifts at Eddie’s restaurant. Which is a learning curve, to say the least. Abi, Eddie’s soon-to-be wife, only laughs as you drop another plate filled with water cups in the back, landing on your butt in the process. A huff pours out of you, just as some of the cooks grin your way, offering condolences for your likely bruised tailbone, and Eddie’s head pops into view, all the dark curls that resist staying put in an elastic spilling around his face. He’s grinning but you’re frustrated, on day seven of utterly making a mess of things.

“It’s really not that bad,” Abi reassures you later that afternoon, your apron draped over your shoulder, punched out for the day. There’s a glass of wine in front of you, but you haven’t really had any of it. “It takes time. You’ll get it.”

“It shouldn’t be this hard.”

And yet it is. For years you’ve lived a life of luxury, shuttered away from society. Work was some lofty idea, left behind after you fled Hawkins. You want to pick up on things, want to be good at them, to make Steve proud. Yet you still struggle, still find yourself doubting your capabilities, wondering what it is Eddie saw in you when he hired you.

That night, Steve and you sit around the coffee table in his living room. You’re wearing a pair of cozy sweatpants and an equally comfortable hoodie and he’s there in that yellow sweater of his you told him to never get rid of. The one that has some holes in it now around the edges, but looks great on him all the same. A puzzle rests on the table in front of you both, the pieces scattered all around the wooden surface. Garfield snoozes on Steve’s lap, curled up onto a tight ball, his purring mixing with the crackling of the burning fire mere feet away.

“I’m proud of you,” Steve says, sipping at the beer on a coaster in front of him. The label is long scratched off, condensation dribbling down in little rivulets against the glass. Confusion pricking, your head tips to the side. “Eddie says you’re doing well at the Hideout.”

“He’s lying to you,” you deadpan, pushing another edge piece into place. “I’m struggling. But Abi says it just takes time. It’s definitely not like working at my old clothing store over at Starcourt.”

An edge of darkness flitters across Steve’s features at the mere mention. It shudders and ripples in the spaces between the two of you. Neither really talks about it all that much, especially now that he and you both had been in extensive therapy for it. And even then, the remembrance stings a bit. The reminder of what that day meant for your friend group. Hadn't then at all really to your detriments, when everything happened as it had. Instead you’d both pushed it away and hopped into Steve’s car some days later, with nothing but a map and some money pooled between the two of you.

But it had been enough. It had been everything. The road. The warmth of summer. The escape. The boy.

Steve’s not a boy now. Hasn’t been for a while, you realize, sitting there and peering into those hazel eyes that almost look like molten honey when the fire dances within their swirling depths. Your fingers reach over and twine with his. Just as they have countless other times, just as they always do. Seeking him. Craving the nearness of him. Comforting him, but also yourself.

A cheek of his twitches. Curls a bit with the softest of smiles. Steve Harrington’s smiles are your favorite. Have always been. They’re the kind that a picture can’t capture, an artist can’t form the likeness of. The only way to contain them is to see them, to bottle them up, to store them away in your heart. Sometimes, when you were younger, you imagined they were special. Meant only for you.

Still do now, if you’re being honest with yourself.

“Nothing is quite like working at Starcourt,” he teases, diverting to humor. You wince a bit at it, fingers around his twitching lightly. “Not everyday someone gets possessed, and you get abducted by Russians, huh? Bet the Hideout will feel like a walk in the park soon in comparison.”

“I hope so,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else. “I just don’t want to sit around while I’m staying here. Maybe I’ll…start saving up for my own place? For the time being, at least.”

“Or you could just stay here,” Steve says evenly, free hand stroking over Garfield’s fuzzy head, “I did say you could stay as long as you like. I didn’t just say that to say it. I like having you here. It feels…normal. It feels good. Really good.”

There’s a little rasp to his voice. A brokenness that clings to the edges of his speech. Your fingers tighten further, crawling up onto your knees to settle down at his side, shoulder bumping his as you reach over to place another puzzle piece down in the proper position. He leans his head against your shoulder, forehead shaking back and forth against the fabric of your clothing, and you just know he’s smiling without even seeing his face.

“Okay, okay. But the moment you get sick of me I’m giving you permission to kick me out —”

“Won’t happen,” he assures you, chuckling a bit.

“How can you be so sure?”

“For one, I’ve known you for years already. You clean up after yourself. You’re crazy loud, but we match each other in that, so it’s fine. You’re not bad to share a bed with — although you go all starfish on me in your sleep —”

“I do not!” you exclaim shrilly, cheeks burning up at the notion.

“You do,” he laughs, dragging you closer to him with an arm around your shoulders, “woke up with your drool on my chest the other day.”

“Yeah, because you’re a human furnace!”

“Doesn’t seem like you mind, seeing as you end up on top of m —” He pauses, the puzzle piece you playfully threw at him bouncing off of his cheek and onto the floor with a clatter. Garfield scampers off to eat, likely rolling his eyes at your antics as he goes, the sound of his collar bell jingling drowning out the silence in the room. “You just threw a puzzle piece at me.”

“I did just throw a puzzle piece at you,” you repeat slowly, bursting out into loud, shrieking laughter as Steve rolls you over onto the blankets scattered beneath him on the floor, body caging yours in place.

His fingers twitch along your sides, your body writhing and rolling beneath him, a frantic jostle of your stomach that has his face crashing into your shoulder, his smile warm against the skin of your collarbone.

You’re children again, you think, as your fingers slip under his sweater and pinch at his sides, earning a loud howl from the man. “Geez, not the pinchy fingers.”

“Mercy?”

“Mercy,” he pleads, his fingers pinning your hands at your sides, chest rising and falling rapidly in a direct mirror to your own.

“You look different from this angle.”

As in, your blood heats with it. Heart clangs at the proximity of your hips in relation to his. The way your mind itches and races to know what he’d feel like if he lowered himself a bit, the cradle of your thighs a home to him. He’s breathing heavy, his laughter joyful on your ears, eyes dark as they clash with yours.

“Different how?”

“Not a bad ‘different.’”

Not at all. He looks older now — is older now. His clothes fit differently now. He’s always been fit from basketball and baseball throughout the years. But he fills out his shirts and sweaters differently now. His chest broader, the stitching on his sweater hugging his biceps as they ripple around you — as you’ve seen them in the days since you’ve come back to Hawkins. Working as a carpenter seems to have had its benefits, and you try to not dwell on the fact you’re reaping them now.

His hazel eyes slide over your form searchingly. His chest still rising and falling as your fingers pinch in the yellow sleeve of his sweater, pulling at a thread that spills free from a stitched seam. The sudden shift of your form has your back flaring, right in the middle of your shoulder blades, a wince crossing your features before you can mask it. Worriedly, Steve rolls over onto his side, asking, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

No. Never. “No. Just…not used to carrying as much as I have the past few days, it seems. Pretty sad, isn’t it?”

