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btsvt-bar · 6 months

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FEVER ꩜ part two

pairing ꩜ journalist!mingyu x afab!reader x journalist!wonwoo

synopsis ꩜ a promotion at work, the new political reporter and a few bottles of wine. writing for a prestigious newspaper can be much more exciting than it seems. it all depends on who your co-workers are.

content/genre ꩜ frenemies with benefits, threesome, smut (18+ mdni)

author's note ꩜ not proofread.

part 2 is finally out!! sorry it took so long, i hope I can make it up to you with the plot I came up with. comments are appreciated! lmk what you think ♡

warnings under the cut!

part one | part two

warnings ꩜ smut, threesome, anal sex, oral (m. receiving), masturbation (f. and m. receiving), cum swallowing, double penetration, alcohol consumption, tipsy sex, sex in the workplace, voyeurism, tit sucking, jacuzzi sex, protected sex. lmk if i forgot something important.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

chapter three

When your boss announced his retirement, both you and Mingyu were nominated to the position. It was up to the board to decide, and you hoped they would choose you.

Being an editor in chief has always been your dream. Even before you started college, you knew you wanted to be the head journalist. So you worked hard for recognition and it happened, almost ten years later. You got promoted earlier, and now you’re at the club with your friends to celebrate it.

You’re dancing along with Yunjin, a mojito in your hand. The music is really loud and it reverbs through your body. Your eyes are closed, you’re just enjoying the moment as much as you can.

Some drunk girl bumps on you and you spill your drink. “Ah, shit!” You curse loudly. “I’m going to buy another one, wait here!” You yell at Yunjin and she gives you a thumbs up.

You work your way through the crowd and reach the bar with some difficulty. As you get there, you find Wonwoo sipping on some whiskey.

“I think I owe you congratulations, editor in chief.” He smiles brightly, making your insides burn a little. “Lemme buy you a drink!” He offers and you accept.

“Thank you!” Your voice is loud and excited. “That’s nice of you.”

He winks.

"I need to use the bathroom, can you hold my drink?" You ask.

"I’ll come with you and we’ll buy it when we come back."

You lead the way and Wonwoo holds you by the waist so you won’t get lost. His big hand burn your skin through the fabric of your clothes and you shiver slightly.

When you reach the dark hallway at the back of the club, you blindly enter the first door you find.

"Oh, I think we’re on the wrong place."

The bathroom had some lockers and you assumed it was for the usage of the working crew. The music fades away and you see Wonwoo’s closed the door.

"I think we’re on the right place." Wonwoo speaks in a low tone, making his voice even more sensual.

"Why is that?" you make a thoughtful pout.

Wonwoo approaches you slowly. The hot look he shoots your way sends a shiver down your spine and makes something in your belly twist and turn.

"I can show you better than I can tell you." he says while licking his lips and bringing both hands to your face.

"Go ahead." you reply and let out a sigh when the man slides his elegant nose against your cheek.

His breath was an intoxicating mixture of mint and alcohol, and that, mixed with his striking perfume, makes you completely trapped in his sensual and dangerous atmosphere.

"Are you dating Mingyu?"

"Does it matter?" you sigh.

"Yes or no?" Wonwoo pulls away, looking into your eyes.

"No." you roll your eyes, feigning impatience. "May I know why you’re so interested?"

Wonwoo gives a side smile, the kind that makes the hairs on your arms rise.

"To know if I can do this." he says and pulls you by the waist, pressing your lips together in a passionate kiss.

The kiss is hot and filled with pure lust as he searches for your tongue, which you willingly present to him, letting him explore your mouth as he pleases. Your fingers delve into the strands of his hair, pulling carefully.

You tilt your head a little so he can deepen the kiss. Wonwoo swallows all the soft moans you emit as he thinks about the things he would like to do. You feel his cock throbbing in his pants, transforming him into a needy being desperate for friction.

On the other hand, you feel your body overheating, almost as if you have a fever. You want the man in front of you with such intensity that you fear exploding if you have to wait any longer.

You break apart for air. Heaving chests, swollen and red mouths after the hungry kiss.

"Your idea gave me an idea." you say seductively. "Sit there.”

Wonwoo doesn't even question the request and sits in the huge wood bench. He sits with his legs open, trying to give his erect penis some space.

Your gaze settles on the spot between his legs almost immediately. You lick your lips in an unconscious gesture, thinking that you made the best decision of the night.

You kneel down in front of Wonwoo, and slowly run your hands and nails up and down his thighs. The man feels his head spin just thinking about where that would lead. All of this feel like he is dreaming. You squeeze his erection over his pants and Wonwoo lets out a hoarse moan. You keep teasing him like this for a few minutes, making him get harder and harder.

When you decide you’ve tortured him long enough, you open the button on his black pants and pull it down along with the white boxers, releasing him from the fabric prison. Taking his member in hand, you begin slow movements. Wonwoo lets out a breathless moan, he wasn't ready for that for the fast pace. So he squirms, trying to hold his body weight with shaky arms.

You stimulating him abruptly. Wonwoo opens his eyes, his eyelids heavy due to excitement. You stare at him through your lashes, a wicked smile plastered on your beautiful face. Without ever breaking eye contact, you poke your tongue out and lick his member, from the base to the head. You start to gently suck at it, swirling your tongue around the entire length and eliciting moans from Wonwoo.

The man grabs your hair, the sight of what you were doing driving him crazy. You start to take him in your mouth slowly, your hand stimulating what doesn't fit inside and the other playing with his heavy and hot balls. Wonwoo's head is thrown back as he sighed in pleasure, your skilled mouth and hands working on his cock deliciously.

Wonwoo pulls your hair lightly and lowers his gaze. Understanding what he wanted, you stop sucking him for a few seconds to give permission. Then, he starts to guide your head, speeding up the pace of things a little.

He closes his eyes tightly and mentally curses every swear word available in his dictionary, feeling closer and closer to completely catching fire. Wonwoo's abdomen tightened as he began to feel his peak, his moans getting louder and louder.

"I-I’m a-almost" he gasps when you squeeze his member a little harder. "I’m almost there, you can stop now" he warns, but you don’t care and redouble efforts.

You move your hand up towards his abdomen. In a few moments, Wonwoo’s mind goes blank, as if you controlled him, and he groans in satisfaction.

The hot, salty liquid takes over your mouth, and you swallow everything in the best way possible.

Releasing him with a pop, you admire the man's exhausted state through your eyelashes. Wonwoo collects a few white drops that escaped from your mouth with his thumb and you suck his digit clean. The man moans softly, completely spent. You sport a satisfied and cunning smile. Wonwoo caresses the skin just below your eyes with his thumb, wiping away the moisture and gently removing a fallen eyelash.

"I guess you just earned a day off now." you state while biting your lower lip.

Wonwoo laughs loudly and covers his face with one hand, his whole body shaking in amusement. "I’ll take you up on that, boss."

chapter four

Mingyu blinks several times as he tries to focus on what was written on the computer screen. The man was trying to write a short article about the NFL players' statements on the pre-season, but he couldn't stay focused for long. Sighing in frustration, the journalist decides to get a mug of coffee.

As he passes your empty table, he realizes he misses spending time with you. He’s used to sharing work space with you since you two were interns. Exchanging insults and secret glances had been part of the routine for years. So not having you around was strange, to say the least.

Arriving close to the small kitchen, Mingyu notices that two people are talking inside the room. He reaches out to open the frosted glass door, but stops halfway when he realizes that the people in question are Yunjin and you. Mingyu leans against the wall next to the door, hiding from your view.

"Where did you go on Saturday?" Yunjin asks as she stirs the spoon in the coffee mug.

"Nowhere?" you respond with a confused tone.

"Come on, Y/N." The other says while rolling her eyes. "You disappeared for about thirty minutes during the party."

You widen your eyes, understanding what your friend was talking about. Taking a sip from your own mug, you try to buy a few seconds.

"If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell Dino!"

"For God’s sake, who did you kill?!"

You purse her lips, unsure of how to say what had happened. You feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Not because of what you had done, but because of how it all happened.

"Don't worry, you won't need to help me clean up a crime scene." you laugh and Yunjin shows a smile. "I needed to use the bathroom…"

"Why do I feel like the end of that sentence is going to be shocking?" Yunjin rests the mug on the table, preparing herself for what you would reveal. "Go on."

"And Wonwoo went with me."

Outside the room, Mingyu feels his blood heat when he hears the exchange. He just couldn't tell if it was out of jealousy or embarrassment for eavesdropping.

"Aaaaand…?" Yunjin encourages you to continue.

"Why do you assume there's more to it than that?"

The youngest closes her eyes and gives you a bored look, as if to say “please, I know you!”.

"We kissed. And I gave him a blowjob." you speak quickly and quietly, leaving Yunjin stunned by the revelation. "Happy?"

Mingyu's eyes widen at the information. Now Wonwoo's smug expression made perfect sense. The other was passing him behind and, until that moment, he had no idea.

"Y/N! I can't believe you kept this from me all these days!"

"What did you want me to do?" you put your hands on your waist. "Hi, Yunjin. I just sucked Wonwoo off in the club’s crew bathroom. Do you want to see the place?"

"It would’ve been better than hiding this information!"

You throw a crumpled napkin in her direction, and Yunjin just laughed as she dodged the object.

"You are ridiculous!" you stick out your tongue and your friend returns the gesture.

"I can't believe something finally happened!" She takes a quick sip of the coffee she was cooling down. "What about Mingyu?"

The man straightens his posture when he hears his own name and frowns, trying to understand where the conversation would lead.

"What about him?"

"He's a little jealous, isn't he?"

"We’re friends. Who have sex from time to time." you shrug. "He knows that, or at least he should."

"And even then he won't make it easy for Wonwoo." Yunjin lets out a little laugh.

"He could stop being annoying and agree to have a threesome with me and Wonwoo, that's for sure."

Yunjin chokes on the dark liquid she was drinking. She wasn't ready to hear that.

Still standing outside, Mingyu takes a deep breath. Your last statement had come as a slight shock. He knew he definitely shouldn't be listening to that conversation, but his feet felt glued to the floor. Because he’s lost in his own thoughts, he misses Yunjin's response. But he comes back to reality in time to hear the end.

"Anyway, he can't do anything about it." you wrinkle your nose. "He could accept it, so everyone has fun."

Mingyu realizes that you and Yunjin could leave at any moment, so he returns to his own table as quickly as possible. He settles into the black leather chair, the information he had just acquired swirling in his mind.

So you wanted to have a threesome with him and Wonwoo? Normally, he wouldn't object if you expressed this desire to him. But it was difficult to say yes when the situation involved Jeon Wonwoo.

Yes, he was jealous.

Mingyu knew you were just friends, but he couldn't help but feel his blood boil when he understood that he was no longer your only focus. He liked having undivided attention.

He could stop being annoying and agree to have a threesome with me and Wonwoo, that's for sure. Your words echo in his head. Mingyu wanted to prove that your judgment was wrong.

The gears in his head began to turn. He had two options: leave that unrequited jealousy aside and surprise you or continue picking on Wonwoo and risk losing what he had. It seemed like an obvious choice.

The sound of Wonwoo's keyboard catches Mingyu's attention. The man looks at the other's profile, who was focused on whatever he’s doing on the computer.

Mingyu thoughtfully rests his face on his hand. He was determined to give you what you wanted, but would Wonwoo be willing to do the same?

He only had one way to know.

"Hey, Jeon." Mingyu calls and the other turns to look at him. "So, I was thinking…"

chapter five

You ring the doorbell at Mingyu's penthouse and sway anxiously from side to side as you wait for the man to open the door. He had invited you over for dinner — according to him, to celebrate your promotion.

I want to know if my new boss can spare a few hours to come over and have a bottle of wine with me. Maybe two, if you’re feeling generous. Mingyu's words echoed in your mind. “Have a bottle of wine” was your code for asking each other to have sex. Of course wine was involved, but it was nowhere near the main attraction of the night.

So you had high expectations.

The huge white wooden door opens, revealing Mingyu. You analyze him from head to toe. He wore a black fishnet tank top, his beefy chest on full display, black swimming shorts and black leather sandals. You bite your lower lip, already feeling your insides begin to stir just from that simple visual stimulation.

"Ah, finally!" he exclaims as he opens the door and you enter the apartment. Mingyu takes your bag — the one that carries your personal belongings to spend the night there — and the black Chanel you carried around every day. "I was about to start drinking your favorite wine without you."

The place was impeccably tidy, as it was every time you visited him. Mingyu was very organized at work, it was no surprise for you to discover that his house followed the same pattern.

"It took me longer than expected to get out of the Tribune." You sigh, exhausted after the day of work. "I'm ready to sink into the hot water of the jacuzzi."

"Let’s go, then."

You climbed the few steps of the staircase that led to the second floor of the penthouse, where Mingyu's huge suite and leisure area were located.

"I'll leave it in the room, can you go ahead open the wine?" Mingyu asks as soon as you reach the last step.

You nod with a smile and head to the bar area. As soon as you turn the wall that limited the room, you realize you’re not alone with Mingyu. Sitting with his back facing you, with a can of beer in his hand, is Jeon Wonwoo.

You freeze in place. What was he doing there? Mingyu and Wonwoo weren't friends. Why was the political journalist sitting on Mingyu’s balcony drinking a cold beer while listening to some hip hop coming from the speakers installed throughout the apartment?

"Do you like your gift?" Mingyu whispers in your ear as he sneaks closer. "I thought you deserved something special, boss."

You shudder at the proximity. Mingyu hugs you from behind, his strong hands flat on your stomach.

"I-I’m not sure if I understand..." you murmur. Your blood’s rushing quickly through your veins, overheating your body. "What kind of joke’s this, Mingyu?"

"There’s no joke, baby." he provokes. His hands played with the hem of the white blouse you wore. "I'm just making a new friend."

You take a deep breath in complete disbelief. Your skin burned with the promise of something you don’t even understand yet. Mingyu was up to something and the target of the trick was you.

"Did you make some kind of stupid bet? Whatever it is, leave me out of it!"

Mingyu lets out a low, amused laugh. He brushes your hair out of the way before placing a quick kiss on the side of your neck, and you instantly relax into his touch.

"Stop being annoying, Y/N. It's not what you're thinking." Mingyu says close to your skin. "And, fyi, I really bet on you. But not in the way you think."

You voice a sound of doubt, not understanding what the hell he was talking about.

He gives you another kiss, this time near your jaw. "Now, how about we drink some wine?"

That’s when you understand the real reason for being there. Mingyu had spoken from the beginning, but you didn’t get it. Using the metaphor you created, he invited you for a threesome with Wonwoo.

"Wine sounds good." you respond softly, feeling your head spin. "Both bottles."

Mingyu pulls you in for a quick kiss, pleased with your response. He caresses your cheek affectionately and you smile before asking "Do you want to start with white or red?"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

Your reflection’s slightly blurred. You tie your hair into a high bun and carefully adjust the straps of your bikini. You’re in the bathroom of Mingyu's suite, preparing to go to tbe jacuzzi with the men waiting on the balcony. When you’re satisfied, you open the sliding door and turn off the light before going out.

You stop at the door and lean against the dark wood while analyzing the two men who were talking near the railing. Wonwoo was already shirtless, wearing only white shorts. Mingyu says something that makes the other laugh. The animosity between them was forgotten many glasses of wine ago.

You analyze them both thoroughly. Jeon Wonwoo was the very definition of hot. The defined chest and marked collarbone makes your head dizzy. His abs were defined, but nothing too exaggerated, his arms are strong too. You want to feel the muscles under your palms. Kim Mingyu wasn't left behind. All the hours invested in the gym were worth it. You were used to seeing him naked, but you never stopped feeling your stomach heat up at the sight of his perfect body.

You’re slowly losing sanity, for sure.

"Ready for the jacuzzi, baby?" Mingyu's voice brings you to reality and you feel your cheeks heat up from being caught staring at them.

"Yes, sir." You turn around slowly, showing off your white bikini. "But you don't seem to be." You add, nodding at the lame excuse of a tshirt that Mingyu is still wearing.

"Why don't you help me, then?" He challenges with one of his eyebrows raised.

You shrug and approach him. Mingyu raises his arms and you remove his shirt while smoothing your hand over his toned torso in the process. As soon as he’s free, Mingyu discards the clothing on the lounger next to him. He holds your face with one hand and presses your lips together in a passionate kiss.

Wonwoo watched everything with interest. The wine served perfectly to calm him down and helped him get used to the idea of what you’re going to do, but it didn't stop his heart from beating faster in his chest.

Mingyu wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer. With a quiet moan, you allow him to wrap his tongue around yours, kissing you slowly.

Wonwoo approaches and starts kissing your neck, taking advantage of the fact that the area was exposed. You break the kiss to look at him, two sets of eyes burning with lust. Without further ado, you kiss. Wonwoo takes on the task of distributing kisses and caresses over your body. When you’re satisfied, you pull Wonwoo's lower lip between your teeth, ending the kiss.

"Shall we go to the jacuzzi?" You invite them before heading towards the raised area of the balcony.

You climb up the five steps carefully, Wonwoo and Mingyu following. They cross the few meters of the deck and stop at the edge of the jacuzzi. The water bubbled and gentle steam rose from the surface. You sit on the edge and put your feet inside, enjoying the warmth.

"I want champagne." You look at Mingyu, who carried a bucket with a bottle and glasses inside.

"You're very bossy." He jokes, but opens the sparkly drink quickly.

"We're having a celebration in my honor, aren't we?" you roll your eyes as he picks up a glass full of the bubbly liquid. "I can be bossy."

The men laugh at your words. Finally, they enter the jacuzzi and are submerged in the hot water. You stand between them, your left hand — which was holding the glass — resting on the edge.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the view. Mingyu's apartment had the perfect location: no buildings around and a clean view of the river.

