#so we bought the mirror and had to cram it in the back of her Very Small Car | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beautiful-songbird · 2 years

Text

Pretty Girl

Pairing: Idol!Taehyung x Model!OC

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: body insecurities...like a lot of them, and probably slightly suggestive? They directly mention sex at one point idk

Summary: Zelda's stuggling with liking herself again, and Tae makes it his personal mission to make her feel better. Cue twenty minutes of him just loving on her.

Some days, time seemed to tick by slowly when Zelda sat at home. She was used to the crammed and busy hours of the modeling workday, so the single task of taking care of a household – or condo, in this case – was simply hard for her to get used to. Dinner didn’t take all day to make, so what was she supposed to do with her time? Most of the rest of the girls worked or were otherwise busy taking care of their own places, and in the case of Astrid, she still lived on the other side of the world. So, what was Zelda to do with her time?

On top of all of this, she had two burdens hanging over her head. She’d gained weight, which despite what Tae told her, she was still mightily insecure about because of how she’d been chastised for it before. Despite this, she still wanted to model. She missed modeling. It fed some innate hunger in her for positive attention, and in the years she’d spent in the industry, she’d concluded that the only way to do that was through her looks.

It was silly, really. She had lots of friends who adored her, but every time she made a new friend, she feared they’d leave her. Even Tae. She knew deep down that she’d found some real friends, but it had been a long time running that she’d been told she was too ‘odd’ to be friends with. She’d tried to dial down her personality for a while, but she’d realized that felt worse than people telling her she was weird. So, she was back to square one. The fear of losing friends while simultaneously being unwilling to sacrifice herself.

On the bright side, clothes could always mend an aching heart. For her, at least. That didn’t really mean buying clothes, though. It meant going to all the high-end stores and trying things on just because she could. Of course, she could’ve bought them, but she’d always been a bit of a nitpick when it came to clothes she’d actually wear. Sure, she’d model clothes of all sorts, but when it came to everyday life, there was a very small selection of things she felt comfortable in.

This only meant one thing – Tae’s phone was always pinging with new photos she’d taken in the dressing room.

“Hate the texture, but it’s pretty at least.

“I wouldn’t wear this out of the house, but maybe for you?” paired with a winking emoji.

“I might buy this one. Pretty flowers, right?

“I think this one would look better on you, honestly.

“Date night?

“This one says I’m stealing your jacket by the end of the night.

“I hate sequins. Hate.

“I think this one would look better over a swimsuit than as an actual dress?

“Again, stealing your jacket.

“What do you think of this one?”

Tae smiled after picking up his phone and scrolling through all the messages.

“You look pretty in all of them, sweetheart. Are you going to buy any of them?”

“I bought four of them. The price tag on the last one made me want to cry, but it was too pretty.”

“You shopping for that photoshoot we talked about doing?”

“Haha…no. I got bored this afternoon. I’m running out of time-consuming dishes to make.”

“I see. We need to have a baby soon so you have less time on your hands.”

“Tae!”

“I’m kidding. Unless…?

“I’m coming home in half an hour. We have a date with my camera, ok?”

Zelda grinned at her phone. He was so persistent.

“Ok. See you then.”

◇◆◇◆◇

There was something different about being styled when your husband was the one pinching at your sides and setting his hands on your shoulders to turn you towards the mirror, but Zelda wasn’t sure what was so different about it.

“All right, what do you think? Pretty enough to walk the runway?”

Zelda grinned at her reflection in the mirror. “Definitely. I don’t recognize this dress, though? Where did you get it?”

He shrugged, pulling his tie off as he walked towards their closet. “I bought it on my way home. I thought I should pick something out for you to wear if we’re going to do an actual photoshoot.”

“Oh,” Zelda breathed before looking at herself in the mirror again. The man had great taste. It was a mostly white dress, and it was flowy in all the right places while still keeping her shape. “It covers my belly well.”

Tae popped his head out of the closet and looked over her frame. “You’re right. It does. I erred when picking that out, then.”

She laughed, a bit embarrassed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I think your stomach is cute. I shouldn’t have bought something that hid it so well.”

He stated it as if it were something obvious, and then he went back to digging through their closet for his own outfit.

“Tae, I told you before that you don’t need to lie to me.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s ok….”

“Of course, I don’t. I’m not going to lie to you and say that I don’t like how soft your belly is. I’m not going to say that you don’t make the best pillow and that I don’t enjoy just patting your stomach. Didn’t you tell me once that you liked it better when I didn’t have abs? So why should it be any different for me?”

She hummed. “I don’t know. I just don’t particularly like the way I look, so I don’t see how you do either.”

He emerged from the closet a moment later, pulling his shirt on as he did so. “I find you very attractive.” He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head against hers. “Look at that pretty girl in the mirror. Those pretty eyes. This pretty nose,” he tapped her nose. “And these pretty lips.” He kissed her cheek, being in such a position that he couldn’t kiss her on the lips. He poked her sides next. “And look at this pretty body. I know girls who would love to have your body. There’s something here for me to hold onto, too.” He squeezed her waist then. “What’s not to love?”

She smiled shyly at him. “I….”

“Sweetheart, I don’t understand what you don’t like here.”

She shrugged. “I dunno. Everything? My chest is too big, my hips are too wide. You already know I don’t like my stomach.”

He leaned closer to her, this time nibbling on the shell of her ear. “And I’m sure you know how much I like that you’ve gained weight. You weren’t eating enough before, sweetheart. That’s why you were so tiny. And that’s not good. You know that, right?”

She nodded hesitantly, tears biting her eyes.

“Don’t you remember how bad you felt then?” He nuzzled his nose in her hair, doing his best to not sound like he was chastising her. “You were always crying. You didn’t feel good, I know you didn’t. Was that really worth it to have that body?”

“No,” she admitted quietly. She was staring at the floor now as she played with her fingers. “I like how much better I feel now.”

“Mhm. I bet you do. Anything else you’ve noticed has changed?”

She shrugged. “I’m happier now.”

“Are you?”

She nodded. “Part of it is because I don’t feel so lonely anymore, but most of it is because I’m not starving all the time.”

“Do you enjoy that?”

“Yeah.”

“Another thing?”

She cleared her throat, still avoiding eye contact with him. “It hurts less to sit down.”

He chuckled quietly. “It hurt before?”

“Yeah. I didn’t have enough cushioning….”

“Anything else?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“That’s ok. Can I ask another thing?”

She glanced up at him in the mirror. “Yeah.”

“How do you feel about your looks now?”

She settled her eyes on her own figure this time, and she had to admit how warm inside it made her feel to have Tae cradling her against his chest, no matter how embarrassed she was that he had to have this conversation with her.

“I…can you talk about what you like again?”

“You name something you like first.”

“Um…I have pretty arms?”

He nodded, reaching up to squeeze one of said arms. “You do.”

“You say something now,” she requested quietly.

“Hmm…” his fingers ghosted over her body as they traveled up and down for a few moments. Finally, he settled his fingers against her stomach and wiggled them ever so softly, making her squirm. “I still think your belly is so pretty.” He smiled. “Ok. Your turn again.”

She settled her hands over his to keep him from tickling her again as she considered herself.

“My hair is nice.”

“Oh, it definitely is.” He buried his nose in her hair again. “Such pretty curls you have here.”

She giggled.

“I know you said you don’t like your chest…but I like it.” He lowered his voice. “A lot.”

She poked at his hands that were still settled around her waist. “You just like squishing me, don’t you? I see your goal here.”

He grinned. “You caught me. I like having a soft and squishy wife.” This prompted more waist squeezing from those fingers of his. “Ok. You’ve gotta say something else you like now.”

She sighed. “Do I have to?”

“Zel….”

“Ok, ok, ok. Fine. Um.” She stared at herself for a long spell of time, this time taking notice of the things that Tae had pointed out. She had to admit that while she didn’t like them, she did like how much he did. It felt so right for him to enjoy those parts of her that she wasn’t even upset that they were there anymore.

She finally cleared her throat. “I like my eyes.”

He nodded, as if her observation had been the most obvious one in the world. “Another one now.”

She pouted. “You’re not going to say one?”

“Nope. I need you to say another one first.”

She seemed slightly agitated by this, furrowing her eyebrows as she stared at herself again. A few moments passed before she shook her head. “I don’t know, Tae.”

“Ok. Just look at yourself as a whole. You’re pretty, right?”

“I…am.” She reasoned finally. “Just…not as pretty as I feel like I should be.”

“What can we do to fix that?”

“Makeup…would help.”

“Would it?”

She nodded, feeling less insecure about her body now and more about her face.

“And after we fix that, will we need to fix something else?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know. I…I don’t think I’m going to be 100% happy with myself by the end of the day no matter what we do, Tae.”

He hummed, resting his lips against the crown of her head. “How about we stop looking in the mirror for now, then? We can head out and take some pictures, and I can do all the looking at you.”

She smiled softly. “Ok. I think I’d like that.”

◇◆◇◆◇

She loved it even more than she’d expected to. Tae, ever her hype man, was convinced that she looked absolutely stunning from every angle, and despite the fact that she knew she’d disagree with him once she saw the photos, she let his words make her feel good anyways.

Before they left, she’d insisted on taking a few of him, too. He was always gorgeous, especially today with all the kind words he’d fed her heart. Maybe she needed a little something to remind her someday of everything he’d said today.

“See, look at that one,” he grinned, showing her one of the photos he’d taken as they walked back to their car. “Stunning. It’s a wonder how I got to marry someone so beautiful.”

And she had to admit…she absolutely glowed in the photo. He’d been saying something to her when he’d taken the photo, she knew that much. Whatever it had been, it had made her light up like the noonday sun. She had the biggest grin on her face, and the lighting was doing her all sorts of favors.

Tae grabbed her hand and swung it as they walked along. “This is fun. We should do this more often.” He glanced down at her. “I especially love having you as my muse.”

She smiled, her face flushing. She didn’t even know what to say to everything he was saying today. He was just full of sweet things to say today, and it was making her bones melt. She knew how amazed he was that he’d gotten to marry her, but she felt even more privileged than he.

The compliments didn’t stop once they got home that evening. They’d run out of time to make dinner, so the two of them sat on the couch eating takeout. He’d insisted that she sit on his lap while they ate despite how this complicated things, and then the two of them had headed to their bedroom just to lounge around for the night. The two of them had ended up in barely any clothes as they prepared for bed, and this led to even more compliments spilling from Tae’s lips.

“Look at this pretty tummy.” He buried his face against said tummy.

She giggled, rubbing her fingers over his scalp. “I love you, Tae.”

He grinned, turning to look up at her. “I love you too.” He patted her hip.

“You’re very touchy today.”

“Well, my wife is feeling insecure about her body, and I need to let her know that I think it is a very pretty body.”

“You think so?”

He gave an “mhm” that sounded more like a purr, making her giggle again. “What do you think about making a baby tonight?”

“I dunno, Tae…do we really need one of those right now?”

“I think so. I’m looking forward to a miniature you running around our place. We’ve gotta have someone to fill these bedrooms.”

She laughed. “I think the likelihood of any of our babies looking like me is very low.”

“Nah. If we have enough of them, surely at least one of them will look like you.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“We won’t know until we try.”

This earned another laugh from her. “Do you actually want to make a baby, or do you just want to have sex?”

He clearly had already thought about this, because his answer was immediate. “Both.”

“I see how it is.”

The two of them were silent for a few moments before Zelda spoke again. “Thank you for today. You made me feel a lot better.”

“Did I?”

“Mhm. You made me feel very pretty today. I haven’t felt that way in a long while.”

“Really?” he asked, frowning. “I need to compliment you more often, then.”

She shook her head. “It’s ok. Today you just…it was so nice, Tae. Thank you.”

He lifted his head off her stomach before climbing to the top of the bed so that he could lean over her.

“You know I always think you’re beautiful, right?”

She stared up at him. “I know. You’ve made that very apparent, even if not with words.”

“Good. I always want to make sure you know. I married such a pretty girl; I can’t just let her forget how pretty she is.”

She reached up and cupped his face in her hands, rubbing her thumbs over his cheekbones. “And I married the most darling man.” She was close to tears now. “You make me feel so adored, Tae. Thank you.”

He grinned and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “You don’t need to thank me. You’re so easy to adore.”

That was all it took to get the tears flowing. “Am I?”

“Definitely. You’re the most adore-able person in the world.”

She grinned widely, trying to ignore the tears streaming down her temples. He reached up and brushed one of those tears away before tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“You’re so, so pretty. I don’t know how someone didn’t snatch you up before me.”

“None of them were you,” she replied simply. “No one wanted me, but you did. You wanted the grumpy girl who would barely talk to you.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “You were the one girl who didn’t put on a show for me. You were just you, no matter who I was.”

She smiled, pulling him in for another kiss. “You wanna make that baby now?”

This is part of the Dad!BTS series that can be found here

A/N: and hence…Zoro was born. Ahahaha I spent like 98% of this fic melting into the carpet so excuse me while I go attempt to reform myself or however you treat melted candle wax.

It would be greatly appreciated if you reblogged the story if you liked it!

Taglist: @jiminie-and-his-pinky-finger @jinnie-forthe-winnie @thornedswan @kookstempo @fly-you-dam-fools @aianloveseven @armys-dna

126 notes · View notes

httpdabi · 3 years

Text

Break up

Summary: After having a messed up break up, your best friend Dabi is there to comfort you, and give even more than you asked for.

Word count: 5,2k

Genre: romance, smut, no quirks haha

Warnings: 18+, creampie, public sex, spitting, choking..

,, I fucking hate him’’ you cried loudly, mouth full of ice cream as you talked to your cousin over the phone. At this point you didn’t care of how loud you were, and you didn’t care about the fact that your cousin had a hard time understanding you since you were a crying mess. Sobbing loudly, you ignored the words coming from the other line.

,, That bitch cheated on me with Toga, can you believe that?’’ you sobbed, tears rolling down your cheeks as you wrapped yourself with your favorite comfort blanket.

,, The girlie with weird hair ?’’ your cousin asked in shock.

,,YES, the fuck she thinking she’s the fifth element with that hairstyle?’’ you choked out, throwing the empty package across the room, as your cousin giggled because of your remark. She wished she was closer so she could pay you a visit, but sadly miles and miles were separating the two of you.

Sure, the first person you wanted to inform about your breakup was Touya, but you couldn’t force yourself to bother him, knowing he’s probably on work. You knew very well that he would drop everything and come over, saying how he doesn’t feel well or some other shit, and you didn’t want that.

After the call ended, you stood up, ignoring your reflection on the window, knowing very well that you look like shit right now with all the smudged mascara over your face. Tears started rolling down your cheeks even more when you saw that there’s no ice cram anymore. What did you do to deserve such a torture.

Wearing your hoodie, you made your way toward the nearest store, ignoring the people that were giving you weird stares because of your silly Sailor Moon pajama shorts. You couldn’t care less of what anyone thought in that moment.

You went to the store with the intention to buy ice cream, only to end up in the part of it with variant different choices of hairdye. So many ideas were going thru your mind, as you looked all over it. You almost ended up buying the pink dye and some bleach, until you saw scissors hanging beside the bleach.

Grabbing the scissors only, you hurried up to pay everything you chose, rolling your eyes shamelessly as you saw Rumi, the cashier of the fucking day. For some weird reason, you almost hated the muscular bitch. Maybe it was because she never had the exchange to give you back, giving you a pack of gums instead. Maybe it was because of her attitude, always giving you some smart comments, how your skirt is too short, how there are kids here, or even because she always rolled her eyes when she saw you coming in.

,, Looks like someone had a rough day’’ she commented sarcastically, as you gave your best to keep calm and ignore her. After the comment, she shut her mouth and did her job.

,, Sweetie, can you help?’’ she asked, suddenly with a cute tone, when her co-worker asked her to bring him few paper bags that were beside her.

,, No, you are doing great’’ you spat, grabbing all of the items as you hurried out of the store. The fuck would you help her? She’s getting paid for it, not you. Stupid bitch.

Placing the ice cream into the freezer, you immediately made your way to the toilet as you unpacked the scissors almost aggressively. Why would you dye and ruin your hair with bleach, when you could just cut off a bit of your hair, which meant the exact length of his dick.

Your hair was already long, and the fact that his dick wasn’t that big meant that you would only cut few inches. After short calculating, you grabbed the scissors, as you turned some silly tutorial on Youtube. Watching yourself in the mirror, you cried even harder, not because you regretted your decision. It was more because you looked like a lunatic.

After you finished, you immediately washed your face, cleaning all the ruined make up. Sure it didn’t look like a professional person did your hairstyle, but it didn’t look bad either, in fact, you liked it.

Since you weren’t in the mood to do your make up, you only put a bit of face cream over your face, and bit of mascara to make your eyes pop up a bit, before you took few selfies to post on instagram.

You were too lazy to do it, all you wanted to do in the moment was cry some more and eat ice cream you just bought, while watching something on Netflix. But you had to do it, you had to embarrass him as much he embarrassed you.

,, Not gonna miss those 5 inches, Kai.’’

You wrote, laughing ironically at the caption under your selfie. It wasn’t the best selfie you ever took, but at least you didn’t look like you were suffering because of the breakup, and the much shorter hair was visible on it.

[cyxnaf] Touya Todoroki

,, What happened?’’

It wasn’t even a minute since you posted your photo on the instagram, and your best friend already messaged you there.

Bitch cheated on me

You replied, sending him a crying selfie, with a spoon in your mouth.

[cyxnaf] Touya Todoroki

I’ll be there in 15 mins

A smile crept on your face, as you read his message. You loved him more than anyone or anything else on the whole word. If it was someone else coming over, you would probably force yourself and clean the apartment. But since it was Dabi, you didn’t give a shit.

The moment he arrived, you started bawling your eyes out. Having a face to face conversation with someone, talking about the break up made your feelings awake again. Dabi in other hand tried to make you feel better, bringing you your favorite snacks, and trying to put Kai down.

,, I’ve never had drama, unless it’s with my inner self’’ you cried loudly. ,, And all of sudden, I’m being cheated on.’’ Adding you grabbed the chips from the paper bag and opened it almost aggressively. Touya laughed you out, pointing every drama you’ve been connected to.

,, Stop it, you’re supposed to make me feel better’’ you slapped his arm lightly, as he talked about the drama that happened back in high school, when you got into a huge fight with a girl that called your dog a rat.

Once Touya realized that your mood was only getting worse, he turned some documentary on Netlfix that he started watching few days ago, explaining everything about it to you. You couldn’t help but smile, as you listened to him explaining every small thing, making sure you won’t be confused once he plays the episode.

,, You only watched few episodes of one murder documentary and you think you’re Mr. worldwide intellectual.’’ You laughed, as he tried to explain professionally.

,, The fuck you talking about ? The only documentary you watch is Keeping up with the Kardashians, so shut the fuck up’’ he spat, rolling his eyes playfully as he played the documentary.

The thing he played was about some murder, nothing you would watch on your own, but you didn’t mind. Seeing him talk about it so excitedly made your heart warm and in that moment you didn’t care if you won’t be able to sleep next few days.

You always loved spending your time with Touya, you simply loved how even when none of you had something to say, the silence was never uncomfortable. Even just sitting with him was making you feel safe.

,, You really choped your hair’’ he said, as he started to play with your hair. Being tired from all the crying and with his gentle movements, you were not capable of replying, simply nodding your head in response.

,, It looks good on you’’ Touya complimented you, placing a soft kiss on top of your head. He noticed that you were zooming out, so he just continued to caress your, helping you fall asleep.

All the horrible thoughts he had washed away, once he saw your sleeping face. He could only smile to himself as he noticed how puffy your face got from all the crying. Sure, it wasn’t that visible, but he simply noticed it and found it more then cute.

He tried to act calm and suppress his feelings, he tried to be there for you, but when you talked about what happened, all he wanted to do was find that piece of shit of your ex and simply kill him. He couldn’t understand how did you always manage to find some weird boyfriends that didn’t appreciate and treat you as you deserved.

If you only gave him a chance, he would always be there for you, he would simply give you anything you wished for. Touya never understood how could you be so blind, never once did you notice his feelings for you. Never once did you question his behavior.

Every time you called him over, he would ditch all his plans and run to you. Every time you needed something, you knew very well that only Touya will help you 100%.

You woke up in your bedroom, a little bit confused about what time it was and if your best friend was still there. Taking your phone to check what time it is, your eyes widened when you saw a Instagram notification from Kai. That piece of shit had balls to like your photo.

Throwing your phone away, you started crying again, wishing the day you met him never happened. You wished you listened to your best friend when he told you that Chisaki ain’t the one for you.

,, You ok?’’ you heard Touya’s voice under the loud TV noise. In just a second he was beside you, warming your body with his own and wrapping his arms around you, telling you how everything is ok and how he’s there for you.

,, Come on, stand up’’ Touya commanded suddenly, forcing your upper body up. ,, We are leaving’’ he added, forcing you out of the bed. You were too confused to even think at that very moment, but you found yourself following his lead. Wearing one of your very oversized shirt that covered more than enough, you hurried out of your bedroom to Toyua who was waiting for you already all ready.

You didn’t know what was happening, and the pack of eggs in his hand was confusing the shit out of you, yet you found yourself in the passenger seat, doing whatever Touya planned at that moment.

,, Where are we going ?’’ you asked, tears long gone.

,, We’re egging his car’’ he said, as your eyes widened in shock.

,, Is that even legal?’’ you asked again, already all excited about it.

,, Nope’’ Touya laughed out, focused on the road. You were sure that Kai would know it was you, definitely. But he also won’t have balls to call the police on you, since you knew about all his dirty deeds, you knew about all the drugs he’s taking and having hidden somewhere in his house.

Kai didn’t live far away from you, so in only few minutes of drive the two of you found yourself in front of his car. Lighting one cigarette, Dabi took the paper that was placed on the windshield.

,, Stop perking on my spot’’ Dabi read out loud, pointing out the word he wrote wrongly. You laughed loudly as you remembered about Kai telling you about some dude parking his Motorcycle in front of his car, making it hard to get out of the spot for him.

,, He can’t write, but he can do meth I guess’’ you laughed, as Touya puffed on his cigarette.

You stood there close to Kai’s car, as you waited for your best friend to finish his cigarette. It was a quiet night, with no people around at all. Maybe it was the adrenaline that was rushing in your blood, or the fact that you spent all day crying like a mad person, but in that very moment all you felt was anger as you thought about your ex.

,,Here’’ Touya gave you the package, still smoking that cigarette. You weren’t sure if he took his time with cigarette or if the time was simply passing so slow for you, since he was a pretty fast smoker.

To his surprise, you grabbed one egg and immediately threw it on his car, making him rise his eyebrows and laugh in shock. You never did something like that before, so you didn’t really understand why the alarm didn’t go on. Was your throw too weak?

A huge grin formed on your lips as you threw another egg, you couldn’t stop the evil laugh as you watched the egg yolk all over the window and in that moment you wished you had rotten eggs instead. Watching you happy like that, Touya couldn’t hide his smile. He was almost sure that everyone could read his emotions, he was sure that everyone could say how much in love he was with you.

You were on your fourth egg when Touya took one from the package and threw it. You weren’t sure if he threw it with much more force, or if he already did this before, but when the egg hit the car, loud alarm took over the peaceful night.

,, Shit, we have to hurry’’ Touya said under his breath as both of you threw one more egg. Sure, Kai won’t call the police, but if someone else saw you, they sure will.

You were laughing loudly, as you took your last egg, ready to throw it while Touya explained to you at what you should aim for.

,, HEY’’ you heard a familiar voice, coming from the building you used to spend so much time in. Not even turning around, you threw the egg and rushed to Toyua’s car, hopping fast into passenger seat. The moment Kai got out, everything happened too fast.

You wished you could take a photo of his upset face as he looked over your car. You were sure that you never saw him mad like that.

,, YOU FUCKING SUCK’’ he yelled once he turned the alarm off, while Dabi was ready to drive off, laughing loudly with you.

,, AND YOU SWALLOW BITCH’’ you yelled, popping your head thru the window. Touya gave you a bit time to flip him a bird, before he drove fast off, leaving your ex boyfriend pissed on the road. Laughing loudly, you leaned back into the seat, satisfied with the little event your best friend thought of.