He rolls his eyes at your self-deprecating remark. Sits up against the couch so his back is against it and pats the ground between his thighs. “Come here.”

“What…?”

“Come here,” he repeats, a little impatiently.

You return his eye roll with one of your own, clambering up and off the ground and into the space between his thighs. There’s little time to worry about the proximity of your spine to the muscular wall of his chest before his fingers are pressing into the curves of your shoulders, rubbing at the tensely corded muscles there.

It’s easy to relax like this. Can’t really think of a time when you last felt so relaxed. Usually you’re under the judgemental stares of dozens of eyes. Those who think they know you, understand you, and yet don’t. Defined by a name you had no name of being born to. It was only by circumstance. But you’ve always felt like yourself around Steve. No need to put on airs, to hold yourself to a certain standard, to lift your head a certain way or say all the right things.

He’s only ever wanted the fullest version of yourself. Probably has been one of the only people to ever understand you in the way you wished others did as well. For years you wondered if people knew you, really knew you, they wouldn’t like what they saw. But sitting here, in this cabin, with this man? You realize you don’t even care. Throw away the rest of the world, and leave Steve behind, and you’d have everything you ever wanted.

“Does this hurt?” he asks, thumb swiping along the top of your spine, right at the dip below your skull, before swiping in an arch along each curve of your shoulders. “I’ll stop if it does.”

“N-no,” you sigh, languid against his frame. “Although, I’m feeling mildly jealous of all those who may have benefited from a massage by Steve Harrington.”

A chuckle rumbles against your back. “Only you, really. In case you forgot, Eddie got me a cat to keep me company.”

A part of you, a very selfish part, rejoices inwardly over his confession. A little victory dance, sending giddy sparks throughout your bloodstream. That giddiness burns molten as Steve pushes the neck of your oversized hoodie down a bit, fingers wrapping around the fullness of your shoulder, tips of them dipping below your collarbone.

It’s a not at all sensual touch — and yet it has heat pooling between your thighs, has you biting back a quiet moan that inches up your throat, reminding you of the mere fact that it’s been a couple of years since being with anyone sexually coupled with the fact you’ve spent the past few days pressed up against the only one you’ve ever been in love with at night.

That’s all it is. The only thing that has you melting further against him, humming pleasantly as elusive sleep tugs you closer and closer into its comforting embrace. After a while, you’re not sure how long really, Steve’s arms start to slide around your waist, his chin against your shoulder, the sound of his comforting breathing a welcoming metronome against your ear. Your fingers reach up and slide into the holes of his sweater, brushing along the dark hairs you know line his forearms, lulling you and him into further rest. To anyone else, you know what the scene looks like: two people, intimately knowing one another, cuddling. Broken away from the rest of the world and into one of their own. To you, you know it’s another normal afternoon with the man.

And yet, your eyes lock with the dying embers crackling in the fireplace, wondering if it could ever be different. If only one of you were brave enough to broach the conversation, to see if the feelings are reciprocated, if now is finally the time to take a chance. A leap. To dare to dream a little. A silly, childhood dream that seems so insurmountable. Still, you crave it more than anything else.

You breathe in deeply, Steve’s arms tightening around your waist. His heavy, rhythmic breathing lets you know he’s fallen asleep now. Your fingers stroke along his arm again, a comfort to him but also you, and you finally close your eyes.

You rest, that question in your mind dying with the firelight.

——

“Monster Mash” blares from a speaker somewhere in the distance. Drowns out the chatter of those downstairs as you put on the finishing touches of yours, El’s and Max’s Halloween costume.

“Wednesday Addams again?” Max muses, pointing to the costume you managed to put together in a couple of hours, not knowing until the last minute you were going to a party to begin with. You’d also been Wednesday the last time you’d been living in Hawkins for the holiday.

You’re presently smudging red lines near the bottom of her jaw, adding little droplets of blood when and where needed. El is beside her, looking very much like a mummy.

“Hey?” Steve appears in the doorway. The hottest Danny Zuko you’d ever seen. You’d never admit that, though. “I don’t mean to interrupt but, uh —”

“Just finishing up,” you tell him softly, smiling appreciatively at the way his eyes roam your form swathed in black, “we’ll be down in a minute.”

Steve smiles and jogs down the stairs, leaving you standing in the bathroom once more with the girls, chewing on your bottom lip and likely smudging the dark lipstick you’d slapped on.

“I guess some things never change,” Max adds, beaming mischievously when your fingers stutter over her jaw, “still pining over Harrington.”

“I do not pine!”

“You pine,” Max giggles, blue eyes sparkling in her mirth as they glances to El for support, “She pines, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah,” El mutters, a bit more shyly than her best friend, “you pine.”

“Well I didn’t take Max Mayfield and El Hopper to be gossips,” you snark, dabbing a little red lipstick on Max’s pouty lips, voice taking on a higher pitch.

“It’s been, what? Almost ten years of you pining after him?” Max wiggles her shoulders, smirking when you glare at her.

“You were practically an infant then,” you balk, cheeks burning along with your chest, “not even in Hawkins.”

“Yeah…but…” El begins, tucking a hair behind her ears, “it’s kind of…obvious?”

“You two are lucky you’re my favorites of the children.” Though now, with them graduating this year, it feels weird to call them that.

“He pines too,” Max adds. “Right?”

El grins. “Definitely.”

“Is that so…?” You grin, a little rueful, hope blooming in your chest. “Tell me m —”

“Well look at this little band of creepy folk,” Argyle drawls from the doorway, shiny hair falling down around him in a halo, his Michael Myers mask dangling from his hand. “Don’t wanna interrupt this little gathering, but you know…”

——

As the Halloween buzz dies down around work and town, the frigid streets become full of the changing seasons. Leaves fall everywhere you go. Bursts of orange, yellow, red and gold swirl around busy side streets, packed with those investigating local farmer’s markets and slipping in and out of family owned businesses to purchase gifts to get ahead of the holiday season.

The Hideout becomes busier in those weeks. Countless patrons fill your stations, back screaming and head spinning by the time you end your shifts. That day in particular, you stand behind the bar with Abi, chugging down a glass of water she poured you before stripping your apron from around your hips.

“Did well in tips, it looks like,” she points out, gesturing to the wad of cash you promptly stuff into the pocket of your jeans. “Told you you’d get better.”