Mingyu rests the empty glass on the deck and his eyes lock on you. Without breaking eye contact, he approaches you. His left hand squeezes your right thigh. "I think it's time for you to enjoy your gift." he whispers close to your skin, sending shivers through your body.

You try to kiss Mingyu, but he holds your chin and guides your attention to the other end of the jacuzzi. You stare at Wonwoo. He’s biting his plump lower lip at the scene. Unable to resist for another second, you call the man closer with your index finger and he promptly complies. You kiss Wonwoo as he pulls you onto his lap.

The addition of the hot water with Wonwoo's hands squeezing your waist and Mingyu's hands roaming your body made you feel like your blood is boiling in your veins. It’s the true feeling of a fever that gets higher by the second.

You separate from Wonwoo and give Mingyu a teasing look. He knows the game you’re playing, but he wants to see what you’re doing next. You start distributing kisses across Wonwoo’s jaw and neck, occasionally touching your lips in a tempting way. Wonwoo's big hands are now resting on your hips, tightly griping you when he likes the stimulation.

Mingyu calls you, needing some attention. You shake your head and plant a kiss at the base of Wonwoo's neck, without peeling your eyes off of the other.

"Are you really going to use him to make me jealous?" Mingyu grunts, feeling strangely excited about the situation.

"I don't particularly feel used." Wonwoo chuckled. Mingyu frowns. Of course that idiot would side with you.

"I'll only make you jealous if you're jealous of me, my dear."

"I’m not."

"Great. Then I can pay exclusive attention to him."

Mingyu lets out a low growl and grabs you by the wrist. You try to hold back a laugh.

"Okay. I'm jealous and I want some attention too." he reveals reluctantly. "Happy?"

You tilt your head, a mischievous smile painting your lips. You shuffle around to sit on Mingyu's lap, with one leg on either side of his body. He’s already showing signs of excitement and you let out a contented sigh at the feeling.

"Overjoyed." The kiss you exchange is hungry. You kiss passionately, your tongues caressing each other quickly and possessively. Mingyu looks for the clasp on your bikini and unties the white strings from your back and neck with ease. He pulls the fabric off and throws it anywhere, soon filling his hands with your breasts.

Your snake your left hand to the back of Mingyu's head and lightly pull the strands. With your free hand, you reach out to caress Wonwoo's erection through his shorts.

He closes his eyes and lets out a heavy sigh, happy to be getting some attention too. You brush your fingers across his lower abdomen, teasing him, and Wonwoo catches his breath. You play with the hem of his shorts for a few seconds, making him practically squirm in anticipation. Slowly, you enter the shorts, sliding your fingers gently until you reaches Wonwoo's cock. You wrap your hand around his thick girth and start moving back and forth inside the tight space.

Wanting to see the scene, you move away from Mingyu and fix your gaze on Wonwoo's expressions. His head’s hung back, eyes closed tightly and his slightly open mouth emits low, deep moans.

The water from the bathtub reached his chest, the droplets glistening on his golden skin. Meanwhile, Mingyu starts to guide your hips against his, both of you needing the friction. Suddenly, Wonwoo grabs your wrist, stopping the movements.

"Your turn." Once again, you sit on Wonwoo's lap. This time, you lean your back against his chest. He directs both hands to your breasts and squeeze them eagerly. He plays with your hard nipples between his fingers and kisses your neck, eliciting high pitched sounds of pleasure. You move your hips slowly, teasing his erection. After a while, Wonwoo's right hand continues to pay attention to your breasts while his left one slides down your belly and stops at the hem of your bikini. He pulls the fabric down and you help him remove the last item that’s somehow covering you. You open your legs widely, resting your right foot in the small space between both men, to have more stability.

You feel a third hand touching your thigh. Mingyu caresses your skin with one hand while the other slowly stimulates his hard cock through his shorts. You’re pulled back to Wonwoo when slides a thick finger inside you. Without encountering much difficulty, he fingers you slowly, earning a surprised exclamation in return.

"One more." You demand after a few seconds, thinking that the single digit is not enough.

Wonwoo readily complies and adds another finger, receiving a moan of approval in response. Mingyu lets go of your thigh and his fingers find their way to your clit. He draws small circles and see stars. It’s definitely a unique feeling to have two men in charge of your pleasure.

Not long after, Wonwoo feels you squeeze his fingers, an indication that you’re close to cumming, so he fingers you more vigorously. Your hands hold Wonwoo's biceps tightly and hides your face in his neck, preparing yourself for the explosion that’s coming. Mingyu continues his movements on you and moves closer, connecting his lips to your free breast. It’s the feeling you needed to push you off the cliff.

You shudder, feeling your insides melt and your mind fly thousands of meters away. You faintly hear someone talking, but you can’t make out a word. When you come back down, Wonwoo and Mingyu move away, giving you space to recover. You let go of Wonwoo's arm and small crescent moons are marked in the place where you clawed him without noticing.

"How about we get out of here?" Mingyu proposes and everyone agrees.

The wind outside punishes your naked body. You shudder and try to protect yourself with your arms. Mingyu hugs you from behind and guides both of you to the double lounger. While you get comfortable, the men remove their shorts to be completely naked. You get goosebumps, but that had nothing to do with the turbulent air around you. You let the vision of their naked form burn in your brain, wanting to remember this moment forever.

Mingyu climbs onto the lounger, positioning himself above you before kissing you again. You let him slide between your legs, his dick sliding with easy against your wet pussy. Wonwoo sits next to you and jerks his own cock. Mingyu lets go of you, leaving you wanting more. He stretches his body to the side table and returns with condoms and lubricant in hand. You open your mouth in shock when you realize Mingyu had actually planned this whole moment.

"Are you going to join us or just watch like you did in the archives room?" Mingyu teases Wonwoo, who rolls his eyes.

"If you keep teasing me like that, I'm going to start thinking that you're the one who wanted this threesome." the other sasses and grabs one of the condoms.

Mingyu laughs and turns to you, who’s silently watching everything. He gives the you a reassuring smile, his whole sexy persona fading away for a bit.

"How are we doing this?" you ask and lick your lips, looking forward to the main event.

"Mingyu in the back, me in the front." Wonwoo responds as he gets up from the lounger, already properly protected. "Is that okay with you?"

You nod, either way being completely fine. Mingyu sits in the empty space and slaps his hands on his thighs, inviting you to come closer. Anal sex was nothing new for you two, but you’re a little apprehensive every time.

Mingyu hugs you, placing a tender kiss on your shoulder. He stimulates your clit, hoping it’ll relax you. Soon enough, you feel less tense. "Do you remember our safeword?" Mingyu asks close to your ear, causing goosebumps.

"Tamagotchi."

"Good girl." he whispers and kisses your shoulder again.

Mingyu applies a good amount of lubricant to his cock and to your rim. He positions himself and penetrates carefully, pulling your hips down. He feels the familiar tightness and takes a deep breath, trying hard not to lose control and shove everything in at once. Concentrating on continuing to stimulate your clit, he is soon buried in you to the hilt. You move up and down Mingyu's length a few times, trying to get used to him.

"Your turn." You call Wonwoo when you think you can handle both.

Wonwoo licks his lips and positions himself between yours and Mingyu's legs. He adjusts himself as best he can to have support, staying close to you. You stare at his cock, salivating as you remember the feeling of sucking it. He was thicker than Mingyu, so you couldn't wait to feel him inside you after having sex with just the same guy for so long.

Wonwoo aligns himself with your entrance and slides in. You moan softly as you feel him penetrate and fill you. He proceeds slowly, afraid of hurting you. When he's completely inside, the three of you let out a sigh in unison. The men stand still, waiting for you to authorize them to start moving.

You had never felt so full before. Having Wonwoo and Mingyu inside you at the same time filled you in ways you only dreamed of. But that alone wasn't enough to put out the fire that consumed your veins.

Mingyu and Wonwoo also feel something different. It’s more then the tight fit of your inner walls hugging them. They feel each other through the thin wall that separated both your wholes. They won’t say it out loud, but it’s is slowly driving them insane.

"You can move now."

They begin to move their hips, each at their own pace. In a matter of seconds, they synchronize their pace. Two pairs of hands caress your entire body, leaving a warm trail wherever they touch.

Your bite your lower lip to hold back your loud moans, feeling like you’ll collapse at any second. Mingyu bites your shoulder to contain his own grunting and Wonwoo growls softly close to your ear, making you even more excited. You hands grab Wonwoo’s ass eagerly. They maintain the rhythm for several minutes, their bodies reaching a feverish state.

Mingyu feels like he's getting dangerously close to his peak, but he refuses to let it happen without you getting there first. So he kisses every available inch of skin and slides his hand between Wonwoo and you, once again stimulating your clit.

"Baby, I'm dying here. I need you to cum for us." he pants between moans.

"I’m almost there."

Wonwoo feels his muscles burn with effort, but he speeds up his pace. You bury your face in his neck and grab him tightly. You try to focus on everything that’s happening, on the hands that touch you, on the lips that wander over her neck, on the two men who are trying so hard to give you pleasure. Giving in to the sensations, when you least expected it, fireworks explode behind your eyelids.

For the second time, your body shudder as you let out a long, contented moan. Seeing you reach your orgasm, the men let go and followed behind, the two falling over the edge together. They slow their movements little by little, enjoying the ecstasy. Wonwoo pulls out, complaining about the loss of contact, and throws himself into the empty space next to Mingyu. He uses the last bit of energy to take you off his lap and place you between him and Wonwoo.

The three of you remain practically motionless for several minutes, your legs intertwined, each one enjoying the dopamine that circulating in your veins. When the cold of the night begins to become unbearable, Mingyu takes you in his arms and Wonwoo the glasses of champagne, and you the apartment.

"You were very good for us, baby." Mingyu praises you softly as he carefully places you on the bed. He plants an almost innocent kiss on your lips and heads to the closet looking for something to wear.

Now that things are over, Wonwoo doesn’t quite know how to act. He notices that his backpack is on the table next to the window and walks over to it, taking off a pair of boxers and putting them on so he doesn't feel so exposed.

"Hey, can you get my panties from the white bag?" you ask with a smile and he does as asked.

He hands the light blue cotton panties to you, who slide the fabric over your trembling legs. Mingyu returns wearing leopard print shorts and a Sid Vicious tshirt.

"Now, besides your panties, did you also lose your blouse, Y/N?" Mingyu teases, returning to the role he usually played.

"It’s not lost, you're wearing it." you reply and pull the hem of his tshirt up. Mingyu rolls his eyes, removes the garment by the collar and hands it for you to wear, but not before stealing another kiss from you.

Wonwoo feels uncomfortable watching the scene, as if he's watching something he shouldn't. "Well, I think it's time to go."

"No!" you exclaim and Wonwoo turns around, his face contorted in confusion. "We're going to watch a movie, I want you here too."

"We'll probably sleep within the first fifteen minutes..." Mingyu says with a laugh. "But you can stay and watch everything if you want."

Wonwoo seems to analyze the proposition. "You want me to sleep here?" He pats his hand on the bed, perplexed.

"Your dick was buried in me until fifteen minutes ago, so why can't we sleep in the same bed?" you retort with a shrug and Mingyu stifles a laugh at your words.

You settle in the middle of the bed and pat the free space on your left side while Mingyu walks to the right side. Wonwoo hesitates, but accepts the invitation.

As soon as he settles down, you lay your head on his chest and Wonwoo lets out a satisfied sound. His warm skin warms your cold cheek.

"You put on the bedding I brought." you comment, smoothing out the pink sheets you gave Mingyu a few months ago, after the two of you ruined a set of his.

"This ugly thing was the only clean one." he shrugs.

"It's not ugly!" You whimper and slap the man.

"It’s very ugly." He laughs while smoothing the affected area. The smile never leaves his face.

"It's not ugly, right Wonwoo?"

The man jumps slightly when he hears his name, his eyes staring at the sheet. "It’s cute." he agrees with you, making Mingyu roll his eyes and you giggle.

"Whatever, let's just pick a movie and sleep." Mingyu takes the remote from the bedside table and turns off the lights using the switch next to the bed.

The bright light on the TV shines and Mingyu chooses the movie Divergent, after much insistence from you. Wonwoo pays attention to the beginning of the it and relaxes into a comfortable position to fall asleep. Mingyu doesn't even try to watch, he hugs you from behind and hides his face in your hair. A few minutes later, you also fall asleep, still snuggled comfortably against Wonwoo’s chest. Closing his eyes, Wonwoo allows the exhaustion to take him to dreamland.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

m.list ♡

tags ꩜ @asscoups17 @wonvsmile @porridgesblog @gaslysainz @thepoopdokyeomtouched @sunset-sana @coupsgfsstuff @stagefrjghts @wonuwonder @pepmiw @walkxthexmoon @cecefarm @nerdycheol @thedensworld

thank you for reading! it made me really happy to see you wanted to be tagged in part 2, so i hope i made you justice 🫂🤍

#mingyu smut #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen hard hours #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo smut #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x reader #minwon smut #wonwoo hard hours #mingyu hard hours #seventeen x reader #my works

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chokchokk · 1 year

Text

𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 | song mingi x fem!reader

an ao3 requested husband!mingi one-shot

"Are you trying to challenge me?"

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : You come home stressed, feeling like the world wants only the worst from you. Good thing that your husband wants the best, right? Right...

"Baby, I would never do such a thing."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : fluff, smut

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 7.3k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : established relationship, girlboss office worker!reader, stay at home husband!mingi, praise kink, hand kink, size kink, service top!mingi, use of the pet-name “baby”, starts rougher but then gets really soft and gentle, cunnilingus, fingering, over-stimulation, passionate sex; reader and mingi are in their late 20s/early 30s, reader is a bit bratty but mingi is a brat as well, it pains writer mingi is not a sub in this FUCK, he puts reader in place just a tiny bit, but the dynamics are pretty even, reader and mingi love each other deeply

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : i wanted to make mingi wear a tanktop but when i digged for it THERE WAS NOTHING???? we never got tanktop!mingi selcas???? how do yall not die of hunger, no, THIRST?

anyhow. this was an ao3 request!!! i had lots of loving fun with it and i hope you do as well babes and bbies xoxo

masterlist link | join my taglist

Did you know married employees are respected more?

Well, that’s what statistics say, but you certainly have never had this observation be proven true. It’s been almost a year since the first time you’ve worn your ring at your work-place, but you still get weird looks for having settled down “too early in the relationship” at such a “young age”, as if they knew anything about your private life— so no, you don’t. You wouldn’t know anything about being respected more as a married employee, even if you’re a few working hours away from being promoted to General Manager.

You throw your keys into their respective tray and hold your nose-bridge, when you enter your house with the sound of your shoes immediately falling to the floor after you shake them off in frustration. Yes, you may have earned your money, but at what cost? To hear old people pick you out because “such a fragile thing can’t possibly handle life”, despite being their lead director, have their hairy fingers pointed towards you since “someone like Y/N needs extra checking” despite you never having missed a dead-line, and to be eyed by them while you’re just trying to get your papers— oh, fucking hell; that is, by definition, not respect, that is horror, and one more reason to finally just quit your job and—

“Baby, you’re home!”

You take deep breath.

“Here I am.”

“Allow me,” your husband hums, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his torso close to your back; he’s rubbing himself against you with the excuse that he’s helping you get that fucking bag from your hands, and you let out an exhale once the weight is removed from your grip and lands on the floor. He is masterfully not referring to the fact that you came a full hour later than the initial time you have texted him you would arrive, and rather focusing on the how your shoulders feel more tense than usual, massaging his strong thumbs into them.

“Thank you,” you sigh and lean the back of your head against his breast, for he’s towering over you like a guardian pressing gentle kisses onto your hair, making him one comfortable, cushioned wall. You feel a bit guilty for not having asked how his day went, but for all you know, he’s having a blast arranging his new studio that he wants to use in the future to produce with other music artists, but most importantly, help you earn money.

Your stay-at-home husband, Song Mingi. The man who makes it— the time, the work, the stress— all worth it.

“How do you feel, baby?”, he murmurs, kissing your temple while he’s at it. He brushed his teeth not too long ago, you can smell the remains of mint toothpaste at his lip. Is he being obvious? Yes, maybe. You're not complaining though. “Rough day?”

“Yeah,” you exhale and let yourself be touched by your husband, though it doesn’t make you as calm as it should in your heart. You’re not craving for any soft vicinity here, you want to smash something to the ground and stomp on it; you’ve spend the whole day surrounded by the loudest, noisy, dim-witted idiots who are certainly preying on your downfall if they don’t fucking—

“Tell me all about it, baby,” Mingi murmurs, his vocal chords vibrating against the back of your head, as he rests his chin on top of it. “I’m listening.”

Sometimes you ask yourself whether you would still be receiving the same comments, if your co-workers knew who Mingi was. Not because he’s some famous man to be afraid of, but because he is taller than all of them, has got a louder voice and could knock those douchebags out with his muscly arms— okay, maybe they should be afraid. Very afraid.

“No, it’s okay,” you breathe and turn around to get your arms around your husband’s waist and press your face into his collarbones that you didn’t realize were revealed. "Button up,” you murmur, almost annoyed that you can inhale Mingi’s comforting scent through the cleavage as well as you can. You wanted to stay angry for just a little bit longer, but your husband makes it nearly impossible. Not to say it doesn’t make feel you any less hot though.

“What do you mean?", Mingi pouts, "Is it not good? I showered! Just for you, baby.”

You chuckle and your lips graze his freshly-washed, freshly-lotioned baby-smooth skin. “No… It’s too good…”

Mingi gets his hands into your hair and rubs his finger tips across your scalp.

“What were you stressed about, baby?”, Mingi continues to ask you, applying a bit of pressure to his touch, his hand feeling like it’s ripping off the upper layer of your head in the best way possible.

“My co-workers hate me,” you murmur, teeth gritted. Your breast begins to slightly enflame at the thought of your co-workers’ faces, but your husband doesn’t seem to mind your tone as much, allowing your mind to roam freely.