,, You are seriously the best’’ you said, still smiling widely. Touya nodded his head, focused on the road. Every time he took a look of you, his heart would skip a beat. He was so fucking glad that you weren’t sad anymore, at least not for now.

You weren’t sure what had he planned next, since he wasn’t driving back home, but you didn’t care. You enjoyed his company, and you enjoyed the fact that you felt nothing else beside happiness in the moment. It was weird how fast emotions were taking over you. Just one hour ago you were a crying mess, and all of sudden you found yourself enjoying the night with your best friend.

You didn’t even realize how hungry you were, until Touya stopped by McDonalds to buy some food. Once he came back, placing the milkshakes and paper bag into your lap, you almost started drooling from the delicious smell.

He parked on the spot beside lake, where the two of you usually come to chill a bit. The music played on the low as the two of you ate slowly and talked about casual stuff. The moment a song from the famous tiktoker started playing in the background, you wished your hands weren’t so oily from the food. You wanted to change the song, but you didn’t want to make your phone oily, you weren’t even sure why you had that song in your playlist after all.

,, Does this song bother you?’’ he asked, taking a sip from his milkshake.

,, Yeah there’s a word that’s pissing me off’’ you rolled your eyes in annoyance.

,,Which one?’’ he asked confused.

,,When she says This ain’t build a bitch, you don’t get to pick or choose, what she should have said is nothing and just never release that stupid song’’ you hissed, wiping your hands as you changed the song that was pissing you off so much.

,, You are so cute’’ he complimented you, as both of you placed the rest of the food in the paper bag. Everything you did was cute to him, the was you sneeze is cute to him, the way you rise your brows when you are surprised, the way you laugh at your own jokes sometimes. Everything.

,,Did you know that Yumi got pregnant ?’’He asked you suddenly. Your eyes widened in shock, as you heard him ask, not because it was weird or anything like that, the two of you always gossip, but because you knew Yumi so well. You weren’t best friends with her, but the two of you would casually meet up.

,, Wasn’t she on the pills?’’ you asked, covering your mouth with your left hand. ,, Oh fuck no, I don’t claim this negative energy’’ you gasped shaking your head as Dabi laughed at your sudden reaction.

Talking about pregnancy and sex, you found yourself thinking about the last time you slept with your ex. You didn’t feel any sadness, all you felt was disappointment and anger. Just the thought that he was the last one inside you was making you mad, and the fact that only god knows when will you sleep with someone again was making you mad even more.

It’s not that you were a prude, or that you had something against one night stands. Sure, you could install Tinder and just find a quick fuck, knowing very well that the thought will bother you until the problem in your head is solved. But you weren’t the one to jump under the covers with a complete stranger.

,, What’s up?’’ Dabi asked once he saw you confused and lost in your thoughts. Hearing his voice, a sudden idea popped up in your head. You shook your head, trying to not think about it. He is your best friend for fucks sake, you can’t use him for something like that.

,, Nothing’’ you shook your head once again, trying to avoid his eyes.

,, Oh come on, tell me’’ he said stubbornly, as he placed his cigarette between his lips.

,, You know, the fact that Kai was the last person I had sex with, and the fact that I don’t know how long it will stay that way is bothering me’’ you confessed, skipping the part with the rest of your thoughts.

,, and you thought I could help you with it’’ Touya joked, as he puffed on his cigarette.

,, How did you know?’’ You asked way too fast, regretting it almost immediately once he almost choked onto the air and the smoke of his cigarette.

,, You can’t be serious’’ Touya said under his breath, closing his eyes as he spoke those words out. You weren’t sure why, but your heart sank a bit once you heard him say that.

,, Ah come on, it can be a quick fuck, it won’t change anything between us’’ he whined, turning your body to his direction. Once you said that, Touya grabbed you and forced you into his lap. You were more then shocked by his action, but you still positioned yourself comfortably in his lap, not sure if you should say anything or just wait..

,, You think I’ll be able to go back after it ?’’ he asked, one hand holding your waist firmly, and other holding his cigarette. ,, Doll, you should know better than anyone that I don’t do quick fucks’’ he added, as his grip got stronger. You weren’t sure if you should be embarrassed or not, but you felt uneasy at that moment, not sure where this all is leading.

,, If we do it now, there’s no going back doll, you’ll belong to me’’ he added again, as you sat in his lap confused. It was weird to hear him talk like that.

,, Touya, that can fuck up our friendship’’ you whispered. You were way too confused, not sure if he was talking about a relationship with you or just about you not sleeping with anyone else beside him.

,, And a quick fuck won’t do it?’’ he hissed, throwing the finished cigarette out of his window. He was right, both of it could fuck it up, and your idea was probably the worse option. The problem you had just few minutes ago was long gone, as new thoughts took over your mind. The fact that he was slowly placing soft kisses all over your neck didn’t help the situation, and the fact that you tiled your head to the side to give him more access to it didn’t help either.

You weren’t sure if you were simply too horny in the moment and if emotions took over you, but one part of you wanted to give it a try, yet another part of you was simply too scared of losing him. You did think about it before, how lucky can a girl be to call herself his girlfriend!? He’s not like other guys, at least not to you. He was always so caring, so gentle and so loving with you. He was the one who was always there for you, and in fact, you were more than sure that if you two start something, you won’t end up being hurt. But the fact that your friendship was under a question because of it was making you scared. Touya is the only person you never want to lose, and he knew that very well.

,, What do you say doll? Wanna try?’’ he asked, as he kissed your jaw softly. You weren’t sure how were you even capable of thinking at all in that moment.

,, Yes’’ you breathed out, closing your eyes shut as you enjoyed his soft kisses. Could you really lose him? If you had to worry about it so much, you should worry about the very exact moment. Why wouldn’t the current event ruin your friendship, now that you know that he doesn’t really see you as a friend as much as you thought. If you start some kind of a relationship with him, and if it doesn’t work, the two of you could talk it out.

The moment you said yes, Touya grabbed your yaw with his right hand, brushing his nose with your own before he connected his lips with yours. Once you placed your hands on his cheeks, trying to get closer to him, he couldn’t help but smile into the kiss.

What really drove him crazy was you rolling your hips on him. The fact that you had nothing else under your oversized shirt than your favorite panties almost made him cum in that very moment. Breaking the kiss, he leaned back into the seat, as you tried to catch your breath. Touya pulled your shirt up, exposing your naked chest. Not wasting any time, he placed his left on your right boob, pinching and twisting your already hard nipple, while sucking the other one.

Just the feeling of his hot breath made you throw your head back, enjoying the sucking and squeezing he was giving you. You placed your hands on his shoulders, finding support in it. Every roll you did with your hips, was met with his own one, making you feel his hard erection under his sweatpants. A quiet moan escaped your lips when you felt him bite on your nipple few times before he got back onto sucking it again.

Touya pulled your hips up a bit, giving you a sign to stay in that position as he pulled his sweatpants and boxers down, just enough for his dick to spring up. You knew that he had a dick piercing, in fact, you were in the waiting room when he decided to get it, but you still were shocked. It looked so good, so attractive.

You wanted to get out of his lap, you wanted to taste him, but his hands stopped you. Pushing you back onto his lap once again.

,, You have no idea how much I love you’’ he said, brushing his lips on your own, as he pushed your panties to the side and rubbed the tip of his dick around your hole.

,, I love you too, so much’’ you confessed, kissing him softly, as the pink head of his dick slowly entered you, hands on your hips slowly leading you down onto his length, until he was all in.

,, I know’’ Touya smirked into the kiss, enjoying the warmth of your walls hugging his dick. The hands on your hips slowly started to lead your hips up and down. The pace was so slow you could feel every inch of his dick rubbing against your velvety walls. Touya wasn’t one to enjoy the slow pace that much, but with you it was something else. He wanted to feel you as much as possible, and pushing his dick so slow into you gave him that possibility.

Just thinking about how it finally happened almost made him cream inside you. Closing his eyes, he let you move up and down his dick on your own. When you nuzzled your head into his neck he almost lost it, holding your hips down for few seconds just to calm his dick down. The small I love you that you whispered into his neck all over again didn’t help either, making it hard for him to control himself.

His hand found its way under your shirt, while his lips were all over your neck now, leaving sloppy marks all over it. You weren’t sure what did you enjoy more, his lips and hot breath over your neck, sucking and biting it, his hand squeezing your left breast or his dick deep inside you rubbing against your cervix.

Even tho you were moving your hips so slow, every time you were pushing your hips down, his would move upward, snapping against you with a little force and hitting your cervix perfectly. The both of you were breathing heavily, enjoying every second of the slow sex you had.

Wrapping his arms around you, he pulled your body closer to his, as he started moving just a little bit faster. You squeezed your eyes shut, as you realized that your climax was getting closer and closer with every move. Touya noticed your breathing getting faster, and your walls hugging his dick tighter then before, as he pulled your body up a bit, pushing you against the steering wheel and giving himself more access to move and fuck you a bit faster and stronger then before.

Moaning loudly, you wrapped your arms around him as you came all over his dick, almost shocked that you came without any clit stimulation. Dabi didn’t stop fucking you, helping you ride off the hard orgasm that just hit you.

Once he was sure you were done, he sat down. He lowered his seat, as he changed the position, locking you under him. Without giving you a chance to understand anything, he pushed his dick inside you.

,, I’m not done with you’’ he groaned, as he started moving his hips at much faster pace then before. Instead of saying anything, you wrapped your legs around him, placing your hands around his neck and just kissing him again. You couldn’t get enough of him, and luckily he felt the same. Accepting everything you had to offer, gladly.

The slow and steady pace was long forgotten, as he fucked you into the seat of his car with much more force and at one ungodly speed. You were pretty sure that the car was moving with every move he did, and you were sure if someone happened to be near, they would know what’s going on, but that was the last thing you cared of.

You were a moaning mess under him, and he was no better than you. You were surprised when you felt his hand around your throat, holding you in one place and playing with your breath. Open your mouth for me was all he said, before you felt thick saliva in your mouth. When it started, you thought it would be only some vanilla sex, the last thing you thought was that he would end up choking you and spitting in your mouth.

If it was someone else, you would probably freak out, but since it was him, you only obeyed, mouth open and tongue out, giving him approval for more.

,,That’s my good girl’’ he said, as he spat into your mouth one more time, while his grip around your neck only grew stronger. He was moving at rapidly speed, his skin slapping against your own was louder than the music that was playing in the background.

You closed your eyes as you started catching your breath once his hand moved away from your neck. Touya couldn’t control himself anymore, grabbing the edges of the seat, as he fucked into you. The pain mixed with pleasure was too intense for you, but you are his good girl, and you are doing so great for him, he made sure you understood that, as he repeated it all over again, while fucking into you.

The moment you felt his fingers rubbing your clit in circles, all you could do was squeeze your eyes shut, moaning loudly, as he told you to cum all over his dick, so you did as you were told and that was enough for him to reach his own high. Few harsh moves and he found himself cuming deep inside you. Even Toyua doesn’t know how did he find the energy to tell you how good you are milking his dick, but he did.

Collapsing on top of you, he fucked his seed inside of you, making sure not a single drop will get outside of your tight little out, making sure none of it will go to waste.

,, You’re mine’’ he said, placing soft kisses all over your face, and you were his. You were always his and he was always yours.

You weren’t sure how long would it take you to get over your stupid ex, but you were sure that Touya will be there for you and help you out in every way he can. Starting from the moment the two of you left your apartment, to the very moment the two of you cuddled inside of his car, after one steamy sex. All you could think of was your best friend and what would future bring you.

656 notes · View notes

scuttling · 3 years

Text

Lavender

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 9,244 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad's Best Friend Friend From Work Hotch, Me turning a naughty, smutty story into something way more aka my specialty, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Semi-public sex, Office sex Summary: You absolutely dread going home for vacation, to your sickeningly cheery childhood bedroom and opinionated parents, but meeting your dad's friend from work at a stuffy cocktail party has the potential to make this a vacation you'll never forget.*Requested by anon, severely altered by me 😅 Link to A03 or read below! Most people would jump at the chance for an unexpected two week vacation, but you are not most people. When your boss emailed you to inform you that there had been some kind of glitch in HR’s system and you actually had two weeks of paid vacation that were set to expire, your anxiety had kicked into high gear. There isn’t enough time to coordinate travel with any of your friends, too short notice, and you’re kind of afraid to travel alone, though you’d never admit it, so that’s out.

There’s always the prospect of hanging out at home, catching up on all the shows you started but never had time to finish, doing things you’re always too busy for, like cooking and cleaning out your closet and going to the animal shelter to pet the dogs and cats.

Unfortunately, those dreams are crushed when you accidentally let slip during a call to your parents that you have the time off, and they literally insist you come home, will not let you get off the phone without confirming your plans.

You only live about an hour away from them, but for one reason or another, you rarely visit.

The minute you step into your childhood home, you’re reminded of why you rarely visit.

“There’s my little do-gooder!” Your dad is all but waiting at the door when you arrive, pulls you into a hug despite the fact that your hands are full of luggage. “Let me look at you.” He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, acting like it's possible something has changed about you since you had lunch together a month ago in DC. “Oh, you’ve got that serious lawyer hairstyle now,” he remarks with a chuckle, even though your hair is styled the same way it was at that lunch. He might not mean it to come out this way, but it sounds condescending.

“That would be appropriate, considering I am a lawyer,” you remark, trying to keep the snark out of your tone. You know he always means well. “You look good.” He takes his hands off of you and puts them on his stomach.

“Your mom has me on some kind of greens and beans diet, says it will help me live longer.” You smile, a little awkward, not sure what to say about that—your dad is typically the meat and potatoes type, so you figure some variety can’t hurt, but if you say that you’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ve already got a headache.

“Where is mom, anyway?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, and your dad clues in, takes it from you and starts walking up the staircase.

“Oh, she’s at the gym, then taking care of some last minute things for the party.” You pause at the base of the stairs, sigh softly.

“Party?” You weren’t told about any party. Your dad keeps walking, and you’re forced to follow.

“Yeah, nothing major, just some people from the office and their spouses coming over for drinks tonight. Maybe some of their kids,” he adds innocently, and you can’t help rolling your eyes.

By kids, he means sons: eligible sons to try to set you up with. You wouldn’t mind being in a room full of hot, single men vying for your attention any other time—in fact, it’s been a little while, and your most recent hookup was lackluster, so you’re a bit more tightly wound than usual—but the kinds of men your parents bring around aren’t your type at all. You’re career driven yourself, but all they want to talk about is how they plan to be the youngest partner at their firm, or the clubs they can get into, or worst of all, money. Your potentially somewhat relaxing vacation just went to shit in no time at all.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I think mom got you a dress, honey. Check your closet after you get unpacked.” He pushes the door to your former bedroom open, and you’re assaulted by the color lavender; somehow you’d actually forgotten how purple it is. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” He sets your bag on the bed—oh god, the frilly purple comforter, you may have actually repressed that memory—and you drop your other luggage there too. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in, maybe order some lunch for us? Vesuvios?”

As irritated as you are about the party, it’s sweet that he remembers your favorite restaurant. You went there for dinner after you graduated from high school, college, and law school, so there are lots of great memories associated with the place.

“Do they adhere to the greens and beans diet?” you ask with a grin, and he puts his finger up to his lips to silence you.

“What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” You shake your head fondly, and he slips out of your room and leaves you to it.

You start unloading your clothes into the empty dresser, hanging them in the closet that holds things like your prom dresses, graduation gowns, old cheerleading and volleyball uniforms. Every touch of silky fabric is a memory, and at this point in your life most of them are good, even if they weren’t at the time. It’s kind of nice to remember where you came from, when where you are now can be so hectic, so fast-paced you don’t see the forest for the trees.

Feeling nostalgic, you walk over to your desk, where you spent so much time with your face crammed into textbooks it’s not even funny, and flip through your old stationary set—what teenager had her own stationery? You were a total nerd—and photos you’d taken off the mirror but left sitting in a pile to be packed away eventually.

You snap out of the past after that, finish putting your toiletries away, setting up your laptop and chargers where you want them, then shove your empty suitcases in the closet and grab your phone to head downstairs.

You meet up with your dad in the kitchen, where he is opening steaming takeout containers full of Italian food. You grab some plates from the overhead cabinet and lean against the counter, look over the offerings to decide what you’ll have.

“So how are things at the ACLU?” he asks with a bit of a teasing tone. You’re well aware of the fact that he thinks you could be doing more—translation: making more—in private practice, or working for the government like he does, but neither of those things interest you and he is well aware of that.

“They’re really good, actually. We’re working on a disability rights case now that will probably make national news if we win.” It’s been forever since you had penne arrabbiata, since it’s not very easy to eat at your desk without running the risk of staining your blouse with spicy red sauce, so you load up your plate with it, add wilted spinach for color, a piece of garlic bread because it’s garlic bread. You lick your thumb, and your dad points a finger in your direction in that way that means he’s about to give you life advice.

“When you win; if you’re not confident about your capabilities, no one else will be.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, nod, because that’s a pro tip you’ve heard time and time again. “If you came to work at the bureau, you’d win more of your cases; Constitutional law isn’t easy.” He says that like you don’t already know, like you haven’t been working in your current department for more than a year. You sigh.

“I’m not really the bureau type, dad.” You take your plate over to the breakfast table, sit down and start to pick at your food. Arguing about your chosen career path is enough to make you lose your appetite, even for your favorite dish. Your dad follows, sits across from you.

“You’re so smart, honey, you could be if you wanted to.” He takes a bite of fettuccine alfredo, points his fork at you. “Hey, maybe you could talk to Jim from the Office of General Counsel tonight—or maybe Aaron. You’d be really interested in the work his team does.”

“Who’s Aaron again?” You don’t recognize the name, so he’s probably not one of the attorneys on your dad’s team, but he works closely with so many departments you might have heard it before and missed it.

“Friend from work. He’s the unit chief at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They’re criminal psychologists or something. Profilers,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what they call them. They get into criminals’ heads, analyze them and interrogate them. I know you minored in psychology, I bet he could get you an internship.” You laugh at that, because he always gives you advice about furthering your career, but that’s a step backward for you and he can't be so dense not to realize it.

“An internship? I’m a little old for that, don't you think? Not to mention I have a job that I love.” You stab at your food, more than a little agitated by the current conversation.

“Never too late to get your foot in the door, sweetie. It’d be great to see you more, that’s all I’m saying,” he adds, ending on a gentler note, and you sigh. Your mom does it too, but your dad is an expert into guilting you into doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, you’ve never handled guilt very well.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, if it means that much to you,” you promise, and you both smile and make easy small talk for the rest of the meal. The dress your mom bought for you for the party is a black, sleeveless, designer cocktail dress, something more form fitting than you would normally wear—she is evidently trying very hard to find you an eligible bachelor tonight. You pair it with your favorite jewelry, simple heels, and when you head downstairs your mom acts like it’s prom night all over again.

“Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful!” She puts her hands on your arms, spins you around. “You’re looking too thin—must be eating a lot of salads on that paralegal salary,” she throws over her shoulder to your dad, and they both laugh. You wish life were a documentary so there was a camera you could look into with an unimpressed expression.

“I’m a staff attorney actually. Fully accredited,” you add, but it’s no use. If you don’t follow in your dad’s footsteps, you will always be seen as living beneath your potential, and therefore always the butt of these types of jokes.

You love them, really, and you know they love you, but they are not the most supportive pair by a long shot. They made sure you got into a great college, let you follow your law school dreams—and you’re grateful, won’t deny their money is a privilege so many other people in your position do not possess—but that was only because those were their dreams as well. As soon as you told them about taking the position at the ACLU, it was like the tables were turned, and instead of your accomplishments, all they saw was wasted potential.

It’s enough to keep you away most of the time, which sucks, but it is what it is. It’s easier to love them from afar, so that’s what you do.

At the party, you shake hands, talk about the weather, introduce yourself to so many middle aged white guys and their sons that their faces all start to blur together. After half an hour you excuse yourself, head to the bar for a drink, and come to stand next to a middle aged white guy you have not introduced yourself to—this one, you’d have remembered, because he is tall, broad, serious looking, and very handsome.

If you were a dog, he’d have your ears perking up, no doubt about that. Instead, your heart just races a little.

“I have to say, these FBI parties are even less fun than I thought they’d be,” you comment as you wait for your drink. The man lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

“Get a bunch of men who are past their prime in one room, and all you hear about are the glory days. Can’t get a word in edgewise.” The bartender hands you your glass, and you turn to fully face the stranger.

“Why aren’t you talking about your glory days?” You immediately kind of want to slap yourself. Your social skills have been exhausted tonight, apparently. “I’m sorry, that was rude; I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re… past your prime.” You give him a brief once over, because he deserves it, is even more gorgeous up close than you’d initially assessed; he chuckles softly, sips on his own drink.

“It wasn’t rude, it was… shrewd.” His own gaze lingers on your face, maybe the neckline of your dress, just a little. “Your father’s really happy you’re here, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, he's one of the most ambitious people I know; he gets an idea in his head and won’t rest until he’s seen it through.” It’s a quality that sounds good on paper, but when it’s constantly being applied to your life, it’s more tiring than anything. “Right now he’s trying to get me to bully one of these poor guys into giving me an internship, as if I’m not twenty-nine years old with a career of my own.” He wets his lips, laughs again.

“I think I’m the poor guy—Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief overseeing the BAU.” Wow, 0 for 2. This guy’s got to think you’re a complete idiot. He extends a hand and you shake it firmly, melt a little because his palm is so broad, his fingers so thick.

“Right, I’m so sorry. Feel free to tell me right now that I’m not the right fit, and I’ll slink off and hide in a corner somewhere for the rest of the night.”

“No need for that. You strike me as someone who would be a great fit for my team, if that was something you actually wanted.”

You aren’t looking for a career change in the slightest, but you can’t deny it would be tempting to report to this man every day.

“It’s not that I’m not curious about what you do; my dad told me a little, and it sounds really intriguing. I just have a lot on my plate right now. If the offer had come up before I started my current job, I would be all over it.” You smile, shrug. “Unless you could have me intern for the next two weeks I’ll be on vacation, I’ll have to politely decline the offer you haven't actually made me.” You smile, and so does he.

“Now who’s ambitious?” he asks with a raised eyebrow; the way he says it, like he finds it charming, makes your face heat a little. You’ve never connected like this at one of your dad’s FBI events, and even though there’s no way it ends well—if anything even starts—you feel the need to see how far you can go. Even if it’s just a little flirting. Even if it’s just tonight.

“Have you ever been here before tonight?” you ask after a beat. You take a sip of your drink, and he mirrors you. You lean in a little closer.

“Once, briefly. I didn’t get a grand tour, or anything.” You smile—bingo—and reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I’d be happy to give you one, if you like. Usually my dad is all about it, but he looks occupied.” You both glance across the room at where he is in the middle of a group of men—still discussing their glory days, no doubt—and Aaron looks at you again, nods.

“Sure, I’d love one.” You show him around downstairs, the backyard, the garage—he doesn’t seem to care about the cars at all—and then go upstairs, show him guest rooms, the master bath your mother recently remodeled; he gets a little closer as you go, and you smile more, flirt a bit. You stop outside the door to your room, block it with your body while you talk about the art hanging in the hall; he’s very good at reading your body language, apparently, because he leans closer to you, puts his hand on the doorknob next to your hip.

“What’s this room?” he asks, feigning innocence, and you put your arm over his.

“Oh, no, we’re not going in there. That’s my old bedroom.” He smiles, and you grimace.

“You mean the room I most want to see now? Come on.” He turns the knob, hears it click, and you cover your face with your hand, sigh.

“This is going to be really embarrassing. It’s exactly the way it looked when I went to college, and that was over ten years ago.” You push the door open with your hand, walk in and flick on the light. Aaron follows, chuckles.

“It’s... purple. Cute.” He makes toward the bed, touches one of the frills on the comforter with his big, broad hand. The juxtaposition of your innocent lavender bedding being stroked by the fingers you can’t stop staring at is a very interesting one.

“No, it’s not cute, it’s horrifying,” you say, and when he walks toward the open closet, you begin to regret this little tour. He pulls out your prom dress, your cheerleading uniform.

“Cheerleader, huh? You don’t seem the type.” He looks over at you, and you push it back into the closet, lead him away from it with your hands on his arms.