It also helps that you had multiple larger parties that evening, all of which were more than happy to pay a little extra once they’d gotten a second and third round of beer in them. Though you didn’t really appreciate the way one in particular had slipped his phone number, writing ‘for a good time call.’ You’d chucked that into the garbage with a huff, making sure to toss a wide grin over your shoulder as they later slipped out of the restaurant and he waggled his fingers near his ear in the shape of a telephone, as though you were going to run home and reach out.

“I told Steve I was going to make us dinner since he’s working late on a job, so I’m going to head out.” You huff out a breath, staring up at the clock that reads seven. “Though I think I’m going to need to grab caffeine. I don’t think I sat down once today.”

“Get out of here!” Eddie shouts, sneaking over to loop an arm around Abi’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to her temple. Something like longing bubbles up in your stomach at the sight, the craving for what they have simmering with it. “Or else you’re fired. You’ve worked late every day this week. If you get sick, that’s on you.”

“Fine!” Your hands wave in front of you in defeat, waving to the two of them as you slip out the front doors of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk.

At this time of evening, those wandering the streets are quieter. Bags full of goodies from their excursions. You tug your jacket tighter to yourself as you slip on by, waving to those who have started to become normal faces once more over the weeks in Hawkins. They wave back, grinning like they used to. Greeting you like you hadn’t been gone for three years.

It's strange to think of being gone now.

Strange to think of leaving again.

You find you don’t want to leave again.

And fortunately, no one from home has tried to make an effort to bring you back to the city kicking and screaming. Part of that is by design — leaving no way for them to contact you in the first place. No one knows you’re staying with Steve. No one really even knows where Steve is these days, given he’s not been in contact with his family since they left in 1986 as it is.

You want to keep it that way.

Smiling to yourself, you slip in through the front door of Hawkin’s Brew, a little family run coffee shop that sits a few doors down from your job, smelling like cinnamon and spices, and the freshly brewed coffee you can see percolating over the countertop.

A new barista lifts her head up over the counter. All wavy blonde hair that reminds you of a mermaid and sparkling green eyes around a pair of thick lashes anyone would die for. Gorgeous, she’s absolutely gorgeous and you definitely would have remembered her face if she’d been there before.

“Hiya!” she greets, beaming widely, revealing a glowing set of white teeth that flash in your vision. “You look confused. My mom, Mary Jo, is usually here with my dad. But mom wasn’t feeling well, and I’d finished up at the preschool, so I’m here to help. I don’t think I’ve seen you around. I’m Lucy!”

You offer your name and a soft ‘hi,’ still a little startled by the exuberant greeting. “Nice to meet you, Lucy. Sorry to hear about Mary Jo. I hope she starts to feel better soon.”

Lucy leans her elbow against the counter, and you can’t help but admire the cream colored chunky knit sweater she’s wearing with a flowing skirt to finish off the look. It looks effortless on her.

“What can I get you today?”

“A hot coffee, cream two sugars please,” you tell her, and she gets to work behind the counter.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Steve’s truck he uses for work, the back full of leftover lumber.

“Oh, Steve’s here?” Lucy says, sounding a little faraway. Contrast to the ball of excitement she’s been since you walked in. “You know, he’s a confusing one, that guy.”

“Is he?” You laugh, watching as he rummages around his front passenger seat.

“Ever since the earthquake, he’s been giving up so much of himself. Charity, taking up the basketball team at the high school, helping out around town. Did you know he helped my parents build a shed last summer? By hand?” Her voice trails off, and that smile of hers grows once more, like she’s stuck in a far off memory. “And he’s handsome. Single. Yet he doesn’t date. Not really. It’s so…strange? But whoever he marries — they’re gonna be a lucky one.”

“Yeah…” Your brows furrow at her words.

Steve, your Steve, is something of a hero to these people. He’s your hero too, but it twinges in your chest hearing it from someone else. For so long he’d been yours, but now, it seems, he’s needed around here. Admired. Loved. And you’ve missed so much of it in running away. Time you’ll never get back.

He’s changed. You just never realized how much. An ache builds in your heart, wondering if maybe you’re too different now from who you both were years ago.

The man in question hops out of the vehicle, fingers carding through his hair as he gazes into the coffee shop, immediately lighting up when he sees you.

“Do you know him?” Lucy asks, voice raising in pitch as she hands you your coffee and you toss your bills onto the counter.

“Yeah,” you say, sipping at the coffee, “he’s been my best friend for years. I’m staying with him for the time being, actually.”

“Oh!” Lucy perks up, chewing her bottom lip. “So you’re the one he’s so —”

As your mouth opens to ask what Lucy means, Steve walks in. He immediately commands the attention of the shop, both yours and Lucy’s stares drawn to him as he slides an arm around your waist and tugs you against his side, oblivious to what he’s interrupted.

“I was going to grab you some coffee,” he says, fingers squeezing a bit at your side. He notices Lucy then. “Hey, Luce.”

Luce.

Familiar.

Jealousy burns. You try to tamper it down, to pretend the unspoken words between them don’t matter to you. But there are a thousand new questions that burn in your mind, with no words or standing to ask them.

Lucy waves in greeting, those pretty green eyes of hers glimmering in the moonlight spilling in through the front windows of the shop. “Always good to see you, Steve.”

“You too,” he agrees, head lowering closer to yours as he then asks, “Ready to head out?”

He’s leading you to the door, and you spare a glance over your shoulder to the woman you’ve just met moments ago. There’s a look you can’t quite place on her features, a furrow of her brows, a slight downturn to her softly parted lips.

You wave your goodbye, and try to push all of whatever that might have been into the depths of your mind.

——

Steve tosses and turns behind you. A fitful rest that has you rolling over onto your side, fingers brushing along the clenched planes of his cheeks. You can practically hear his molars smashing against one another, can feel the rapid thump of his heart in his chest as your fingers splay against his sternum.

At the touch, his face softens in the slightest. A low moan pours from him, a whine of ‘no, don’t’ cleaving your heart right down the middle.

“Steve?” It’s a whisper. A plea for him to come back to you in the waking world. He reaches out in his sleep and clutches at your tee shirt, clutching the fabric tight. Another whine. A whimper of a cry. “Steve, I’m here. I’m here.”

Sweat pools along his skin, despite the chill in the air. The tips of your fingers press to his forehead, running along the wrinkles forming high up on the skin there. His name is a whisper over and over again on your lips, a soft beckoning into wherever his dreams have taken him — a tether for him to grip onto, if only so you can reel him back in.

You’re no stranger to nightmares. They plague you, too. Dark, weaving things that sneak into your mind at night, tendrils clinging to the innermost workings of your mind. That day at the mall, watching as that monster loomed, dark and imposing in a colorful explosion of light. Billy, being ripped into over and over again. The spray of black blood, the cries of Max. The moments that came after, where Steve practically demanded an EMT to look over your ribs, despite the fact there was nothing one could do if they were broken anyway. And then there had been those images on the news — of classmates fallen to Vecna. Memories of the splintered down, the gaping holes in the earth, the spaces where many had disappeared into. Endless faces of the lost, declared dead or missing.