“Hate you?”

“They, like, hate my existence.”

“What would they hate you for, baby?”, he asks, working his long fingers down to the lower side of your head, reaching for your neck to scratch it. His hand is well big enough to do all of it at the same time.

Preparing to answer his question, you inhale and exhale deeply, smelling the clothing and leaving it warm.

“They hate that… I’m already settled down at my age.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that I am as confident about it and— and as hard-working as I am…”

Mingi chuckles and strokes your hair one time to get your hair in its right place after having mushed it. His touch expands warmly on your scalp and it spreads like a soothing wave of comfort.

“They hate that,” you inhale, and then —with revelation— exhale, “I’m such a strong, successful woman.”

“There you go. My strong,” Mingi murmurs, and he’s letting his hands glide down your back, “successful,” further down your ass, “wife.” Squeeze.

“Oh,” you chuckle, fully aware that nothing is on your husband’s mind rather than to persuade you to get into bed with him. Cleaning his teeth, showering, putting on fresh clothes— Did he even shave his beard by himself? Wow.

After almost a year of marriage, some clues become very self-explanatory.

His amazing hands work their amazing ways on your ass, and as it goes for Mingi, he always prides himself that he can make you melt under his touch, especially when you come home from work late on days like these.

“You should just let your anger out on them next time,” Mingi smiles, cupping your ass with the big surface of his hand and you can feel how he’s trying to figure out whether he can raise you up like this— spoiler: he can— and continues to encourage you. “Or on me.”

Were you implying your co-workers should be scared of Mingi? Yes, but also no. For someone your size, despite seemingly being ever-so tiny in your husband’s embrace, to make it so big in such a short time is astounding; ground-breaking, even. You may or may not know, but Mingi finds you are one cold-blooded woman whose blood only boils when she’s being provoked, and if there is one thing your husband wants you to prove to your co-workers, it’s that you won’t think twice once you’ve got the title of being their supervisor.

Too harsh? Maybe. But that’s something you can consider when they’re begging you to accept their apologies, no?

“Don’t edge me on, or I might actually turn into the Hulk or something,” you laugh hoarsely and raise your head up to him. Mingi looks down immediately and grins, continuously groping his hands into your butt.

“You can’t scare me,” he lulls and kisses your forehead, “because you’ll always be my little baby, Y/N.”

“Ohh, shut it,” you sneer and can’t deny that Mingi is the only one who can make you feel this small, “I wouldn’t be too sure I can’t scare you.”

“Do try, please,” Mingi insists with a cheeky smirk and gung-ho, you’re raised from the floor, being carried to the bedroom. Was that a challenge you heard?

“Be rough all you want tonight, alright? I don’t think your stress is gonna get away our traditional way today.”

“Really? ‘Traditional’?”, you huff and raise an eyebrow, Mingi kissing your cheek, as he opens the door to your bedroom.

“It’s almost our anniversary, let’s try something new, baby. I'll do anything you want. Don't care about me. I'll just be... you know. I don't know.”

“What? Is my husband getting bored of being in charge?”, you gasp theatrically, easing your hands into his shoulders, “Does hubby want me to order him around?”

“Let’s get rid of the terminology,” Mingi mutters, a bit sheepish, not wanting to admit that he read the term ‘service top’ somewhere in the deepest corners of the internet earlier this evening and had to ask you when you came home. You coming home an hour later just made him travel further the needy path, imagining how good he could make love to you, when his "own pleasure isn't the focus" (that's a quote from the website.)

“I just want my wonderful wife,” Mingi sighs, as he lets himself fall on the mattress backwards, with you landing on his hard-on, knees propped next to his hips, “And relieve you from all your stress.”

You’re still in your office attire, got your tie on tight around your neck, everything that screams ‘not ready for bed’, but Mingi doesn’t seem to care for your sheets to become dirty. In fact, he apparently wants you to be the dirtiest you’ve ever been, huh?

His long, slender fingers hold you by your jaw, as your husband roughly presses his lips into yours, immediately opening up his mouth to get a second taste with his tongue. While he tastes like mint toothpaste, you taste like bittersweet coffee, diligence and dedication; you are dancing heavenly on Mingi’s tastebuds, and his tongue laps over yours eagerly to not let any drop of your essence go to waste. He’s making you feel wanted, no, he wants you, and as Mingi takes your blazer off, your own desire to have him grows bigger with each passing second.

Your legs feel a bit tight due to the fabrics of your suit, but it doesn’t prevent you from grinding yourself into him, pants interrupting your greedy kiss. “Let’s get this off,” Mingi murmurs into your lips, hooking his finger into your tie, loosening it up, pulling it until he can wriggle your head through.

“Let’s get all of this off,” you reciprocate and his hands are on your waist, as Mingi watches you flawlessly open up the buttons of your blouse, tongue running over his lower lip. “Your co-workers don’t know you,” he chuckles, admiring you sitting on top of him with a look in your eyes that he could feast on for days, “But they should know that you are, fuck, breath-taking.”

You move your hips over his crotch, enjoying hearing your husband gutter out his thoughts.

“You are eye-candy in that, baby,” Mingi heaves, “I’m getting kinda jealous of your co-workers here.”

Cheeky, you let the blouse droop over your shoulders, revealing your lacy bra. Saying that you’re eye-candy doesn’t put it into words, Mingi thinks, and gulps at the sight of you stroking over your own torso and your breast that is just being so perfectly pushed by your lingerie, and— though it barely needs any convincing for him to swathe his tongue around your pretty nipples and get even more prettier sounds out of you— your slight gesture gets your husband’s head fuming with the things he wants to do to you to make you crumble and eat it all up deliciously, not leave anything behind.

“I bet they don’t get to see this though,” he grins and with a quick, studied flick of his fingers, the tightness around your torso is released and your tits are out for Mingi stare into. “Only I get to see this, don’t I?"

You nod and sigh, when he traces the red indents from your underwear with his thumbs and wets his lips; but before you think he's being too gentle, Mingi doesn't let you speak out the words 'yes, only you do' and interrupts you with his mouth, his hands holding you by your waist.

"Mingi," you pant. He has pushed you over on your back to the mattress without warning, caging you in with his frame. "Sorry, baby," he grins, pulls off his tank-top, throws it on the floor, quickly— he's got things to do here!— and then zips open your pants, kissing you from your cheek down to your collarbones, covering your body with his fresh breath. "Works better this way."

Mingi hooks his fingers into your trousers and pulls it off until your panties are revealed to him, but before he's able to wriggle it down to your calves and finally have it off your body, he's having a moment to look at his wife laying in front of him; your glowing eyes are glancing up, waiting, no, teasing, urging him on to do what Mingi has been planning to do since the first time he asked you when you would arrive back home.

"Please don't mention 'work'," you hiss, pushing your tongue against the inner space of your mouth.

He knows. He has never been there at your work-place, and he never asks you more about it than he should, because Mingi does think that his distraction works way better than to rant for hours, and he sees it, feels it— your anger, your frustration, your stress— but does he... well, how should he say this... care for it?

No.

"Why not?", is what Mingi whispers into your skin to make you roll your eyes and border him in with your thighs, the pants that aren't off yet keeping him between your legs. Fuck, you're so hot when you're stressed.

Okay, wait, wait, wait— hear him out.

First, please forgive him. You really have to. Mingi would never say this out loud, not under any circumstance that doesn't include you directly asking for it, but shit, look at yourself right now. Enveloped by your open blouse, your perfect breasts hanging out of it like a window luring him to peek like the shameful man he is, your facial expression judging him for his fawning— you are a goddess in his eyes, Y/N. And gods get angry. And then, when they're angry, they're the most powerful they ever are.

So there you go; Mingi, even though he's a husband that has never, ever throughout your marriage or your relationship, made you angrier for more than 24 hours, kinda enjoys it when you come home stressed, gritting your teeth, panting, groaning— talking to him with umph. The stress makes you riled up, makes you breathe fire, shoot flames out of your eyes that seduce him to be even more ignited, just for you.

"Are you trying to challenge me?", you huff and Mingi makes himself comfortable, placing his elbows around the sides of your body, anchoring himself on your lower abdomen with his forearm.

"Baby," he grins, kissing the inner sides of your thighs, "I would never do such a thing."

Except he is. When you get— and your husband thinks he's a genius to think of this— 'worked up', you become demanding, slightly sassy, playful, and there is nothing Mingi loves more than his wife to tell him exactly what she wants, because he knows he can be a bit dense sometimes. He tries his best, always, to do things according to your liking, but usually, you just let him do his thing since sometimes you need nothing more than his presence.

"I would never tease you like that, my," he pesters, "baby." With his lips stuck at the last inch before he's able to get it near your clothed cunt, you scoff, pressing your thighs together to squeeze his face.

"You better fucking not tease me tonight," you warn him and Mingi bites his lip, feeling his already-very-hard cock twitch inside his joggers at the cause of your tone.

"I love you too much," your husband answers and moves his head around, his pointy nose grazing against your covered clit. Like an automatic reaction, you gulp and throw your face to the side, your hand intertwining with Mingi's long fingers that are resting at the seam of your panties.

"Oh, please," you taunt, “dare to give me your worst performance,” and you think you're safe, since his hands are occupied with yours, but when you are in bed with him, and proceed to tease Mingi like this, then you are never safe with your husband.

(Except the part that you are safe, and safe with the thought Mingi is indeed going to relieve you.) Pressing his tongue against the fabric, Mingi curves it into the band, pushing it with ease, without any type of struggle to— and you should've seen this coming— plunge his tongue into your folds. "Fuck, Mingi," you breathe and he's chuckling against your wet cunt, as he laps his wet muscle over your slickness to gather what has been collecting in your underwear, slow and sensually, though his heavy breathing tells you that he's going to feast on it in no time.

He ‘loves you’, you know that, but ‘too much'? — Can there ever be too much?

"Ohh, fuck, that's good, right fucking there," you groan, gripping into Mingi's hand. With your feedback, Mingi continues to purl over your clit, sucking the fluid so it can spread on his tongue and melt in his mouth.

No. There could never be too much.

You taste so delicious, and it goes without saying that Mingi finds it fascinating that you look even better from this angle; he can see every lash of yours flutter with the slow flicking of his tongue, adding speed as he goes. “Yes,” you whimper, “‘feels so good.”

His heart and mouth are cooperating wonderfully, as his lips are spelling words of awe into your labia; He’s pronouncing how good it feels so good to be your husband, how good it feels to do good— and oh, it is so good to be yours, Y/N. You can’t even believe. The sounds you let out tingle all of his senses and he’s definitely going to have to hurry with his studio, if he wants to eternalise them.

Mingi holds the eye-contact to not miss any of your expressions, laving at your cunt with bizarre flexibility that makes you twist here and there, but his forearm is pressing you down to keep you on your back. "Squirmy," he grins, babying you while you are unable to open move your legs, since your own set of trousers is keeping them closed together, "am I doing you that well?”

Panting because of how constrained you are despite wanting to move around so much, you throw your head down on the soft mattress. "Uh-huh," you exhale, feeling his tongue circle around your clit and tease itself into your entrance, "so well."

Mingi's head is spinning. He wants to make you cum so fast, but he also wants you to beg for your orgasm until your voice is hoarse from the moaning, just so he can see your ribcage move up and down the bed one more time, no, please so many times, and maybe he could get his fingers in so he can— fuck, didn't he plan this out?

He makes it look easy, but in your husband’s mind, he's puzzling and figuring out the ways to pleasure you the best way he can. Mingi heaves and laughs, noticing how he's been cutting himself short of breath, too excited to be pleasuring you. "You’re so beautiful, baby," he says, voice having become raspy and an octave lower than usual; it appears to you that he's drunk on your taste, "you're making me insane with that view."

You inhale through your mouth with your lip-corners pointing upwards, a bit shy with your husband's praise, but you have no other way around than to listen to Mingi's dreamy words. "Unnh-huh," you react, but once your husband is laving at your cunt again, talking amidst of it, you are becoming a mindlessly noisy mess.

"My pretty baby," Mingi murmurs, and as he does so, his mouth is flocking in your slick, tickling your clit repeatedly, "my prettiest, loveliest baby, so whiny for me, fuck."

"More, Mingi," you grunt, feeling like the blouse is keeping you tight, so you push yourself up and get it off your arms— Mingi uses his chance to pull your panties over your knees— and after that, the male digs deeper into your crevice, thighs pressing him in which makes him gasp for dear air, "please."

Your pleads are meaningful to him, make his heart jump, make his head click like he's a dog being asked to obey, and okay, Mingi doesn't think he wants to be a pet, let alone an animal, but— you know what? Your pleads not only show what a considerate wife you are, it also makes Mingi know how much you want him, and that’s the best feeling in the entire world, and he would do everything to chase your pleasure and praise.

“Oh, I got all night, baby,” your husband chuckles, he’s grinding himself against the bed, huffing and panting, tongue delving deep into you on your command.

He drags the intertwined hands of yours down the tiny bit it needs for his thumb to meet your clit, and as Mingi rubs extensively over it, your knuckles go white from how strongly you grip into his fingers.

Oh god, this is exactly what you wanted. His tongue, his lips, his hands, oh, his hands— his fingers; those ridiculously long fingers that cover your whole pelvic bone when extended— slender and rapid, frantically incautious over your cunt, so eager to push you over the edge, pull you back up and throw you over again and again; you love how they look against your body, on your head, on your neck, on your cunt, everywhere they travel during your desirous journeys.

"Aren't I so scarily good?", Mingi huffs, nervy and immodest, talking to get himself to breathe, clearly confident that you are feeling the best you've felt the whole day given the way your muscle was contracting around his tongue, when it was still in you; unfortunately you're unable to answer him with words, just letting out another gutsy "unnnh" as feedback.

"I know, oh, I know," he grins, his thumb rubbing over your clit like he's racing with your stuttered breath, but ultimately, he’s making you feel quite empty with the lack of his mouth at your cunt, and he’s making you feel that way on purpose, "I'm the best, I can do you the best—"

"Mingi! Your Tongue! Please."

After his pant, his mischievous little chuckle, you understand it, understand it all clearly: your naughty Mingi loves to be ordered around by his wife. Loves being ordered around knowing that, once his tongue is inside you, you'll do absolutely nothing to hold him back, and it does make you want to fuck him even more, doesn’t it? You love your husband, you feel so young with him, so undisturbedly yourself— and how loved you feel, too.

Humming a fond "I got you, baby", Mingi shuffles himself together one last time, your thighs sitting perfectly on his shoulders, and there he goes, driving his tongue into you, even more ecstatic than before; now, that you even begged him to, it's like your husband has taken enough of a back to duplicate the amount of vigor, exponentially getting faster and more impassioned. "Oh, fuck," you breathe out and with Mingi's tongue rubbing your inner walls wild and avidly, his thumb sprinting across your sensitive clit, you are heading straight to your first orgasm.

"Just like that," you whine, knowing very well that it gets your husband riled up well across his usual efforts, and you continue with it just to chase your high, "just like that, baby, just like—"

Hey now, did you just call him 'baby'? And how sneakily you did it, too! You know how crazy it gets him, you tease. Your husband’s tongue raves against your sweet spots and your slick gets combined with his saliva, his thumb using the moisture as lube to not miss any of the chances to make you squirm and spasm on his touches, but Mingi’s cock, his poor cock, twitches in the short moment his sweet, desirous pet-name is exhaled out of your pretty mouth he’s definitely going to need to kiss a thousand times until he can only taste the word “baby” on his lips.

His own pelvis is grinded deep into the mattress, and pearls of sweat form on both your foreheads, your eyes rolling to where you can’t see Mingi concentrating on your face, when it cums with a movement of your pelvis bucking up.

“… That!”, you moan, and Mingi pants, shovelling your come into his mouth, slurping it up so long until you physically have to wring with him to get his tongue off your pussy, but the trousers at your calves make it impossible. It’s Mingi’s choice here. And he’s not letting go.

“Ba—,” you squirm, rocking your body from side to side, “—by, please! Fuck!”

“Call me ‘baby’ one more time, just for me,” he lisps, laving his tongue against your throbbing, pulsating clit, all the while you try yank your ass down, overwhelmed by your prolonged pleasure.

“Baby! Baby, baby, baby—“, you whimper, and Mingi kisses your inner thigh, when he finally stops, satisfied by your calling. With one last peck on your clit, he lets go off your hands and slips out your chokehold, pulling off your pants by hooking his fingers in and sliding them off your feet. “Aww, look at you,” he beams, grinning, going through his hair and stroking his swollen lip, “all blushed away, reminds me of the older days, baby.”

“You are the worst,” you sob, and lay lax on the bed, legs once in for all extending and relaxing. Strangely enough, your head feels light, and your body that was straining and trying to get Mingi off of it, is now feeling warm and calming down from the high.

“Aw, you think so?” Mingi smiles, kissing up your leg, your hip-bone, pressing his lips on your abdomen, your tummy, your ribs, marking all of your body with his love-soaked mouth. "I adore you so much."

Having wrung with your husband, you got rid of some of the fighting needs, but— as you’re being smothered by him and his sweet antics— you sigh into the gentle, feathery contact with your skin, and play molten with his soft hair.

You remind yourself of his words, ‘don’t care about me’, but your husband would be a fool to assume that his wife doesn’t want to give him anything back. “Mingi,” you murmur— noticing that you’ve been closing your eyes due to the relaxation you are experiencing, and he immediately answers an attentive “yes, baby?” back, as he repeatedly kisses your jaw.

“Do you really want me to order you around?”, you hum.

“Haha, no, baby,” he chuckles, “it's just…”

Mingi harrumphes in his thoughts, wrapping his arms around your waist, laying his head on top of your tummy and looking up to you— whispering, "I want to do what's best for you. Especially on days like these."