“I’m not. It was important to my mom.” The two of you are by your dresser now, and he leans in to look in the mirror, at you standing behind him and not his own reflection.

“I see. Do you always put other people's needs before your own?” You sidle up next to him, and he turns to face you.

“This is what you do, right? You… deduce for a living? Like Sherlock?” That makes him laugh, which in turn makes you smile.

“It’s called profiling, but that’s accurate enough.” You feel a challenge brewing inside you, take a step closer to him.

“Okay… What can you tell me about myself by looking around the room? Remember, this stuff is from ten years ago; a lot could have changed.” He crosses his arms, nods.

“You’re right, but your core values wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he walks around the room, taking things in, touching things, looking back at you briefly and then rifling through parts of your past. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I think your father wants you to work at the bureau, and you don’t want to because you’ve always felt like you’d live in his shadow if you followed the same career path. You want to blaze your own trail, do what fulfills you, not let his last name be what moves you up the ladder.”

That’s all scarily true, so you nod, cross your arms, lean your butt against your desk.

“I think you’re afraid of commitment because you don’t think any relationship you’re in will ever measure up to what your parents have.” That stings a little, but he’s not wrong. He points to a flyer stuck to a cork board, something about a charity project you’d worked on that revolved around recycling. “Environmentally conscious: I bet you drive a hybrid, and if your dad bought it for you, it’s a... BMW.”

He glances back, and you encourage him to go on. He points to a copy of your Georgetown diploma hanging on the wall, then picks up a cheerleading trophy on your dresser.

“You were a cheerleader to please your mom, went to Georgetown to please your dad, excelled at both; you’re an only child, so you felt you couldn’t let them down. My question is,” he says, looking up at you curiously, “what pleases you?” The words make your heart beat fast; you lick your lips, tilt your head.

“Not much.” He comes closer, arms crossed again.

“Why?” God, that’s a loaded question for a Friday night, for the first day of your vacation. You absently wonder if he’s going to bill you for this impromptu therapy session.

“I find it difficult to ask for what I want,” you ultimately say, and he moves even closer. His stare is probing, and you speculate that he may have been a lawyer before the FBI. The look on his face is the same one you’ve seen in many courtrooms over your short career.

“Of course you do. You’ve never done it before. You've spent your whole life asking other people what they want from you.”

You feel very seen, and you kind of hate it, but you also kind of like it—that he’s able to dissect you like this is a huge turn on. What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure; maybe that you enjoy being seen for who you are—for all that you are—instead of who you know, or who you could have been, for a change.

“I think you didn’t lose your virginity until college—your second year.” It feels like bringing that up is a bold move for him; he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it. “I would guess you got drunk for the first time around then, too. Your first year you were trying to navigate the feeling of not being under anyone’s thumb anymore; your second year, you finally felt like your own woman, you wanted to try new things, but it made you feel out of control and you don’t like that. Even now you only drink socially, never to get drunk.” He is directly in front of you now, and he reaches out a hand, brushes it over your cheek. “I also think you gravitate toward men you find inappropriate and unattainable so you don’t have to worry about being the reason your relationships fail.”

He looks into your eyes with a questioning gaze. It’s a painfully accurate take, but he softens the blow with the gentle touch.

“Wow, you’re kind of an asshole,” you breathe, but you smile, and he laughs low.

“Maybe. But am I wrong?” You nod your head, and his face falls a little, so you narrow your eyes to mess with him a bit.

“Only about one thing: I actually drive a Kia hybrid. And I bought it myself, for your information.” He smiles, and you press your hands against his chest; it’s crazy how quickly he drops back into the serious expression you first saw him wearing by the bar. “Are you unattainable and inappropriate?”

“I work with your father; we’re the same age. We play golf together sometimes.” He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t back away or remove your hands. You slide them down his body, over his stomach, stop at his belt, and he looks the way you feel: tightly wound, aroused, a little breathless.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Aaron. May I do some profiling of my own?” You look up at him, curious, and he nods.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, and you lean back. You rake your eyes over his body slowly—there’s no mistaking your appraisal for what it is. “No ring on your finger, but there’s no way you haven’t been married before. My guess is you’re divorced, and it wasn’t your idea.” You look up at his face, smile softly. “Sorry. You weren’t exactly pulling punches either.” He huffs a laugh.

“You’re right: I wasn’t pulling punches. You’re right about the divorce, too. Go on.” You nod, hum.

“Okay. You have a strong moral compass; you always do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s what makes you such a great leader for your team. You like to go by the book, you’re a Fed through and through—but when it comes down to the bureau or the people you care about, you’ll fight the establishment with all you have. You aren’t a blind believer in the government; you have your criticisms, and you aren’t shy about voicing them.”

“Unlike your father,” he says, and you sigh. “You don’t have an appreciation for his work.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your dad specializes in Freedom of Information Act litigation—he does his best to keep the FBI from actually living up to its commitment to be transparent with the American people, and it doesn’t sit right with you, never has. You may both be attorneys, but you could not be more different if you tried. “But I’m profiling you, remember?”

“Right. Please continue.”

“This might be going out on a limb, but I think you went to law school. The way you speak, and the way you looked at me earlier? It was a little like cross-examination. Am I right about that?” His answering smile actually looks pleased.

“You are. I was a prosecutor for a number of years before joining the FBI. I think it’s something you don’t ever really lose.”

“For better or worse,” you say with a smile of your own. Happy with your assessment, you move a little closer again. “One more thing. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would normally let a woman take you into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing her. Childhood or otherwise.” You smooth your hands down either side of his tie, over his firm chest and solid midsection. “Maybe you saw something in me you liked?”

“I was... dreading coming here tonight.” He brings his hands up to cover yours, but doesn’t pull them away, just holds them. “If you’ve been to one of these parties, you’ve been to them all—no offense to your father—and I was contemplating a good excuse to leave early, if I’m being honest. Then you showed up at my side—my friend’s mysterious daughter that I’ve heard so much about—and you’re funny, and charming. Insightful. Vulnerable.” He squeezes your hands, presses them closer to his chest. “Beautiful. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at someone and felt an instant connection. Do you feel it?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you nod lightly.

You aren’t the type of woman to take a man into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing him, childhood or otherwise, but he makes you want so badly you’re almost ravenous—you’ve felt this way before, maybe twice in your life, but neither of those experiences ended with you getting what you wanted. You really hope this time might be different.

“Kiss me?” He takes a breath and then presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I know. But will you?” After a beat, he does, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face as he deepens it.

It’s not a hard kiss, but rough around the edges, your noses pressed together, mouths seeking contact even as you pull apart for breath. He kisses like he needs it, tastes like bourbon, feels like heaven; it’s steamy, wet, makes your chest heave and your pussy throb. When he walks you backward, gently presses your body against your desk, you hop up onto it easily and pull him closer, between your spread knees.

“Aaron,” you sigh over his lips, and his hands move to your thighs, pushing up your dress so he can get closer to you. You glide your fingers through his hair, plant a hand on the desk, then feel something tip over, hear the soft sound of paper sliding over the edge.

Aaron looks down, picks up a lavender envelope; he holds it up with a question in his eye and an enamored look on his face.

“‘From the desk of…’ You had personalized stationery at eighteen?” His mouth is a little red from the kiss still, and he’s teasing you, perfect; you smile, can’t believe this is happening.

“I liked to write to my congressman… and Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” you pant. He chuckles, kisses you a little softer than before, then moves down your throat, sweeps his tongue over your pulse. “Mmm. Right there.”

He pauses to look up at you, hair mussed from your fingers, and you push his jacket off his shoulders; he shifts to full height, helps you take it off, and you drape it over your desk chair, work the knot of his tie loose.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as your fingers slip down the front of his shirt, freeing his buttons. You unclasp his belt, open his pants, and stretch up for a kiss, touching his face; you nod when you pull back.

“Absolutely. Are you?” He nods too, all serious eyebrows you want to kiss, mouth you want back on yours, on your throat, anywhere.

“Absolutely.” You step down off the desk, run your hands over his arms, then kick off your shoes and walk over to the door, close and lock it; when you pass him again, you guide him to the bed and sit in his lap, clutch at his shoulders and kiss him with as much desperation as he showed you before. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, sighing, moans from you both, and if just kissing is this good, you can’t imagine what he’ll be like inside of you.

When you can find it in yourself to stop kissing him, you pull back and climb out of his lap, present the back of your dress so he can ease down the zipper. He pushes it off, large, warm hands gliding over your body until it hits the floor in a heap unbecoming of the designer label. Your mother would lose her mind.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Aaron says as he moves his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down and leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. You sigh, press a hand to the back of his head while his mouth explores you where you’re soft and sensitive. You’d like it lower, but there may not be time for that tonight. “What do you want with an old man like me?”

“None of that.” You sweep your hands over his shoulders, sink down onto his lap again, and his hands fall to your bare hips, squeezing you softly; you close your eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed by just the simplest touch. “Like you said: I feel a connection.” Your fingers move to push his shirt open, to lift his undershirt so you can get your hands on bare skin and soft body and hair. He groans, and you kiss him, deep and slow, hands moving to take off both shirts and add them to his jacket on your chair. You take a deep breath, reach out to touch his cheek. “Connect with me.”

He takes your hand, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it, then drags it down so your fingers slide over his lips; you swallow hard, can feel wetness pooling between your legs, so you slide off of him and onto the bed—however sexy it may be to leave your mark on him, you do both have to return to the party at some point.

Sitting up beside him, you touch his body, ease his pants and boxers down; he takes them off along with his shoes, and you pull the comforter out from under you, push it to the side, let yourself lay back and bask in the look and feel of him as he settles between your knees, leans in for a kiss.

It’s even more intense than before, somehow, his thighs against yours, strong arms supporting him, and you drag your nails lightly up his body, tip your head back and sigh when his lips trail from the base of your throat to your jaw.

He moves a hand low, rubs his fingers between your lips and presses one finger inside you, slowly glides it in and out so you’re moaning, sighing his name.

“That feels so good,” you breathe, and he moves his mouth to yours again, soft and wet, the slide of his tongue sinfully delicious. He adds a second finger, earns more gasping moans, then a third; with the help of a capable thumb stroking over your clit, you come, and he kisses the praise right out of your mouth and then pushes inside you.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours, keeps you close as he thrusts inside, gradually lowering his weight onto you until you feel him everywhere: chest soft against yours, stomachs pressing together as you both work your hips, as your hands grasp his back to keep him close, heavy. Connected.

“You’re perfect. You feel incredible, baby,” he speaks against your lips in a rare moment apart, and you hitch your knees up higher, press the heels of your feet against his ass.

You thought he looked turned on before, but now he looks like he’s being consumed by it, like he wants to thrust deeper into you, make a home in your body and never leave; you would be more than okay with that, to spend the next two weeks beneath him, holding him close, sharing breath and sweat and pleasure so complete it changes you profoundly.

He moves a hand behind your head, cradles it, and sucks wet kisses against your throat—nothing so deep as to leave a mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re not panting, whimpering, begging for more.

“Aaron. Hmm, oh. You’re so gorgeous, I—everything about you.” He pulls away from your neck, peers down at you, and you’re sure you’re a sight to behold in your desperation; your palms smooth down his back, to his sides, and you hug him close, squeeze him hard when he comes, panting your name against your throat and pumping roughly inside.

You meet his every thrust, dig your nails into his hips, and he leans forward, covers your mouth with his and grinds against you until your second blissful orgasm shudders through your limbs. You clench tight around him, moan, then slowly sag back against the mattress, more thoroughly satisfied than you’ve ever been in your life.

He shifts, half on top of you and half off, his kisses gradually slowing, his hands sweeping over your shoulders, your face, your arms. When you’re calm, content, you sigh, kiss his hands and cheeks and lips; you’re warm, and you curl around him, overheated skin on skin, and never want to leave.

“Mmm,” he rumbles against your shoulder, mouthing at it, and you sigh, scrape your nails through his hair.

“Mm hmm. Think I can die happy now,” you murmur, and he shifts up to look at you, a smile curving softly from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t die on me, now.” You smile too, scoot closer for slow kisses. You’re both happy to lay there, quietly kissing, but eventually it’s clear you need to return to the party in order to avoid suspicion—not that you think anyone would ever guess what just occurred.

You dress side by side, turning to have him fix your zipper, reaching up to help him with his tie. When you’re both technically decent enough to head downstairs, you plan to give him a head start, but the two of you get caught up in one more deeply sensual kiss that almost makes you want to just say screw it and take his clothes off again. He can tell, has the barest hint of a smirk on his face when the kiss breaks, and he punctuates it with a soft press of lips before walking out the door.

With your spare few minutes, you look around the room—and at your rumpled, frilly, lavender bed, on which you just had super hot sex with one of your dad’s friends, it’s still kind of sinking in—and wonder what the rest of your vacation could possibly bring that could top this night. At breakfast the next morning, you find out.

You and your parents are discussing the party, who got too drunk to function, who left with the wrong wife, which of your dad’s friend’s sons you got along with most, and then he drops the bomb on you.

“And see, honey, I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial.” You choke on a bite of scrambled eggs, try to wash it down with a sip of juice; your mom pats you on the back until the moment passes.

“What?” you ask, voice barely a squeak. You clear your throat and try again. “What about Aaron, dad?” He flips the newspaper he’s holding to the next page and peers over it at you.

“I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial. Before he left last night, he told me all about the internship—it’s nice of him to set it up for the two weeks you’re here, so you can get some experience under your belt.” You briefly think about your experience under Aaron’s belt, but it’s really not the time.

He really set you up with an internship—one he knows you aren’t interested in—based on the offhand comment you’d made about squeezing it into your two week vacation. You’d be kind of irritated at him for making the plans on your behalf, but if it means the next two weeks are anything like last night, he’s going to make it well worth your while.

The internship excites both of your parents, and your mom declares it a girls day, takes you out for some new clothes, since you didn’t bring any workwear, for a manicure and pedicure and then drinks. She talks about what a great opportunity this will be for you, and you don’t have the heart—or maybe you just don’t care anymore—to argue about what great opportunities you’ve already made possible for yourself.

Sunday is for relaxing, and not internally panicking about seeing Aaron again. Friday night was incredible, but you didn’t think it would turn into anything, considering he is your dad’s friend, and you’re only here for a couple weeks.

You have to hand it to him, though: if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and this internship is his way of getting to spend more time with you, he has managed to do what you haven’t been able for twenty-nine years—find a way to please your parents while finally pleasing yourself. Monday morning, you show up at the BAU office to receive a photo ID badge and fill out some paperwork. You don’t actually get to meet anyone from the BAU until after lunch, and when you do, Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, I’m looking for Unit Chief Hotchner?” you say to a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. “I’m interning for the next couple weeks.” There is a man with her, Black, tall, bald, with very expressive eyebrows; the eyebrows don’t look like they think very highly of you.

“You’re an intern? A little old, aren’t you?” After a beat, his face breaks into a smile, and you roll your eyes, huff a laugh.

“Charmer. Yes, I’m definitely too old to be an intern; do you have overbearing parents by chance?” He raises his hands, palms up, and takes a step back.

“No, but enough said.” The blonde woman laughs, and he nods in your direction. “I’m Derek Morgan, this is JJ Jareau. Come with me, I’ll take you to Hotch.”

You thank him, follow as he leads you across the room and up some stairs.

“So what’s he like, Agent Hotchner?” you ask, wanting someone else’s opinion of Aaron as a boss, a coworker—anything other than the one night stand that wasn’t. You really know so little about him.

“He’s a good guy; smart, fair, great at what he does. A little tightly wound; could stand to live a little.” He looks back at you with a grin. “He’ll probably remind you a little of your dad.”

God. It almost makes you throw up in your mouth a little.

“You know, I doubt it, but thanks for the warning.” He knocks on a closed door at the end of the hall, and a moment later, Aaron answers it. His expression doesn’t change as Derek introduces you, and when he walks away with a friendly pat on your shoulder, Aaron gestures you in. He closes the door behind you and looks carefully over your face.

“Hi,” he says, and you see that hint of a smirk on his face again. You take a moment to appraise the room—there’s a window with blinds that are closed, a desk and chairs, bookcases, a printer, more windows on the far side, a loveseat. You look back at Aaron with a raised brow.

“Hi. What am I doing here?” His expression gets serious, like he can’t tell if you’re pleased or upset with him for the surprise. You sit down on the loveseat, set your bag down, and he sits down next to you.

“I know you wanted to get your father off your back, and you did say if I could squeeze an internship into two weeks that you’d be interested.” You smile a little, because you did say that. “I thought it might be nice to see you a little more, too. You’re under no obligation to stay,” he assures you, briefly looking down, and then he takes your hand. “But surely there are worse ways to spend your vacation?”

You give him an uncertain look, like you’re really trying to decide what you’d like to do, and then you push up your skirt and swiftly straddle his thighs, press your hands against his shoulders. His mouth falls open a little, and you lean in to catch it with yours.

“I have been thinking about you all weekend,” he mutters into the kiss, wraps his arms around your back. “Have you thought about me?”

“Only every night.” He groans at your words, lets his head fall back a little, and you press your lips to the column of his throat, nip softly with your teeth. “Every morning. Every minute.” You bite at the shell of his ear, kiss it, card your fingers through his hair. “Do I have an actual job to do here?” You pull back, and he raises his eyebrows; you can’t help the grin that takes over your expression. “Because if not, I’m going to focus on making this the best two weeks of your life.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, a little rougher than before, deeper, and you tug on his hair, pant against his cheek when you separate.

“In that case, no. You don’t have a job to do here.” You tilt your head, and he smiles a little. “I'm the boss, I make the rules.” That kind of thing has never done it for you before, but you have to admit it’s making you feel some type of way right now. You sweep your hands inside his jacket, squeeze his sides.

“Mmm, yes you do. Hey, do you think there’s enough room for me to fit under your desk?” He wets his lips, and you climb off of him, walk around to check it out for yourself, bending over his desk in your tight black skirt to peek beneath it. You look up to see Aaron is not shy about taking in the view, and you grin. “Spacious.”

He walks toward you, and when he’s closer, his eyes look dark with need; his hands look like they ache to reach out and touch. You step forward, let yourself be caged in against the desk by his arms, and you arch your back a little, open his belt slowly.

“I didn’t set this up so you would feel obligated to do this.” You sigh, lean up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“I know you didn’t. But if I want to?” You tug down his zipper, slip your hand inside his underwear, feel him hot and stiff in your palm. “And you want to?” He nods tightly and you kiss him again, squeeze him softly, sweep your tongue between his lips. “Then let’s.”

You take a step back, push his chair far enough out of the way that you can crawl under the desk, come up on your knees; he exhales deeply, then sinks down into his chair, stretches his long legs so they rest on either side of your body, holds his pants open for you. You look up at him, hope he sees how ridiculously eager you are to do this, and you take his dick out, stroke it a couple times, and cover it with your mouth.

“My god,” he sighs, head resting back against his seat. You hold him with both hands, suck deep and wet, moan a little when he spreads his legs further apart. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. Does this make you wet?” You pull off, move one hand to slide up his stomach, clutch his shirt there.

“Very, but I’m patient. Want to make you come.” He wets his lips, sighs, and you dip your head, lick up the length of him before sucking him back down.

He is all perfect, desperate noises, soft grunts and moans, gently palming your head as he gets closer, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to get off when there’s a knock at the door. He mutters a curse, and you squeeze his stomach, determined to make him come in the next five seconds. He looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Just a minute,” he manages, his voice strained, and he puts his hands on your arms, but you stroke and suck him quickly, actually sigh in relief when he spills in your mouth; your only regret is that he couldn’t be louder.

As soon as he’s through coming, you duck under the desk to wipe your mouth, and he hurries to fix his fly, to close his belt. There’s another knock, and he exhales, calls for whoever is on the other side to come in.

He accidentally bangs his knee off the desk, winces, and you lean back against it, panting, your heart racing.

“Aaron!”

Your eyes snap closed. What are the actual chances of this? You don’t know enough about karma to have an opinion on it, but you come to the sudden realization that you must have done something wrong in a past life.

“Hey, what are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Aaron asks, managing to sound like he is in fact not talking to the father of the woman who just swallowed his come.

“Looking for my little girl, of course. Had to see what she was getting up to on her first day at the FBI.”

“She’s actually… downstairs. In the mailroom. Interns start at the bottom and work their way up.” You stifle a laugh, because despite your compromising position, that’s kind of funny.

“Oh, okay. Agent Morgan thought she was up here, but I guess she must have snuck by him. Would you tell her I stopped by?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be happy to hear it,” he says, and you think you might be out of the woods, but you hear your dad’s voice again.

“Hey I almost forgot to mention: Monday Night Football tonight, got a bunch of guys coming over to watch the game. You interested?”

“You know, that would be great. You can text me the details. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Sure, of course. I really appreciate you taking care of my girl.” You have to bite your lip this time, and Aaron taps his foot against your hip.

“It’s my pleasure. She’s really wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’ll text you the details,” he says, and then the door closes and Aaron pulls back, looks down at you beneath the desk. You kind of just stare at each other for a minute.

“Close call?” you say with a shrug, and he helps you to your feet, then lifts you up and sets your ass on the edge of his desk. He grabs your face for a messy kiss, and you cling to him, breathless when he pulls back.

“What does it say about me that I’m turned on again?” he asks, and you shake your head, pull him close for another kiss.

“I don’t know, but I’m really turned on, too. Can you—” That’s as far as you get before he strides over to the door, flips the lock, and comes back to push your skirt up, tug your panties down to your knees so quickly it makes you gasp. He gets on his knees slowly, looks up at your face, and puts his hands on your hips, takes a few deep, thorough licks of your pussy. “Oh, my god.” You put your hand on the back of his head, drop your ass harder against the desk and press your other palm against it for support.

He is as enthusiastic as you were for him, slipping his tongue between your lips, gliding rhythmically over your opening but not pressing in, the tease. It feels insanely good, so much but not quite enough.

“Aaron. Oh, mmm—please. Please.” You sigh, dig your fingers into his hair, and he puts his hands under your ass and tilts you back on the desk, dives lower to start thrusting inside you with his tongue. “Yes, yeah, right there,” you murmur, and you rock your hips a little; your hand slips, sending you further back on the desk so that you’re almost laying back on it, and it makes you feel so deliciously dirty that you groan, grab at the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you, and you nod, frantic; he licks his lips, lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders, then dips down to stroke his tongue inside you, to press a finger inside alongside it.

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It’s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt

485 notes · View notes

poppy-metal · 3 years

Text

so uh,,,,this ended up being alot softer then i was expecting LMAO.

Bully!eren x reader

Cw: not alot, some smut at the end. Tame for me but i was in my FEELINGS okay.

Word count: 2.3k

The familiar sleek black of erens benz pulls up to the side of your house as you walk home from a late night trip to the grocery store, pints of ben & jerrys ice cream in the bags, as well as several other snack items one might munch on to cram for an exam, which is what you planned on doing.

You side step more onto the sidewalk when he pulls up beside you, still driving just slow enough to match your pace. He rolls down the window, jerking his head, “Just the girl i wanted to see,” he drawls hooking his arm out his window to lean out a little, he grins, “its fate”

You scrunch your nose up and scoff “Stalking is another word for it, jaeger”. You look him over suspiciously, “you wanted to see me?”

He rolls his eyes. He’s wearing aviator sunglasses, pushed up his forehead. Loitering in front of your house like this, you’re aware of how different the worlds you live in are. Everything about eren is expensive, from his car to his sunglasses to his clothes, even the way he smells, the cologne he wears, all tells how important he is. Meanwhile here you are in your oversized hoodie and leggings, hands full of stuff you’d bought from the convenience store, prepared to spend your night busting your ass to even stay in the college you had to claw your way to get into, wherein he had gotten in without even trying. You’re not self conscious, at least not usually. You’d never yearned to be apart of erens world too terribly, and it was eren who always sought you out, not the other way around, when there was plenty of rich girls right up his alley and status that would be glad to be with him and yet here he was at 11pm at night. You try to push down the way your heart flutters at that fact.

“Uh huh. Get in the car, bambi, m’taking you somewhere” his teeth are a flash of white against the night, promising trouble, as always. Your grip on your bags tightens, as does your heart in your chest. You glance away, “i have to study”

“Study?”