So much turmoil. More than some kids and teenagers were ever meant to see in a lifetime.

“Let go!” Steve shouts into the night, rolling over again so his back faces you.

“Steve,” you whisper, running a hand along his spine, “it’s me. Come back to me. I’m here.”

He rolls over again and his eyes open, locking on your features. Broad palms come up to cup your face, forehead descending upon yours. He mutters your name a little brokenly, moving to press his head into the space beneath your chin, arms looping low around your waist.

“I’m here, Steve,” you remind him.

There for one another, as you’ve always been.

In a world where people come and go, where you can’t rely on anyone, he is your rock and you are his.

“Shhh.” Your fingers thread into his hair, smoothing the messiness left in the wake of his endless tossing and turning. His breathing tapers off. Slows. Starts to deepen. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

But you fear the day he may no longer need you.

——

Steve’s…liked by most. Sought after. Desired. He’s popular, in a way that you’ll never be. With his friends, with his teachers, with women. Though he was your first kiss, you’re not even delusional enough to believe he’s only saving his lips for you.

He doesn’t do relationships often. He goes on dates and you watch him from afar. Can see the glow of his bedroom window, the hurt that burns like a knife when he sneaks a girl in while his parents are gone. Your curtains always shut when they kiss, when things start to feel like a betrayal to the foolish unrequited feelings you harbor.

It becomes a thing. Wishing and wanting your best friend as he loves everyone else around you.

Luckily, they’re always short dalliances. Flings. Dates that lead nowhere. And even though it hurts, there’s some comfort in the fact these things never last long.

That is, until Nancy Wheeler steps in. And you make yourself scarce. She’s smart and lovely and beautiful. She’s everything you could ever want for Steve — and she’s not you.

Just like everyone else he sneaks into his bedroom.

Because why would Steve Harrington ever look your way like he does theirs?

And therein lies the problem.

——

A month. You’ve been in town nearly a month and things are more or less exactly as they’ve always been. Platonic and full of yearning. At least, on his part. He’s not quite sure what to make of your feelings lately — and he’s never been one to push the envelope with you.

He needs a sign. A sign from up above or something just to show him that all his efforts have not been in vain.

It comes that afternoon. Sweat pools along his chest and stomach. Along his back as it ripples with each swing of the ax, splitting piece of wood after piece of wood. The plaid shirt he wears is long unbuttoned, stomach fully on display as he pauses a moment to reach down and sip some of his water set on a wooden stool nearby.

Thwack.

Thwack.

Thwack.

He’s so caught up in the monotony of the task, the methodical way he swings down and splits the wood, that he fails to hear your arrival. Only notices your form out of the corner of his eye, hiding behind a tree.

Or, at least, it looks like you think you’re hidden.

He can see the way your chest rises and falls rapidly, your fingers covering your heart, like you’re terrified he’ll hear it. The boots on your feet are pinched tight together, likely having stopped abruptly once you noticed you could potentially be caught.

And there’s that bottom lip of yours, tucked between your teeth. Biting back any noises that might slip out.

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes trail along his abdomen. How they linger on the newer muscles there, hewn by countless hours spent working as a carpenter. You look downright guilty — like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

He adores it.

“I don’t mind if I have an audience, you know?” He muses, grin growing wider as you stumble a bit in the leafy pile at your feet.

His amusement grows as you tilt your head up to the sky, as if searching for something. Unfortunately for you, it’s a cloudy day, and there is nothing to see up above other than an endless gray sea.

“Steve…” you warn, still not meeting his eyes.

You’ve always been endearing. Sweet, in a way he finds adorable. And this sudden shyness when you’re typically so sure? It reminds him of those moments when he first kissed you, all those years ago. Your heart was like a hummingbird’s wings against his chest that evening, fingers trembling against him, unsure of what to do with yourself.

“Here,” he chuckles, walking over to curl a hand around your wrist and putting you out of your misery. He walks you over to where he’s splitting wood, “wanna try?”

“I mean, sure. How hard could it be?” you tease, back stiffening as he slips in behind you, sweat-slicked skin pressing against the curve of your spine before relaxing into him.

He’s already placed a new log on the block, the rest of his split pieces lying on a rack near the side of his home. Wide palms come to wrap around your hands, sliding them into place on the handle of the ax. One near the top for grip, another near the bottom for powering through the stroke. “Grip it nice and tight. Both hands.”

“Okay, like this?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him, and his breath immediately hitches. Throat cleaning, he gives your shoulder a quick squeeze and steps back a little.

“Spread your legs a little. Shoulder width apart. Yeah — just like that.”

You’re a little sheepish as he steps over to the side, trying to put enough distance between you and him to feel safe enough. A cold breath puffs out of his lungs, the cloud billowing in the air before him as you glance down at where your hands are firmly grasping the handle, deep breaths to center yourself echoing in the forest.

“Now you’re going to pick a point on the wood and focus on it, raise the ax and strike through, focusing on that spot.”

“Sounds easy enough,” you nervously murmur, doing exactly as he instructed, the ax rising above your head.

As you swing downward, the ax wedges into the wood, and you stumble to the ground, kicking up leaves as your bottom slams against the forest floor. Steve stumbles forward to check if you’re okay, but when your sides start trembling with uncontrollable laughter, his face breaks out into a grin.

He loves you, and he aches with it. More — now that you’re living with him.

“Guess you don’t want me helping you on any jobs, huh?”

A couple days later, however, you do exactly that.

Mr. Gerry Jones is an older man in town, and in desperate need of a new paint job for his living room before he tries to sell his home. Steve agreed to help weeks ago, and when his partner comes down with the flu, decides to ask you if you want to come along. He finds you laying on the couch that morning with a book, and he hardly expects you to say yes with the amount of hours you’ve been working at the Hideout, but you quickly jump to attention with a nearly shouted ‘yes.’

Now you sit beside him on the floor, admiring the freshly painted wall, taking a moment to breathe before starting the next one. You’re wearing a pair of overalls, a ratty old tee shirt tied up beneath, revealing the curve of your side, a patch of skin that Steve’s been trying to not stare at for the past few hours.

His heart clenches as your head tips over your shoulder, a little splatter of olive colored paint across your cheek. Reaching out, he cups your cheek and wipes it away, warming as you lean a bit into his touch.