Your heart throbs at the sight of your husband's hair being dishevelled, his already plump lips seemingly looking more peachy, rosy, kissable after he's eaten you out with more than greed and thirst; something that’s more valuable to a healthy marriage than the phrase ‘good sex, no ex’— Love. And the sweetest love there could ever be.

"You would do that for me, baby?", you ask him, your voice coming out sighed.

"Yes, of course," he insists, kissing you down your sternum, your ribcage moving up and down in a slow rhythm. “Baby, you work so much for us… I feel like this is something I can do for you in return, you know?”

“But what if I don’t make you cum?”

"Huh?"

Mingi stops kissing you and glances upwards. You grin. You wanted to catch him off-guard a little bit. (Though you don't know whether that's surprise in the white of his eyes or something like... intrigue.)

“… Uh,” he gutters, thinking about his words very carefully, but ultimately failing to find something good to say.

You smirk and go through his hair, gently grabbing a handful of it. “I think you’d find it hot."

"Really?", he asks, nervously huffing.

"Mingi, didn’t I edge you all during our early twenties?”

“Baby, don’t—“

“What? Well, I thought it was hot. I remember it being really hot.”

“Those were trying times.”

“We did try a lot of things during college.”

Reminiscing and visiting your rather youthful, spry days, Mingi pushes his head deeper into your hand and smiles, having calmed down from the rather exciting idea that you would suggest something so risqué to him. How long has it been? More than ten years, wow.

"Look at us now, baby," Mingi murmurs, sub-consciously wandering up the silhouette of your body with the backside of his hands, making you rather ticklish, but in a way that goosebumps find themselves on your skin, your breath feeling lighter with each stroke of his finger-tips, "Look at you." He inhales, and then exhales, your thumb resting at his ear, "You are trying to kill me, baby..."

"Ohh, Mingi, I'm not!", you giggle, and you may not know what your husband is talking about, but through his lenses— though you would be right to assume that these lenses are painted a deep, deep red— he's seeing his wife be tempered, moderate, relaxed. If he finds you so hot when you're fuming, Mingi finds you enthralling, when your eyes are barely open, the slightest of smile decorating your lips, and an even more hidden pink daubed on your cheeks... You're his wife, Mingi repeats to himself, and his heart grows double its size because of it.

"I love you," he murmurs, and for the moment, he doesn't even know he said that out loud, “I love you so much”, and means it more the second time.

And there you lay, on the mattress, your husband beginning to kiss you again, his hands cupping your head, your fingers interlaced in his hair. "I love you too," you whisper, and as Mingi grabs you by your back, inviting you to get your body up, you're right in the zone again.

Soft, smitten contact— it’s your lips this time to cover Mingi’s neck with kisses, down to his shoulders, his collarbones, your knee working against his crotch, arms swung behind his head.

“I want to take care of you, baby,” Mingi whispers, his thumb caressing your jawbone, as you peck away the sweat on his skin, he will need another shower. “I want to make love to you.”

You smile in awe of your husband lulling the loveliest of words into your ear, soft rustling from your sheets accompanying his voice. The room you decorated together, the home you fill, and even sooner, you'll start a family— with Mingi as a father to be proud of. Who has done so much to keep you happy.

"But sometimes I think—”

“No, baby,” you interrupt him, his voice was dropping and you know you are preventing Mingi from talking bad about himself. He feels guilty, though you've told him uncountable times that you don't feel like you're the only one under this roof.

"But—"

“Baby, no.”

"Okay... I guess I just love you, then." Mingi chuckles, when your fingernails trail down his breast, drawing a line along his muscle definition, “what did you think I was gonna say?”

“Something that’s gonna take me off my mood,” you hum, hooking yourself at his joggers. Mingi sighs, loudly, not yet relieved, but still at peace somehow.

“Make love to me, Mingi.”

A slight gasp leaves his mouth. Oh…

“Y/N… You can’t say things like that.”

With a smirk, your hand disappears in his joggers, and then in his boxers; his thick, throbbing, struggling cock slicking in your grip, as you wrap your fingers around it.

“I can, baby, and I will,” you sneer, “I thought you wanted the best for me?”

He grits his teeth, but Mingi smiles, finding himself at your service. “Am I the best?”, he asks you, leaning forwards to rest his head against your shoulder, pushing you down again.

“You’re the absolute best, Mingi.”

You slowly glide your hand up and down his length nibbling at his ear, exhaling, seducing him. “You’re the best husband,” you purr, “with the most handsome face,” kissing his temple, “and”, with your other finger hooked at the waist band of his joggers, you reveal “the best cock.”

Mingi is touched. A bit embarrassed, yes, it’s been a while since he’s heard you talk like this, but to hear from the best wife that he is deemed the best husband is the highest compliment he could have gotten. What, his face still charms you? His cock is still alluring to you? Don’t judge him, but even after ten years he will be moved by your words.

Moved.

“Come on, Mingi,” you coo, feeling your cunt pulsate between your legs, his cock twitch between your fingers; your husband gulps and, with your command, roams against your body, "let's get you to work."

Maybe he's really revisiting things from the past, after all the talk about your college endeavours, because you definitely recognise his canine teeth ever-so slightly sunken into your shoulder, as Mingi grabs you by your thighs and spreads your legs gently. Your body remembers, and his cock surely does as well, glistening in pre-cum as it is positioned at your cunt. "God, baby," Mingi grunts, and you lick over your lips in anticipation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he pouts, and in an almost reverent tone, Mingi brushes away a sweaty strand of hair from your face, “you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“Not even your mom?”, you giggle, and while you think of your mother in law with utmost respect, your husband smiles, unfazed; “She’ll agree.”

And with that, Mingi is inside you, all of his length gliding into you with utmost caution; he’s driving in his pelvis unhurriedly, slow and deliberate, just so you can feel every inch of you inside expand for his girth, stretch for his entrance. "Fuck," you gutter and grab Mingi by his hair, pulling him close to you just as he begins to move, your moan coming out muffled against his lip.

"Never growing tired of it, are you?", Mingi grins into the kiss, and he's right, he's so, totally right, but your face is strained together in ecstasy, lascivious— aphrodisical to your husband. He's throbbing and he can feel how warm his own cock is, as Mingi pulls himself out of your tightness in his entirety and then, "fuck," pushes himself right back in inside you to experience it all again.

"I could never grow tired of my hubby," you chuckle and fuck, feel him, physically feel how he's getting excited about your words, something so enrapturingly hot boiling inside him; but while your personal heat ends up being your devilish little voice encouraging you to tease him, Mingi's does nothing more than to whisper him the most delicate ways of loving.

If he sucks on the spot right here at your pretty, graceful collarbone, will you sigh out an even more graceful breath? (Yes!) If he slides his tongue across your neck, just until your sensitive jaw, will you pull his hair with some type of feistiness? (Oh, god yes!) If Mingi, looking at you with sunken eyes, catches you off-guard and pistons his pelvis in at this exact moment, will you— "Fuck, baby!"

Oh, he didn't even need a voice for that one. Your husband slithers his arms under your armpits, one hand holding you by your back, the other resting on top of your head, so you don't hit the bedframe and hurt yourself, as it falls to the back with his thrust.

"Want me to say sorry?", he hums, again slowly driving himself out, knowing very well that once Mingi changes the direction, he will hit your sweet-spot again, and you shake your head rather weakly, drunken on the feeling of him filling you out.

"Good," Mingi confirms your answer, peppering kisses all around your forehead, as he quickens up his pace, breathing throughout it all. "Y/N," he sighs, you sighing with him for all the same reasons, "you feel so good."

You get used to the rhythm and let loose of the sheets, lightly scratching his skin at his waist. "You feel so good, baby," Mingi repeats himself and his eyebrows are pushed together, his grunts vibrating down your cunt. "Do you feel good, baby?"

Nodding, whispering a wispy string of a lot of 'yes'es, Mingi flashes his eye-smile and digs his face deep into the nook of your neck. He doesn't say it, because he's too busy panting, moaning, breathing out to his own thrusts, but your husband is overjoyed. You feel so tiny under his body— and maybe it's because you are, and yet the place you have reserved in his even bigger heart— which even in this moment, is beating for you and nobody else— is inexplainably huge. He wants to be yours as much as he wants you to be him, be with him, have all his life painted in your pretty colours until his canvas drivels over.

His cock is slipping in and out of you at fast speed now, your whiny moans encouraging Mingi to hold this angle since you're not stopping with it; "Are you close?", he asks and gets one arm of his out to rest his hand on the bedframe, towering over you, hair falling in front of his eyes.

"Yes, I'm close," you answer and search for another kiss, raising your hand to his cheek, Mingi immediately plunging his face into yours. He's close too, has been for a while now, but he had to get your confirmation that he was finally able to release himself into you— and then, when you nibble at his lip while a heavenly note of a moan leaves your opened mouth, Mingi's pelvis moves by itself.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," he cusses, having to install one hand at your hips so he doesn't rock you around too much, voice becoming high and needy, greed messing with the practiced way he thrusts into you, becoming sloppy and all the while passionate, chasing the speed it takes to make you feel the best and even better. His other hand slides onto your clit, and it does so by muscle memory, knowing exactly where to rub so you clench around him, scream out his name.

"I love you so much, baby, I want you so bad, and I'm— fuck," he heaves, his voice catching up with his movement, "I'm going to love you until we grow old, baby, I want to be with you until the end of our days— I," and Mingi is rambling his free mind here, his whole body, mind and soul at your service, "I want you to have me forever, Y/N."

"Mingi," you whine, and his cock doesn't stop hitting your soft-spot, your clit tingling from his thumb, making you dopey, skipping you through time, to a future where you lay with Mingi in bed at the same late hour, both heads fuming from work, trying to your steam off together now, worried that your kids will hear your words, grunting silently into each other's ears, the words being, "I'm gonna cum!"

Oh, what good days await you two, and how straight you're heading for it, too— with Mingi's breathing being cut short, coming out stuttered from how fast he's ramming himself into you, not too rough, but fluidly and ceaselessly until you are gasping for air, feeling the string be stretched further and further, pulled for release, spiralled by your husband's vigor and his panting; "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum so fucking bad, fuck!"

Mingi soaks sweatily in your words, his hair chaotic, his abs glistening from the heat of it all— you yank your hand out his mouth, your lower body curling up— "Fuck, baby!"

And with your tightened cunt Mingi lets out a deep, whole-hearted grumble, falling flat on your body, as he spasms; his hot, thick semen shot seeps through along the tip of his cock out your cunt, needing to be fucked right back into you so it doesn’t get lost on your sheets— you seeing absolute bliss, as he pistons into you one last time, eyes focused on your husband.

“Baby,” Mingi pants, and with your gazes meeting, his lips rush over to your cheek, pecking you one, two, three times— and then, on your lips one, two— no, holding one long kiss with you, his plump, rosy softness making your body melt into the mattress, as it falls deeper in slumber. “I love you,” he whispers into your kiss, tucking some of your hair behind your ear, “my baby.”

He pulls out, infamously slow, making you heave on his length even after you both finished. “Mingi,” you exhale, feeling your eyelids close by themselves, your husband slightly chuckling.

“Sorry, baby,” he says, caressing your waist and cheek, “you need anything?”

“Oh, Mingi,” you laugh; Mingi can't help himself, can he? Will always ask for your wishes, wishing to grant them, like he's some wizard, a magician, a devoted believer of your enjoyment and happiness— "You did all you could have done, baby."

"Really?"

"Come on, Mingi, you big baby, c'mere."

He huffs, a bit sulky maybe, your silly husband, getting the blanket from the bed to throw it over his shoulder and wham, over you— cuddling you in, for now ignoring that the both of you need a hot, steamy shower, just breathing in and out your presence, your sweet, dulcet presence, which caramelizes in his warmth, against his body, melting.

"Thank you for being there for me, baby," you smile, voice dampened by the blanket, but Mingi understands you just well enough.

You don't need to thank him. Mingi knows you know that. He's obsessed with you, and though you could try and say you're just as obsessed, your husband will try everything to your favour to prove otherwise.

As Mingi throws his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to his breast, making you listen to his heartbeat, beating just for you, you hear him whisper all kinds of affirmations. 'I'll never leave your side, I'll never make you feel lonely, I'll be yours forever.”

A career? A family? A happy life?

It's all waiting for you, patiently, each day and night you leave and come back home— in office clothes and a chaotic mind— watching, admiring, hoping to get the weight of responsibility off your shoulders, get you a taste of freedom, a taste of the fruits of your labour.

"Are you asleep?", he asks and you groan silently, pressing your face deeper down his armpit. "Baby..."

Mingi chuckles. You need this sleep, totally, but you also need to be cleaned up, which gives him the challenge to grab you by your leg the most gentle way he can, lift you up— and, when you lie in his embrace, head snuggled into his breast— he’s careful to not wake you up with the sounds of water splashing down his hand, as he soaps you in.

It’s difficult, this is difficult, it will all be so difficult— but Mingi, being your husband, your soul-mate, your everything, he’s putting his all on it to make it work.

(Work you up, make you work for it; until your voice is hoarse, until your body shakes, until your head is light and you can do it, all over again, the next day, evening and night.

“Happy wife, happy life!”

(Maybe Mingi embraces his new role as the father of your children too much.))

#song mingi smut #song mingi fluff #song mingi x reader #song mingi x y/n #song mingi scenarios #song mingi imagine #ateez x reader #ateez smut #chokkiwa #chokko

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116t98 · 10 months

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My Heartsteel Headcanons

(Except they’re real things real kpop idols really did)

The guys solve all their problems/make all their decisions by playing rock, paper, scissors. Ezreal always loses

Except for that one time when he didn’t, and he literally got down on his knees and thanked God for him finally not losing

(Yone was the one who lost that time, btw)

Kayn ripped his pants in the middle of a televised performance

While playing charades, the others try (and fail) to make Yone guess “luggage”. A few minutes later, he’s only able to guess the word after Sett (with Aphelios’s help) pretends to be a luggage bag

Kayn can play “Mary Had a little Lamb” on the recorder with his nose. Yone asked if he could play something else, which promoted him to immediately play “My Heart Will Go On”

Ezreal told their fans during a live concert performance that he used to have a really nice jacket that he wore for some performances… until one of his stylists accidentally left it on a lighting device

Long story short, his Gucci burned

Sett cries at the end of every concert

A fan once left a comment during an Instagram live that read “I’m crying in the club”, and Yone immediately responded with “you’re in the club?”

Aphelios can perfectly forge all of his bandmates’s signatures; he’s signed Heartsteel memorabilia with everyone’s signatures before, without anyone else knowing

Ezreal yelled at Sett on TV for wearing insoles in his shoes even though he’s already tall

They like to play games during their concerts, like limbo and “who can unravel a roll of toilet paper the fastest?” (it’s K’sante, but Sett’s a close second)

When he first debuted, Ezreal promoted himself by passing out mints to strangers and asking them to listen to his song

Yone wasn’t able to join the others for a live stream once, so they called him to chat for a bit. Aphelios thought it be funny to hang up on Yone as soon as he answered the phone

He was right

Kayn once showed up to the airport wearing a dog head mask

During an encore performance, the guys decided to have a push up contest while they sang

(Sett swears he won, but everyone else begs to differ)

K’sante once mentioned during a TV interview that Kayn didn’t want to watch a movie with him bc he “doesn’t like watching movies”, which got Kayn (who didn’t want to look bad in front of any movie producers who were potentially watching) so worked up, he threw a pen at the table they were seated at… which bounced right into Yone’s eye

While he was promoting his debut song, Ezreal’s brightly colored stage outfits became a meme after he compared them to different kinds of Listerine online. The meme gained so much traction, Listerine actually sent him boxfuls of mouthwash and a customized cake decorated with some fondant Listerine bottles and a sugar doll version of himself on top

The guys tease Alune a lot. Like, a lot. Sett even once jokingly asked their fans to help them set Alune up on a date bc “she’s always solo” and “it’s so sad 🥺” (pray for her u guys)

K’sante accidentally knocked the head off of a department store mannequin

After watching one of their performances, the CEO of their record label complimented the group members individually, telling them things like “your voice is good”, “you look great”, “keep it up”, etc. But, according to Kayn, the CEO only told him: “your forehead’s wide, so you’ll succeed” (wtf does that even mean??)

Kayn and Ezreal had a Twitter war where they enlisted the help of their fans to Photoshop dumb memes of the other using whatever unflattering images of themselves could be found online

Sett has a habit of napping wherever he can. The guys take advantage of the opportunity by taking pictures of themselves posing around him while he’s asleep; some favorites include K’sante standing above him to recreate “The Creation of Adam”, Aphelios putting q-tips on his mouth, and Ezreal stacking random things on his chest

For his birthday, K’sante was surprised with a birthday cake at the end of their concert. As soon as he blew out the candles, the guys shoved him face-first into the cake. He then proceeded to chase them all down, lobbing chunks of the remaining cake at them

An interviewer once said “Ezreal’s not big” (referring to his height). Ezreal responded by saying, “how do you know I’m not big? 😏” (not referring to his height)

Aphelios choked on his water when he heard Ezreal tell a different interviewer “I’m an innocent boy” (he absolutely isn’t). As he choked, Sett told him to “watch out, babe”

Ezreal told Ernest to leave the frame of a video they were filming, but he spoke the command in Korean (I hc that he’s trilingual). When Ernest actually obeys the command, Kayn asks, in the most incredulous way ever, “your dog speaks Korean??”

*Sett promoting their music to random strangers*: “You want to be happy? Buy the CD! From Riot, listen in your MP3! You are not you and I am not me, bc we are one big family! 😁”

The guys once left Sett and K’sante behind at a gas station at night

Aphelios wrote Ezreal a heartfelt letter, written in Hangul, that he requested to be read during a live performance. Ezreal read the letter out loud; it started out well, until he realized that he recognized the words

He’d know the lyrics to the Sailor Moon theme song anywhere

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heckinconfusedparade · 7 months

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Woe! Sonic character headcanons be upon Ye!