Your brows pinch together and you hold up your bags “Not that you’d care, jaeger, but some of us have to actually study to achieve our goals. I can't entertain you tonight, im busy”

Eren doesn’t look put out in the slightest, glancing down at your bags with casual disinterest“You dont need to study”. And then he looks up at you and meets your eyes, your breath catching, they look closer to the shade of seaglass today. “You’re smarter than anyone i know, ___, and i know alot of people. Whatever you want to pass? You’re already there. Just come with me, please”

Your eyes widen and your heart spasms in your chest, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his voice. He has moments like this, where he usually teases you and gets under your skin but sometimes he says something that makes everything in you jolt. Its not fair. Its confusing and it messes with your head, makes it fuzzy, weakens you and makes you do things you’d never do with a clear mind.

You wish you could fight it, wish you could roll your eyes and tell him no and do what you need to do. But you don’t. Huffing you say, “Ugh, fine. Just let me put this stuff up, my ice creams probably already a puddle by now” you turn and rush up to your house, ears burning when you hear him call out, “Thatta girl!”

You try not to put everything away to hastily, thinking he ought to squirm just a little, but even you can’t deny the eager buzzing under your skin. When you clamber into the passenger seat of his car eren turns to grin at you as he flicks his sunglasses back over his eyes. “Knew you’d see reason, bambi”. You roll your eyes at the nickname, crossing your arms over your chest as you side eye him warily, “where are you taking me jaeger, is this a kidnapping?”

“Not a kidnapping when you want it, sweetheart”, eren says, putting his arm around the back of your seat as he backs up his car to make a uturn. You dont know if the flustered leap in your chest is from the petname or the way his forearm looks flexing, the cords in his neck prominent as he looks behind him for any oncoming cars. “Just trust me, yeah? You’ll like it”

You sink in the seat, trying to get away from the warm heat of his arm so close to you, but hes taking it away soon enough, only to draw your attention again to the way his hands look steering the wheel. His hands….You turn to look out the window, opting for silence, because you feel like you’re about to lose your mind. This car is just so..him and its overwhelming your senses. It smells good, it smells like him, his cologne wafting all around you. The sleek interior of his car is crisp, clean, sharp, and just so richboy it feels surreal. You haven’t been in his car before.

Eren seems okay with the silence though, tapping his finger idly against the wheel as soft music plays from the radio. Its strangely peaceful, actually. Before you know it, the whirring of houses and neighborhoods and highway turns into palm trees and sand. You sit up straighter, coming out of your daze when you realize eren is pulling his car into the sandy bank by a large body of water. The beach. You haven’t had a chance to go here.

The water looks like black at this time of night, there are no waves, just sparkling dark abyss that stretches out for ages and ages, glittering under the moonlight. There are no other cars parked close to you so its just you, eren, and the sea.

You spend quite awhile gawking at the ocean before you come to your senses and turn to face eren. He has his elbow propped on the wheel, chewing idly on his thumb as he peers at you from over his sunglasses. A small smile is playing at his lips as he watches you.

You gape, “What…”

“You’re cute when you’re excited, you know” his voice is low, dropped in that way that makes your toes curl in your shoes. You ignore the way your heart skips at his words, probing him, “Why did you bring me here, ren?”

He turns to face forward, flipping the radio off so theres no background noise between the two of you. Taking his sunglasses off the folds them and puts them on the dash, sighing as he watches the ocean from out the windshield, gnawing on his lips. Tap, tap, tap, his fingers on the wheel go as you wait for him to speak. “Last week,” he starts, glancing at you, “When we had to do those presentations in class about places we feel at home..you talked about the library”

He laughs under his breath like its some kind of endearing joke, shaking his head a little. You dont speak. “The library is where i first saw you, you know? I mean, before all this, before i..talked to you, i noticed you before you ever noticed me.” A small secret smile plays on his lips, “You were reading ‘percy jackson and the lightning thief’, and you haid your hair in pigtails. Your glasses were way to big your face. My first thought was ‘wow she looks like an owl’, but then i saw you laugh at something on the page and my second thought was ‘i want to know her’. We were in middle school.”

Green eyes connect with yours, “You still go there, i know. But anyway..this is. My place, i guess”. He purses his lips “i figure since i'm always intruding on your little sanctuary , i’d let you see mine”

You take everything he just said in. He’d known about you, noticed you, since middle school? You hadn’t acknowledged him until sophomore year of highschool, hadn’t spoken to him since senior year, when this tug and pull had first begun between you two. You remembered that day, your mother wouldn't buy you the series so you’d relied on constantly re-reading the books at the library. It was around that time you began to see that place as something special, too. Tucked away from the world, you could lose yourself in another's story. It was like magic. And to realize eren had been there the whole time, had glimpsed that, realized that the library was your special place, that he’d even payed attention to your presentation in class at all in the first place...that he was here, showing you something of himself in return, even though you’d never asked. You’d wondered of course.

Eren was an enigma, he was on most days, the bane of your existence. He had made your life a living hell on many occasions, but with that, he also made you feel more alive than ever before. He’d dragged you out of your bubble and challenged you to see the world beyond school and books and fiction, he raised your emotions and forced you to experience everything head on. Anger, confusion, happiness, anxiety, thrill, lust and…

You look at him. The way the moonlight curls into the car like a kind of mist, making his eyes look absolutely beautiful. The soft wave to his brown hair, his eyelashes, everything about him made you ache with desire. All the time, even when you swore you hated him, you wanted him.

“Kiss me”. Its whispered out so low, for a moment you worry he might not hear it. Its the first time you’ve asked for him, reached for him first without his taunting to guide a confession from you. With this request, filling the air between you, you’re making it known that you want him, want this. It doesn’t change anything and yet it somehow changes everything. You can’t look in the mirror and tell yourself he doesn’t occupy your mind and your heart anymore. Not after this.

Eren seems to realize this too, his intake of breath letting you know he heard you loud and clear. “__..” he says, inching closer. His eyes, dark now, are so very hungry as he closes in. In a moment his lips, soft, so soft, are on yours. You sigh into his kiss, opening for him easily when his tongue glides into your mouth. His hand comes up to cup your jaw, tenderly, thumb stroking it. God, you want to eat him, you want him to eat you. The wet smack of your lips fills the car as you hungrily nip, and suck, and kiss at each others lips.

When eren pulls back, he’s panting, hair disheveled. You don’t remember when your hands first sunk into his hair, but they must have, messed up as it is now. He looks at you like he wants to devour you, he licks his lips. “I’m gonna put your seat back,” he tells you slowly, each word dripping with finality, “im going to kiss every inch of your body and then you’re opening those legs for me and letting me inside, baby”

You don’t have it in you to act scandalised, you know what you want. You’d basically asked for it. You just nod, never taking your eyes off his face when he reaches down and pulls the lever. And then you feel yourself being tilted backwards as the seat goes back, laying you flat. Your chest heaves with barely contained need as eren then settles above you, every clothed inch of him hovering just barely above you.

Holding your eyes, eren lowers himself. You spread your legs easily to accommodate him, gasping when you feel his clothed cock settle right against your clit through your leggings. He rocks once, gently, against you, his hair hanging over his forehead as he looks down at you with utter want in his eyes, “Want you to feel me”, he murmurs, and rocks again, “Wanna fill you up so good, you can’t ever pretend that im not apart of you. Because, this, baby?” Another rock, a shuddered moan leaving your lips, “This is it. No ones gonna fuck you like i do, no ones gonna get inside that little head and play the games we play so well together.”

One of his hands trails up your thigh, dipping his hand under the fabric of your leggings and pulling them slightly down, he pecks your lips, once, twice, three times. “Tell me”, he groans into your mouth, peeling your clothes off you slowly, “Tell me you understand, Tell me this is everything”

And you tell him. Tell him through your whimpers when he parts the folds of your slick cunt with his fingers buried inside you. Tell him through your moans into his mouth when he shoves his jeans down and splits you open on his cock. Tell him through sighs of his name, when he rocks into you, licking into your mouth as he spears you open. Tell him through the way you claw your fingers down his back when starts to fuck you hard, rocking the car with the force of his thrusts. Tell him through the way you spread your legs, even wider, toes curling as he wrings orgasm after orgasm out of your tight little pussy milking him.

“Its everything, you’re everything…” You cry out again and again, clutching onto him as he pumps you full of his cum, groaning brokenly into your neck.

“Fuck”. He pulls back to look down at you, brushing your damp hair back from your face, still inside you. “You’re gonna fucking kill me, you little nerd”

#eren jaeger imagine #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #bully!eren #aot smut

1K notes · View notes

chubbology · 3 years

Text

Inertia

prompt: a man gains weight trying to get his ex-girlfriend back, but goes way too far and gets addicted to gaining

He hadn’t gone to the gym even once in ages.

After a year of singlehood, he wasn’t ashamed to admit anymore that he’d only really gone in the first place to impress women. Ironic, of course, since his ex had never been more than vaguely dissatisfied about his gym habit.

When they first started dating, he had love handles he hated and his thighs had been too thick. He assumed she dated him despite these flaws. Only after he lost weight to please her did he find out that it was his chub that caught her eye. It was bigger guys she was into. It was a lot of miscommunication. A lot of insecurity on his part, since what her preferences meant was that she wanted him to be a little heavy, and he couldn’t possibly accept that with his society-ingrained doctrines about attractiveness.

But those doctrines meant fuck-all now; he was eating a double cheeseburger in his car, helping it down with an orange soda, thinking about dessert. He was wondering if she’d be proud of him now that he’d gained thirty pounds. He wondered if she’d look at him with half-lidded eyes like she used to, if he put on another thirty. Fifty. Whatever.

His phone buzzes. He sits up straighter, belly swelling a little into his lap. It’s her.

Hey. My friend needs to sell her two tickets. I know it’s your favorite band. Interested?

The next text was a link to an information page about an upcoming concert. He’d been so disconnected lately, he hadn’t even heard about it.

Even though he wasn’t actually all that interested, he replied that he was, and they set a date to meet up the next week. Shit. He looked down at himself. If she were someone else, she might be repelled. But she wasn’t someone else…

He was hit with a brilliant, maybe brilliantly stupid, idea. It’s execution began with going right back through the drive thru.

In the days leading up to seeing his ex again, he ate almost constantly. Since he was only doing freelance online at the moment, his work didn’t get in the way of this. He let himself eat whatever he wanted, in amounts three times what his body craved. He pushed himself to a state of being constantly past full. She liked fat guys? Fine. Even if she still didn’t want anything to do with him, he wanted her to see what he could have been, if he hadn’t been such a gym-rat douchebag. If he’d let himself become a lazy, docile boyfriend like she wanted instead, weak and overweight.

It was hard, gaining a lot of weight in a week. The number on the scale didn’t go up as much as he expected, even though he’d eaten enough calories to gain twenty pounds at least. He compensated by showing up to their meeting spot wearing clothes that tightly hugged his body, which now had a good forty-ish pounds of fat clinging to it. Looking in the mirror before he left, he’d almost seen what she was into. His ass had gotten kind of wide and dumpy, but in a sexy way?

He was all nerves when she showed up looking healthy and cute and indifferent about him, holding the tickets in her hands. Almost indifferent. She definitely gave him a once-over, when she thought he wasn’t looking. He could tell she bit the inside of her lip.

“Well,” she said, meeting his eyes fearlessly. Were her cheeks a little red, or was that wishful thinking? “I’ll see you.”

“Really?” he blurted. “Kinda miss hanging out.”

She smiled and turned to leave. “Maybe.”

He went home and binged hard.

In contrast to how he grew too slowly in the week before meeting up with her, in the weeks afterward, he gained weight doubletime. Fat rounded him out as easy as if he were a swiftly filling water balloon, engorging his thighs and belly and ass and hips wide and heavy. He ate compulsively as his appetite skyrocketed, as cravings crushed his will to restrain himself. His budget was thrown out of whack as he spent his savings on pantry loads of unhealthy food. His clothes stretched and seams snapped as he struggled to fit in his largest clothes. He shopped in the plus sized section first for comfort, then by necessity.

All the while he could only think: I wished she was watching.

He started imagining her with him. In the car as he ate fast food. At the store as he bought new clothes. Walking beside him as he forced himself to get exercise.

“Slow down, big guy.” “No, I think you need one size bigger.” “Sweating already? You’re so out of shape.”

Why did he like it? Imagining her mocking him? Teasing him? Eyeing his body, fleshy and overfed.

The next time she texted, it was late at night, and his eyes were glazed watching television, eating huge spoonfuls of that miracle drug called Nutella. His belly swelled out of his shirt. His breasts and face were puffy. According to the numbers he punched into Google, he had long crossed the threshold of obesity.

How was the concert?

He stared at the words. This was it. Maybe his only chance. He replied: Didn’t go after all. Been feeling off lately.

To his (very manly) delight, this prompted more questions, and it became clear she wanted a real conversation. Was she thinking of him? Missing him like he missed her? He thought out every response with the careful focus of a rocket scientist. He wasn’t going to mess this up.

He didn’t seem to, and they texted into the early hours of the morning, catching up. Finally, finally she asked to meet up with him again, and - feeling more eager, a little reckless - he tapped out a disclaimer. Or to her, hopefully: motivation.

Just so you aren’t shocked when you see me, I’ve put on weight since I bought those tickets from you. I’m not sensitive about it or anything, but it’s a lot. So here’s a fair warning.

He held his breath as he waited for her reply. Held his breath. Held it…

Oh. Really?

Like before, they set a time the following week. This time, to get coffee. No big deal.

He knew he had more than fulfilled his little scheme of putting on weight to catch her attention, and he could push the breaks now, but he felt helpless against his inertia. At this point, he’d cultivated half a dozen habits that had his weight steadily rising, and he couldn’t just turn them off. If he so much as thought of eating less, his whole body seized up in fearful anticipation and unhappiness, and he found himself cramming a couple moonpies into his mouth just to calm down.

He gained another six pounds between their text conversation and their coffee date. He felt so out of control, so out of shape, so out of line with the standards of popular society that he felt oddly…free. In a way, he felt free of anxious self-consciousness as he heaved himself out of his car and waved at her through the coffee shop window. She was sitting in a corner at a table for two. Despite his warning, she looked a little shocked.

When he sat down across from her, his huge ass hanging off the ends of the seat, she appeared to inhale deeply. Her expression was inscrutable.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said.

Blushing, he supposed he deserved a bit of tactlessness, for the tactless way he broke up with her. “What? Oh. Yeah, no. I wasn’t.”

She sipped her coffee, eyes flicking between his flabby chest and his flabby face. In a low tone that no one else would hear, she said, “What happened? For you to get fat as fuck.”

He opened his mouth and closed it. This wasn’t how he was expecting this to go. “Well. I’ve been working from home, stressed out. I let myself go and…” He trailed off when he realized her eyes were cold. No - so hot they seemed cold, like his shower water when turned to the highest setting.

“Is this because of me?” she asked, cutting to the chase. She crossed her legs, now openly surveying him. “Did you decide it was okay to gain a hundred pounds because you thought I’d be into it?”

He was speechless. He swallowed.

“Well? Do you want me back that badly? Ever since I saw you last time, all chubbed out, I’ve been thinking maybe I should give you a second chance.”

“Um.”

“But I don’t know…” She shrugged, but a smirk was hiding just behind that indifferent frown, and he wanted. He wanted her forgiveness, whatever that meant. “How about you gain a hundred more and we’ll go on a real date? Sound good? You’re not the only fat guy out there.”

She was full-on grinning now, and he missed her little games like this. He could play them, too.

“Maybe, but I bet I’m the only guy who’s gotten this fat for you,” he said. She was immediately affected by this, and he licked his lips. “You really want to wait to see me a hundred pounds bigger than this, or do you want to stick around to watch?”

Even quieter, she said, “You saying you like gaining weight? How convenient.”

So she still doubted him. He put out his hands for her to see. “Just look. Look at how fat my hands are. I can’t…” And finally his composure cracked a little. “I can’t stop. I couldn’t stop if I wanted. Even if you never talk to me again, I’m gonna gain weight.”

Any playfulness was gone now from her. She looked like she wanted him, too. “Hmm. Maybe we should go before you break that poor chair, huh?”

He blushed again. God, he was getting docile. “I’m not that bad,” he muttered. But she gave him a cruel grin. She hadn’t entirely forgiven him. “You will be.”

And he knew then: he was doomed. He was already a little bit into his own heaviness, and she was going to take that feeling and amplify it tenfold. She was going to enable every bad habit he had, watch him flounder under his increasing size and become weaker under layers and layers of fat until he could barely lift a two pound dumbbell.

He knew she wanted this to happen, and maybe he’d broken up with her before because he’d been afraid.

But he wasn’t anymore.

“Let’s go then,” he said.

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

#weight gain #fic #male gainer

534 notes · View notes

jiminrings · 3 years

Note

bestie what if jungkook finally finds out that jin’s friends with y/n 😭😭😭 he’d live in embarrassment for like eight business days

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

jungkook wants to crawl in a ditch for bADLY misjudging a situation he should’ve foreseen in the first place

yoongi has never been this dedicated to curing his hangover

well actually, nO ONE was really forcing him to pick you and taehyung up anyway

you didn't even ask!!! you could 10/10 just call for an uber to bring back taehyung to his place

maybe, just maybe, it's your fault that when yoongi asked you where you were when he's just woken up from a long night of partying, you mentioned "i'm with taehyung" and hospital and go home in the same sentence so that's why he went to overdrive

did he process what you said correctly?? probably not <3

that's the whole reason why yoongi had wasted sIX eggs this morning!!

he read somewhere in passing and watched song-hwa from hospital playlist enough to know that drinking eggs apparently helps you with your hangover and some other things

first, he wasted tHREE eggs because apparently, you're not supposed to drink the eggs !!! whisked !!! because it "defeats" the whole purpose

but it's still an egg whether you whisk it and no one's sane enough to drink raw eggs unprovoked

yoongi nailed it on the second try and he might have gagged a few times but the important thing is, his hangover is all-cured from the stress of digesting raw eggs :D so now he can safely drive at a borderline dangerous speed to pick you and tae up

"hey kiddo."

you peer your head up to see yoongi looking down at you, ruffling your hair in greeting

you've been held up here for less than five hours anyway, and it's not that yOU look tired,,, it's just that maybe you could use a little more sleep

lol you got yoongi thinking for a second that you're the injured on

"hey champ," yoongi acknowledges taehyung who's smiling from his bed, getting a forehead flick from his senior to which he rolls his eyes to

taehyung's... dressed up already in his normal clothes?

he already has his shoe on too so yoongi doesn't quite get why the two of you still aren't standing up

"you're lucky you just got a flick," you add helpfully, yawning in remembrance, "he punched my arm when i fell down the stairs at the dorm."

and wHY is this conversation all pointing to him now??

"because the both of you did stupid things that landed you in the ER!"

"i was just trying to see if i can go down the stairs three steps at a time!!"

"i just wanted to embrace y/n!!!"

very stoopid decisions if you ask him

yoongi shifts his weight from one foot to another, still a little lost because he's already here, and the two of you are all-ready to go, and he's not really a fan of the smell of the hospital —

oh wait

"has the bill already been settled?" he asks in curiosity, fishing out his wallet from his pocket

"mhmm. already did," tae answers instantly, nudging yoongi to put his wallet back where it came from

uhm wait maybe it's the eggs that are talking but uh

..... if the bill's already paid-

"then why are we all just sitting here?"

taehyung opens his mouth but he cLOSES it shut the moment it all clicks in his head, belatedly looking at you whose face screams conflict

yoongi's eyes turn to you on instinct, narrowing his eyes because you're choosing not to meet his eyes

"we're uh, we're waiting for jungkook to come back from the restroom."

...

.....

.......

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

yoongi's quiet, almost like he's calculating the variables in his mind

his mind's working harder rn that it did on his finals last week

"so jungkook is here?"

he gets war flashbacks every time he hears his name

he just shudders at the thought of him and he doesn't mean it positively lmao

"y-yeah! did i not tell you that at the call? he helped me get taehyung here," you scratch your nape in explanation, not accounting for the fact that yoongi still vERY much loathes jungkook when you called him

tae's not actually sure if he's helping you when he opens his mouth but he's trying his best <3

"yup! his shoulders were my crutch for like, three blocks. he also bought us food from the cafeteria while we were waiting to have my leg cast!!"

he glances at the fancy paper bags from the cafeteria downstairs, even some take-outs in there that makes it look all-stuffed

how in the living hELL is yoongi suppposed to feel about all of this :|

"i'm back! should i call an uber now? sorry, i bought these tiny hand sanitizers because they were having a sale at the pharmacy. y/n what scent do you-..."

jungkook happily chirps as he rummages through the bag he was given, preparing to scoop all the different scents to present them to you when he jUST had to look down at a familiar pair of shoes

as in the same black converse that he had the relief of looking at when someone was particularly asking him if he ever had a knuckle sandwich

"h-hi yoongi."

yoongi narrows his eyes at the kid who just squeaked, mouth puffed-up in disbelief that he looks like he's hiding a hamster in there

"bye jungkook."

yoongi uses tae as an excuse to shoo jungkook off as fast as possible but that kinda bites him in the ass

taehyung's going through a learning curve with his crutches and yoongi's making him wALK faster!!!! he still needs a little-

oh wait a minute :-)

"jungkook! help me walk to yoongi's car."

there is nO way that even taehyung's conspiring against him now

first jin and now taehyung????

tae solidifies his point by winking at yoongi, leaving you alone with him as you carry the paper bags of cafeteria take-outs

he's not exactly sure if he's helping you out at this situation, but once again, he's just trying his best and having fun alright!!! he likes to be included in these types of things hee-hee

yoongi has no choice now but to aLSO drive jungkook home, and the thought just makes him grumble from thinking about it

he'll have to disinfect his seats ://

"i haven't fully forgiven him if that's what you're thinking about," you chime in with his thoughts, looping your arm around his to help quell the visible stress in his mind

"it's your life," he puffs out because he doesn't want to meddle with you, consciously trying not to be overbearing when it comes to your choices

"i know. i just want you to know that your closest friend has the pride and the brains to not forgive an asshole, a goddamn junior, who said really mean things to her," you add thoughtfully and transparently, making yoongi break into a smile

ok that's got the heaviness in his chest a little lighter

"we should probably talk to each other one of these days."

you haven't had a heart-to-heart talk with yoongi for quite some time now because there weren't really any pressing issues of the sort to make the two of you talk face-to-face, but now it's probably needed

"we should."

jungkook has never feared for his life in a car ride tHIS much before

and he's even wearing his seatbelt!!!!

you're sitting at the front seat and he's with taehyung at the back, the latter dozing off because yoongi indulged his request for sleep music with soft rain on the background (it doesn't make yoongi sleepy) in an attempt to make him feel better about his leg

the one-hour loop's working wonders because you're passed out on the front seat too

normally, this would also make jungkook sleepy

but how the fuck can he sLEEP when yoongi looks at him through the rear-view mirror like an apex predator??????

kook could take the easier route of pretending to sleep so he could get to avoid yoongi's gaze

but then if he pretends to sleep, yoongi would clearly see how his eyeballs are still very much trembling even when his eyes are shut and he's the furthest thing from being relaxed

don't get him started on stoplights too!!! that was just pure torture because jungkook was conflicted to whether or not he should look at him rIGHT back

taehyung and jungkook live in the same building anyway so that's more convenient because he actually wouldn't know how to act if he had to drop j-name (he honestly can't digest saying his name) separately

now that that's all over, jungkook feels oddly fulfilled in a way...?

fulfilled in a sense that even if partially, he managed to earn your forgiveness

he feels like he could sleep a little more peacefully knowing that he atleast did something right this time!!!

which is for the exact reason, he's gonna gUSH about this to mr. kim from student affairs!!!

it's uh the weekend and he walked to campus because he thinks that admin works even on weekends (mad respect)

it's noticeably a lot more empty compared to weekdays and it's just filled with freshmen with their hectic class schedules and some students who are just fulfilling units to graduate early

jungkook walks straight to student affairs and it instantly looks empty, the only familiar face in there being namjoon

as in mr. kim namjoon who's wearing a windbreaker rn and whose hair is dEFINITELY blonde than the last time (two days ago) that jungkook saw him

he's not here to work isn't he

wait is he here to rob the place ???!?#?!?