Neither of you dares to acknowledge the tension burning in the room. The way it feels like time seems to slow to a halt when you’re there, shuffling up onto your feet, moving over to the next wall. Steve only talks. Begins prattling on about anything and everything, trying to keep himself distracted from the feeling swirling in his gut — the desire that has only grown every day to see what might happen if he just dared to try. To close the gap between your lips and put to bed all the questions.

But he doesn’t. Instead he gazes ahead, mouth dropping open when he asks about what your relationship with Clark was like — in what feels like an attempt to torture himself — and you utter that you’d never really done anything with him.

“Or anyone…for that matter,” you add slowly, your bottom lip pushing between your teeth, voice a little quiet.

“Like…?”

“I’m not a virgin, Steve,” you bark out, eyes rolling a bit in your skull. “But I’ve really only been with one guy. And it wasn’t even good or anything.”

“You’re joking.”

“Steve.”

“I’m not making fun. I’m just…”

“Shocked at how pathetic I am?” you drawl, taking a step backward. Away from him.

“No — I just —”

“It’s not like the movies either. All of the explosions and fireworks.” You frown, and Steve grimaces at your words. At the sadness lining your features. “I just — I don’t know. It wasn’t like how you’d always talked about it. We barely even kissed during it and I didn’t…”

“Honey…” he sighs, taking a step forward. “Clearly, he wasn’t the right guy. The right guy would have made it extra special, because you’re special, and definitely would have made sure you finished before he did. And I’m sorry but he didn’t deserve you, because you deserve all the explosions and fireworks.”

“Yeah?” You sound so hopeful, eyes a little narrowed, mouth parting softly.

“I mean…hypothetically…” he steps a little closer.

He catches your slow swallow. The way your chest heaves on a breath, eyes trailing his form. Heat burns in the atmosphere as your eyes narrow a bit, staring at him like you had in the woods. Appreciatively, and not at all like a friend. How long had he missed those looks? How long had he not noticed the slow simmering desire beneath the surface? Suddenly he’s back in that closet and a teenager again, only now instead of your jean shorts, his finger curls into the pocket of your overalls, chest brushing yours. Cornered, your back bumps against the presently dry wall behind you.

“If it were me —” He stops. Thinks better of it.

“N-no,” you splutter out, voice a rasp, breath puffing, “go on. Hypothetically, obviously.”

“Well, for starters, I’d start by getting down on my kne —”

“Hey, kids!” Mr. Jones calls into the room, and you both jump like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t be. “Could one of you help me sort through some boxes? I don’t want to be a bother, but my back just isn’t what it was, you know?”

You throw a hand up in the air. “I’ve got it.”

Steve inwardly groans, his jeans suddenly a little too tight at what he’d been imagining doing to you only moments before — what he’d been imagining doing to you for years, if he was being honest.

You glance away, rushing over to Gerry, embarrassment rolling off your form.

And you’re gone, following the older man from where he came.

Conversation…over.

——

The window next door glows with lamplight. It’s after the earthquake that you see it. The earthquake that has you hiding in the doorway, holding onto the frame as the earth shudders and groans beneath you, pictures of your family now shattered frames scattered into a million pieces on the ground.

You grab a few things. Bandages, clothes, some water bottles. You can’t really tell how many people are over there, so you grab a pack. And when you ring the doorbell and Robin answers, looking stricken and covered in an inch of dirt, your heart groans too, because the look on her face is grim.

Steve throws his arms around you when you enter his bedroom, a whisper of, “You’re safe,” against your head. Reverently. Like he can’t quite believe it, like he wasn’t sure what he would find when he came back.

Your hands slide up and along his back, his body jolting at the contact, your fingers coming back a little stained with what looks to be fresh blood. “Steve, you’re hurt. I brought bandages.”

“He’s worse,” Steve utters through gritted teeth, “take care of him first.”

And there on the bed is Eddie Munson, with Nancy Wheeler there to rest a cloth against his head, whispering to the man under her breath. Soothing him, soothing those wrinkles that line his forehead — deep set in his pain.

With Nancy’s help, you get to work. Trying to cut him out of his clothes, careful to not agitate the wounds any further, apologizing for every whimper. Every broken sob of the man who fought to save a town that would have killed him on their own had they been given the change.

And later, after you’ve scrubbed your arms raw to try and rid yourself of the remnants of Eddie’s blood, Steve slides in beside you in the bathroom. Curls a hand around your head and tugs you against him, kissing your temple. Whispering something against your skull that you can’t quite make out. Steve’s not religious, but you swear he thanks someone for keeping you safe.

“You’re next,” you mutter, wiggling out of his hold, peering up at the dirty face of the man you love. “Strip.”

“See, in a different context, those words coming from your lips —”

“I’m not joking,” you sing-song, tugging at the bloodied shirt he’s wearing. “Off with it.”

“I can’t,” he winces.

“You’re getting modest with me now? I’ve seen you half naked more times —”

“I think it’s a little stuck,” he groans, turning around and peeling off the outer jacket. It falls to the ground and you can see what he’s talking about. The injuries, freshly reopened, cling to the fabric like a second skin.

You whistle on an exhale, and he laughs darkly. “It’s not so bad. Just looks like one area got a little angry. If you get in the shower, I can run a little water on it to loosen it up.” You lift the edge of his shirt a bit, noting the swath of bandages around his waist. “Who did these? They look pretty good.”

“Nancy.”

“Good,” you say, a little softly, “now into the shower, Harrington.”

You’re trying. Trying to make light of a terrible night. But you can see the pain in his form that runs deeper than the scratches on the surface. Can see it in the tension on his form as he slips out of his jeans and climbs into the tub with nothing but a pair of boxers.

Neither of you speaks for a while. As you turn on the water and try to soak his shirt. As you eventually peel the shirt away and whisper you’re sorry over and over when he hisses and bites back against the pain. Nor as you run a damp towel over the wounds to clean them, careful to not agitate his mangled flesh further.

But then you hear it. The sniffle. The shudder of breath.

“Steve,” you whisper, threading your fingers in his hair, feeling him tremble against your touch, “what happened tonight?”

He cries. Folds his face into his hands and cries.

You toss the cloth aside and climb in to hold him, because you’ve known physical pain, but this pain hits differently. Twists in you like a knife. You can handle your own pain, but seeing Steve break, seeing your hero crumble, is a pain that cuts to your marrow. Shatters and scatters your heart into a million pieces.

But you have to stay strong.

For him. For all the times he’s done the same for you.

He clings to you, fingers fisted into your shirt, and you don’t let go.

——

You don’t talk about that moment in Mr. Jones’ home. Neither of you bring it up for days. And yet — it’s all you can think about. The way he looked your way, the timbre of his words, the way heat had crawled up your spine. How it also pooled low, throbbed in your core in a way that was unfamiliar to you.