Sonic:

- Learned how to cook while raising Tails and got really good at it

- Hedgehog Gordon Ramsay

- Can’t bake for shit tho

- Made up a lullaby that he sings to Tails to help him sleep. It’s been effective since the kit was 4

- In the warmer months, Sonic scouts out nice places for his annual picnic with Amy. He loves hanging out with her and enjoying sweets!

- Has a memorial for Chip with his necklace somewhere hidden

- Ran before he could walk

- Bothers Knuckles on Angel Island at least twice a week

- He and Shadow spar every week

- Bro has a bunch of Knick knacks and trinkets from his adventures

- Has a lazy day every once in a whilel

- He does vocal warm ups every morning as part of his little routine, even if he doesn’t plan on singing that day. It’s good to warm up before doing a lot of speaking!

Tails:

- He’s so sweet but so sassy

- Will sass a grown man to death

- Hugs people he really loves with his tails included

- He has a blacksmith place somewhere

- Had to have an intervention for his mint addiction (unsuccessful)

- His love language is gift giving! His gifts are one of a kind

- He made Shadow a gun for Christmas. It has bullets that explode on impact. It’s a tiny rocket launcher

- Used a chaos emerald to give a box Chaos Control so he can warp stuff back to his workshop

- the box defies logic, and he can fit literally anything in it

Amy

- If anyone insults or puts down her besties it’s ON SIGHT! EVEN IF ITS THE BESTIE SAYIN IT ABOUT THEMSELF (looking at you, TAILS)

- Refuses to let anyone go hungry. Angel to anemic and diabetic community!

- Spars with Knuckles to practice her hand to hand combat

- Meets up with Sonic in the coldest part of winter so they can hibernate together

- Loves her picnic dates with Sonic!

- Got Vanilla to homeschool Tails so at least the kid can have credentials to go into higher education in the future if he wants

- Loves thrift shopping! One man’s trash is this gals treasure!

- Crystal girl

- Shares Taylor Swift album theories with Shadow. They both go crazy for it

- She took Cream, Rouge, Blaze, and Sticks on a road trip. It was the most chaotic thing to hit the roads that summer.

Knuckles:

- is the reason a mountain has a giant crack in it

- vibe checks buildings for faulty wiring with his electro signal echidna stuff

- Bro moves the soil around his island to promote healthier plant life

- Bro is the single teen dad of many many many Chao

- Tries to leave the island whenever he can. He has a map of places that Sonic marked because they made him think of him!

- Taught Tails how to throw one hell of a punch and how to use his namesakes in combat

- Secretly looks forward to Rouge’s visits because he finds the sparring fun

Shadow:

- His room is usually only illuminated by a lamp because the sun shines directly in his window, and the ceiling light is too bright

- the lightbulb in the lamp changes colours. Rouge calls it his Mood Lamp

- If Sonic doesn’t show up to their weekly sparring, he gets concerned and indirectly searches for the dude. He’d rather die than admit he’s concerned tho

- Taylor Swift karaoke night with Amy

- Plays Project SEKAI

- Has a garden full of beautiful flowers dedicated to Maria. Amy and Sonic helped find flowers and seeds, and Knux provided the soil. They didn’t ask to get involved, nor were they asked, they just found out from Rouge and decided to help Shadow out

- He cannot fucking cook

- He cannot fucking bake

- There’s very few things he can actually make BUT HES LEARNING

- Learning to enjoy life as it happens. He’s stopping to smell the roses and appreciate what he has right now, and tries not to lament about the past or future

Rouge:

- Sometimes visits Angel Island just to bother Knuckles

- She has a pair of boots that has spikes on the toes

- Taught Tails how to steal

- She’s Cream’s favourite guest to bring to a tea party because of all the drama she brings with her.

- Is the reason Tails is a gossip

- She played Thief Simulator and had the greatest time ever

- Watched analysis videos of people trying to solve heists she committed

- Pretended not to listen when Amy infodumped to her about crystal energy, but she actually finds it very interesting

Omega:

- Trusts Tails with his life

- Because he can’t fit through doors or knock without breaking them, he stands outside the window waiting for someone to notice him outside

-or he just breaks the door anyway because why not

- Loves fireworks, wants to fire them on his own

- Absorbs every insult he hears Sonic make, as well as searches up on the internet to add to his database just so he can insult Eggman in a way that matters.

#I’ll make more another time idk #could be an empty promise #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #tails the fox #knuckles the echidna #amy rose #shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e 123 omega #sonic headcanons

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hellfirecvnt · 3 months

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Hard to Get

Prewar!Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader

Warnings: ****This is a COMPLETE fic. This post is LONG!! Unprotected sex, oral, lying, slight fluff ending, Idk what else.

Summary: It's been a new experience being cast in the lead of the latest Hollywood movie. What's even more nerve-wracking is your far-more-famous-than-you co-star. After you can't seem to sell the chemistry between you to the director, you're pushed to spend more quality time with your cohort.

Notes: Barb doesn't exist. Cooper has never been married. I know she's the "bad guy" but I love and support Barb just bc she's a beautiful woman. Thank you.

"Quiet on the set!" A stout, demanding man's voice cuts through the dull rumble of idle conversation across the set of the movie you're starring in. It's your first lead role in a Hollywood blockbuster. You're nearly a month into filming, much more comfortable than you were in those early days. The veteran actors used to give you the hardest time. Some in jest, others in spite or envy. That's just showbiz.

Not a day goes by that nearly every man on the set makes at least two inappropriate remarks to a woman co-star or doe-eyed extra. Nearly, because one man, the other lead, has yet to make your stomach churn with unsafe discomfort. Cooper Howard. He's a world-renowned actor, known best for his westerns, but just as popular in other genres. Of course, he did ask you out for drinks in your first two weeks on set. He said it was to get to know each other, seeing as the two of you will be spending so much time together while filming, but your 10-foot-high walls wouldn't waver. You turned him down. Since then, he's been nothing but a gentleman.

The movie you're making is about a burnt-out detective on his last case. Cooper plays Detective John Silvers and you play the villainous minx, Monae Lark. The plot is that Monae will give John the run around of his life, accumulating mutual respect for each other's skills and eventually, accumulating romantic tension. The only issue with that storyline is... You are seemingly terrible at faking chemistry. SO much so, in fact, that they canceled all your scenes for the day and sent you back to your trailer. You are horrified as you step through the door, having held a perfectly calm face until then.

"Whoa, what's wrong with you?" Your agent, a short, frail, older woman with silver hair and a smoker's voice perks up on your couch when she sees your distressed face. Her name is Verna, and she's represented you throughout your entire career.

"They've canceled my scenes for today..." You slump in the seat nearest to you.

"What? Why?"

"Apparently, Cooper Howard and I don't have any chemistry." You make a mocking gesture with your hands. "The director is pissed."

"Well, duh. That's people's livelihoods we're wasting with every reshoot." Her bluntness hits you like a kick in the gut. "How do you two not have chemistry? You've been spending time together, right?"

"Of course! We read lines for almost two hours every day!"

"No, honey. That's working. Do you two spend time together? Like, get dinner and get to know each other?" The nonchalant nature of your agent's question perplexes you.

"Well, no," you admit.

"So you've just been coming in here and greeting him like a fuckin' grocery clerk before barking prewritten lines at him for a few hours?"

"I- Well... Yeah. He asked to get drinks back when filming first started, but I didn't want to look like the woman who got one big break and started fucking any man in Hollywood I could get my hands on!" The desperation in your voice is becoming more and more apparent.

"Relax, babe. The PR training we're gonna put you through to promote this film is gonna kill you if you can't have a little dinner and survive a few baseless rumors. I'm about to call his agent right now." The silver-haired woman reaches for the mint telephone and dials a number into the rotary.

"He still has scenes to shoot today, he's gonna be busy-" Your sentence is cut off when Verna holds a finger up, signaling you to give her a moment of silence. As she chats away on the phone, talking as if she's known the guy for years, you step over to the window of your trailer. Hesitantly, you peek outside, and there he is. Your intimidatingly famous and peculiarly handsome co-star.

"Fabulous! Talk soon, darling," your agent chimes from across the trailer. Just then, you see a man in a suit approach Cooper and tell him something. Context clues tell you all you need to know about their conversation. He's merely alerting his client of a scheduled meeting with his horrifically embarrassed cohort. You nearly squeeze your eyes shut to avoid the humiliation of any sigh or eye-roll he expresses in response, but that's not the case. You can hear him through the thin walls of your tin sanctuary.

"Tonight? Perfect. Send her something nice from me." He gives his agent a friendly pat on the back, sending him off. You can't help but notice Cooper's lingering smile, a new pep in his step. You can't help but chuckle at the display, it's monumentally relieving.

Filming wraps up for the day and even though your workday was cut short, you remained on set for various screen tests and voice-over work. A sudden knock on your trailer door causes you to jump. You pull your robe over your silk slip dress and open the door to an intern holding a luxurious flower arrangement in a crystal vase. Coincidentally, your favorite flowers.

"Oh! Thank you." You take the gift with a smile and the young man announces that it's from Cooper Howard, though you'd already gathered that much. "I'll be sure to thank him properly, then." You smile as the intern nods and takes off to his next task. You can't help but grin as you proudly place your new bouquet front and center on the counter. The large studio lights finally cut on and you step onto the large, open floor. It's much busier and louder now that the director has left.

"Glad to hear you changed your mind," a smooth, deep voice captures your attention. You turn to see Cooper approaching you, adjusting the buttons of his sleeves.

"You must forgive my ignorance, Mr. Howard. I'm a Broadway girl. I didn't realize how different our worlds are until I got here," you laugh. "Being seen out with a costar on that side of the circuit will get you dubbed something tasteless if you're not careful."

"Ah, well. Seems like the tabloids should spend less time worrying about what women do with their free time. I promise not to give them anything to talk about." He smiles a bright, friendly smile, winking.

"I appreciate that," you say, walking beside him as you head toward the exit. If you were leaving the theatre with your co-star in this way, all eyes would be prying into you with jealousy and hoping for the opportunity to knock you off your pedestal once and for all.

"You do have to do me one little favor though." He stops walking as if his request will be heavy. A lump grows in your chest as you assume this is it, this is where he proves he's just like the others.

"You've gotta knock that 'Mr. Howard' shit out," he chuckles. "Cooper." He extends a hand as if to redo your meeting all those weeks ago.

"Y/N," you grin, shaking his hand firmly. He repeats you as if your name tastes sweet on his tongue. With that, the two of you make your way to his car. He opens the door for you and you can't help but chuckle at his chivalrous actions. Cooper takes you to the nicest restaurant in town. Pricey, even for your recently fattened wallet.

"So, what should I know about classy, mysterious Y/N?" The refined, older man grins at you from across the fine wood table.

"Classy and mysterious? You give me far too much credit." You make a dismissive motion with your hand. "I'm an open book once you get to know me."

"And how easy of a feat is that, exactly?" He intentionally tilts his chin up, looking down at you through his eyelashes. You're taken aback by the effect it has on you. Unwilling to be an easily swooned newbie on the scene, you regain control of your train of thought.

"Not at all." You smile wickedly. "I hope you're patient."

"Of course I am, I've hardly noticed it's taken 20 minutes for our wine to get here." The two of you share a quiet laugh in the dimly lit restaurant.

"What about you, Cooper Howard? What should I know about you that the tabloids haven't already covered?"

"I'm an open book, no effort necessary." He shrugs. You burst into a hard-to-stifle laugh.

"I hardly believe that. What do you do in your free time?" You ask, staring off small.

"I drink inside a big, empty home and I reminisce." He sighs.

"What on Earth are you on about?"

"Before I was The Cooper Howard, I was just a man with a farm in the middle of sunshine and fresh air: nowhere."

"I never would've guessed," you shrug, taking in the new information. The waiter continuously fills your glasses and you take small sips as you listen.

"What about you, Broadway? What were your early days like?"

"I've been training and performing since I can remember. But I know I used to love drawing when I was a kid. I still do it sometimes, when I have time."

"Are you any good?" He asks bluntly.

"I'll have you know I was better than kids three and four grades above me in the arts program," you brag unseriously.

"You'll have to draw me something someday."

"I'd love to," you grin. The two of you continue talking, sharing funny stories from your childhoods and early days in your careers. After a while, this man whose status and essence alone used to intimidate you somehow feels like a peer.

"What brings a star of the stage over here to the film industry?" Cooper asks smoothly.

"They sought me out, actually. Must've been my look or the way I sound like honey with a transatlantic accent," you wink. Cooper chuckles, enchanted by you. He reaches a sly hand across the table and watches you notice it. You glance at his awaiting palm, but you don't meet his touch. He raises an eyebrow as he slowly closes his hand, drawing his arm back in.

"This place is nice, but-"

"I'm not going to your place, Mr. Howard."

"I was going to say we should order another bottle of this wine." He laughs, drawing you in with his brilliant smile.

"Forgive me, Cooper. One of these days I'll let my guard down," you jest. The evening rolls on smoothly. Your table is a quiet haven of laughter and camaraderie. For the first time in your career, onstage or in front of the camera, you feel a genuine sense of friendship with your co-star. When you performed Chicago as Roxy Hart, your male cohorts made the air thick with discomfort, while the women did everything in their power to drag you down. It's not their fault, of course. The industry forced them to be that way.

As the hours pass like minutes, the night comes to an end. Cooper pays the bill and tips the waiter a generous amount, not unnoticed by you. He walks you to the car, opening the door for you to slip inside.

"And they say 'Chivalry is dead,'" you wink as Cooper closes the door. In the few seconds it takes for him to round the vehicle and open the driver's door, he lowers his guard. Truly taken aback by your suave nature compared to the nervous mess he's known you as. It must be the wine, though neither of you is drunk.

Undecided whether or not he's met his match, Cooper finally opens his door and takes his position in the driver's seat. He seems almost nervous, not moving as gracefully or speaking as cool as he's known for.

"Just right around this corner, here," you say, pointing to the turn that leads to the road you live on. Cooper can't help but steal curious glances at the enigma next to him. What was meant to be a business dinner/ PR move has turned into a challenge to him, and doesn't every cowboy love a challenge? Of course, he had no plans of overstepping any of your many firm boundaries, but he planned to melt you the same way he melts for you right now.

You arrive at your home and he unfastens his buckle as well, leaving the car on. You glance at him, assessing his intentions. He's quick to notice your ocular pat-down and volunteers to put your mind at ease.

"I'm walking you to your door, sweetheart."

"That's very kind of you, Cooper. Thank you," you smirk, entertained by his ability to read you so keenly. He escorts you safely to the large oak door of your humble, yet still high-end abode. The two of you stand in silence for a moment until you speak. "If you try to come inside, I'll have to sic my very large dog on you."

"A very large dog?" Cooper asks, feigning mild fear.

"She doesn't like men," you smile warmly, bantering playfully.

"Maybe one day, she can try warming up to me."

"Until then, Cooper Howard," you nod, disappearing inside your house. He's nearly shocked, but mostly he's giddy.

What a woman, he internally monologues. His walk back to the car packs that same pep as when he found out about their dinner in the first place. Maybe even more.

After just a couple weeks of running lines together and the occasional after-work bar hop, your days on set become a comfortable routine, rather than a journey into the lion's den. You can't help but feel like you have Cooper to thank for that. The scenes between you two are now known to make the interns blush.

"Action!" The director's firm voice slices through the air. You and Cooper are positioned at opposite sides of the "room," a set made to look like Detective Silvers's office. It's dark, and a dim street lamp's glow reaches through the barely opened blinds. You run a delicate finger along the windowpane before speaking your first line.

"You've impressed me, Detective Silvers. That's not an easy feat." You take two steps to the left, placing your foot perfectly on your mark.

"You're not so easy to fool, Ms. Lark. Not like they said, anyway." The tone in Cooper's voice when he plays this character sends a wave of involuntary goosebumps down your flesh.

"You can call me Monae, honey. Don't we know each other well enough by now?" You strut gracefully across the room, leaning teasingly over his desk, where he sits. "They always say I'm a fool, because I play it so well, don't I?" Slowly, Cooper straightens up in his seat, bringing his face closer to yours as you drape across the desk.

"You keep a hell of a poker face, darling," he whispers. Something in his eyes tells you it's Cooper speaking, not Detective Silvers.

"Cut! That's a wrap!" The director dismisses the crew. Everyone's shoulders relax in unison. It's undoubtedly been smooth sailing ever since you and Cooper started spending more time together.

"Hey, Y/N," Cooper calls out to you as you head back to wardrobe. You turn and meet his gaze with a smile. "You're not busy tonight, are you?"

"Of course not. I'm waiting for my coworker to tell me what our plans are," you chuckle.

"Coworker? Ice cold. We're friends." His grin is diabolically attractive. You thank the stars above for the layers and layers of makeup concealing the darkening blush on your cheeks.

"Of course we're friends, Cooper. What are we getting into tonight?" You ask with an excited grin.

"There's a new lounge opening downtown. I know the owner pretty well. And not to brag or anything, but it's a pretty nice place to get a table on opening night." He smiles, holding his arms out as if he's waiting for a yes or no from you.

"Your friend's club is opening?"

"Well, don't make it sound too exciting now," his sarcastic tone draws a laugh from your lips.

"I'm pulling your leg, Cooper. I'd love to go." The two of you split off to get out of costume and makeup. Once you're back in your own attire, you begin to feel a sense of panic.

"You gotta stop making that face, babe. You're gonna get a worry line." Verna appears in the common area of your dressing room.

"Verna, what do you know about the new lounge opening downtown?" You turn to her with narrow eyes.