"and what are you doing here?"

namjoon is as confused as jungkook, his mouth opening and closing in dumbfoundedness

"o-oh! is mr. kim here? w-wait, you are here. i mean mr. kim seokjin, sorry. did he-"

"nope," namjoon shakes his head, putting his bucket hat back on to leave jungkook all by himself

namjoon from work and namjoon every other time besides work are TWO different entities

"we just came here to collect our paychecks. you missed jin by ten minutes."

oh well

his momentum's not entirely ruined!! jungkook just has to cram thinking of a recipe to put in your lunchbox by tomorrow and jin is his tried and tested saving grace

technically, jungkook already saw you this morning because of the whole taehyung in a cast thing, but he feels as if that the take-outs from the cafeteria aren't gonna cut it

he still needs to step up his game of course :D

so that's why jungkook forcibly enlisted jimin's help to make fish and chips for dinner and put them in two lunchboxes

one for you and one for yoongi!! he didn't skimp on the fish nor the chips and made sure they're still toasty and in peak-flavor when he delivers it to your dorm

is he intruding? is this a bad time? he didn't exactly know how to process when yoongi told him that he wouldn't stop him from making it up to you

he just iSN'T sure if delivering homemade lunchboxes at 7 in the evening to your dorm is optimal

oh good!! the door's opening :D

"good evening!! i uhm-"

... what

.......... WHAT

what the fuck is going on

seokjin is suprised to see that the guy at the door isn't from the delivery place he ordered from two minutes ago

... he may be disappointed

but what he is amused about is the way jungkook looks beyond confused and intimidated

jin's in a sleep shirt and some boxers and jungkook doesn't kNOW what to feel about all the variables present that he's trying to connect

"you look like you're hiding a goldfish in your mouth."

seokjin remarks and yawns when a fraction of a minute passes and jungkook's still frozen in his spot, his eyes darting to what the kid's holding

"oh c'mon! one for y/n and one for yoongi? you trying to make it up to him too? and none for me?" jin jives him further, leaning against the doorframe with a sleepy smirk on his lips, "i practically live here, and i gave you the tonkatsu recipe, and i'm the one who doesn't get a lunchbox?"

he eventually saw this coming lmao

jin knew that someway somehow, jungkook would come to know that hE's your close friend throughout the whole time

that he's been the sort of middleman all this time but nah he's on your team of course <3

that all this whining he's done to him has all been in the name of you and seokjin had to sit through ALLLL of that with his fists clenched underneath the table to calm himself down

"oh my god," jungkook's literally WEAK in the knees as it all connects in his mind, the gravity of this scenario kicking down on him

he really iS such a fucking asshole

how did he not hypothesize this????? how wasn't he able to connect you and yoongi and jin as each other's closest friends???

his legs are literally about to give out so that's why seokjin snatches the lunchboxes from his hands

"i am so, so, so sorry mr. kim. i-i really didn't-..."

jin pays him no mind, opening the lunchboxes slightly as he whistles at the sight of fish and chips

meanwhile jungkook is so sO close to crying both in realization and very very slight relief because he knows atleast one of your friends doesn't hate him that much

the door opens wider, the creaking getting both of his and jin's attention

"what's taking you so long? is the-..."

yoongi switches his gaze between the two lunchboxes on jin's hand and jungkook sitting on the floor looking like he's had the shock of his lifetime

wow this is really amusing

this is in fact so amusing that yoongi can't help but to snap a picture for him and jin to laugh at later

"bye, jeon."

yoongi grabs one of the lunchboxes from jin's hand and goes back into the dorm, leaving jungkook alone with mr. student affairs

seokjin chuckles as he outstretches his hand to make jungkook stand up and shoo him off sooner than later so he wouldn't look like a pebble in front of your dorm

he pats him on the back, only having to pull him slightly to get him closer to his ear

"we're still mad at you kid, don't get it twisted. you're lucky i didn't expel you."

jungkook pales at the realization overall, only weakly nodding his head as he attempts to take in everything while trying to look at the bright side

seokjin cheerily closes the door, waving at him who looks so close to passing out from hock

"bye jungkook!!!"

#AHHHHHH WHAT R UR THOUGHTS WHAT DO YOU WANNA SEE NEXT #stem koo #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook au #jungkook college au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook headcanon #jungkook series

350 notes · View notes

333sth · 3 years

Text

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter i. previous.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n.

warnings: mention of ptsd/military service, language, violence, brief mention of torture/kidnapping, injury detail, fighting.

summary: frankie was going to propose, until dove found the ring and ghosted. even santi can’t track her down.

rating: mature. wc: 1.6k

Dove was a nickname coined by an old general during her training. He was a traditional man, though not disrespectful. It was a term of endearment that probably softened the influx of powerful women breaching into the male territory. He’d drawled, ‘I ought to call you Dove – I ain’t never seen a girl so swift, yet so fuckin’ lethal.’ She kept the boys in line too, he’d noted. When Benny got too reckless, or Tom’s temper ran away with him, she was the first to snap them out of it. In environments where peace was a very distant concept, she played the peacekeeper.

One time, during a two-month deployment in Nigeria, the group was shoved in the back of an ancient pick-up truck for six hours. Dove was wedged between Will and Frankie, sweltering in the humid air. The stale smell of sweat mixed with blood and diesel was permeating the air, and they were three hours from the nearest checkpoint. To pass the time, she asked them what they’d do if they weren’t special forces.

That was easy for Will – he’d be a teacher of some kind. Benny waffled about sports, making some brash comment about how he’s got to channel all his aggression somewhere. Tom and Santi couldn’t come up with anything that suited them more than the forces, which was not surprising. Frankie would still be a pilot somehow. Dove had never seen him more comfortable than in the pilot’s chair.

Dove dreamed of owning her own bar or café, somewhere relaxed and laid-back. A beach perhaps, somewhere quaint and peaceful, where the air is warm well into the late evening and the waves are gentle, collapsing onto the sand like white noise. She imagined the hum of conversation meeting tinkling music, beach lanterns dotted around the decking to cast an ambient glow beneath the stars. Maybe a chef on weekends could make bar snacks. Tom had snorted at that, throwing a jab about how she can burn the water they use to make their dried food sachets.

The men had recalled this conversation, desperately trying to fathom where Dove might have taken off to. It was met with an aching nostalgia for the type of teammate she was too. That conversation had been a tactic, a peaceful one, to prevent the terrible concoction of adrenaline, exhaustion and heat forming an argument in that truck. She was a natural tactician as well as a good friend.

Frankie had recounted each country they had been stationed and exactly how Dove had felt about them. She had loved Argentina, even when she got shot and Will spent three hours with his finger crammed in the wound to stop the bleeding. But she also liked Jamaica, Brazil and Hawaii. None of their contacts in the forces had any trace of her, not even Santi’s in South America. Her family were none the wiser – they brushed it off, her dad mumbling something about it sounding like her usual antics.

All he had was a scribbled note that read, ‘I need space. I’m safe. I love you.’ It was folded neatly in his wallet, like he was carrying the last piece of her that he had.

Mexico. That was where she was. A small town on the West coast that had enough life to keep her occupied, and the guarantee of anonymity.

If people asked, she was a retired nurse, which wasn’t entirely untrue. She told them she spent a lot of her career in humanitarian aid, to explain the occasional jitters on a rowdy Friday night and the nasty scars. There was a particularly gruesome one leading from the base of her throat up to her bottom lip from a knife fight. She told them it was shrapnel, flung from a collapsing building, and she was lucky it didn’t catch her jugular. The locals had gasped in awe at her heroism. She’d flinched against the memory of how her own knife buried into her attacker’s throat instead.

A few days into her move, Dove had found what could only be considered a derelict shed on the beachfront. It was probably the remains of an old boathouse. With some help from the locals, she had restored the ageing planks of wood. What was spare formed the bar and some rustic furniture. She pieced together a jumble of second-hand bar stools, chairs and lanterns that made for an eclectic combination. It had character and history in its walls, rather than some swanky, expensive build devoid of any personality. It was exactly what she had dreamed of, huddled in hypothermic temperatures or insomniac in her cot at base, sleep beyond her reach.

It didn’t change the fact that every time she entered her bedroom, the old polaroid of Frankie pinned to the wall hits her like a ton of bricks. Frankie knows she took it – it was pinned to the fridge at their home before she left. It’s quintessential Frankie, sat with his arms folded to his chest, biceps straining slightly against an old denim shirt that was getting a little too snug post-retirement. It was at a barbecue, his skin tanned and flushed from a day in the sun drinking, tousled hair peeking out from the sides of a dog-eared cap. Every time Dove glances at it, she wonders if he still has that hat.

‘Of course he has,’ the voice in her head snaps back. Any piece of clothing she’d suggest replacing would be countered with, ‘over my dead body’. The man was sentimental, a little too attached to his home comforts. She’d also bought it him in a seedy gift shop in the middle of nowhere as a joke.

“To add some variety,” she’d said. He would never let it go now.

Once, Veronica had eyed the photograph on her mirror and asked, “Who is he then? An ex?”

Veronica, or Roni for short, had lived in the town her whole life until university. When she graduated and moved home to save money, she needed a job. Dove needed a friend, so she took her on as a bartender. She was young and giddy, but harmless. More importantly, she was too self-absorbed to notice or even care that her thirty-something year old boss had bullet holes in her back.

“Something like that.” Dove had replied, rifling through her sorry excuse for a makeup bag. She’d closed the bar early to have a rare night off in the next town over, which had considerably livelier nightlife.

“You never talk about relationships. Or men.’ Roni observed, peering over Dove’s shoulder to eye another photograph. It was a group picture of the boys, huddled in the same fraying booth in their favourite bar back in Florida. “Looks like you were spoilt for choice.”

Dove scoffed, meeting her friend’s twinkling gaze in the mirror. “Shut your mouth. They were friends from work.”

“Were? Does that mean you can’t set me up now?”

“They’re almost twice your age. You’d tire ‘em out.” Dove set down the lip-gloss she dragged out for special occasions. “Come on, I’m not getting any younger either. It’s already passed my bedtime.”

Thankfully, that was enough to amuse the younger girl into linking her arm and hauling her out the door to the taxi, no more questions asked.

The hollering of spectators and thudding of skin slapping against the mat was reduced to a distant buzzing in Frankie’s ears. It was dimmed by the incessant ramblings of Santiago and Tom, discussing the files Santi had put together on Lorea. He could feel the reawakening of his rusty military senses as he follows the familiar tactics, mentally registering his agreement or noting what he might do differently. He doesn’t vocalise it though, because he hasn’t even agreed yet. Joining the debate would inadvertently signal his agreement. He didn’t want that.

There was a shadow lingering in the space on the bench beside him. It was an empty presence, not Will, who was hooked on the cage of the ring yelling encouragement to his brother. Not Benny, thumping his leather gloves together with his teeth pulled harshly over his mouthguard, judging his competitor with a predatory glint in his eye.

The opponent was a monster, but he lumbered like his limbs were filled with lead. Frankie notes that Benny, nimble and tall, will have a breeze tiring him out. Dove would have joked that it wasn’t worth coming, that they’ll be sat here until their asses are numb watching Benny play cat and mouse. His chest twinges. Sometimes it’s too easy to remember what she’d do, what she’d say. He wished he knew what she’d make of Santiago’s proposition. She always saw through Pope’s glamourisation and Tom’s greed.

What Frankie misses while he observes his pitiful surroundings is Tom and Santi descending into a hushed conversation. Tom nudges Santi, “You got anything on Dove?”

Santi sighs, long and solemn, “Maybe.” As Tom’s face quirks in interest, he holds up his finger, “It’s just a hunch.”

“A hunch is better than what we’ve had in the last year.”

Santi takes a sip of his beer, casting a glance at Fish, whose eyes are trained on the floor and the swirling contents of his cup. He knows him well enough to know his thoughts are the only thing that have his attention.

“I worry about him. We all do.” Tom whispers. “Getting busted just made things worse.”

“Don’t get his hopes up, man. It’s nothing solid. It’ll crush him if I’m wrong.” Tom nods solemnly before Santi continues, “A friend of mine saw an ex-Delta in a bar, a woman. He knew ‘cause of a tattoo she had on the nape of her neck.”

Tom’s eyes widen. In front of them, Benny lands a sickening punch on his opponent’s nose, complimented by an audible crack. He’s barely breaking a sweat, dancing around as the guy heaves and stumbles forward.

Santi’s gaze doesn’t break from the ring. “Mexico. I think she’s in Mexico.”

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier imagine #frankie morales imagine #triple frontier fic #francisco morales #Triple Frontier #frankie catfish morales #Frankie morales fic #Frankie Morales x OFC #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #benny miller #will miller #Santiago Garcia #santiago pope garcia #ben miller #dove fic

74 notes · View notes

wizardofrozz · 3 years

Text

Prompt 18: Haunted House

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson (College AU)

Word Count: 3,040

Warnings: swearing (I think that’s it)

I leaned against Bucky’s chest as he slept against the arm of the couch in our shared brownstone near campus, my eyes drooping as Nightmare on Elm Street played on the TV.

“Wake up!” Nat screamed, scaring Bucky awake.

“What,” Bucky whined, burying his face in my hair.

“Come on,” Nat sang, jumping around behind the couch. “There’s a haunted house nearby, and Sam and I already convinced Steve.”

“You convinced Steve to go to a haunted house? On Halloween?” I raised my eyebrow at the bouncing redhead behind the couch; she nodded vigorously, glancing over her shoulder towards the stairs.

“She did,” Steve sighed, trudging towards the couch. He threw his arm over Nat’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, sucking in a deep breath.

“Don’t be killjoys!” Sam yelled from the kitchen.

“Fine!” I groaned loudly, throwing my head back against Bucky’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky whispered against my neck. “I’ll protect you.” I rolled my eyes, gently elbowing him, earning an over-exaggerated reaction from him.

“Yes!” Nat shouted, dragging Steve towards the steps again.

“Let’s go get dressed,” Bucky sighed, squeezing me against his chest.

Sam, Bucky, and I crammed into the backseat of Steve’s mustang while Nat navigated from the passenger seat.

“How far is it?” Bucky asked, dropping his head onto my shoulder. The passing streetlights flash across his face, illuminating his sharp features every few seconds.

“Only about another 15 minutes,” Nat answered, twisting in her seat, resting her chin on the seat.

“This better be good, Red,” Sam grumbled, crossing his arms. “I wanna be scared shitless.”

“What’s the story about this place anyway?” I cut in, pressing a quick kiss to Bucky’s head.

“It’s pretty messed up,” Nat started, her eyes shining in the passing lights. I noticed Steve’s hand sliding off the steering wheel, shifting in his seat so he could rest it on Nat’s thigh. “Everyone that ever lived there moved out as fast as they could and refused to ever talk about it again.”

“Why?” I asked, meeting Nat’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Apparently, it was that bad,” Nat sighed, glancing towards the windshield. “It’s been abandoned for a while now.”

“So we have no idea what we’re supposedly walking into?” Bucky lifted his head from my shoulder, raising a brow at the redhead in the front seat.

“There have been bits and pieces about this place over the years but never enough to get a full picture,” Nat confessed.

“Okay, what do you know?” Sam cut in, leaning into me, ignoring my protest.

“Well, apparently, the original owner, like eighty years ago, kept someone chained up in the basement,” Nat mumbled, shifting in her seat.

“You’re joking,” Steve breathed, glancing away from the road to look at her.

“Wish I was,” Nat laughed dryly.

“Wait, you said people didn’t know what happened,” Bucky cut in, leaning forward to see Nat better.

“No, I said people don’t know why new owners left so fast. The history of the house is easy to find. One day, the original owner had a heart attack and died, so whoever was locked up in the basement eventually died too. When someone bought the house a few years later, they found the body.” Nat kept her eyes trained out the window as she spoke, her shoulders rigid from what I could see.

“Jesus Christ,” I whispered, shivering. “I’m guessing no one knew why he did it.”

“A few of his old neighbors were convinced he was doing experiments but nothing concrete,” Nat offered, glancing over her shoulder. I felt Bucky shift next to me, sliding a hand off his lap to grab mine.

“That’s fucked up,” Bucky supplied, reading everyone’s mind.

“No shit,” Steve huffed, faintly shaking his head.

“So what, his ghost is haunting the place now?” Sam asked, leaning forward to press his forehead against the back of Steve’s seat.

“That’s what people assume, but no one knows for sure.”

“Great,” I grumbled. Bucky snorted, the movement jostling me and earning a dirty look from Sam before he turned back to Nat when she started talking again.

“My gram was around after the first new owner moved in; she wouldn’t say much because I was young at the time, but she did tell me the family’s daughter went into a mental hospital after they left.”

“Well, that’s awesome,” Bucky mumbled, sighing into my shoulder. The sound of tires on asphalt was the only sound while everyone seemed to get lost in their thoughts. After a few more minutes, Steve slowly navigated through the quiet neighborhood until Nat smacked his arm, frantically pointing. The car crawled to a stop, all of us just staring for a few seconds.

The dark brown siding was hanging off in places, revealing that the actual color is supposed to be sandy color. Giant trees cast long shadows over the front porch, making it look even more menacing. The five of us climbed out of the car, the doors slamming echoing down the mostly quiet street now that most of the trick or treaters were home. Bucky threaded our fingers together, glancing down at me before sucking in a deep breath.

The closer we got, the more details I could make out; most of the windows were broken and boarded up from the inside, and the light breeze rattled the navy-blue shutters. The grass and weeds stood almost knee-high, curling around the rotting wooden fence enclosing the property. A darkness seemed to hang over the house, and I wondered if it looked any friendlier during the day.

“Ya home, Boo Radley?” Bucky mumbled, his lip twitching. Sam snorted behind me, shaking his head as he knocked shoulders with Bucky.

“Come on,” Nat whispered, dragging Steve along by the hand. Steve shot us a pleading look as he stumbled along behind her; Bucky, Sam, and I chuckled before moving to follow. The porch steps creaked under our weight, the wood protesting after years of neglect. The front door was nearly black and seemed to loom over us as we approached; something just felt wrong about the house, and I clenched Bucky’s hand tighter as goosebumps erupted across my skin.

“You okay?” Bucky mumbled against my temple. The only thing I could force myself to do was nod and watch Nat kneel in front of the door, pulling a small kit from her back pocket.

“Why am I not surprised you can pick a lock?” Sam sighed, started to lean against the porches railing. The wood whined, and Sam jumped back, holding his palms out towards the fragile structure like he could stop it from breaking. The hollow groaning of rusted hinges drew my attention to the door that was slowly swinging open. A mischievous smirk spread across Nat’s face as she gracefully got to her feet and swept into the dark, musty entryway. Steve threw his head back, staring up at the weathered porch ceiling, forcing air through his nose before trudging after his girlfriend.

Sam shivered with excitement before crowding Steve in the doorway, basically pushing him forward in haste to get inside. Bucky hummed in the back of his throat, and I turned to look up at him; his blue eyes darted from my face to the open door, and for the first time since we left, I could see the slight fear in his eyes and the creases between his eyes brows.

“Ghosts aren’t real, honey,” I whispered, tugging him closer.

“Course not,” Bucky agreed, nodding. “There’s nothing here,” he scoffed, gracing me with a smug grin. Regardless of his attempt to play off his anxiety, I could still see the tension in his shoulders and neck.

“Let’s go find them,” I sighed, resting a hand on his broad chest. Bucky’s smile morphed from smug to something sweeter, his eyes shining with emotion; his prosthetic hand wrapped around the back of my neck, coaxing me closer. Our lips met in a chaste kiss, but that didn’t downplay the warmth that bloomed from everywhere our skin touched. Bucky pulled away first, smirking down at me, his breathy laugh rolling over my face; he dropped a quick kiss to the tip of my nose before pulling me towards the still-open door.

Moonlight streamed through one of the few unbroken windows along the back of the house; recently disturbed dust particles drifted through the air as Bucky and I stepped inside. Our noses wrinkled at the same time, and I giggled, earning a playful glare from him. The house was mostly empty, but I could still see the outline of a few pieces of furniture scattered around the living room. Curiosity got the better of me, and I wandered farther into the house, closely inspecting the bits of clutter nearby. Bucky strolled to the other side of the room, turning his face up towards a faded picture on the wall; I peeked around the corner into what would’ve been the kitchen, where I found Sam poking around.

“You didn’t chicken out,” Sam laughed when he caught sight of me.

“Never,” I scoffed, winking at him. I turned in a lazy circle, my eyebrows automatically pulling together when I didn’t find Bucky in the room anymore. I tensed when I heard creaking from somewhere above me, my heart rate picking up as I slowly looked up; I jumped when Sam’s arm wrapped around my shoulders, his eyes dancing with mirth.

“Relax,” he chuckled, pulling me towards the steps. “Steve and Nat are upstairs.” I let out the breath I was holding, relaxing under Sam’s arm; I glanced into the room on the other side of the steps, expecting to find Bucky, but it was empty.

“Where’d Barnes go?” Sam dropped his arms, grabbing the railing as he stepped up onto the first step; I glanced around, but I didn’t see any movement and shrugged at Sam.

“Maybe he went upstairs,” I offered, jerking my head towards the top. Sam shrugged and started up the steps, looking over the side, his eyes scanning the room; I followed slowly behind, straining to hear any sounds that could be out of place. I saw a flash of movement at the end of the hall and started towards it, expecting to find Steve, Nat, or Bucky.

“(Y/N)?” Nat called from the other end of the hallway, where she stood with Sam. I glanced around in the room in front of me to find it empty, and a chill ran down my spine, but I quickly shook it off and hurrying towards Nat and Sam.

“Where’s Steve?” Sam asked, leaning around Nat to look into another empty room.

“Downstairs,” Nat replied, leaning into the doorframe.

“Uh, no, he’s not,” I replied gently. Nat’s face fell slowly, and she stood straight again, standing on her toes to look over my head at the end of the other end of the hallway.

“He’s not up here,” Nat whispered, turning wide eyes on us.

“So Bucky isn’t up here either?” Anxiety started to buzz under my skin, an awful feeling squeezing my lungs, forcing air out in ragged pants.

“Come on, let’s check the basement,” Sam offered, gently ushering Nat and me towards the step again. I jumped when Nat’s hand closed around mine like a vise, squeezing until it was painful, and instead of being upset about it, I squeezed back just as hard.

The musky, stale smell nearly knocked me off my feet when we made it to the bottom of the steps. The stone walls of the basement were weathered with age, and the single dim light that hung in the middle of the room threw shadows over the uneven stones. Nat somehow managed to squeeze my hand even harder as Sam wandered away from the light, farther into the damp basement. Sam stopped for a second, fumbling with something that we couldn’t see before a bright light illuminated the corner he was facing.

“We shouldn’t split up,” Nat called after him, giving me a horrified look.

“Relax,” Sam sighed, rolling his eyes and wavering her off.

“Sam,” Nat tried again, her voice pitching up.

“Jesus, fine,” Sam grunted, gesturing for us to follow him. The basement was roughly the size of the main floor, but there was only one doorway into another dark room. Nat was glued to my side as we followed Sam across the room. All three of us screamed when a loud crash broke the silence, Nat and I nearly collapsing from the force of the scare. Sam bracing his hands on his knees, sucking in a few calming breathes, and shook his head; Nat and I straightened out again, gripping each other until our knuckles were white.

“Let’s just find them and get out of here,” Nat whimpered, glancing over her shoulder.

“This was your idea!” Sam laughed, throwing his hands up.

“Well, I changed my mind!” Nat yelled back, glaring at him. “We can’t find Bucky and Steve, and there’s no reason shit should be falling, so get a move on!” Sam rolled his eyes again but stayed quiet, sweeping his phone flashlight around the room again, pressing on. A faint scuffling sound caught my attention, and I looked over my shoulder as something moved behind the steps.

“There’s something down here,” I whispered, and Nat went rigid.

“What?”

“I don’t know. This is the second time I’ve seen something,” I mumbled, picking up my pace and dragging Nat with me. Sam stopped in the doorway to the adjoining room, his light sweeping along the floor before he stepped in, waving Nat and me forward.