Was this passion? Desire? Lust? All feelings that seem so foreign, and yet you don’t fear them. You just ponder the new questions that arise. The curiosity of what this might mean — if it could lead to more.

On that particular day, both of you were off of work. Decided with Thanksgiving swiftly approaching, it was about time you went pumpkin picking. Pumpkin picking turned into a whole day event, where you and Steve took turns arguing over which pumpkins were suitable for the front of his porch, and which were suitable for decoration for the potluck gathering with some friends that upcoming weekend.

And after spending half the day drinking warm apple cider, sharing donuts on a hayride while bundled up in comfortable clothing, and racing each other through a corn maze, you’d decided the last thing on your itinerary for the “full Hawkin’s experience” was to carve pumpkins.

“In case you didn’t know,” Steve jokes, his knife poking out a hole for an eye in his pumpkin, “Halloween was a few weeks ago.”

“So what? We were busy and didn’t get to do this sooner,” you bemoan, cutting open the top of yours and moving to stick your hand inside.

“You’re just going in like that — bare hand and all?”

“What’s a little guts, Steve?”

“It’s gross,” he says plainly, eyes narrowing, “and messy.”

“What’s wrong with a little bit of mess?” Your tongue pushes out between your lips as you get to work, pulling out handful after handful of pumpkin guts into the garbage pail you set up beside the table the two of you worked on.

“I happen to not mind a little mess,” he teases, coming to stand over your shoulder, the heat of his chest at your back. “What are you making?”

“A Garfield pumpkin,” you tell him, scooping more of the inside out into a trash can. “I happen to be quite fond of your kitten. Maybe more than you.”

“Really?” he asks playfully, stepping a little closer to hook his chin over your shoulder.

“Are you jealous?” you muse, circling around.

Like this, your chests nearly brush, his palms come up to rest beside your hips, caging you in against the table. Heat pools low again at the look on his face. The firm line of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the round depths of his hazel eyes. There’s a look in them you can’t quite place — a look you’ve never seen in Steve’s eyes, or anyone’s for that matter. But you know you like it, thighs bumping a bit off of the table as you crawl up onto it, legs swinging beneath you.

Fingers come up to curve along your cheek, Steve’s thumb brushing the line of your jaw with a pinky. Delicately, like you’re precious. Like you might break. “You got a little something on your face.”

“Oh,” you whisper out, swallowing as he leans in closer, as his hips slide into the space between yours. “Steve…”

He steps closer once more. Hips brushing against the cradle of yours. There’s a heat from him that seeps into you. Grows as his forehead rests against yours and you both breathe in the same space, neither of you speaking, because there’s nothing this moment requires other than a nearness. His nose glides down the side of yours, one hand of his coming to curl around your hip, squeezing the curve of it. Your mind screams at you he’s going to kiss you, and your heart leaps because you want it.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, and it’s a loaded question.

You’re thinking you want to erase the space between the two of you. You’re thinking there’s a chance this doesn’t quite mean to him what this means to you. You’re thinking that you’re scared to allow Steve to see inside the part of you that you’ve kept from him all these years. But you’re also thinking if you’re going to play with fire, there’s a knowing chance you may get burned.

“I’m thinking…” you exhale, chest pushing further into his as your back arches a bit, propping yourself up onto your hands. Only, as soon as you do so, pain flares in the center of your palm, gasping breath coming out with a, “Shit!”

Steve’s there in a flash, fingers curling around your offended wrist that you show him. Blood pools up from the wound, the bloodied knife skittering beside it onto the forest floor when he shoves it out of the way. You hadn’t even remembered it was there, too caught up in the moment.

“Honey…” he sighs, thumb brushing along the curve of your wrist, glancing down at the cut, “let’s get you inside. You might need stitches.”

“No hospital,” you tell him, pinching your bottom lip between your teeth, “you’ve patched enough people up. This should be a walk in the park, right?”

“Yeah but this is you,” he says, and before you can ask him what he means by that, he’s helping you off of the table and steadying you when you land on the leaves below.

The bathroom is dimly lit by this time of day, even with Steve flicking the light on as soon as you enter. The edge of the tub is cool against your leggings, chilling your skin even through the fabric, as Steve rummages around in his cabinets for a first aid kid. And then he gets to work, sitting across from you on the toilet seat, making sure to irrigate your wound before dressing it.

“Not deep,” he says finally, inspecting the shallow cut that slices the center of your palm, “gonna disinfect it.”

A hiss pours from you as he does, pain flaring in the wound. Your free hand whips out to clutch at his pant leg, pinching the denim tight in your fingertips until the burning ebbs into a throbbing sting that beats in tandem with your heart.

“What did you mean before?” you ask as he starts to dress the wound, winding a bandage around and around your palm. “The whole ‘but this is you.’”

Steve pulls out a piece of medical tape and presses it to the end of the wrapping around your palm, his thumb rubbing along the inside of your wrist. “I can handle my pain, but I could never handle yours.”

You swallow, because you understand. You know first hand what he means — have experienced it yourself. Watching the man you love throw himself into harm's way and injure himself in the process. Having to mend his wounds, to see him hurting without a way to stop it, when all you wanted was to ease the pain.

“There you go,” he whispers, fingertips teasing along yours, before letting your hand fall back against your thigh. “No more pumpkin carving for you.”

“Thank you.” Your lip twitches as you climb off the lip of the bathtub, following him down the stairs.

“Steve, back there, I…”

“Come on, let me cook us dinner.” He pauses, stopping himself once you both realize you speak at the same time. “Wait — what were you going to say?”

You swallow thickly, the nervousness choking your words and drying them in your throat where they live and die instantaneously.

Not the time.

“N-nothing.”

——

“Don’t think I didn’t see how the two of you walked in together.” Robin twirls her drink around in front of her, brows arching as a smirk creeps along her features.

You sip your red wine, smiling to yourself over the rim. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Although you do. You arrived at Jonathan and Nancy’s new home with a freshly baked apple pie in hand, and Steve’s hand against your lower back, keeping you close to him. Clearly it hadn’t gone unnoticed, the evidence apparent in the look Robin was sending your way.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Lucy struggling to open a wine bottle in the kitchen, and excuse yourself from Robin’s side to greet the woman. She’s beautiful today, in a pair of black jeans, and a brick red sweater. Effortless again, with endless wavy hair and those glowing eyes of hers.

“Here — let me,” you offer, helping her to get the cork out of the bottle.

Once it’s open, you pour the two of you new glasses of wine and clink your glass with her’s, peering out over the kitchen island to take in the sights around you.