"It's a pretty big deal. Bonnie Lewis was complaining about not getting a table until next weekend," Verna laughs. You begin to wonder what kind of strings Cooper had to pull or if his story about knowing the owner was true. Not that you think him a liar, it just seemed like banter at the time.

"I need to go home." You snatch your keys from the hook next to the trailer door and bolt to your car. Verna stands in confusion, hair blowing in the breeze of your speedy exit.

"No, no, no!" You groan as you tear through your closet. Nothing seems to fit the idea you've made up in your head of what a woman should wear to something like this. You can't decide which would be more horrifying, being overdressed or underdressed. You start thinking up excuses to give Cooper why you can't come out tonight when suddenly, there's a knock at the door.

"Delivery for a Ms. Y/L/N?" The bright-eyed delivery girl hands you a large, flatter box. You thank her and nod goodbye, taking the package inside to your room. You scan the outside for any indication of what it could be or who it's from. You get fan mail all the time, so it's nothing new.

You take a blade to the taped seams and uncover a note atop a few layers of tissue paper.

"For tonight, if you want. -C.H."

You furrow your brow as you reread the note a few more times. Curiously, you place the note aside and reach for the tissue paper, unfolding it to reveal a stunning mass of glistening fabric. With widened eyes, you reach into the box and lift the garment to see it's a long, crystal-stoned dress with a high slit up the side. It reminds you of something your character, Monae Lark, would wear. It's gorgeous and looks like it costs as much as your Hollywood home.

You hold the dress up to your body in the mirror next to your bed and it's perfect. You certainly didn't own anything of this caliber until now. You get dressed and ready, hoping your finest jewelry does the dress its due justice. For just a moment, you stare at yourself in the mirror. You take in this heavenly view, you can hardly believe it's you staring back at all.

A ring of the doorbell snaps you from your thoughts and you make your way to the door. Standing on the other side is Cooper. The moment his eyes meet yours, his face becomes illuminated with a big, marveling smile. He glances at you, up and down, taking in the way the dress drapes over you like water down a stream.

"You look magnificent," he speaks in awe.

"Thank you for the dress, Cooper. It's beautiful." Your eyes sparkle as you thank him for your gift.

"You're discrediting yourself. It just looked like a sparkly piece of fabric before I saw it like-" he places his hands daringly on your hips. "This." You gasp at his invasive action, taken aback by his boldness.

"Shall we get going, then?" You smirk, undeniably excited by his touch. He leads you to the car and opens the door for you like a gentleman. His chivalrous displays only make you yearn more and more. He's always like that, even on set. He prioritizes your comfort, especially in the sex scenes, which you've been reshooting a lot lately.

Cooper escorts you inside the lounge. They don't even check the list, everyone knows who you two are. Eyes and camera flashes all focus on you as any and every media outlet tries to get their hands on the latest spot to be seen in downtown Hollywood. You feel glamorous on his arm as he leads you to the table. Cocktails are promptly ordered and arrive at your table in impressive time.

You take in your foreign surroundings. It all looks so high above you, yet you're here. It's humbling. The ceilings are tall and dark while the rest of the room is dimly lit. A band plays smooth music to a crowd busy with multiple conversations. You're both sat in a large booth with seating that wraps all the way around. The low light bouncing off the crystals on your dress draws any and all attention to your table. To you. To Cooper sitting with you.

The night is fun and exciting, you nearly lose track of your drinks, but as always, you manage to remain only slightly buzzed. Careful not to sully your own name with drunken hijinks. And while you're not drunk per se, you are feeling much bolder than usual. You can't seem to pry your eyes off of your arm candy. Cooper is quick to notice, playing into your flirtatious behavior.

"Do I have something on my face?" He chuckles, brushing his hand against his cheek, tracing his jawline. You know right then that you've been caught gawking and your face turns bright red, hidden thankfully under the dim lighting.

"No, Cooper. I just happen to like what I'm looking at, is all." You bite your lip, surprised by your own words. You even think you can see him blushing.

"If I'm being honest, I really like what I'm lookin' at as well." His eyes burn into yours.

"Everyone's looking at us," you whisper, drawing closer and closer to him in the round booth.

"Let them watch," he mumbles, closing the gap between you two and drawing you into a passionate kiss. Your heart begins to race as his hands roughly grip onto you, pulling you closer to him in the booth. "Can we get out of here, darlin'?"

"Take me home, Cooper," you sigh as your eyes travel back and forth between his eyes and his lips. You don't know if it's the drinks or the rush of being the main attraction in this swanky club, but it's taking you over and you have no objections.

"Whatever you say," Cooper says with a sly smile, extending a hand to you to guide you out of the booth. The walk to the door seems endless, as you find yourself ravenous to get him alone again. It's no secret for either of you that tensions have only been growing ever since your first dinner together. He clings to you, not so much possessively, but protectively. Almost as if he doesn't keep you latched to his side as you make your exit, you might fall away and break like the delicate crystals adorning your flowing dress.

The brisk night air coats your flesh in a cloak of goosebumps. Anticipation accelerates your pulse to an unknowable pace. When you reach his car, you pull his collar to your chest, cueing him to pin your hips against his vehicle and kiss you deeply, ignoring the paparazzi flash. But only for a second, as the second blazing flash snaps you back into reality and you hastily make your way into the car, giggling. Cooper shoots a knowing look at the flashing cameras, smirking with pride as he struts to the driver-side door.

When he gets inside the car, you're both laughing at the prying cameras. A part of you feels worried about how the tabloids will make you look, and Cooper can see that fear on your face. He furrows his brow.

"Hey, you know it's all..." He trails off, staring at you intently. You can nearly see his gears turning behind his eyes.

"Are you okay?" You ask, confused by his mid-sentence shutdown.

"Forget about it, I gotta get you somewhere a little more private." He winks, pulling out of the lot and past the ever-flashing journalists. You've fantasized plenty of time about this moment, how it'd play out. It's your current favorite dream to have, no doubt. His hand on your thigh lightly digs his fingers into your flesh, growing more and more desperate the closer you two get to your home in the hills.

You emerge from the car after he parks haphazardly in your driveway. The two of you are apart for mere seconds before he's upon you, locking your lips with his, wrapping the full lengths of his arms around you. You're nearly, quite literally swept off your feet. You lead him to the door and he follows your every step, beguiled. You open the door and spring inside.

"Surely I get to come inside just this once?" Cooper leans in your doorway as the distance between you grows. You stare at him, scanning your eyes up and down teasingly. He looks like he's ready to fall on his knees and beg.

"You're quite the gentleman, Cooper Howard." You shift your weight to your hip.

"My mama didn't raise me to barge into a lady's home uninvited."

"What part of our trip to the door makes you think you're uninvited?" You tilt your head. The conversation seems almost reminiscent of the characters you both play.

"The part where you didn't invite me in," he grins.

"My God, are you a Vampire?" You jest. "Please come inside. Make yourself at home," you say sarcastically. "Do I need to tell you what I expect you to do next?" Your words are rushed, as he speeds toward you once he's received his invite. He wraps you in another firm embrace and plants kisses and light bites along the slope of your neck.

"I think I can take it from here, darlin'." He plants another kiss. "Unless you're feeling like bossing someone around." He winks, allowing his hands to wander freely up and down your body, grasping at your breasts and thighs.

"Keep kissing me," you demand, to your own surprise more than his. He does as he's told, only hesitant for a second to register what you said. You break the kiss momentarily to make another demand. "Take my dress off, carefully." You instruct. Cooper happily obliges, doing exactly as you ask, carefully. Once your dress is carefully placed aside, he takes in the breathtaking sight of you, nearly bare before him, just a room's length away.

Your undergarments suggest you had this plan in mind long before getting in the car this evening. Lace and silk with garters and corsetry. You're unreal, even to a Hollywood Star like Cooper. His mouth hangs agape as he drinks in the image laid out in front of him.

"Well?" He awaits his next instruction.

"Oh, please," you scoff. "Lose the jacket, loosen the tie." He does as he's told, taking your commands and unfastening a few of the top buttons of his shirt. As he draws closer to you, crossing the room from where he'd sat your dress out of harm's way, he rolls his unbuttoned sleeves up his arms. There's something primal and animalistic about him as he towers over you where you lie on the bed.

"Now, you tell me what to do." Your voice is almost shaking as you say this, excited and anxious to shift the power dynamic. Cooper's face spreads into a soft smile. It's almost eerie.

"Come here." He snaps his fingers softly, pointing to the edge of the bed in front of him. You giddily comply, taking your seat with a pretty posture. You're perfectly positioned at his waist. "Belt."

You waste no time, wrapping your hands delicately around the buckle of his belt, unfastening it and moving on to the button and zipper. Cooper's erection strains against his underwear, hard and throbbing against your palm. He sighs at your touch, eyes rolling back in his head as you toy with him through his boxers.

"Touch yourself," he commands with a quiet rumble of a voice. You do as you're told, locking eyes with him as you slip a hand past your panties. You moan under your own knowing hand, pouting your lips in an 'o' shape. Truly putting on a show for someone so deadset on maintaining a "pure" reputation.

"Cooper," you moan his name, earning a surprised smirk from him. He shakes his head in disbelief.

"So careful, so reserved, so... Mysterious," he chuckles, caressing your cheek in his palm as you continue to play with yourself. "I knew you must've had secrets, but my God, you filthy little thing." His words are like sugar and honey as he showers you with praise. "I'm going to make you feel so good, babydoll."

Cooper gently tugs your arm away from your drenched panties and replaces your hand with his own. He carefully pumps his middle finger in and out of you, earning sensual moans from deep in your chest.

"Oh, my God!" You chant to the heavens, riding an indescribable high. Cooper is far more skilled with his hands than you could've anticipated. After a few moments, you realize he was paying attention to the way you touch yourself, and is now attempting to mirror that. And he's doing well. The attention to detail is enough to bring you ecstasy all on its own.

He tugs his undergarments down, freeing his tumescent cock from its restraints, still fingering you all the while. His large size is jarring, but you've never been the type to turn away from a challenge. You take his shaft in your hand and pump up and down as you wrap your lips around his tip. His hand is quick to find the back of your head, carefully working you further and further down his length with each bob of your head.

"Jesus Christ, baby. Look at you," he groans, tugging your hair to make you go faster. You keep at it as long as possible, long after your neck is good and sore. Finally, he takes a sharp inhale and pulls your face away from his waist.

"Lay back on the bed, darlin'. I can't wait for this anymore." Cooper withdraws his hand and slides your panties down your legs, careful to leave the rest of your scandalous outfit in place. You're certain he's going to place himself in front of you and fuck the daylights out of you, but instead, he lowers his head to your dripping cunt and begins licking broad stripes up and down your slit.

You melt into his technique as his tongue explores every corner of you. The knot in your stomach tightens as you arch your back, desperate for more contact. A daring hand makes its way to his pushed-back hair, encouraging him. You can feel his lips curl into a grin against your delicate skin. In your pleasure-induced haze, you begin to wonder how you found yourself in your own bed, getting eaten out by Cooper Howard.

Suddenly, he pulls away. His actions are rushed now, almost desperate as he reaches for his waist, taking the base of his cock in his hand and positioning himself over you. You're anxious but excited. There's a fire in your blood as he slips inside of you. Both of you emit guttural moans, filling the room with the vulgar sounds of huffing breaths and wetness as he thrusts in and out.

"You look so pretty when you're getting fucked," he whispers in your ear before jerking you up from where you lie. He positions you on your hands and knees and you take it upon yourself to arch your back like a cat, dipping as far down as you can. The sight of it is enough to make Cooper faint. You're the prettiest putty he's ever had in his hands. He trails his soft, open palms down your sides, resting his hands on your ass.

Cooper gropes and smacks the supple flesh, earning coos of approval from you with each strike. He basks in your beauty for a while, taking the moment in. He bites down on his index knuckle, looking away from you for a moment. You glance over your shoulder to investigate the sudden hold-up, and he looks preoccupied.

"Cooper," you gain his attention back to you. "Now is a terrible time to have second thoughts..."

"I'm afraid all I'm thinking about right this second is this." Abruptly, you feel him slip back into you. A gasp invades your lungs as you push yourself backward, allowing him deeper inside. His pace is quick and steady, guiding you like an expert to your orgasm. He's at it for so long, your arms threaten to buckle. When he notices the slightest waver in your elbows, he shoves your face into the mattress. Your arms are instantly relieved and he picks up his vigorous pace.

"Oh, god!" Your wails echo off the walls of your large bedroom, stroking his ego with every moan.

"Come on, baby... Cum for me..." He huffs, talking you through the growing knot in your stomach. He withdraws for mere seconds to shift your positions. He plants his feet on the floor and returns you to your back, tossing one of your legs over his shoulder as he picks up where he left off. His thrusts become sloppy, though they still maintain that toe-curling speed.

"Oh, wait!" You cry out, but his hips refuse to relent. He shushes you sweetly, fucking you until your climax renders you breathless. You moan loudly and sensually, it's like music to Cooper's ears. You're well and fucked out as he continues chasing his own high. After only a few more moments of overstimulation, he pulls out and pumps his cock until he finishes on your lace-clad chest. You watch him through fluttering eyelashes as he throws his head back in ecstasy.

"You're... Something else," he huffs between heavy breaths. You create room for him to collapse next to you on the bed and he happily obliges. The two of you, sweaty and breathless, lie in comfortable silence for a short while. "Hey, when do I get to meet your big, dangerous dog? She's awfully quiet."

"I don't have a dog." You state flatly, admitting your lie.

"I had a feeling that threat wasn't so serious."

"Oh, it's plenty serious. It's just not true. You can stay the night if you want," you offer with a smile as you rise from the bed and make your way to the bathroom to shower.

"Stay the night, huh?" He repeats you.

"Yes. I'd like it if you did," you wink, disappearing to clean yourself up before bed. Just as you're about to reach for the handle to turn the water off, you're joined in the shower.

Cooper buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you close to his naked body from behind. You share a passionate kiss under the warm running water before you step out and let him take over. The two of you sleep in each other's arms, completely naked, bundled in your expensive bedclothes.

In the following days, news breaks of your visit to the lounge with Cooper. The photo of the kiss by the car is plastered on every magazine faster than you can blink. At first, you're terrified of what this could mean for your stage career, should you never get another role in film, but Cooper continuously reassures you. Weeks go by and you can't remember the last time you left the set without him by your side. He makes you feel safe and beautiful. You trust him in ways you didn't think you could trust men in the industry. You don't care if the two of you never label what you have, you're just happy to have it.

It all seems to be a little too perfect until the day the film debuts. You and Cooper are a sight to behold on the red carpet at the premiere. The cameras can't seem to keep their blinding flashes off the two of you. Cooper seems in high spirits, wrapping you in tight hugs and kissing your forehead sweetly. You're a sap for his PDA ways.

The movie receives a standing ovation and you've never felt more pride in your life. For yourself, your co-stars, and the crew. Riding a high so strong it feels like glitter in your blood, you can't wait to get your man back home and show him how proud you really are.

"Cooper, hey!" You call out to him at the exclusive after-party. When he turns to face you, he smiles wide, pulling you in for a kiss while damn near dipping you like a dance partner. "Whoa, I need to call your name more often."

"Screaming it works for me too," he winks, eliciting a red-faced chuckle from you.

"Are you coming back to my place, or do I have to beg?" You ask, staring up at him with large, sparkling eyes.

"Well," he looks at you and then glances around the room, seemingly lost in thought for only a moment once again. "Of course, darlin'."

After arriving at your home and promptly tearing each other's clothes off, you lie leisurely on the bed next to Cooper. All of a sudden, he's sitting up and getting out of your bed. You're hardly aware of what he's doing until you realize he's getting dressed.

"Where are you off to?" You sit up, perplexed by his out-of-character quickness to leave.

"Unfortunately, I'm a busy man after a film premieres." He's staring at his cuffs, fastening the button as he talks to you.

"Of course, of course. It's just... So late."

"You're telling me, honey," he quips, planting a quick kiss on your lips and disappearing out the door. You hear him exit out the front and start up his car, pulling off into the night. You sit in silent shock. Surely that didn't just happen. Cooper Howard didn't just come over, fuck you, and leave after your film premiere after weeks and weeks of an ongoing intensely sexual relationship.

You decide to remain calm, after all, what else can you do? He's not yours to worry about, but worry, you do. You climb out of bed and shower as usual after a night with the beautiful man you thought you trusted until moments ago. What reason did he have to lie to you? To leave? You're a white-hot ball of smoke and fire when you emerge from the bathroom.

A lot of things can be used to describe you, most of them, very good. One thing, for you, stands out. Anger. You're slow to anger in nearly any situation, but when it happens, it happens. You're someone else entirely when you're angry. You get dressed, somewhat casual, somewhat flashy. Something to blend in wherever you may find him because that's where you're going.

After perfecting your hair and makeup- not one to get caught slacking- you slip into your car and make your way to the first few places you can assume he'd be. You check the restaurant where you had your first outing, in case he'd already romanced another co-star on another set. Not there. You check the lounge his friend owns. Not there.

"Hey there, handsome. The owner in?" You ask the bouncer.

"He's in the back, you're welcome to come in, Ms. Y/L/N."

"Thank you, darling. You're my favorite part of this place, you know that?" Your praise causes him to blush slightly and you make your way to the back office.

"Whoa! You can't just waltz in here!" A man wails angrily behind a shabby desk.

"I can. I definitely can. Where is Cooper tonight?" You tilt your head, scanning the man's face for any inconsistencies in his expression.

"Oh, shit! Y/N, we don't really get a lot of customers before we open," the man jokes, hoping to avoid the question. Not because he knows anything, but simply because he's not a snitch. You respect him for it... or not.

"Where is Cooper?" You repeat.

"I don't know. Wouldn't tell ya if I did." The man shrugs shamelessly.

"I'll be seeing you, Vince." You smile warmly and depart. From behind you, you can hear him yelling after you, asking how you know his real name. You're a different person when you're angry, an observant person.