“What the hell,” Sam breathed. I followed the beam of light to the pile of what looked like clothing in the far corner, and my pulse jumped, thundering in my ear. Sam started across the room slowly, and Nat followed, pulling me along until we were right on top of Sam. As we shuffled closer, a sick feeling took root in my gut; the light caught a stripe of skin under dark brown hair, and my heart dropped.

“Bucky,” I whispered, trying to pull away from Nat, but she yanked me back. I could see the tears threatened to fall from her eyes and feel the fear in her grip on my hand as Sam moved within a few inches of the lumps on the floor.

“Oh god,” Sam croaked, turning away, screwing his eyes shut.

“Please no,” Nat cried softly, finally releasing me to hurry to Sam’s side. I stumbled closer, looking down at the two bodies piled on the floor, barely able to contain the agony trying to tear its way out of my chest.

“Boo!” Steve and Bucky lunged forward, grabbing at our legs. The scream that tore from my throat was loud enough that the entire block had to have heard it. Sam hit the floor with a thud, and he scurried across the floor; his phone fell with the screen down, blanketing the room with light. Nat nearly tackled me, screaming into my shoulder as Bucky leaned against Steve, using him for support as they howled with laughter. Nat slowly lifted her head from my shoulder, pulling away enough to see my face, and we just stared at each other, both of us registering Bucky and Steve’s very alive laughter.

Nat turned her head, glaring down at the boys. “Die,” was all she offered before sweeping out of the room. Steve got enough control of himself to scramble to his feet and run after her.

“Come on, baby! It was funny!” Steve yelled, jogging into the other side of the basement.

“Fuck you, Steven Grant Rogers!” Nat shouted over the sound of her hands hitting his jacket. I rolled my lips into my mouth, finally lifting my eyes from the floor, leveling Bucky with a glare that I wished could set him on fire.

“I love you,” Bucky tried, smiling sweetly.

“No,” I deadpanned, shaking my head and crossing my arms.

“Doll, don’t be mad at me,” Bucky whined, climbing to his feet.

“Fuck both of you,” Sam yelled, using the wall to stand again before lumbering out of the room.

“Baby doll, please,” Bucky whispered, stepping closer, tugging me against his chest. I didn’t budge, glaring into his chest instead of hugging him back.

“I was petrified, James!” I hissed, shoving him back. The hurt on his face almost made me regret it, but my heart was still thumping like I just ran a marathon.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered, dropping his head.

“You better be,” I grunted, rolling my eyes. “I’ll get you back; you can guarantee that.”

“Shit,” Bucky mumbled, meeting my eyes.

“Let’s go,” I ordered, walking out of the room to find Sam, Steve, and Nat waiting by the steps.

“I hope you two like our couches,” Nat snorted, offering her arm to me. I laced my arm through hers, raising a brow at two very sad-looking friends.

“You go, girls,” Sam cheered, smiling at us.

“Sam,” Steve snapped, glaring at his friend.

“Nah, I nearly pissed myself, fuck you guys.” Sam stuck his tongue out at Steve and Bucky before ushering Nat and me up the steps. Steve and Bucky trudged up behind us, dramatically stomping their feet the entire way.

“You’re really that mad?” Steve whined.

“Yes,” Nat and I snapped, making him flinch. Steve sighed heavily, rolling his head to look at Bucky, whose shoulders slumped as he sighed too. The five of us started across the living room, and just as we rounded the corner and could see the front door again, the temperature plummeted. We stopped walking, sharing confused looks until goosebumps popped up all over my arms but not from the cold.

Get out! The voice seemed to bounce off the inside of my head while echoing through the house simultaneously.

“Nope, nope, nope,” Sam yelled, taking off, barely slowing down to open the door. Steve, Bucky, Nat, and I stood frozen for a second before the four of us scrambled for the door, pushing and shoving to get through the door and barreling for the car. The second the doors slammed shut, the mustang’s tires squealed as Steve peeled out.

Masterlist

Taglist:

@marvelfansworld

#bucky x reader #steve x natasha #romanrogers #bucky barnes #sam wilson #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #college au #marvel #mcu #spooktober #haunted house

49 notes · View notes

blushnote · 5 years

Text

rich girl | m.

⟡ word count: 6,708. ⟡ genre: smut, a bit of angst if you squint. ⟡ contains: a blowjob, facefucking, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, shower sex, copious use of petnames, just a whole lot of sin.

summary: wonwoo likes to call you a rich girl, and you hate it because it’s true. in fact, you hate a lot of things: your friends, your parent’s attitude, the way your life is supposed to be perfect even though you’re miserable. not much makes you happy, except for a punk boy who you can’t even be with.

a/n: this is a reupload because for some reason tumblr wasn’t showing me my own posts? anyways, sorry for the wait!! enjoy hehe.

your parents don’t like wonwoo.

even better – they don’t like the fact that you like him.

wonwoo isn’t supposed to be someone you like. he’s kind of foul-mouthed, awfully conceited, and he probably makes deals with the devil in his spare time. he likes to hang around those dimly lit corners at night, just outside the local shops, puffing from a cigarette beneath the dusty street light and chuckling amongst his friends. they all hang out together. they’re very tightknit in the way that they only meet on the corner to smoke and laugh and then head their separate ways when it gets late enough.

honestly, you didn’t think you were going to like wonwoo either. most friday nights you go out for drinks with the daughters of your mom’s friends. she’s a business lady, very professional, makes good money, and has the politeness and etiquette of a true monarch. her friends mirror her every quality, and so do their daughters. you like them, even when they snap at you to sit straighter or give you unnecessarily stern glances while you swallow your alcohol in inhumane gulps. they’re great, but they give you a headache.

also, they’re the only friends you have, even if they’re not very good ones. they once left you to get home by yourself when you got too “drunk” for their liking. not wanting to soil their sophisticated reputations, they literally abandoned you after your wobbly trip to the bathroom to fix your makeup. you came back to an empty table. when you left the bar, this unknown man tried to take you by the arm, promising that there was a telephone just around the corner for you to make a call. your cellphone was dead anyways.

“what the fuck are you doing?”

there was a deep, displeased voice that echoed from the street corner as the mystery man tugged you away. you couldn’t help but stumble in your saint laurent heels. they didn’t add much height, yet you felt as though you were walking on stilts. quickly, you made eye contact with wonwoo. he stepped away from the pole and removed the cigarette from between his bubblegum lips, just before he adjusted the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. the air was cold, so he wore a beanie that pulled his hair back.

the man stuttered in response. he attempted to configure a convincing statement, but wonwoo cut him off.

“do you know him?” wonwoo asked you directly. his friends were silent as they crowded the corner, but they looked ready to pounce.

“n-not re-really, no.” you fought to respond sluggishly.

wonwoo then narrowed his eyes at the man who was digging his nails into your skin.

“do you know her?” the man countered. he sounded almost petulant.

“no,” wonwoo admitted impassively, “but i’m not an idiot, and i’ve hung around here long enough to see my fair share of fucking weirdos. go slink back to the other side of the street before i shove my cigarette past your eye socket and into your cranium.”

honestly, wonwoo’s words almost turned you completely sober. the man looked like he wanted to argue, but his pathetic type doesn’t usually put up a fight when their plans are directly thwarted. he released you, and melted away into the night like a sad, shrinking shadow.

“do you need to use my phone?” wonwoo was already revealing it from his pocket.

you nodded. you knew your mother would explode into fumes if you called her at this hour, so you dialled the local taxi service and decided to wait right outside the bar. you wanted to thank wonwoo for intervening when he did. he didn’t necessarily look like a bad person, but his tainted mouth and snarky expressions didn’t exactly shift him into the light.

“thanks,” you told him as you handed over his phone, “i-i appreciate what you dd-did.”

wonwoo made the effort to blow the smoke from his cigarette away from your face.

“it’s fine,” he shrugged, “happens all the time. figured i’d just stand here and be useful i guess.”

so there is a reason you’re always at this corner.

that’s what you wanted to say, but you were too shy, too foggy, to articulate any other acknowledgement apart from a tight-lipped smile. since then, you knew wonwoo would be someone you liked.

wonwoo liked to call you a rich girl. it bothered you, mostly because it’s true. you wore diamonds in your ears, pricey jewels on your fingers, dressed in luxury outfits and designer products. you lived a lavish life because your parents were well off, but it’s not like you tried to rub it in everyone’s face. in fact, you were quite modest, and you only wore the jewelry because your mother never stopped draping you in it. after your first encounter with wonwoo outside the bar, you greeted him again on the street upon exiting the floral shop.

he was alone, not even smoking a cigarette, instead sucking on a vibrant, cherry red lollipop. you could smell its sugary coating the second you stood in front of him.

“hey, rich girl.” he nodded. “how’s life treating you?”

the only reason you approached him was out of gratitude. you had already thanked him for his intervention that one night, but you wanted to thank him again now that you weren’t intoxicated and cloudy in the head. notably, your expression soured at his words.

“rich girl? that’s not my name.”

wonwoo looked you up and down skeptically. his eyes were a strong, earthly shade of brown behind his glasses, but in that afternoon sunlight, they flared up slightly, and the colour was more molasses-like. thick and sweet.

“are you joking?” he seemed like he wanted to laugh, and swirled the lollipop to the opposite corner of his mouth. “babygirl, those heels you’re wearing are more than my rent.”

you didn’t know why, but you were transiently overwhelmed with the urge to drop to your knees and let him fuck your mouth right there on the corner. was that too soon? oh well. you already thought it. remembering you were supposed to feel disrespected at his comment, you crossed your arms, though it only accented the jaded bracelet your friend bought you as a birthday gift.

“i’m going to pretend i didn’t hear anything you just said. i wanted to thank you for getting me out of that situation last week. i thought i should tell you again, now that i’m… well… sober, i guess i could say.”

you then swallowed tightly. “do you really stand there to stop creeps from taking advantage of people?”

wonwoo shrugged. he then tousled his hair, which had been flopping in multiple directions. it was on the longer side, and seemed to be the same colour as dark, silvery ashes, though the roots were pretty much black. his hair looked so soft and springy. you almost wanted to comb it down for him.

“i’m just at the right place at the right time.” he said.

what did that even mean? you simply accepted his response and pressed on.

“well, i wouldn’t mind repaying the favour one day. do you want a coffee or something?”

“no.” wonwoo replied sharply. “you could do me one better and slip me a couple hundred from your pretty bank account. i’m trying to get the local black tar heroin dealer off my back.”

you nearly choked.

“wha-what? are you… serious?”

wonwoo maintained his staid, emotionless expression, and you were really starting to believe that there was a black tar heroin dealer running rampant in the streets that might pop wonwoo if he didn’t pay him off. but then a gradual smile pulled up his lips, and you wanted to retract your entire offer.

“yes, it’s a joke. you’re too easy. the only drugs you’d find in this part of town is the ibuprofen for your grandma’s arthritis. you don’t get out much, do you, rich girl?”

you gaped widely at him.

“careful, baby,” he smirked, and he suddenly brought his hand out, raising your chin with his cold fingertips to close your mouth. “don’t breathe too much of this cheap air. it’s not filtered.”

in a bubbling, festering haze of anger, you snapped his hand away.

“for your information i—,”

abruptly, you heard your name echo from down the street. turning around, you watched your mother exit the floral shop, carrying a pale green wrapping of scarlet poinsettias. they were so huge that the petals almost covered her entire face. it wasn’t her fault, but she couldn’t have picked a worse time to come looking for you, especially when she was cloaked in the thick warmth of her sable fur coat. you sighed deeply and faced wonwoo again. he’d lost his lollipop, attempting to spark up a cigarette instead.

“aren’t these just gorgeous?” your mother swooned, running her fingers over the butter-soft petals. “they certainly cost a pretty penny to get such an exquisite arrangement, but i couldn’t help myself!”

you wanted to sink straight into the earth. wonwoo was looking between you in pure amusement as he crammed his lighter inside a pocket on his jeans. your mother didn’t even seem to notice him until he took his first puff, the distinct potency of the smoke making her nose scrunch.

“a-and who’s this, dear?” she couldn’t even mask her discomfort as she inquired you about wonwoo. at that point, you hadn’t even known his name yet.

“wonwoo,” he introduced himself, “a new friend of your daughter.”

“oh, how lovely,” she nodded at him while forcing a crooked grin. “honey,” she then placed her hand on your shoulder and spoke closely into your ear, “your father is parked down the street. we need to leave soon and get these out of the cold, so please finish your conversation quickly.”

as soon as she slipped past you and began striding swiftly toward the car, you could already taste the muddled defeat on your tongue. if you weren’t protruding the mirage of a spoilt rich girl then, you certainly were now. at least he didn’t blow any smoke into her face, though that didn’t diminish the fact you were going to receive a lengthy lecture in the car.

“why would you say we’re friends?” you scolded wonwoo.

“because you don’t have any.” he responded matter-of-factly while tapping some ash off his cigarette.

“that’s not true! what do you even know about me anyways, apart from that i’m rich.” you made sure to incorporate in-air quotations.

wonwoo pushed back the silver tresses dancing in front of his glasses, embracing the cool, afternoon current against his face.

“not a lot,” he admitted, “you come for drinks every few fridays. sit at the table looking like you hate your life and all the people in it. then you leave with your phony little rich clique.”

“not to be rude, wonwoo—” you almost wanted to laugh; you came here to thank him. now that ship had completely sailed— “but you’re kind of a dick.”

he then had the nerve to roll his eyes. “you’d drop to your knees and suck mine in a second, babygirl. now didn’t your mother say you should hurry up and get in the car? the princess can’t be out of the palace i’m guessing, especially not to talk to assholes on street corners.”

what else could you do apart from swallow your own frustration, bite your lip, and brush past him? there was nothing. it was too bitter to stand outside anyways. a strengthening winter wind was beginning to pick up from the north, the sting making your eyes water. at the same time, your cheeks were hot metal. if no one were on that street, you certainly would have taken him right into your mouth and sucked him dry. he was ridiculous and cruel, but you loved the unhinged nature he unearthed in you. it was liberating in a sense.

you wondered what would become of your relationship.

“where did you say you were going again?”

you looked up from the porcelain dinner plate, in which you’d been picking at the last few crumbs of your wine reduction pineapple cake. it wasn’t your favourite dessert, though you always finished every meal out of respect for the family’s personal chef. you saw your father reach for his water glass. he took a long sip and eyed you over the candlelight and scarlet poinsettias. it was in a way that was completely and unabashedly suspicious.

“ester and i are going to the jewellers to get a custom necklace as aria’s christmas gift. i told you like five times already.”

of course, that was a gigantic lie. you and ester had already gotten the precious necklace last week, you just needed a reasonable excuse.

“and you’re coming straight home, correct?” his voice was stern and unnegotiable.

“i always do.”

“not always.” your mother chipped in as she cut a piece of the glazed cake with her fork. “you’re not going to see that one character, are you?” she always called people with less fortune characters, like they weren’t even considered to be real.

“who?” you acted clueless, and poured yourself more of the sugary, pink lemonade.

“you know who,” there was already a note of displeasure in her voice, “that boy from the corner. the one who smokes. i wasn’t very impressed by his actions.”

you started to squeeze the white cloth across your lap. “he’s trying to quit. i’ve persuaded him.”

“he won’t do it,” your father shook his head, “and he’s not right for you. i don’t want you near him.”

“and that’s why you’re coming straight home after the jewellers.” your mother continued, not allowing you the breadth to speak.

this family couldn’t get any more ridiculous, you were tempted to scream. instead, you pushed out your chair and collected the utensils sitting on your placemat. a maid passing by had scrambled to assist you, though you told her thoughtfully that you could take care of yourself. in actuality, it was the perfect time to get going, just as you could feel the anger warm your own blood to a boiling crimson. you threw on a long peacoat, a spritz belonging to a vanilla perfume, and your saint laurent opyum heels.

“i’ll be home soon!” you shouted down the marbled corridor, but it was only your own voice that echoed back to you.

your knees were beginning to lose feeling from being pressed against the sponge-like carpet of wonwoo’s bedroom, and they would probably ache like hell whenever you came to your feet again, but for the time being, you really didn’t care. your hands were braced against wonwoo’s knees as his hand tangled possessively through your hair, each of his tugs causing your scalp to burn and tingle. you were crying. you loved to be used by him, and he loved using you. especially the warm inside of your slick mouth.

“ff-fuck, that’s it, babygirl, j-just let me fuck your pr-pretty fuckin’ face.” quickly heeding his words, wonwoo bucked his hips up in a sudden snap, the head of his cock nuzzled deep against your throat.

consequently, you gagged, and there were glossy trails of your own saliva uncomfortably pooling down your chin. he bucked up again, his fingers clasping your hair even tighter. you were struggling to breath around him, white, cottony spots blurring your vision while he forced you to take him even further. you were clutching onto his knees with enough strength to bruise his pale skin. but hearing his voice, lined with lust, heavy and laboured, how it hitched when everything felt too good; you were addicted to it.

“you’re so good at this—,” wonwoo grunted through his teeth upon jamming your head down again, “m’gonna cum down your f-fuckin’ throat, baby. be a good girl n’ m-make sure you swallow a-all of me, huh?”

you learned that wonwoo was really filthy. he didn’t have a preference for where he came, though you had to regulate his carelessness. if any of your clothes even got one rip, one pulled up thread, or god forbid a stupid ejaculation stain, your mother would put your head on a mahogany plaque. wonwoo always made fun of you for belonging to a rich family, having to act like the town’s local sweetheart because one wise crack might cost your parents a lost business partner. but you knew he loved it.

the elegant daughter of a rich heir running around with the outlandish punk? he adored it.

eventually, you had to come up for breath or else you would’ve fainted between his thighs. the air gushed into your lungs and coldly filled your chest. a string of your spit was connected from wonwoo’s flushed, hard cock to your wet lips. you could hardly discern anything that surrounded you. the oxygen had yet to thoroughly circulate and the tears were creating a thick blur. wonwoo started to stroke himself while you prepared to take him once more. the empty void in your mouth was a horrible feeling.

“you look like a fucking mess.” wonwoo grinned as he noted that your body was shaking. “am i being too rough with you, babygirl? should i just jack myself off and cum all over your face instead?”

“n-no,” you suckled in a half-hearted breath, “i-i can do it.”

wonwoo smirked. “you still want it down your throat?”

you could see him clearly now. his cheeks were tinted pink, and his eyes were impossibly dark, glittering in anticipation. without thinking, you nodded eagerly, knowing this was what you wanted. he then tapped his cock against your swollen lips, to which you opened up again and calmly took him as deep as you could. he watched your eyes glister with more tears before he started thrusting up into your mouth. his fingers were gentle. they brushed the stray spindles from your face, now destroyed by tears and drool.

“i’m surprised your tears aren’t pure gold,” he laughed, “i guess you aren’t so special.” your spine tingled as his hand crept back through your hair. “m’gonna make you cry even harder, baby.”

his grip had turned to solid iron against your scalp. you got less than a sliver to brace yourself for his unrelenting treatment, in which he pushed you straight down on his cock and kept your face right where he wanted it. with his hand against the back of your head, wonwoo snapped his hips upward, feeling you immediately gag in response. then, he unleashed on you, using your mouth as a mere fucktoy, getting all his pleasure’s worth from you in each of his hard thrusts. everything was so overwhelming and rapid.

wonwoo couldn’t help the mantra of guttural, taunt curses. he started to moan even, his deep voice cracking the second he felt his sticky cum start to abundantly spurt. without a warning, you struggled slightly to accept and swallow it, though wonwoo was intent on keeping you flush to his pelvis until every drop was polished off. he was still thrusting shallowly into your mouth, and you could feel his length gradually begin to soften. his release was warm, and it was similar to cream sliding down your throat.

after he removed himself from your mouth, he titled up your head by the chin.

“did you swallow it all yet?”

you shook your head. quickly, the side of your hot cheek was met with wonwoo’s hand. he’d given you a timid slap, one that wasn’t meant to hurt, but stung gingerly.

“i wanna see you swallow, babygirl.” he purred. “be good, won’t you?”

your tears were dribbling uncontrollably as you fully swallowed his seed. god, your throat felt like it was on fire. each muscle in your jaw was burning up ardently. your knees were so numb you didn’t even think you could stand. there wasn’t enough time for wonwoo to return the favour. you were sure he could smell the thick scent of your arousal, especially as it ruined your underwear and shone on your inner thighs.

but you didn’t care. having him use you for the night was enough.

“are you alright?” wonwoo asked, getting himself back in his pants.

you didn’t respond, just gripped onto his knee tightly and attempted to stand. your opyum heels were still on, and you nearly broke an ankle as the blood rushed into your legs. wonwoo stood also. he stabilized you by holding your shoulders, at least for a good minute. pulling back your sleeve, you rid the tears that stained your face with a quick wipe from your hand. you were going to have to be very speedy getting back to the house, unless you wanted your father to send the swat team after you.

“god,” you sighed with a raspy, dying voice, “i hate my life.”

wonwoo scoffed at you lightly.

“what lie did you tell them this time?”

you muttered, “i was going to the jewellers.”

“that’s a long time to be at the jewellers.”

“i know that,” you snapped quickly in response.

more tears pushed at your ducts. you couldn’t believe how unhappy you were, even despite having every material thing you could ever want. sometimes that particular thought would just pummel you out of nowhere and you’d fight back the urge to cry.

wonwoo’s hand cupped the side of your face. his thumb stroked gently beneath your eye and he leaned in to kiss your mouth softly. his tongue tasted like a cherry lollipop. he really was trying to quit smoking.

“what are you gonna do, babygirl?” wonwoo hummed, pressing his forehead against yours as he continued to brush your cheek.

you held his waist. “i dunno,” you croaked, “my parents don’t like you. my dad doesn’t want me near you.”

“then don’t tell him i fucked your face, princess. it’s easy.”

there was a puff of meek laughter in your chest. for a few more minutes, you let wonwoo hold you. it was the most comfortable and happy you’d felt all day. you were running short on time. the first thing you’d do when you get home would be to run a hot shower and most likely finger yourself while you thought about wonwoo’s cock lodged deep down your throat. maybe one day you’d really snap and stuff all your belongings in a suitcase and come live with him in the shitty scope of town.

but for now, that seemed unattainable.

you’d have to come up with another lie as to why you just spent two hours at the jewellers.

“the earrings were the most magnificent things i’d ever seen! i’m going to wear them for my modelling gig next month, in paris of course. i’ll even text you guys some photos of them when i get home. they have these little opal centres that absolutely sparkle.”

just one more word. if you had to listen to aria babble one more word about her modelling gig or her stupid opal earrings or her all-expense paid trip to paris then you might have to throw your glass of chardonnay in her face. those were the only three things she talked about. then the month would change and she’d have another three things to drive into the mud, yet everyone at the table ate up her words like they were a slice of chocolate cake. you were starting to develop a headache.

“that’s wonderful, aria!” ester was gleaming as she readjusted the strap on her pearl-white dress. you could just tell she was dying to incorporate tales of her own wealth into the conversation. “i can’t wait to see your modelling pictures. that reminds me, i still have some old videos from when i went parasailing in bali. do you guys wanna see them?”

everyone started crowding around ester’s side of the table, attempting to view the footage she was pulling up on her phone screen. however, you didn’t budge, and continued to stare with a dull look in your eyes out the bar’s front window. through the glass, you could see wonwoo standing at the street lamp with his friends, swirling around another lollipop from cheek to cheek. you wondered if it was cherry. his last flavour had been green apple. you tasted it on his tongue when he’d fucked you in the backseat of his car.

but that was a week ago.

“don’t you want to see?” ester was smiling at you.

winding your fingers around your thin wine glass, you shrugged. “i’ll pass.”

“suit yourself.” ester replied, and started to play her first video.

you hated everything about this situation.

wonwoo was right. you really didn’t have any friends, and that became especially clear as you observed everyone at the opposite end of the table, adoring ester’s cute, ditsy little parasailing videos that her boyfriend took. you wished you liked the same things these girls did. your life would be one-hundred times more enjoyable if you just embraced your sumptuous blessings and shed a couple brain cells to be on the same level as them.

then again, you didn’t want to be exactly like them.

they left you to get home by yourself just because you drank too much. at a bar.

pressing the wine glass against your lips, you tilted your head back and easily gulped down the remaining chardonnay. it was a pleasant coolness that streamed down your throat, and you slammed the glass onto the table once it was emptied; even slouched back in your seat and didn’t bother patting your lipstick dry with a tissue. aria raised an eyebrow at you. she looked like she was itching to say something. you were in the mood for a challenge. if she was going to make a passive aggressive comment, it better be soon.