Nancy and Jonathan went all out. They lined up multiple tables around the kitchen, making room for friends and family alike. Their parents sit at one table, while Steve, Robin, Eddie, Abi and Argyle talk amongst themselves. Holiday music filters in through the radio, as Nancy and Jonathan carve into the giant turkey resting against the table covered in Thanksgiving themed plate wear.

It’s been a long time since you’ve had a holiday like this. This is warm and inviting. Back in the city your parents would rent out restaurants and have wait staff take care of your evening. You’d always resented the thought that, while you spent time in a cold environment under the guise of “Thanksgiving,” those employees missed out on time they could spend with their own loved ones.

And when Steve looks over, you almost feel like you could fit in here. Almost allow yourself to dream big — to imagine a world where when he lifted his hand and waved as he is now, it would be full of love, full of the newness of relationship.

“So you and Steve…?” you can’t help but to ask, turning so your back rests against the kitchen counter, offering Lucy a soft smile.

She returns it a little tightly. “We…dated for a bit.”

“Oh.”

You weren’t expecting that. Had witnessed a little something passing along their features when you’d bumped into her weeks ago, but never thought to chalk it up to them dating. On paper it makes sense. She’s a teacher, they work together, she’s gorgeous, vibrant, bubbly, interesting. She’s here. She’s been here. And she belongs here.

And you — you don’t know what you’re doing most days. You’re living with Steve, but for how long? You want to stay, or think you want to, but what does that entail? There’s also the lingering doubt. The fear that you don’t quite belong as you once did. Can see it in the looks from people as you pass. Those who haven’t seen you in years now regard you as a stranger.

“Yeah, we’d gone on a few dates. He was always such a gentleman…but it just…” she exhales, and you watch as her eyes trail his form, “he always seemed kind of…detached? He didn’t want to commit. Sometimes we’d be spending time together and he just…didn’t seem all there? But it all made sense when I saw you two at the coffee shop that one day.”

“What?” you splutter, red wine dribbling down your chin at the suddenness.

“He lit up when he saw you. I’d never seen him look at me that way,” she admits softly, sipping her own wine. “I kind of wanted to hate you for it, but you were so nice and he deserves to be happy.”

“Oh — we’re not — it’s not —”

“Not yet,” she teases, giving you a little eye roll. “He’s happy. And he’s present. Both are things that have changed within him since you’ve been here. I don’t think that’s mere coincidence.”

Her words settle within you as you later join Steve at the dinner table, leaning into his shoulder as he scoops your requested dinner options onto your plate. They linger even as the kids arrive for dessert and the group ends up playing endless card games, laughter lyrical and swirling around the room, growing louder as the drinks continue to pour into awaiting cups.

And later, as you sit on Steve’s couch in no more than a pair of leggings, a comfy hoodie, and knitted socks you ponder Lucy’s words again while a fire crackles in the fireplace.

“What’s on your mind?” Steve asks, fingers kneading into the arch of your foot, your head against the armrest, eyes closed in contentment.

“Lucy is really pretty…”

“She is,” Steve agrees, his fingers pushing in again, drawing a deep sigh from within you.

“She works with kids, she’s bubbly, she’s established. All things that you’d normally go for.”

“Okay…”

“I’m just…I’m — I guess I'm trying to figure out why you two didn’t work out then.”

Steve pauses in his ministrations, shifting a bit on the couch to look at you. “Honey…you know why.”

“No,” you retort, feeling anxiety bubble up within you, “I really don’t.”

“There’s always been someone else.”

“I’m not understanding…”

With a sigh, Steve scoots closer. Tugs you up and onto his lap to get you even closer, your knees thumping onto the couch cushion at each side of his hips. He grips your hips and stares up into your eyes. There’s an unspoken question. A whisper behind his stare. Begs for you to look deeper, to see him, to see his heart.

“No.” You shake your head, anger welling. Replacing that anxiety. “I’ve looked at you my whole life and you never noticed. Now? Now you decide you —”

“It’s always been.” His strangled voice breaks your heart.

“Then why didn’t you say anything? All this time, all these years —”

“I tried,” he interjects, fingers winding tighter around your hips.

“When?”

“First time I visited you after you moved away.” He sounds somber. Heartbroken in a way that’s foreign to you. “You’d gone inside and your dad and I had a drink out back. Remember?”

You nod, swallowing thickly, fingers running along the hair at his temple. He gives you a little squeeze, forehead resting against yours.

“He…I told him about my feelings for you. And he…well, he wasn’t supportive.” He exhales a wobbly breath. “He had his points. I had no money. He was right about that. I worked at a dead end job and was going nowhere. I had nothing to offer you. He…painted a picture of us in a few years from now. Asked me how I’d be able to keep you happy…keep our family happy. And I thought maybe he was right.”

“Bullshit. Everything he said to you is bullshit,” you snap, climbing off of his lap. “I never wanted any of that. If I had you, Steve, then I would have everything.”

“I know that,” he cries, jumping to his own feet, looping an arm around your hips. “I know that now. I’ve seen you here the past few weeks and you fit here. With me in my life. I want to stop wasting time pretending you’re just my best friend because that’s all I ever thought you could be. I want you here. I want you in my bed every morning and night, I want to touch you and, I don’t know, hold you while we cook dinner together. I want to kiss you just because I can. I want to hold your hand. I want all of that.”

He tugs you close, your chests thumping. His heart throbs against your sternum and you raise a palm to settle there, to push him back, but you find you can’t. He sucks the air out of the room when he’s that close — when his mouth is mere centimeters from yours, and all you want is to close the distance.

“I never felt good enough for you,” he breathes against your lips, his breath a shaky exhale. Lips graze against lips, your fingers slide up further, along his chest, over the curve of his neck, the slope of his jaw.

“You’ve always been good enough for me, Steve,” you whisper back, forehead nuzzling forehead. “I don't need all the money. I don’t want fancy dinners or cars, I don’t need the newest clothes, shoes, pocketbooks. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

He slides a palm up against your cheek. A thumb draws a soft line across the curve of your jaw. “And now? What do you want right now?”

“I want you to kiss me.”

——

sorry about the delay. i’ve basically been sick since july, and wasn’t planning on having so many of my ‘bad’ days the past couple of weeks. the next chapter will be long, and i mean long. can’t wait to hear about what you think about this one! likes, comments, reblogs — all of that is such an encouragement to creators and means the world, so please consider 🤍

[finnsbubblegum]

Morning Coffee (Joel Miller x Reader)

Pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, smut, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, domestic joel (lmk if i missed any)

Summary: You were up to make Joel a cup of coffee and it did something to him. 😏

Words count: 1.4k

A/N: I hope you like the smut I’m writing because I am inexperienced lol. I hope you enjoy it.