You leave the lounge and check a few more places with no success. Finally, you drive toward his house. The car is completely silent save for the sound of your angry, shuddered breaths. What it all comes down to is you never expected Cooper to owe you anything, but he was going to call it quits to your face like a man or you'll do it for him. When you pull down the long, private driveway, you're shocked and appalled by what you see.

There's a party going on. A real classy rager, it would seem. Your perfectly lined and lipsticked upper lip is pulled into a disgusted sneer as you exit the vehicle and calmly strut toward the door. You don't bother knocking, who'd hear it? You walk right in the door and resume the endless search for Cooper. You circle like a vulture to a carrion, eyes narrow with anticipation.

"My God, Y/N, is that you?" A familiar voice booms behind you. Sebastian. He plays a part in the movie that just dropped.

"Sebastian, you look stunning in yellow," you gush, latching onto his arm. This outgoing, charismatic behavior is foreign on you, but he's too drunk to notice your near-blind rage.

"Does Cooper know you're here? Come with me, darling." Sebastian guides you to the backdoor down several sets of porch and deck stairs. You can already see Cooper before he sees you. He looks drained.

"Sebastian, is he okay?"

"You ought to know, shouldn't you?" He winks, nudging you with the arm you're clinging to.

"What does that-" your question is cut off.

"Cooper! You won't believe who I've found," Sebastian announces, stepping out of the way to reveal you. Cooper's eyes widen.

"Ohh... Sea Bass, you gotta get out of here..." Cooper whispers, not breaking eye contact with you.

"What? Why? I thought you-"

"Go inside, Sebastian." You intrude, staring tangible daggers into Cooper. Sebastian finally vacates the premises and you wait for Cooper to start talking. The two of you share a long moment of staring before he finally stands from the patio chair.

"Y/N, I can-"

"Explain? You can explain. This is incredibly hurtful and confusing, but thank God you can explain." You hiss. He's taken aback by your venomous tone, but he knows he has it coming. "You don't owe me anything, I get that. But I was so clear that I didn't want to be treated like this." Your words sound heartbroken, but your tone is steady and harsh.

"I would've told you- I wanted to tell you, but your agent-"

"About the party? I don't care about the party, Cooper! I'm talking about all this fucking time we've spent together. You really put on a show for those paps, I remember that. Why go public when we won't even put a name on it?"

"Y/N, are you talking about the PR stunt? By the car? I thought that you..." He motions vaguely with his hands to symbolize his confusion.

"A- A PR stunt?" You repeat, mouth hanging open.

"Wasn't that why you kissed me?" Cooper asks, clearly as confused as you are.

"No, Cooper." You nearly laugh in disbelief. "That's not why. Why did you come to my house and do all that in front of no cameras? Huh? Was that a PR stunt? Did that feel like I knew it was a PR stunt?"

"I hesitated! I was wondering the same when you-"

"Well, thank God you hesitated. Hallelujah, amen, I'm going home. Sorry if I messed up your ruse. I hope I didn't ruin the illusion of nothing." You grit your teeth to stop you from speaking anymore. The walk back up all those steps and past everyone inside feels a thousand miles long. Cooper just stands there, silent, watching you walk away. Your emphasis on your last word holds all the hurt you were trying to hold back.

"What just happened?" Sebastian appears behind you like the busybody he is.

"Exactly what everyone thought: nothing." Your words are meant to sound hateful and angry, but they just sound sad now. You speed out the front door, away from the party and everything it entails. Once you're in the car, tears pour down your face. Your worst fear comes true. Humiliation, heartbreak, hubris. You begin to understand what they mean when they say "too good to be true."

At your agent's request, you're staying at home for now. Minimizing going out unless it's for press. And God, there is so much press. So many large rooms that feel hopelessly cramped as you find yourself shoved into Cooper at every turn. You maintain perfect composure for the cameras, even Verna is impressed as she watches from the sidelines. She's heard your woes time and time again, but even she sympathizes with you this time. You worked so hard to avoid this situation for so long in your career.

"Do you think we could talk later?" He mumbles in your ear with a big, fake smile and you giggle as if he's whispered sweet nothings.

"Fuck you." You reply with a playful faux grin. He sighs, but neither of you let up from the act.

"You really are Monae Lark, huh?" Cooper chuckles nervously.

"Please let me just get through this in peace." Your voice carries hurt. So much so, that he can feel it in his chest when you speak.

"Alright, I'm sorry." It's the last words shared between you two for the entire rest of the evening. You're ice cold, surrounding yourself with walls much, much higher than before. Cooper notices, but no one else, save for Verna and maybe even Sebastian, can tell a difference. Your ability to mask this pain only adds to his endless guilt.

You're being interviewed with another actress, finally tied up in a conversation you want to be in. You're glowing in comparison to your moments next to Cooper. Meanwhile, he and Sebastian sit off to the side, having just finished their interview with the same host.

"I think you should just accept your loss. Maybe you two can rekindle something in ten years," Sebastian shrugs. Cooper looks at him in disbelief of what he's just suggested.

"I don't want to 'rekindle something in ten years,' I want her now. I want her back." He pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, stressed.

"I thought you weren't putting a label on it," Sebastian chuckles.

"That was before I found out that she had no idea we were doing PR, fucker."

"Oh, calm down. It was a misunderstanding," he looks at Cooper. "So make it understood."

In the days following that event, Cooper tries his hardest to take Sebastian's advice, but you won't let him speak when you answer your house phone and realize it's him. Weeks go by and you demand Verna find a way to schedule you and Cooper at opposing time windows for every press event here on out. You appease the crowd with a lot of "We just missed each other, but I'll see him at home," with a stupid wink. Everything feels so fake. It feels like you're constantly acting now, it's exhausting.

"Look doll, I can't help you out of seeing him at the award show in a few weeks," Verna warns. It's now been a month since you and Cooper last saw each other, longer than that since you've spoken. You're both so busy, your minds haven't had time to ruminate on each other like when you had to see each other all the time. The pain has softened and even the paps stopped asking about where the other one is when you go out.

"It's fine, Verna. But I want you to hire the stylist from my press tour in Italy last year. When I was in Aida."

"On it, boss," she salutes, already holding a phone to her ear.

Verna gets you some face time with the stylist and you discuss what you're looking for in the look. You describe something sparkling and demanding attention, something Monae Lark would wear. As you watch the designer sketch, you realize you've described the dress Cooper gifted you. You're just now piecing together that it was meant to look like your character, it wasn't meant to be a sentimental gesture. You become furious all over again, demanding that the woman scrap that sketch.

"I want it form-fitting, black, silk." You begin listing adjectives that feel right.

"Tulle gloves? Fingerless?" The designer introjects.

"Yes, I love it. Not fingerless. Past the elbow. I want villainess, I want revenge."

"A revenge dress on the red carpet? I love my job." The artist begins sketching like mad and you watch your vision come to life on paper. It's perfect.

"You have two and a half weeks to get me fitted for this dress, is that okay? I'm sorry for the short notice." Your kindness goes a long way with this woman. She ensures you'll see your dress long before the deadline and you do, having a fitting only a few days over one and a half weeks later. The dress is everything you could've hoped for and after the alterations you're dressed to kill.

The night of the award show, your dress is perfectly fitted and your hair is styled intricately to match. A makeup artist finishes off your look and you stand to check yourself in the mirror. You look like your character stepped right out of the screen. A cold, heartless, murderous vixen, scorned too many times.

"Have you decided who you're walking with?" Your agent asks, concerned.

"I can't show up alone?"

"I'm afraid only the men can get away with that one unless you want prying eyes," she shrugs. You opt for calling Sebastian. You don't want to look like you're attempting to make Cooper jealous or hurt his feelings and you know all your actress co-stars already have dates and escorts. He graciously agrees, happy to know his two pals have opted for the high road.

"Well, let's get you on that carpet," Verna escorts you to your limo where Sebastian waits. The ride to the event makes you nauseous with anxiety, but you're not sure why. It's not like this is new to you anymore.

You make a grand entrance, on your co-star's arm, causing you to be bombarded with inaudible questions and blinding camera flashes. Sebastian separates from you for his own photo op. You give them various sultry poses, looking over your shoulder, and placing your hands on your hips. Your face remains stone, emotionless. Your sharp makeup and flat expression make you look like a piece of art. You're melting into your character for the cameras when you hear someone yell that Cooper Howard just walked in.

A decent amount of the cameras that were shoved in your face migrate over to him. Time seems to slow down for one whole minute as the two of you lock eyes. Every emotion neither of you had any time to feel has come rushing back. You reach out to Sebastian for some sort of grounding. Cooper notices that you're on his best friend's arm and he knows it's to show no malice. He sees it for what it is, an olive branch.

"Wow, you really mastered that empty, yearning, hopeless, doomed-love expression!" A man behind a camera shouts at you. You'd thank him, only you weren't trying to make that expression, regardless of how on theme it is for Monae.

"Let's see Cooper and Y/N together again!" Another pap yells, prompting Cooper to join you where you stand against the backdrop. Sebastian reminds you that the show must go on, leaving your side so your ex-fling can replace him. Cooper pulls you into his embrace, keeping his eyes on the audience. After several flashes, they demand to "see the love." You pull Cooper into a tight hug, smooching him on the cheek, leaving a large lipstick mark. He's smart enough to know that while you didn't show up with intentional arm candy, this isn't his real welcome. It's all for the cameras.

Without much thought, Cooper, to keep up the charade, catches you off guard by planting an unsuspecting kiss on your lips. It shouldn't have affected you the way it did, but the moment he pulls away, you two finally get a look at each other. Sebastian and Verna seem to be locked into the slow motion of the moment as well as their eyes bulge out of their heads while they watch your face shift through emotions.

"You're the meanest man I know," you whisper, heartbroken, before running off the red carpet and into the nearest empty area. You do your best to find privacy before you let your tears ruin your makeup.

Back in the carpet, Cooper and Sebastian stare at each other in horror before Sebas finally speaks up.

"Oh, no! A wardrobe malfunction at an event like this is dreadful. I'm glad she was able to catch that," he announces, patting Cooper on the back. That story seems to sell just fine as the cameras move on to the next arriving star.

"What the fuck were you thinking, kid?" Verna appears before Cooper the second he gets inside the building.

"I wasn't! I thought a kiss would shut them up, I was trying to speed this whole thing up for her," he sighs.

"Where did she go?" Sebastian asks the raspy old woman.

"We don't know. She took off so quickly, I couldn't see where she went." The old woman mumbles something angry under her breath and returns to looking for you.

You're in a room not intended to be accessed during this event, but it wasn't locked, so who cares? You find the nearest seat and allow yourself to cry quietly into your gloves.

"What did I do to deserve this? My career is so fucked when this gets out, and what is he?" You rant aloud to no one.

"He's looking for you," Cooper answers your rhetorical question.

"No, he's fine. His career is fine. Everything for him is fine."

"What makes you think that? That I'm fine?" He sounds offended, frustrated.

"Well it was all just an act to you, wasn't it? I fell hard and it was just overtime for you."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he makes a sharp motion with his hand, angry and precise.

"I thought you felt the same and I'm utterly embarrassed now. I'm so embarrassed, I can only be angry. And I'm so heartbroken, I can only cry. It's unproductive." You pull a compact mirror from your clutch purse and begin fixing your makeup to the best of your ability. "I didn't want to be your on-set floozy."

"I didn't mean to embarrass you, Y/N. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't communicate what that night at the lounge was. I'm sorry I let you invite me inside your house. I swear, I thought you knew what we were doing. I thought the self-preservation thing was a shtick you were just really good at." Cooper takes a few steps closer to you. "I thought it was just fooling around, so I didn't want to get attached, but-"

"But what? Because this is all just kind of hurting my feelings again."

"But I did get attached. I did catch feelings. The night of that party, I was outside spilling my guts to Sebastian because he was the only person who would hear it."

"Cooper..."

"I'm not done." He puts a hand up. "I miss you. I've been pissed off every single day just because I can't talk to you. The minute I forget about you, it's like the wind blows a different way and I'm reminded of the way your hair catches in the breeze when you're in my car with the windows down."

"Cooper."

"I think about you every single day and I'm fucking livid with you for making me wait this long to get to say this to you." He inhales deeply. "I think I- I'm in love with you."

"That's... A little sappy, Cooper."

"Oh, come on." He drops his shoulders, defeated until he hears you start to chuckle.

"I guess I'm in love with you too," you admit.

"You guess?" He raises a brow, feigning offense.

"Would it have hurt this bad if I wasn't?" By now, Cooper's crossed the room. He answers your question by closing the gap between you and locking his lips with yours. It feels like breathing for the first time in months. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. You both missed this.

When you both finally rejoin the party, you're inseparable. Nothing in the world can knock the cheesy grins off your faces. Sebastian looks on proudly, standing next to Verna.

"Well, looks like I've lost my date," Sebastian laughs. "Shall we?" He offers Verna his arm and she laughs loudly before accepting.

You and Cooper quickly find yourselves in the position of Hollywood's favorite couple. It not only skyrockets your career, but his as well, seeing as your fan base from the theatre followed you over to film, and eventually, they found and adored Cooper. The next time either of you comes to a misunderstanding, you take Sebastian's advice. Make it understood.

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the-kr8tor · 1 month

Note

could i pretty please request ttn!hobie finding out that while she was overseas, r got the nickname MJ? (“i spill a mint julep one time!” or smth). like maybe they’re hanging out with danny and he calls her that or smth, and he’s like “wait a minute, what” and no one knows exactly why hobie is so impacted by that, he just is. like hobie knows that it’s not some sort of cosmic force that keeps them together, but it still makes him a little extra smiley (as always feel free to decline, no pressure) -@thesevenofstaves

Aizjjwisjsjjs this is genius! Thank you for requesting, bestie 💕

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.1k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw drinking, TTN! Hobie and R, Thread the Needle AU, R has nicknames, fashion designer! Reader, Fluff.

Thread the Needle Masterlist

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

“So, your girl here straight up tells our supervisor to basically eat a bag of dicks but in a corporate way and you know what fucking happens?” Danny rambles on about your time in the US enthusiastically with him loaded in with a few drinks in his veins. Surprisingly enough, he's still coherent.

The entire pub is abuzz, people clambering around the telly to watch a football game that you care less about. Your glass sits empty in your hand, a cocktail mix that has the lights swirling in your vision. Hobie is doing better than you and Danny combined. He's four whole pints in and yet he's still sober enough to reply in a full sentence without sloshing his words together. But you know he's in too deep when he has basically clung to your side inside the booth like velcro. His hands roam up and down your back, knuckles tracing your spine as you lean closer on the table while your vision swirls. You've once told him that he's a clingy drunk, to which Yuri replied for him, saying, “Is there a difference between a sober Hobie and a drunk Hobie?” He couldn't even retaliate with a clever answer because it's true.

Hobie smiles against the mouth of his glass, fingers drawing patterns on your back. “No, what happened next?” He indulges your drunk childhood friend. He knows the story already, but it was told from your perspective, which you were apparently told too humbly. Meanwhile, you hide your flustered face behind your cool glass.

“She got a bloody promotion! Turns out, it was a fucking test and now she's here and handling her own team!” Danny exclaims above the cheers, still in disbelief at what happened years ago.

“Talk ‘bout lucky, eh, love?” Hobie squeezes your hip, glancing at you with a proud smile. You groan, heat behind your cheeks from the memory.

“You've got lady luck on your side, right, MJ?”

Hobie almost breaks his neck at how fast he turned to look at Danny, eyes wide, hands paused from his squeezing. “What? M.J? I thought you called her Cherry?”

“Oho! Hobie here doesn't know the story, huh?” Danny finishes his drink and then winces when he could only get a single drop. Hobie cranes his neck towards you, eyes soft, arm snaking around your waist slyly. You can practically see his mind running a hundred miles per hour, but you're not sure why. “Be right back, I need a refill.” He stands up, staggering a bit before pointing at you. “MJ for MJ?”

“That was one time, Danny! And no, I'd like a pint.” Your friend cackles, Hobie looks between you and Danny all confused.

“You smoke?” Hobie knits his brows, now he can feel all the alcohol he drank.

You chuckle, thumb wiping along the corner of his mouth to clean a stray foam. “It's a drink, Hobs. Mint julep.”

Danny makes a sound akin to an evil laugh. “You better tell him the story! Another pint for you, mate?”

Hobie doesn't spare a glance towards Danny, his eyes are all on you, staring at you like a lovestruck teenager. “Sure,” Danny shoots him a thumbs up, and then tries to straighten up to walk towards the bar.

“What?” You giggle as Hobie abandons your back to hold your hand over the table, fingers intertwining around your own. “You okay? Are you that drunk?”

“Nah, ‘m fine, tell me the story.”

“Danny hyped it too much, it's not that interesting.”

“Still,” Hobie brings your hand to his chest, holding it with both hands and then kisses your knuckles with his warm lips, leaving it atop his heart. You sigh in content, eyes tender for your best friend. “I want to hear how you become MJ.”

You smile, head leaning down on the backrest of the seat, watching the warm light illuminate his chiseled face. “It was a company-wide holiday party.” Hobie listens, mirroring your position as he places his head on the cushion on the booth, smiling wider and wider at your every word. “And there was an open bar which was a disaster waiting to happen by the way. But they only had three drinks to choose from, and one of them was a mint julep.”

“What were the other choices?” The background noise fades out, as if it was only you and Hobie inside the pub.

You snort, rubbing your thumb across the back of his hand. “I really don't remember.”

“You got too drunk?” Hobie beams at you whilst you groan from the memory. “Really, Gromit? At a holiday party?” He teases you further, nudging you with his knee under the table.

“It tasted nothing like alcohol! It deceived me.”

“Ah yes, mint julep, a very deceivin’ drink. What happened next?”