“i hope you have a designated driver.” she finally decided to chuckle.

you rolled your eyes. “shut up, aria.”

ester and her friends immediately looked up from the phone.

“excuse me?” aria replied while tucking a strand of her behind her ear. she seemed a bit baffled by your sudden disdain. “i don’t believe i’ve ever heard you speak like that.”

you were beyond a point of caring. “what are you gonna do then? tattletale on me? you’re such a fake.”

“that’s way out of line.” ester intervened, staring you down intensely. “why are you acting like this?”

“whatever.” you stood up from the chair and reached for your coin purse, revealing a wadded clump of cash that you slapped on the lacquered table. admittedly, the alcohol concocted with your frustration (not to mention being around wonwoo’s snide personality) had quite the effect on your behaviour. if you never had to see these girls again, it would be too soon. you couldn’t believe that you’d even went through the effort of buying aria a christmas present. the only thing she gifted you was a card with her signature on it.

like that was fucking useful.

“i think you need to leave.” ester announced like you weren’t already gathering your things.

“exactly.” you falsely commended her.

she probably had a pea-sized diamond in her skull instead of an actual brain. “i’m leaving now before you guys get the chance to ditch me. don’t worry about it though. i can actually walk myself out this time.”

if only you had a camera ready to capture their gobsmacked expressions. it would have been embarrassingly laughable. you flicked past them toward the door and pushed into the nighttime air, which was crisp and wonderfully cold to your warmed flesh. you felt powerful for summoning the courage to break ties with them, and yet, at the same time, you found that you were on the verge of tears. they deserved to have their toxic behaviour thrown back in their face. it was just that you felt a bit broken.

now you truthfully were alone. well – apart from wonwoo.

you approached him as he stood at the corner, still suckling on his lollipop. him and his friends were in the midst of a humorous conversation when you tapped on wonwoo’s hard shoulder. you always wondered what they spoke about. it always seemed more interesting than the lifeless talk you once endured inside the bar. he didn’t seem all that surprised to see you, though he did look with concern at the watery film across your eyes. you could smell the sweetness of his lollipop; it had to be strawberry.

“are you okay?” wonwoo asked, his breath forming wispy cotton against the dark sky.

you ignored his question. “i want to go back to your place.” you told him.

“now?” he raised his eyebrow.

“yes. now would be good. i’ve just been thinking, and i really want you to eat me out.”

you didn’t care if his friends overheard. apparently, wonwoo didn’t care either. he smirked at you and licked his lips, though there remained a bit of uncertainty in his eyes. you had yet to answer his initial question. from inside the bar, you knew those girls were staring at you, watching you talk to wonwoo.

they were definitely going to tattle to your parents.

your fingers clawed mercilessly over the bed, practically uprooting the linens tucked beneath the mattress as wonwoo kept your thighs tightly locked apart. everything felt so dense, so hot, like the universe was pushing down on your chest and igniting flame inside of your body. you lifted your head off his pillow, only capturing a mere glimpse of his pink tongue gliding past your slit, the muscle coated purely in your arousal. he started to fuck you with his tongue, digging it as deep as he could within your heat.

unabashedly, you moaned, extremely loud and most likely disturbing everyone in his apartment complex. everything about the technicality and purpose of his movements was pushing you toward a climax that would be unlike any other. he was so impatient to get a taste of you that he hadn’t even taken your skirt off, instead bunching the pleated material up against your stomach while your underwear were thrown to the floor. suddenly, you were gasping, and your head collapsed back to the pillow.

wonwoo had managed to wriggle his hand between your thighs. as he ran his tongue in hot, fervent licks against your needy clit, he pushed two fingers inside of you, scissoring you open.

“ffuh-fuck, wonwoo!” you wailed, your hand grasping at his soft hair to keep his tongue against you. “it fe-feels s-so … s-so fucking go-good!”

he’d been taking his sweet time in building up your climax. you allowed him to have his way with you, since he knew how to work your body as though he were magic. his fingers started to curl. it didn’t take him long before they were hitching up into that one golden spot, the one that caused the entire room to whirl. you could tell that he was smiling. he began to messily circle his tongue around your clit. the sensation of the warm, wet muscle pleasuring your most sensitive region was leaving you breathless.

“c’mon, babygirl,” wonwoo mumbled against your core, his fingers thrusting up heavily and abusing that spot inside of you, “you gonna let go and let me taste your cum? you’re fucking dripping all over the bed.”

there was a glimmer of drool leaking from the edge of your mouth. you were so blissed out and crammed with euphoria that you could hardly articulate a response. wonwoo wasn’t giving you much of a chance either. he started a brisk pace rubbing his tongue against your clit, and then he closed his plump lips around you to better flick it with the pink muscle. his bicep was probably burning as he slammed his fingers deep into your heat, making you squelch. your slick had thoroughly soaked the sheets beneath you.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you panted, arching your chest into the air, “i-it’s s-so much, w-wonwoo—m’gonna—nngh—m’gonna cc-cum!”

wonwoo kept your hips pressed firmly to the mattress with one arm as your pleasure exploded. the tears easily streamed down your flustered, glossy face as this extreme contraction passed through you. it was incredibly wet, too wet, and you knew exactly what had happened as wonwoo pulled out his glistening fingers and completely buried his face between your thighs. god, it was fucking embarrassing. you would have curled away from him if wonwoo wasn’t so persistent. he kept licking at you, hard and fast.

at that point, your tears were no longer tiny beads. the sensitivity had left your nerves completely raw, and you sobbed helplessly as wonwoo continued to eat you out. his tongue felt like it was lapping everywhere, impatient and hungry. you tried to pull him away by dishevelled hair, but he swatted your hand back and bit down softly on your swollen clit. before you even knew what was happening, wonwoo had somehow forced your body into another orgasm. his tongue was inside of you as the second wave hit.

“pl-please,” you whimpered in utter fragility, the mixture of pleasure and pain becoming too overwhelming as wonwoo attempted to lick you clean, “pl-please, wonwoo… i-it huh-hurts..”

he chuckled against your sore flesh warmly. “are you sure you’re done, baby? bet i could make you squirt again if i was real gentle.”

“i-i don’t want to talk about it…” you said shakily. honestly, you didn’t even know your body was capable of feeling that much stimulation and pleasure. it was cosmic.

“awe, don’t be embarrassed,” wonwoo hummed, “you have no idea how fucking hot that was.”

“i don’t want to know.” you sighed.

wonwoo scoffed innocuously. he pecked the inside of your thigh, then each hip bone, before he crawled overtop of you and let you taste your own sweetness off his tongue. you spent a few minutes idly making out, smearing saliva over each other’s flushed lips, running your hands up and down his broad, hard chest, leaving scarlet rivulets along his biceps. wonwoo began teasing his fingers against your slit again, and you gasped into the kiss as his finger sunk into you, slowly, deeply.

“what’s wrong?” wonwoo asked while pumping the digit at a gentle pace.

“what do you mean?” you squeaked, staring into his brown eyes tinged with his earlier concern.

“you know what i mean,” wonwoo hummed, “why were you about to cry outside the bar? what happened?”

“are you sure we should discuss this while you’re fingering me?”

“baby, just tell me.” wonwoo urged with a comforting tone in his voice. he started to massage his thumb over your clit, and your entire body jolted.

you sniffled. “i-i just, i— i kind of cut ties with my friends. a-and i’m glad i did it but now i’m just gonna be even more a-alone.”

“of course not,” wonwoo shook his head, “you have me.”

“are you sure?”

slight amusement and shock coloured wonwoo’s face. he pulled his hand away from your core and looked like he wanted to laugh. you couldn’t blame him, but you also couldn’t help your insecurity.

“i’m sure, baby.” he told you firmly. “i’ll always be here for you. i promise.”

you smiled up at him, feeling your heart start to soften.

“can we take a shower?” you then proposed. “i want to get these tears off my face before they dry.”

while wonwoo was busy getting the water running inside the bathroom, you noticed your phone start to glow and vibrate on his nightstand. it was your mother’s number on the screen. taking a long, slow breath, you flipped your phone upside down and ignored the call. it was a risky move, but it felt almost healing in a sense to turn away from the stress in your life. instead, you focused on what mattered in the moment.

wonwoo joined you in the shower, the water gliding in silk-like pathways around his lean muscle and smooth skin. he pushed back his wet hair, sparkling droplets sticking heavy to his eyelashes. he pressed you against the tiles, and their icy touch sent a shiver up your spine. in the midst of the steam and heat, he was kissing you again, suckling softly on your tongue and squeezing your breasts in his hands. his aching length, hard and heavy, brushed between your thighs, to which your palm started to glide up his shaft.

he smiled against your mouth, “you want my cock inside you, babygirl?”

the fire slowly rebuilt itself from the embers in your stomach.

“yes please.” you lilted innocently.

wonwoo decided to press your front against the glass wall instead of the tile. his lips were leaving drifting pecks up your shoulder blade, and he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. a rough, deep groan filled your ear as wonwoo rubbed his cock between your folds, allowing your arousal to coat him generously. however, you were yearning to feel how he filled you entirely, until you could feel him nestled right to the brink. wriggling your hips against him, it was your non-verbal cue for him to start sliding in.

he cupped your breasts in his hands, whispering into your ear, “how should i fuck you, baby? do you want it hard?”

as impatient as you were, there was something about the atmosphere that told you to prolong your intimacy. “n-no,” you mumbled as the fog swathed around you, “s-slow, i want to feel you.”

your moan was almost louder than the water spraying against the tiles when wonwoo started to push inside of you. once he was buried as far as could fit, he started to grind into you, extending his pace so that you could truly feel his every inch and vein. his fingers were massaging your chest, the round flesh almost like velvet to his touch. everything about your body was endearingly soft and warm. he loved it.

“does it feel good, babygirl?” wonwoo purred. he was situated at such a pleasurable depth inside you that you felt like complete gelatine. he thrust into you a little harder, but it was enough to make you cry.

“s-so good,” you stuttered, licking the water off your lips. “do i feel good t-too?”

wonwoo smirked. he moved his hips at a shallow pace. “mmhm. you’re so tight and warm around me, baby. feels so perfect. how pretty do you think your pussy would look with my cum dripping out of it? should we try it?”

you pushed yourself back against his pelvis, “fill me up, wonwoo, please.”

“of course,” he grinned, and slowly dipped a hand down your stomach until you felt him begin to rub soft circles into your clit.

“let’s see how much you can take, babygirl.”

you were exhausted. you were sore. but you felt safe. you made an audacious decision and decided to spend the night at wonwoo’s rather than going home, where you knew you’d be greeted by an equally displeased mother and father that aria had snitched to. it was the first time you’d gone to bed without wearing pyjamas that weren’t expensive, pink satin. you were clad in nothing but one of wonwoo’s old t-shirts. he tried to give you one that didn’t still carry the scent of stale cigarette smoke.

his arm was around your waist, your spine resting comfortably against his chest while you lay together beneath the bedsheets. the sheet that was stained in your arousal had been tossed in the laundry hamper. you knew wonwoo would never stop teasing you about it. anyways, life felt different at his apartment; in fact, it felt better, especially when wonwoo kissed your temple before shutting off the light. your wealth had never been a defining factor in your personality, but it did make you consistently miserable.

that night, it was just you and a boy, a boy who you were quite positively in love with. maybe he loved you too. you weren’t completely certain yet, and you didn’t want to rush anything; however, you felt fairly confident his heart was likewise when he buried his face into your neck and wished you goodnight in his low, sleepy voice.

whatever your parents had to say, you’d find out tomorrow morning.

right now, you weren’t the rich girl, but a happy girl, and that mattered more to you than anything else.

#wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo #svt smut #svt fanfic #seventeen imagines

5K notes · View notes

vampiregirl1797 · 4 years

Text

When his Blood Singer Moves to Town

Edward Cullen x Reader

GIF Not Mine

Word Count: 3,427

Click Here For Masterlist.

Summary: Y/N has been friends with the Cullen’s since she moved to town, and has had less than platonic feelings for Edward for just as long. When Bella moves to town and Y/N finds out that she’s Edward’s blood singer, she worries she’s at risk of losing her best friend and the person she’s in love with. But after a trip to Alaska, Edward reassures her that will never happen.

As cliche as it sounded, I’d had a terrible feeling in my gut when I’d woken up this morning. I didn’t know why, but my instincts were screaming at me to pull the covers over my head and go back to sleep. But alas, I didn’t listen, figuring it was just Monday blues. So I’d gotten dressed, crammed a cereal bar down my throat and waited for my best friend to pick me up like he did every morning. When he arrived, my mood lifted a little, as it always did whenever I was around him, but the feeling still lingered.

‘What’s the matter, honey?’ Edward asked as I fastened my seatbelt after greeting Emmett and Rose who were sat in the back seats.

‘I don’t know.’ I admitted, knowing it would be pointless to lie to someone who could literally read my mind, ‘I’ve just had a really bad feeling of dread since I woke up this morning.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s nothing.’ Edward said, giving me a comforting smile that made my heart skip a beat in my chest.

‘He’s right. This is Forks, what’s the worst that could happen?’ Rose teased, trying to lift the somber mood that had settled over the car.

‘You’re right.’ I agreed, a small but genuine smile settling over my face. It was probably nothing.

I was in French first period with Jasper, Alice and Edward when the news reached us. A new girl had started today, Isabella Swan, though according to Ed, she’d been correcting everyone so far and asking them to call her Bella. I’d shrugged, not really that interested, but I’d felt a little sympathy for the girl starting half way through junior year in a small town— she’d be the talk of the school for the rest of the week at least. I didn’t envy her for that, but seeing as she was apparently Chief Swan’s daughter, I assumed she knew what she was getting into when she agreed to move here.

After that, Edward had distracted me with questions about the book— A Tale of Two Cities—he’d suggested I read. The rest of the lesson was spent with us discussing the ins and outs, the best parts and the worst parts in French. The rest of the morning flew by, and none of us had a period with the new girl, so when it came to lunch a few of the Cullens were curious about the new girl, while I had maintained my uninterested stance. We all joined the lunch line, I grabbed myself a fruit salad and a bottle of water, still not very hungry and took my usual seat in between Emmett and Edward at our table.

‘So, what does the new girl think of the school’s freaks?’ Emmett asked, his dimple appearing in his cheek as he grinned, ‘well freaks and Y/N.’ He winked at me and chuckled when I rolled my eyes at him.

Edward looked over to Bella at Emmett’s question, and for the first time today I look over too. I noticed the way she ducked her head and hid behind her long, brown curly hair as soon as Ed had looked over. I saw the girl next to her, Jessica Stanley, do the same thing and I saw the latter’s shoulders shaking, indicating that she was giggling. She was incredibly beautiful, but I could tell from her shy stature and her unwillingness to look back over here in case Ed was still looking at her, she wasn’t aware of it. I looked away when I felt Edward jerk so unexpectedly that the table vibrated a little.

‘I can’t read her thoughts.’ He sighed, frustration clear in his onyx eyes.

‘How bizarre.’ I mused, putting a piece of watermelon in my mouth and chewing.

‘Ooo finally, someone’s mind you can’t snoop on,’ Emmett’s voice was practically dripping with mirth.

‘I’ll bet the curiosity is killing you.’ Jasper teased, his southern drawl wrapping around his words and a rare smile appearing on his face.

I assumed he could feel Ed’s frustration as well as any other emotions he wasn’t showing on his expression or through body language. And for the first time since that morning, the dread returned to my gut with such ferocity that it took my breath away. My eyes moved between Bella and Edward, the former shy but clearly interested, and the latter gleaming with curiosity and whatever other emotions Jasper had picked up on to implement his teasing. This is what my body had been warning me about— I was going to lose my best friend to the new girl.

The day had taken another abrupt turn when Edward had stormed out of Biology with a look of murder on his face. We usually met at his car after sixth period because we had a free after, so we just went home earlier. I’d hastily climbed in when he’d unlocked the Volvo and had remained silent as he’d driven faster than he normally did, muttering under his breath too low for me to hear. I’d finally spoken up when we reached the hospital, needing to know what was bothering him so much.

‘Ed, what’s going on?’ I asked, my voice tentative.

‘Bella, she’s my blood singer.’ He managed to get out between gritted teeth.

I felt my heart both sink and squeeze in sympathy for his plight. It sunk because I remembered the other half of that legend— it was said that if a humans blood sung for a vampire, that human was the true mate of said vampire. If that was the case then my earlier suspicions were right— I was going to lose Edward to Bella and the stab of pain in my chest almost took my breath away, but I pushed it aside. This wasn’t about me, this was about him.

‘Is there anything I can do?’ I reached out, my hand enveloping his right, where it rested on the steering wheel. When my hand came into contact with his, he flipped his palm up and held my hand in a gentle but firm hold.

‘I need to get away, my instincts want me to go after her, to kill her and I don’t know how long I’ll be able to resist while I’m so thirsty.’ He explained, his thumb moving back and forth over the back of the hand he was holding and I felt my lips lift into a smile when I realised he was comforting me when it was supposed to be the other way around.

‘I’ll come with you.’ It wasn’t like I had any parents to dictate my actions— they died a year ago, but I’d emancipated myself at fifteen, they were lovely people and I had loved them, but they just weren’t ready to be parents.

Both of them worked full time jobs that took them away from home weeks at a time— the longest I’d gone without seeing them had been two months. I’d gotten tired of being raised by a nanny seeing as she practically just left me to my own devices as soon as I was old enough and did her own thing when she was supposed to be looking after me. So I’d looked into emancipation and after talking to my parents about it on one of the rare days they were home before they jetted off again, they’d both agreed without much resistance. I assumed me saying I’d still like to live with them until I could afford my own place had swayed them, as it meant that not much would change—I’d still be at home, I’d just have the ability to make my own decisions without parental permission. When they’d died in a freak car accident a few years ago, I’d inherited everything seeing as I was their only living family and I was the only one listed on the will. After it happened I decided to move to Forks, remembering the few times my parents had bought me here when I was a child. I’d needed a fresh start where no one knew me as the kid who became rich after her parents died, and this had seemed like the perfect place. I’d actually arrived the same time as the Cullens and it had been then that our friendship had been born and it’d only flourished from there.

‘You don’t have to do that.’ He insisted, but his grip didn’t waver, and his dark eyes were almost pleading for me to disagree with him.

‘Ed, I love you and if you need me, I’m going to be there for you so don’t bother arguing with me.’ I gave him a firm look and when he finally smiled I sent him a wink.

His dark eyes softened with an emotion I couldn’t identify, and he placed a chaste kiss on the back of my hand before asking me to wait in the car while he spoke to his father. I took the time to compose myself and by the time he returned we were off to Alaska to see his extended family. We’d stopped to fill his tank after about an hour, and he’d also grabbed me some food to eat on the rest of the drive. It was the longest I’d ever been in a car, minus bathroom breaks and stopping just so I could stretch out my legs, but after two days and ten hours we made it.

I felt like I needed my whole body cracked by a chiropractor, but we were here, and honestly it was beautiful! The Denali Coven’s home was similar to the Cullen’s in the sense that it was secluded and practically in the middle of nowhere— you wouldn’t know where to find it unless you knew what you were looking for. It was a mansion surrounded by snow and the early evening light was a mixture of pink and blue, it took my breath away. We never got sunsets like this in Forks, and I’d almost forgotten how beautiful it could be.

‘Wow, it’s beautiful here.’ I whispered, unwilling to disrupt the scenery around me by being too loud.

‘It is.’ Edward mirrored my volume, and I was so enamoured by the effortless beauty around me that I didn’t notice the bronze haired vampire was staring at me.

After a while, the cold became too much to ignore and Edward led me inside the house, introducing me to the family I’d heard of but never met in person. They were all of course extremely beautiful and the way Tanya’s eyes lingered on the bronze haired vampire next to me made that stabbing feeling return, but I pushed it down. Edward was my friend, I had no right to be jealous of the female attention he received, I knew that but it didn’t stop the stab of pain in my heart. I chatted with Kate and Garrett while the others and Edward went hunting, they were only gone an hour but by the time they returned I was ready to drop. I’d only managed to snag four hours sleep in the past two days as a car wasn’t the comfiest place to lay your head.

My vampire friend of course knew immediately and politely excused us both to lead me to one of the only rooms in the entire house that actually had a bed. At that point he went to leave me to have my human moments, but at the last second my body acted without his consent and grabbed his wrist. As soon as my hand closed around his wrist he paused without hesitation, his now golden eyes observing me carefully— I knew he was aware of what I was going to say, but he always waited me to voice it in case I changed my mind.

‘Will you stay with me, until I fall asleep?’ I asked, knowing that if he didn’t I probably wouldn't get any sleep, despite my current state of exhaustion. I had an issue falling asleep in new places that lacked the familiarity of my own bed, at the moment Ed was the closest to comfort I had at the moment; he made me feel safe and calm.

‘Of course I will,’ he answered, his eyes softening to molten, plonking himself onto the twin bed while I got myself ready to sleep.

I changed in the bathroom, brushed my teeth, washed my face and applied night cream before joining Edward in the bedroom again. He remained on top of the covers, but he’d shifted so that he wasn’t inhibiting any movement for me. I climbed underneath the thick duvet and snuggled into Ed’s side, happy that his natural coolness balanced out the warmth from the covers and the heat Kate had put on throughout the house to keep me from freezing to death. I inhaled his sweet scent and felt myself melt into him when is arm wound around my shoulders and allowed me to snuggle closer to him. I fell into unconsciousness quickly after that, but just before I completely surrendered to the darkness, I thought I felt Edward’s lips kissing my hair, but I was too far gone to fully process it or respond.

‘I need to talk to you.’ Edward said as we were a day into our drive back to Forks.

He felt much better now, and was determined not to let a stranger rule his life and the legacy his coven represented. He didn’t want to let Carlisle down and was prepared to simply not breathe in the single period he shared with Bella if that was what it took for his family to continue living in Forks until they were ready to move on again. Honestly, he’d told me that after the first night we’d spent there, I’d barely opened my eyes before he told me the conclusion he’d come to over his blood singer moving to Forks. It took me longer to process his words than it should have, because it was morning but mostly due to the fact that I’d woken up exactly where I’d fallen asleep, which meant he hadn’t left me once throughout the night and that revelation had done funny things to my heart and my ability to focus. Once I had, I’d been relieved, a part of me had been worried he would go as far to relocate to Alaska until Bella left Forks.

‘About what?’ I wondered, putting the bottle of water I’d taken a few gulps of back into the cup holder.

‘I’m not interested in Bella in any romantic way, and I plan to stay as far away from her as possible. While there have been some instances over the centuries of a vampires blood singer also being his true mate, that’s very rare. It wasn’t the case for Emmett, and it’s not the case for me either.’ I could barely hear his soft voice over the sound of my heart thundering in my chest, ‘you’re my true mate, Y/N. I’ve known since I first saw you, which is why we all became so close to you so fast, my family and I usually shy away from making contact with humans but I had to know you. I was certain I’d scare you off when you found out that we were vampires, and when it didn’t I was sure you’d leave when you found out about how much I love you. I tried to cheat and figure out how you’d react to the news by focusing on your thoughts, but you never really lingered on my family and I when you’re around us. So, because I’m a coward I kept my knowledge to myself, content with having you in my life even if it meant I couldn’t truly be with you how I wanted to be. But after hearing your thoughts about losing me when you learned about Bella, and how you felt unworthy of me when you met Tanya, well I just couldn’t bear to keep this to myself when I knew that you were hurting because of it.’

I was silent for a long moment after his speech, because well it was a lot to process, and a part of me couldn’t believe it even though I’d just heard it with my own two ears. But when I saw the look in Ed’s eyes, the soft look that made his orbs look like honey, I was able to recognise the emotion that had always evaded me when I’d tired to put a finger on it— it was love.

‘I love you too, Edward.’ My voice was so soft that I could barely hear it, but of course he had no problem and a grin took over his face, lighting his expression so brilliantly that my breath caught at the sight of his effortless beauty.