You opened one of your eyes as you felt the sunlight shone through your face. You yawned and looked at the shirtless gorgeous man who was sleeping next to you. He looked so peaceful so you didn’t bother to wake him up. You kissed his forehead before you got up. You took his black shirt that was laying on the floor and wore it. Your man was big so his shirt wrapped like a mini dress on you. You loved stealing his shirt because it had his smell and you always felt comfortable wearing it. You walked your way downstairs to the kitchen and prepared breakfast. You didn’t forget to make coffee as you knew how your man loved coffee more than his life. As you were pouring the coffee, you felt warm wrapping your back. 

“Joel! What a waste of coffee!” You gasped as you spilled the coffee. 

“I missed your warmth in bed, baby.” He chuckled as he kissed your neck from behind.

You turned to face him, his hands were still on your waist. 

“I didn’t want to wake you up, handsome. You looked so peaceful like a baby.” You raised your hand to caress his cheeks. It was rough but you loved caressing his beard.

“Yeah, slept like a baby.”  He closed his eyes and smiled, taking the delightful feeling of your touch.

“You'll always be my baby, Joel Miller.” You gave him a peck on the cheek and passed him a cup of coffee.

“Thank you, mama.” He grinned and drank his coffee.

“Don’t call me that.” You laughed and patted his chest. 

You walked past him to continue making breakfast. You opened the fridge to get some eggs and bacon. Joel followed you and hugged you from behind. His hands slowly moved and found their way to your breast. You grabbed his wrist to stop him from moving.

“What are you doing? What if Sarah sees us?” You faced him and raised your eyebrows.

“Can’t help it, baby. You look so sexy with my shirt on. It turns me on. It’s your fault.” He chuckled.

It wasn’t only you that loved wearing Joel’s shirts. Joel loved seeing you in his shirts too. There was something about you wearing his shirt that made him hard.

“Oh yeah? Well, I apologize for being sexy, Miller.” You teased him.

“You need to take responsibility for your actions, ma’am.” Joel took your hand and kissed it.

“Well, I need to make breakfast, sir.” You pulled your hands away and tried to find a frying pan on the cabinet. 

“We can have brunch outside later, baby. I doubt Sarah will wake up before 10. It’s Sunday. Everyone sleeps in on Sundays. Let’s go back to bed.” He pouted with his brown puppy eyes.

“Fine.” You caved in as you couldn’t resist his cute brown puppy eyes. He knew you had a soft spot for his puppy eyes and he always used it to make you cave in.

“That’s my girl.” He slowly walked towards you, put his hands around your waist and pulled you closer to him.

“Why don’t we continue where we left off last night?” He asked you with his face so close to you, you could feel his breath.

“Uh-huh. Where were we, Miller?” You asked him seducingly.

“Here.” He answered you as he palmed your cunt.

You gasped and put your arms around his neck. He started to move his finger and rubbed your clit. You moaned as you felt the sexual tension rushed through your body. 

“Kiss me.” You whispered to his ear.

Joel kissed you so deep with his tongue caressing your lips then your tongue. You moaned as he kept rubbing your clit and kissing you deeply. You grabbed his curly brown hair and he moaned at the pain but it was also pleasure. You let out a small scream as you were startled when Joel suddenly lifted you to the kitchen table. He continued kissing you and put his hands on your thigh with his thumb brushing in circles. 

“You taste coffee.” You chuckled as he moved to kiss your neck leaving a mark. 

As he finished leaving a mark on you, Joel lifted your shirt to your waist. He bent down and moved your panties aside. You could see he was hungry to eat your glistening pussy.

“Love how you’re always wet for me, darlin’.” He grinned as he pushed his face to eat you. 

He started licking your pussy up and down then circling your clit with his tongue, teasing you. Joel’s tongue had that skill that can make you reach your orgasm. You put your hands on your mouth to stop yourself from moaning loudly. You didn’t want Sarah to witness this adult scene between you and her father. 

“J - joel, I-I’m cumming.” You whispered trying not to scream his name when you felt spasms throughout your body.

As you tried to catch your breath, you patted his shoulder in hurry. 

“Joel, joel. We need to go to the bedroom. We can’t let Sarah see us like this.”

“Okay.” Joel nodded. You could see his face full of your juices and it made you even turned on.

He immediately carried you on his shoulder like a toddler. You gasped at the sudden move. You were in Joel’s bedroom in no time and he laid you on your back on the bed. You took your clothes and panties off and Joel did the same.

“Need you inside me.” You told Joel.

“Patient, baby.” Joel took a condom in the drawer beside the bed, opened it with his teeth, and prepared himself.

You held your weight with your elbow as you watched him. He was finally ready and climbed on top of you. He locked you with his knees beside your waist. Teasing your cunt with his cock. You moaned as you couldn’t wait longer for him to be inside you.

“Joel, please.”

“Okay, baby.”

Joel pushed inside you slowly and started to move. The two of you moaned as the pleasure rushed in. 

“Fuck! You’re so tight, baby. I love how you’re always so tight for me.” Joel groaned.

His cock was big and thick but you loved the way it stretched you. You clenched his cock and he loved it. Joel started to move faster and you couldn’t help but scream his name.

“Joel!” 

Joel quickly moved his hand to cover your mouth.

“Shh, baby. We can’t wake Sarah. We need to stay quiet.”

You nodded and squeezed your eyes shut. Joel kept thrusting into you. All you can hear is the sound of skin to skin, bed creaking, and you and Joel’s pants. His hand moved to massage your breast and play with your nipple. He pinched it and circled it. You always loved his moves. Joel knew how to please you in bed. 

“Baby, I think I’m close.” Joel panted and his moves were getting messy.

“Cum with me, baby. I think I’m close too.”

You started to shake and you saw stars as you came. He could feel your juices warming his cock inside you. Joel groaned as he came with you. Both of you tried to catch your breath as he slowly pulled away from you and laid beside you. You moved closer to him and put your head to his chest. 

“I think I’m fully awake now because of what you just did to me, Joel.”

“Thanks to the morning coffee you gave me before, baby.” He put his arms around you.

“I hope we didn’t wake Sarah up.” You chuckled as you caressed his warm hairy chest.

“She’s a heavy sleeper. Don’t worry, darlin’.” He moved his hands on your back up and down to calm you.

You kissed his chin and walked your way to the bathroom. You looked back to Joel who was still laying on the bed eye fucking you as you walked. Your hand resting on the bathroom door teasing Joel with a seducing tone. 

“Do you want to join me, Mr. Miller?”

Joel threw his head back, smiling and covering his face with his big hands. It seemed like he was caught doing something naughty. You loved teasing him because you enjoyed seeing him shy. With no hesitation, he jumped off the bed, ran to you, and dragged you inside the bathroom.