After that somewhat emotional conversation, Edward had taken his hand in mine, and we spent the rest of the drive exchanging occasional anecdotes. But for the most part we remained in a comfortable silence and relaxed in the bubble of love and contentment that settled around us.

Third person POV

When Bella entered the cafeteria that particularly miserable Monday morning, she’d looked over to the Cullen’s table out of habit, only to freeze when she saw that there six people sat around the table, not the usual four she’d grown accustomed to seeing. After she managed to pull herself out of her reverie, she grabbed a bottle of lemonade and hurried to the table she sat at with Mike, Jessica, Angela, Eric and others whose names she hadn’t quite been able to remember. The curly-haired brunette kept her head down for ten minutes, tentatively sipping her lemonade and avoiding conversation as she felt daggers piercing into the side of her head. It was another five minutes before she decided enough was enough; she wasn’t going to let herself feel alienated by a boy who didn’t even know her from Adam. So she turned her head, looking up at the table from underneath her lashes and the sight that greeted her made her fell relaxed and disappointed all at once. None of them were looking in her direction, so she lifted her head a little more so she was able to observe the family with more ease. Emmett and Rosalie were wrapped up in each other, the curly haired blonde vampire grinning at his love as she kissed his cheek and murmured something that made the brawny boy throw his head back and release his signature booming laughter. Jasper and Alice were sat side by side, the blonde’s hand holding Alice’s underneath the table, both content to sit in silence and observe those around them. Edward and a girl whose name she’d learned was Y/N, they were... close in a way Bella couldn’t quite describe. She didn’t know what had changed between now and last week, but there had obviously been a shift in their relationship. The bronze haired boy had his arm wrapped around Y/N’s shoulders, and she was looking up at Edward with a look of pure adoration and love in her eyes, but what was more intense was that he was returning it with equal fervour. Throughout the hour, their eyes never left one another, and they were always touching in some way, whether it was Y/N holding Edward’s free hand and playing with his fingers as they quietly spoke to one another, or whether it was the bronze haired boy brushing Y/N’s hair behind her ear and letting his hand linger to caress the side of her face— they never once shifted so they weren’t touching. It was as if they were in their own little bubble, impenetrable to even the other family members sitting around the table with them, and Bella felt her heart ache at the sight. She longed for someone to look at her the way Edward was looking at Y/N. If she were being completely honest with herself, she had found herself interested in the boy, despite his horrid attitude towards her last week, but obviously that was in vein; he was in love with Y/N, that much was obvious.

With a sigh, Bella returned her attention to her table mates around her, making an effort to engage in their conversation and forget about the mysterious family sat to the right of her. Jessica had been right— there was no point in wasting any time there.

A/N: So I had this idea pop into my head last night, and to be honest I’m not completely sure how I feel about it?? But I’ve purged it from my mind now and it’s out there. I hope you liked it!!

#edward cullen #edward cullen x reader #edward Cullen x you #twilight

381 notes · View notes

shirtlesssammy · 3 years

Text

4x10: Heaven and Hell

Then:

TFW needed a little work before they got it right

Now:

We start off right where we left off in the last episode. The angels are here for Anna. She has to die.

Uriel attacks Ruby and Dean tries to stop it. Cas starts walking towards Sam, and despite Sam’s pleas, he boops him into unconsciousness. Suddenly there’s lights and Uriel and Cas are zapped to places unknown. (Cas’s wings in the flash...emotion hearts). They find Anna with a ridiculously severe wrist wound and a mysterious sigil on the mirror written in her blood. She sent them away.

They hide Anna away at Bobby’s. Dean and Ruby bond over hex bags. It’s almost cute.

Um, Bobby’s not home because he’s in the Dominican (and I just Googled “Hedonism and Dominican” ... probably shouldn’t have). Anyway, Sam’s got exposition on Anna. This bought of psychosis isn’t her first. When she was a toddler, she was convinced her real father was “very mad -- like wanted-to-kill-her mad.” Anna interrupts their little chat.

Sam asks her why the angels want her. She has no clue. She’s upset that her parents are dead and her life has been turned upside-down. They need to find out what her deal is.

Enter PAM!

(I know I’m technically not supposed to like that bit of sexual harassment but her exchange with Sam is SO funny and cute. He’s so earnest and they play the victim card with her, but she ain’t having it and she’s going to have some fun at Sam’s expense. And Dean’s smile at the end, JOY.)

Pam introduces herself to Anna and sets to hypnotizing her. She asks about Anna’s father and Anna freaks out. Dean tries intervening and gets knocked out. Pam wakes her and Anna remembers who she is. “I’m an angel.”

Pam and Ruby are side-eyeing this “friendly” angel. Turns out Anna was Cas and Uriel’s boss in angel-land. She disobeyed, which is the worst thing an angel can do (WEEPS for future Cas.) She ripped out her grace and fell to Earth. Now Heaven and Hell want her. She’s determined to get her grace back.

“So you’e just going to take some devine bong hit, and shazam, you’re Roma Downey?” Ah, Dean, you do have a way with words (Also, dude loves pop culture SO much that Touched By an Angel is on his radar. BLESS THIS BOY.)

Sam remembers reading about a meteor about 9 months before Anna was born and Ruby responds, “You’re pretty buff for a nerd.” Get a room, you two.)

For Real Life Jesus They’re Cute Science:

Ruby apologizes for getting Sam involved with this war. She’s afraid of Alistair too. He’s no joke in Hell. She tells Sam he should send Alistair back to Hell, but he’s got to practice to do it. Sam refuses.

Anna’s star gazing when Dean returns from taking Pamela home. Dean asks Anna why the angels saved him. Dean then asks why she would want to be human. He lists all the bad things about the human condition, and she lists all the good.

Ultimately, it’s the emotions of being human that matter so much to her. Obedience and emotionless faith is overrated. Only 4 angels have ever laid eyes on God (Well...five now!) Anna complains about watching over Earth, waiting for order from a father who might never return, and Dean laughs and laughs. I really love how Anna’s story shifted to Cas. Dean and Anna give each other looks, but Sam, in all his glory, interrupts. He’s found something!

They head off for a tree in Kentucky that is probably the place where Anna’s grace fell.

They get to the tree and Anna can sense that it’s not there anymore. Someone took it.

Later, Anna’s listening to Angel Radio and hears the angels say that if the Winchesters don’t turn over Anna, they’ll throw Dean back in Hell. Dean is speechless, but Sam wants to know what kind of weapon works on an angel. Dean’s in freak out mode --they need to find an answer.

Later, Dean’s reading a book by flashlight and Anna approaches him to thank him for all that they’ve done. He brushes her sentiment aside. She ponders the thought that she doesn’t deserve to be saved (AND I need to stop and talk about how this parallels Cas in Purgatory...he thanks Dean for everything, he believed he didn’t deserve to be saved. BLAF. And Dean and Anna are more canon than Dean and Cas? I think not.)

Dean lets slip that there’s something he deeply regrets as well, and Anna takes the opportunity to reveal that she knows what he did last summer - er, in Hell. He crumbles when she tells him to forgive himself. (Narrator voice: and then he spent ten more years failing to do exactly that.)

“You are not alone,” she tells him and I remember why I like her (before a later plot twist scrubs her away). Anna MAKES A MOVE and kisses him. It IS their last night on Earth, after all. (I quietly eat the script pages for “Free to be you and me” while simultaneously high-fiving Anna for her excellent taste.)

Cut to a montage of Impala sex which cuts out all the bits of sex in a car where you’re crammed in a corner awkwardly trying to get off your clothes without kicking the other person. Anna touches Castiel’s handprint, laying her own over the lines of his fingerprints. And I know that it was likely just a way to set up the Dean-is-connected-to-Heaven parallels in this brief shining moment when both boys actually had non-dead love interests at the same time. But MAN it sure cuts me open now.

Ruby watches Sam sleep, then heads out to a crossroads. She burns her protective hex bag and Alistair appears.

Ruby offers to give up Anna in return for her and the Winchesters’ safety. Alistair has another proposal…

Uriel greets Dean back in the barn. Dean looks confused for a moment before he realizes that Uriel has invaded his dream so they can have a little chat. Commander Cas isn’t around - “You see, he has this weakness. He likes you.” Uriel reveals that he has Anna’s grace. But nya nya nya he won’t give it back.

We cut to Ruby, naked and strapped down as this show is wont to do with its demon women. Alistair tortures her with the demon knife. She refuses to tell him where Anna is...but she will show him.

Back in the barn during waking hours, Dean drinks his feelings until the doors burst open and Uriel and Castiel arrive.

Sam demands to know how the angels found them, and Castiel glances meaningfully at Dean.

Anna realizes the deal that must have been brokered: herself in exchange for Sam’s safety. We experience many sad close-ups of Dean’s self-hatred and it HURTSSSS. Anna kisses Dean and assures him that he’s forgiven.

Anna’s ready to face the angels at last. Cas apologizes, but she brushes it aside. “You don’t know the feeling.” First of all, Anna, rude.

For This Town Ain’t Big Enough for the Both of Us Science:

Alistair shows up in the barn with his demon goons. The Winchesters, Anna, and Ruby skedaddle to the fringes of the barn, leaving the angels and demons to posture toxically at each other.

Fisticuffs ensue! Alistair pins Cas, growling Latin at him until Dean whacks him in the head. Anna takes advantage of the fight to have her Ariel moment.

She orders everyone to close their eyes as her own fire consumes her. It blasts Alistair away, and Castiel gently pulls Uriel away as well. Everyone congratulates themselves for their excellent plan to pit the demons and angels against each other.

Later, Sam and Dean recap their feelings at the Impala.

For Rural Roads Science:

Dean brings up something Alistair said during the fight - that he “had promise.” I finally remember during this rewatch that Dean’s been denying what happened in Hell all along. Dean starts to talk. “It wasn’t four months,” he begins. “It was more like forty years. They sliced and carved and tore at me in ways that you-- Until there was nothing left. And then suddenly I would be whole again. Like magic. Alistair at the end of every day - every one - he would come over . He would make me an offer to take me off the rack if I put souls on. If I started to torture. And every day I told him to stick it where the sun shines. For thirty years, I told him. But then I couldn’t do it anymore, Sammy.”

“I got off that rack - god help me I got right off it - and I started ripping ‘em apart.” The weight of the torture he inflicted presses down on him. Sam tries to reassure him, but Dean continues to rip out our hearts and leave them cold and gathering refuse in the gutter. “How I feel? This inside me. I wish I couldn’t feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing.”

Dean Quotechester Deserved Better:

Any chance I can dick over an angel, I'm taking it

What do they want me for? Why did they save me?

Feelings are overrated, if you ask me

When you got Godzilla and Mothra on your ass, best to get out of their way and let them fight

I wish I couldn't feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #anna milton #uriel #ruby #spn 4x10 #heaven and hell #supernatural season 4

31 notes · View notes

youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years

Text

The Question

The Pool | The Difference | The Notes | The Fear | The Thought | Masterlist Pairing: Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x Reader Rating: Explicit - 18+ only Warnings: None? Besides cursing. Notes: Fluffy! Fluffy! Most of these going forward are going to be fluffy. Most. Summary: How the hell does this man still give you butterflies? You’re flustered in the middle of your own damn kitchen and he isn’t even there.

You wake up alone. You don’t like that, but it happens sometimes. You and Borracho don’t exactly have regular hours, it’s not like criminals keep their shenanigans to a 9-5 schedule. You used to be a light sleeper when it came to sleeping with someone else, but with Borracho… Hell, you don’t know if it’s how quietly he’s able to move or how safe you feel with him, but you almost never wake up when he gets out of bed. You pick up your phone and shut off the alarm; no texts, no calls from him or the guys, so things are probably status quo. You don’t have to be in the office for another hour. You slide out of bed and head into the kitchen. You’re alone, but you still smile when you see that he’s made you coffee and left you a post-it. ‘Got called into work early. See you later. Love you, sweetness. -B’

You shake your head a little bit, running your thumb over the ink. How the hell does this man still give you butterflies? You’re flustered in the middle of your own damn kitchen and he isn’t even there. Oh, but you can practically hear him saying it, too. And the fact that he even stopped to write a note-- You shake your head and stick it to the fridge under a magnet, alongside a few other notes he’s left you in the apartment. You’re smiling all through your first cup of coffee, as you get ready to go in, as you get in your car that morning. You usually try not to text Borracho when you know he’s out on the job - you don’t wanna distract him, and there’s a chance the guys’ll see it and get on both your cases, but you decide to risk it that morning. You pull your phone out and text him, I love you

It’s a few minutes before you get back, Wanna go out tonight? You raise a brow. Is this man up to something?

Big plans? taking us on a tour of a hot sauce factory

I’m pretty sure you’re making fun of me and I don’t appreciate it.

love you

Love you too --

It’s the usual crew at the office - though Borracho is noticeably absent. You don’t ask, is the thing, but Nick makes it a point to tell you that Borracho is out getting a statement from a witness. You nod a little bit and say, “...Okay,” Before turning back to your work. You swear up and down that you hear Henderson asking Conners if you bought that, but you try not to read into it. You’re sure you heard them wrong; if something was wrong with Borracho, they’d tell you. Besides, you’ve already talked to him today, you know he’s alright. But while you’re in the office, you notice the guys muttering to each other way more than usual. You can’t help but wonder if this is what they would’ve been like if you’d left your headphones out those first couple of weeks on the job. Headphones-- Your headphones, of course. The second you’ve got those suckers in, the guys’ll speak up at full volume. You open the desk drawer that you usually keep them in. Your jaw drops at the sight of another post-it.

Looking for something? ;) -B You’d told Borracho that you found out about most of the pools because of your little headphone trick. But why the hell has he taken them today? You close your drawer, narrowing your eyes. Oh, something is definitely up. -- “Really, you haven’t seen him all day?” Isobel asks. You glance up from where you’re bouncing her son on your knee. You’ve stopped by after work; you’ve got a little time before you need to be home to get ready. “Nope,” You shrug, “He got called into work early, and-- I don’t know, Nick said he was out speaking to a witness. We texted a little, but he’s been pretty busy today. We’re going out later, though.” “Ooo,” Nadia coos from behind you, where she’s feeding Lissie, “Do you know where?” “No idea, he hasn’t told me… I mean, he joked about a hot sauce factory, but the ones around here don’t have late tours.” You may or may not have checked while you were at work. His sisters are snickering at you already; they’ve seen you at barbecues, they know about the hot sauce packets you keep in your purse. You smile, laughing a little yourself. “It’ll be nice to go out, though. We haven’t had, like, a date-date in a while,” You realize it as you say so. Honestly, you haven’t really thought much of it; it’s not like you mind spending the night in with Borracho, you’re never bored. “...You know, you’re the first girl Borracho brought home in a really long time?” Nadia says, lowering herself into the seat beside Isobel. You raise a brow. You haven’t heard this before. “Really? How long?” “Oof,” Isobel mutters, “Jeez, the last would’ve been-- What, Angela?” “Which one was Angela? Highlights or lip piercing?” Nadia asks. “Lip piercing.” “Like, almost four years-ish?” Nadia offers. “‘Lip piercing’?” You repeat, amused, “I think I’ve got more questions about who ‘highlights’ was-- And what my attribute would be if you were describing me to someone else.” -- “No wig tonight?” You glance back at Borracho, arching a brow as he leans in the doorway of the bathroom. The pink wig you’d worn to the club a long time ago has made a reappearance a few times since you’d started dating. “Not tonight, babe,” You chuckle before you lean forward to do your eyeliner. You lean away from the mirror once you're finished, putting the cap back on the liner. Borracho steps into the bathroom, smoothing his hands over your hips. He presses a kiss to your neck before he cuddles up against you. You giggle, tipping your head to the side. “Maybe next time,” You add.

“I ain’t picky,” Borracho mumbles. You turn in his arms. “Gimme a kiss before I put my lipstick on,” You order. Borracho smiles.

“You sayin’ you’re not gonna kiss me once it’s on?”

“Oh, I’m absolutely gonna. Kiss me anyway,” You retort. You lean up, pecking Borracho’s lips a few times. His smile widens with each until he catches your lips with his. He lifts a hand from your hip, sliding it over your back. You sigh, leaning into his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. You aren’t sure what it is, but something feels different about tonight. It isn’t how Borracho watched you get ready; he does that often. But this just feels sweet - so deliciously soft and slow. You can’t put your finger on it - but you aren’t rushing to, either. You just revel in Borracho’s warmth and closeness. He hums softly, squeezing your hip gently before he lifts his head, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Finish getting ready, we’ll be late.”

“Or you could keep kissing me,” you mumble the argument against his chin. Borracho chuckles, cupping your chin and pecking your lips again.

“Later, sweetness.” -- “You don’t think we’re actually going to a hot sauce factory, right?” “No, of course not,” You scoff. “...You checked whether or not there were any open, didn’t you.” “...Might’ve taken a look.” Boraccho laughs, raising your joined hands to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of yours. “Why?” You add, glancing over at him. “Couldn’t bear to break your heart like that.” --

The thing is, you guys had discussed it a few more times - the whole marriage thing. You’d never set a hard date, a deadline. You weren’t going to disappear if a ring wasn’t stuck on your finger within the next year or anything. But the last time you’d spoken about it seriously had been after Borracho had been shot. “I hated not being able to get back there and see you were alright for myself,” You’d admitted, “And-- Look, I love your family, but-- If anything like that ever happens again and they make me wait three fucking days to see you, Benny, I swear to god--” “I know,” He’d mumbled into your hair, “I know, and-- this is gonna sound shitty, but they were testing you, a little. I’ve had a couple of other girlfriends that saw me that way and couldn’t handle it. They wanted to see if you’d stick around.” You’d humphed, and snuggled deeper into his side. And he’d hesitated before saying, “If we were married, you would’ve been able to see me right away.” You’d glanced up at him and murmured, “I know.” “...Still think my sisters would kill us if we eloped?” “You know they would.” -- Beyond that, well, you hadn’t spoken about it much. At least, not with Borracho. You had with his sisters, looking back on it - about what kind of rings you liked (Megan and Isobel had each asked you if you liked theirs - Megan’s was a little too flashy for you; Isobel’s was close to what you liked in stone and size). You’d even tried Regina’s on (“For fun, honey, I’m curious,” She’d pressed you. It had been half a size too small). You didn’t think anything about it, though. You’d grown incredibly close with his family. “Aw, so sweet!” Nadia had cooed, seeing someone on tv propose to their girlfriend on the big screen at a football game, “Would you ever like something like that?” “Nah,” You’d wrinkled your nose, shaking your head, “So impersonal -- all those people staring at you. Plus-- Football?” The face you’d made had Nadia in stitches.

The two of you have dinner at one of your favorite restaurants. Borracho’s hand is in yours nearly all night, holding it in the car, on the table, on the way in and out of the restaurant. After dinner, the two of you drive up to the Hollywood Bowl Overlook. He shuts off the car, and the two of you talk and make out lazily like a couple of teenagers. His hand smooths over your thighs and your stomach and your shoulder and your side; you tug at his hair and slide your hand under his collar and smooth your fingers over his tattoo. It’s like you were when you were getting ready - sweet, unhurried, soft. But you want to be home, and you want to take him apart at your leisure, without worrying about getting caught or being crammed uncomfortably in the front seat of the car, and you tell him as much. Borracho chuckles softly and slides his lips along yours in a half-kiss before murmuring, “Whatever you want, sweetness.”

You cuddle up against him as you wait for him to unlock the front door, slipping your hands under his t-shirt and running your nails over his sides. He huffs and fumbles with the keys a little, and you hide your grin in his shoulder.

“Having some trouble there?” You tease, smoothing your palms over the same spots.

“You’re a menace, sweetness,” He mutters before opening the door. You slide your hands out from his shirt so that the two of you can make it inside without any further incident. The door gets shut and locked, the hall light flicked on, and you’re already reaching for him again. He cups your cheeks, sweeping his thumbs over your cheekbones.

“Hey,” He murmurs.

“Mm?”

“I’ve-- Been thinking,” He manages between kisses, even as you’re trying to nudge him back toward the bedroom.

“Uh-oh,” You tease before nipping at his lip. Borracho laughs, leaning away to look at you.

“Listen to me,” He murmurs after a moment. Your brow furrows a little, and his finger reaches up to smooth away the little wrinkle before he chases the touch with a kiss.

“How long have we been together, huh?”

“Almost two years,” You say, letting your hands settle on his shoulders.

“The guys...They started betting whether or not you’d be able to stick through the week,” He shakes his head, and you bite your lips, because you know that they did, those ridiculous idiots, “But you stuck through -- all week, all month, all year and you’re still here… The second I knew you’d stick around here, though, with me,” he squeezes your hips, “Was that night, after I’d been coordinating with the FBI. You came over, you stayed, and... And I knew I didn’t want you to go…”

Usually by now you’d cut in, make a joke, but there’s something different about the way Borracho is looking down at you. So you just listen, smooth your fingers over the fabric of his shirt because even now, you can’t keep still.

“And I know that sometimes my family can be a lot-- And so can work--” He’s talking about when he was shot and you both know it. Your stomach turns at the reminder and you lower your eyes. He cups your chin and lifts your eyes to his again, “But I can’t imagine waking up without you, or-- Or coming home without you here… And I know you were worried when I was hurt. I hate that you couldn’t see me right away, and I don’t ever want you to have to go through that again... I love you, sweetness, and I know you love me.”

“‘Course I love you, Benny,” You manage after a moment, eyes searching his. He smiles, nudging his nose against yours. You’re distracted, leaning up into the motion, and you don’t notice him reaching into his pocket.

You frown as he leans away, but that frown melts into shock as he sinks to one knee, small velvet box in hand.

He opens it.

“Will you marry me, sweetness?”

You don’t know if you’re supposed to look at him or the ring-- and then you realized you haven’t said anything, but you’re nodding and your eyes are tearing up. You manage to get out, “Of course I’ll marry you.”

And Borracho’s face splits into the widest grin. He pulls the ring out of the box and slips it onto your proffered left ring finger -- and then laughs as you tug him up from the floor. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your face into his neck. He’s holding onto you, too, tight and steady, and pressing kisses to your cheek, your ear, your head, your shoulder - anywhere you can reach.

You turn your head to meet his lips, curling close to him, and he finally lets you steer him back toward your room.

-- "Why did you take my headphones?” You ask later. Borracho has his head on your stomach. He’s been nuzzling contentedly for the last few minutes, dropping the odd kiss to your stomach or hip, touchy in your afterglow. “Didn’t want you listening in on the guys,” He murmurs, “Didn’t want them spoiling it.” “Why’d you have Nick tell me where you were?” “Did you ask him?” “No, he just came over and told me.” Borracho scoffs, shaking his head, “Told him to only tell you if he asked.” “The rest’a the guys weren’t all that subtle, either. Kept whispering.” “And that’s why I took your headphones.” You chuckle, sweeping his hair away from his forehead. “You know me too well, baby.” You lift your hand and eye the ring, unable to help the smile that grows on your face. Borracho turns his head, kissing your wrist. “You like it?” He asks. “I love it,” You swear, lowering your hand to stroke his cheek, “And I love you.” You’ve lost track of how many times the two of you have said it in the last couple of hours. You know that tomorrow morning, you’re going to have to start thinking about planning. You’re going to call your parents to give them the news. You’re going to be going over to Isobel’s for breakfast with the family, too, and you know you’re going to hear all about how long they’ve known about Borracho’s plan. And then the wedding planning, the ideas for the wedding that they’ve probably had for months, the fact that you’re gonna have four flower girls and three little ring bearers from Borracho’s nieces and nephews alone. You don’t have to worry about that for a few hours yet. All you care about is the man leaning up for another kiss, another two kisses, another three kisses. You curl your arms around his shoulders and squeeze his hips with your knees as he murmurs, “I love you, too, Mrs. Magalon,” Against your lips.

#Benny Borracho #Benny Borracho Magalon #Benny Borracho x Reader #Benny Borracho x You #Benny Borracho/You #Benny Borracho/Reader #Benny Borracho Magalon x Reader #Benny Borracho Magalon x You #Benny Borracho Magalon/You #Benny Borracho Magalon/Reader #The Pool #The Question #den of thieves

111 notes · View notes