You shake your head. “Nothing, nothing happened next. I just got too drunk and started to draw designs in my sketchbook in silence. They weren't very good by the way.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Yeah, I know, I'm a genius when it comes to fashion.”

“Not that. Although you're right, love, you're a bloody genius.” You smile brightly, your turn to kiss his knuckles. “But I think there's more to the story.”

You scoff, “nope.”

“I've known you for almost our entire lives.” Hobie comes closer, breath fanning your already warm cheeks, batting his lashes at you. “Did you beat up someone? Cause damage to the building?”

“Hobie!” You slap his bicep, earning a feigned groan from him. “Nothing that bad! I just spilled it all over me.” Hobie raises a brow. “And all over my boss.”

Hobie guffaws, “way to fight the system, lovie.” He kisses your cheek while you wiggle away from embarrassment.

“I had to pay for his dry cleaning, Hobs!” Hobie squishes your face in between his hands, puckering your lips. “Not funny.” Your words are muffled, an adorable sight for him.

“It's a little funny.”

“Fine, a little.” With your words and giggle, he finally lets you go, but of course he had to steal one last kiss on your lips. It's quick, but it still leaves you in a mushy mess on the booth.

“So MJ, huh?” He'd tell you why the simple nickname had his heart palpitating. Once you two got back home, he'd tell you the significance of that name.

“Don't get used to it. Everytime I smell mint I want to vomit.”

Hobie's laughter reverberates in the pub, hand splayed on your back. “Is that why our toothpaste isn't scented?”

Before you could answer, Danny comes back with a tray full of shots and one mint julep.

“Oh dear God.” You and Hobie speak at the same time. Maybe it's time to call it a night for Danny.

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middlingmay · 2 months

Note

May I request HUG from the tackle prompts, for Clegan? 🥰

[ HUG ]: sender tackles the receiver to the ground in their enthusiasm to give them a hug.

Hello! Took me a wee while to get to this one, sorry, but it was a great chance to dive back into my Footballer!John AU.

Taken from this prompt list.

Hope you like it!

EGAN TACKLES LATEST CHALLENGE

Newly-minted Arsenal midfielder John “Bucky” Egan showed off his tackling skills at Heathrow Airport yesterday. His promotion to the Champions League came with high emotions as he was reunited with his reporter boyfriend Gale Cleven, who covered Spain’s recent win in the Women’s World Cup. The couple were seen canoodling outside a trendy bar in Sydney in the early weeks of the tournament, before Egan returned the UK to embark on his new training regime. A tried and tested asset in the defensive midfield, Arsenal manger Mikel Arteta is rumoured to consider a move to a forward position…

John chuckles as he folds the paper and tosses it beside him on the couch. He knew they’d cause a stir with his display yesterday, but he hadn't cared then and he doesn't care now.

Over a month without Gale had been awful.

The nature of both their jobs demand time apart, a few days here, a week there. No biggie. And when Gale had told him his news outlet wanted him to cover the Women’s World Cup in Australia and New Zealand, John had foolishly thought this would be no different.

He’d been thrilled for Gale. John knew he wanted out of sports journalism, and was starting to dip his toe into STEM reportage and was impressing all the right people, but the World Cup was a huge privilege, a huge responsibility, a huge pay cheque, and a great opportunity to travel somewhere Gale might not have went otherwise.

Or John.

Timing’s wise, it wasn’t great. Summer fixtures were in full swing, but he’d managed to bag two full days in Sydney with Gale. They’d been a glorious sun-bleached daydream of exploring the city, enjoying some good football, and taking advantage of every opportunity he had to put hands all over his boyfriend.

Gale hadn't been able to see him to the airport because he had to be at the Allianz Stadium early. But when he saw him off at the door of his hotel, his eyes had gone uncharacteristically bright and John’s heart broke a little to realise that Gale was trying not to cry.

“Hey,” John dropped his duffle bag and swept Gale into his arms; their fifth hug in the last ten minutes. “What’s all that for?”

Gale had burrowed his head into the curve between John’s neck and his shoulders. Those long, strong fingers of his grasped at his shoulder blades tight and bunched up John’s jacket.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Stupid.”

John had pushed him back, cupped Gale’s face under his jaw and made him look at him. “Nothing about you is stupid. I’m gonna miss you, too.”

John had kissed him then, and didn’t stop until his phone buzzed angrily, his ride to the airport beckoning.

Gale had laughed at himself and gently pushed John away. “Go on, get. Some of us have actual work to do.”

John hadn’t got why Gale had been so upset then, but he does now. Waiting a whole month to see Gale, touch Gale, smell Gale was torture. The only thing that had gotten him through it, asides from their texting and phone calls and video calls, was throwing himself head first into practice. He was the first in and last out, every day. He worked his body so hard, he just had enough energy to eat and talk to Gale before he fell into bed to rinse and repeat.

So, when the World Cup was over and Gale was coming home, John had insisted on picking him up at the airport.

John can see over the top of everyone perfectly fine, thanks to the long legs and tall frame he inherited from his dad. But that doesn’t stop him from straining to stand on the tip top of his toes every few seconds.

He looks every which way at the gate, tries to see through the stupid narrow windows on the doors to get his first glimpse of Gale in the flesh. But he stays stubbornly absent.

John’s dimly aware of the looks and murmuring around him. But every time he starts to tun in a pay some attention, he thinks he sees something move where Gale’s plan is due to disembark and he’s back on his toes, craning his neck. He’s one single minute away from jumping in the air like a five-year-old to try and see even further, he swears to God.

Then, finally, the doors swing open and a flood of people swarm through. There are families lugging tired kids; there are sunburnt, hungover teenagers and twenty-something-year-olds; there are leather-skinned retirees, crisply-outfitted business folks. And then, finally through the throng, John spots him.

He’s always thought Gale was the most beautiful person on the plant. He thinks he’s beautiful in his suits he wears for work. He thinks he’s beautiful in the sweats and t-shirts he wears at home. He thinks he’s beautiful in those stupid slipper socks he wears because his feet get cold at night.

But right now, he’s never looked better. He’s exhausted, John can tell; he hasn’t slept on the plane. The shadows under his eyes are purplish. His skin is pale, his hair is unbrushed. His clothes are wrinkled. But he walks tall, looking over the crowd and scanning, scanning, until—

His whole face, whole body, slumps with relief when he spots John.

And that’s just too much for John to take.

Legs strong and conditioned for exactly this task, John pelts forward, weaving through holiday-makers, dodging wheely-cases, not breaking stride for a second. They all pass him by in a multicolour blur as he runs for Gale. Gale only has time to drop his bag before John lands. Between his momentum and Gale's tiredness, they’re careening down to the floor, John’s hand protecting Gale’s head as the rest of him lays sprawled over his boyfriend.

They hear tittering and clicking but John cannot care less. He beams at Gale, thrilled just to drink in the sight of him, and he gets his favourite Gale smile: eyes looking up through his lashes, cheeks high, like he’s trying not to smile but just can’t help himself around John.

John rubs their noses together. “Hi.”

And to John’s surprise, Gale kisses him; a brush of his lips that John follows and presses into, just enough to feel the fullness of those lips he’d dreamt about, before letting Gale retreat.

“Hi. Now let me up.”

John bounds up, and plucks Gale up off the floor easy with two hands. He takes his bag too and all but drags him out of the airport to the car waiting outside. They have to get home. Like, yesterday.

A cup of coffee appears over John’s shoulder.

“You’re up.” He takes the cup from Gale with a kiss to his jaw.

“Mm. Didn’t have anyone to stay in bed for.” Gale joins John on the sofa, his back against the arm and his legs thrown over John’s. “Saw something interesting on my phone though.”

He fishes his barely-used personal phone from his pocket (John’s surprised he actually knows where it is, today. He doesn’t normally), presses a few buttons and passes it to John.

On the small rectangular screen is the site for a gossip rag. On it’s sports section, it leads with the headline: See what Bucky did to his boyfriend in PUBLIC!

“Oh, come on,” John scoffs, nearly sloshing coffee over the lip and onto the sofa. “That makes it sounds like I was…pushing you around or something.”

“You literally pushed me over.” John poked him. “There’s more. The Daily Mail, always a classic.”

‘Tackled’ Pink: Egan humiliates boy toy.

John groans in second-hand embarrassment. “Their puns are getting worse. That barely makes sense. And I’m sorry—boy toy?”

“Excuse you: humiliated boy toy, I think you’ll find.”

John makes to hand the phone back but Gale just nods at it. “Look who wrote it.”

A quick scan of the article reveals the name. “Ulrich Haussmann?! That prick who got drunk at your last mixer and asked to be our third?”

Gale snickers into his own cup of coffee and cocks his head, his blue eyes alight with mirth as he gazes at John. “He only asked that because I was there. He was lookin’ at you all night. Swear his eyes never went north of the equator.”

John gags at Gale’s teasing. “Rather grate off my own dick, no thank you.”

Gale puts down his coffee. “Now why did you have to say a thing like that?” He slips from the sofa to kneel on the floor between John’s legs. Drawing his nose up the inseam of John’s thighs (he's borderline obsessed with them and John can't get enough of it), Gale places a clothed kiss over the crotch of John’s pyjama shorts and gives him a brief nuzzle. “Don’t worry baby,” he says to John’s groin. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

It is so utterly ridiculous, the goofy, silly side of Gale he doesn't let anyone else see but John, that John has them toppling over again, landing on the cushioned rug of their living room instead of the hard screed of the airport.

Nose to nose, John grins and says, “You happier to see me or him, here?”

Gale shimmies his shoulders and screws up his face that way that wrinkles his nose. “Fifty-fifty.”

“I’ll take it.”

#asks #ask me anything #fic requests #clegan #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #footballer au #footballer john #mota #masters of the air #fic request

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shuenkio · 4 months

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Your curiously | 🧸

Paring: Sunoo x male!reader

Genre: fluff, crack

Cw: small dirty talk, mentioned of dick, naked.

Summary: He finally stepped out of his Fluttershy era.

Non proof read ರ⁠_⁠ರ

Crd to all dividers.

You are one of the members of ENHYPEN, and as a foreigner, you have a special bond with your fellow group members. Despite not having as much interaction with some of them at times, you share an unbreakable connection that only comes from years of bonding together. Just a glance is enough for them to understand your thoughts and feelings, showcasing the deep trust and friendship that has formed over time.

Late in the night on Monday, you return to the dorm after a busy day of promoting your latest comeback. Everyone else has already gone to sleep, leaving you alone in the dimly lit hallway, illuminated only by the overhead lamp. You're barely able to see as you take off your shoes near the doorway, believing that you're the only one awake at that moment. However, as you enter the kitchen to grab a glass of water, you discover Sunoo sitting there, quietly enjoying some mint chocolate ice cream.

As you reach into the fridge to get a glass of water, you are startled by the sight of Sunoo suddenly appearing beside you. Your heart skips a beat as you feel it racing in your chest from the sudden scare. The unexpected encounter brings a rush of emotions and adrenaline, leaving you feeling both surprised and amused.

In a moment of shock, you yell out in surprise, the sound echoing through the dorm. Sunoo quickly hushes you, worried about waking the other members, before leading you to the living room and seating you on the couch with a gentle nudge. As he covers your mouth to keep the noise down, your racing heartbeat and trembling nerves gradually begin to calm down, leaving you both in a more relaxed atmosphere as you sit together.

Recovering from the initial shock, you take a few deep breaths to calm down. You remark to Sunoo,

"I thought you were asleep hyung!" You said. Sunoo replies with a smile, scooping another spoonful of ice cream and savoring it with a satisfied expression.

"I actually waiting for you" As he enjoys the mint chocolate ice cream, you can't help but feel touched and suspicious at the same time.

You call him on his bluff, sensing he's not telling the truth. you suggest that he must have lost a dare or something. Sunoo laughs and admits that it's not entirely a lie, revealing that Jungwon had asked him to wait for you. He chuckles before explaining that Jungwon knows how easily you get lost at night.

You defensively protest, denying Jungwon's claim that you get lost at night. Sunoo continues to poke fun at you, holding up a remote and asking you what he's holding. You respond confidently, saying it's a remote. Sunoo bursts out laughing, revealing that he was actually holding your phone. He teases you for not recognizing it, making a lighthearted joke about your tendency to lose track of things at night.

You're left stunned, realizing you've guessed wrong and shouted the answer with confidence. A sense of embarrassment floods over you as you turn away to hide your flushed cheeks. Sunoo suggests taking a shower together, claiming he sweat a lot while waiting for you. Despite feeling offended, the thought of showering with him eases your embarrassment, and you agree reluctantly, finding comfort in his company. The two of you make your way to the bathroom, ready to wash away the worries and fears together.

After years of spending time together, the members have grown accustomed to seeing each other scantily clothes.Yet, despite your closeness to Sunoo, you've never seen him fully naked, which sparks your curiosity. When he proposes showering together, you can't help but wonder what it would be like to see him without any clothing on. Although you're used to other members' naked bodies, the thought of seeing Sunoo fully exposed brings up a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

As you begin to take off your clothes, a mix of curiosity and excitement washes over you.

"Are you sure? You're not Fluttershy now?"

"Come on trust me~ I'm serious this time"

You mention that Sunoo has never showered naked with the rest of the group, and he responds confidently suggesting that it's time for him to shed his shyness and innocence. Doubting his sincerity, you playfully assert that he probably always showers with a towel. Sunoo attempts to convince you otherwise, insisting that you trust him. Sunoo surprises you as he begins to undress, unbuttoning his shirt and discarding it before removing his pants and underwear. The sight of him naked leaves you stunned and intrigued.

You stand frozen in surprise, your jaw dropping as Sunoo fully exposes himself. His pale pink skin appears even more flawless, and the sight of his pink-tinted dick leaves you awestruck. You can't believe that he has exposed himself so boldly, and you question if you're dreaming. Sunoo's perfect body makes you wonder how someone could be so flawless, and you struggle to find the words to express your admiration and awe.

As you stand there, marveling at his gorgeous nakedness, his shy comments about his member catch your attention.

"Is there something wrong mn? I know I'm not a competition with the other in this category size"

Sunoo speak as you assure him that nothing is wrong, but can't help but to admire his unique shape and size. His balls is shape circle that clutch together like it was winter season, which draw him even more adorable.

"I wonder how the hell you hide your bulge so well? I've seen all the members fancam and they're all had bulge poking but you? Hyung have nothing" you asked, curious about how he manages to adjust so well during the performance.

"I already told you that, you should wear dancer thong, it's keep your dick steady but you didn't" he huff, acting upset at your question as he fold his hand over his chest.

"Who know that thing could make such magic tskk I'll wear one tomorrow then"

"You better be lol-" Both of you laugh it off together, enjoy the conversation. Despite your curiosity and eagerness to learn more, Sunoo changing the topic and suggesting that you both get in the shower to wash up for tomorrow's schedule.

"Let's measure size i swear it's the last time!!" You said with your full chest, unable to process further as you hungry for more dirty talk.

"Now i believe what jungwon said, not only mn is lost but also wild at night aigoo—"

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️repost because the tag is not working.

[REQUEST STILL OPEN]

#enhypen #enha x male reader #kim sunoo #sunoo x reader #enhypen sunoo #enha x you #enha imagines #enha fluff #enhypen scenarios #kpop x male reader #enha x reader #enha smut #enha scenarios #enha sunoo #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen fic #enha fanfic #enhypen x male reader

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greenwitchcrafts · 1 year

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Rosemary

Rosmarinus officinalis

Known as: compass weed, dew of the sea, elf leaf, guardrobe, incsensier, labonotis, Mary's cloak, polar plant, sea dew, stella maria & star of the sea.

Related plants: A member of the mint family Lamiaceae that includea basil, mint, sage, savory, marjoram, oregano, hyssop, thyme, lavender & perilla. As well as other herbs such as catnip, salvia, bee balm, wild dagga, and oriental motherwort.

Parts used: Leaves, roots, sprigs & essential oils from the flowers.

Habitat and cultivation: This evergreen shrub is native to the Mediterranean Portugal, and northwestern Spain.

Plant type: Perennial

Region: Zone 6 with occasional winter protection & zones 7-10

Harvest: Anytime but avoid taking more than 1/3 of the plant when you do.

Planting tips: Rosemary has a low germination rate and slow to sprout, try using cuttings or buy from a nursery if you have problems. Keep in full sun with a well drainer container & let the soil dry out completely before watering again.

Medicinal information: Over the years rosemary was used to relieve muscle pain, repelling insects, improve memory, boost the immune system & promote hair growth.

Cautions: While safe, ingesting excessive amounts of rosemary can be dangerous and lead to vomiting, coma & pulmonary edema.

ROSEMARY IS NOT A SUBSTITUTE FOR EVERY HERB

Magickal properties

Gender: Masculine

Planet: Sun

Element: Fire

Deities: Faeries, Elves, sea spirits & Virgin Mary

Magickal uses:

•Place in dream pillows to prevent nightmares

• Burn as an incense to purify & remove negativity

• Hang above your doorways to drive away unwanted visitors

• Add to a ritual bath for cleansing & removing hexes

• Use as a substitute for frankincense

• Plant in your garden to attract fae

• Carry a sprig to protect against the evil eye

• Keep under your bed to ensure fidelity & a happy relationship

• Wash your hands with a rosmary infusion before healing magick to increase potency

• Wear in a satchet or amulet to improve memory recall & improved health

• In Italian folk magic, it is cooked with to alleviate sadness grief

• Rosemary may be used as incense at rituals of death and dying. It may be cast upon the coffin when it is slowly lowered into the burial place. With this we will all remember with love and fondness the one who is passing into another life, and thus we will also remember that we inhabit mortal bodies as we walk through the earth

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lol-jackles · 3 months

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Walker series finale review

It’s only been a week since Cordell nearly died and Luna died in Cassie’s arms, so their people are hard at work being there for them. Like the start of season 3, Cordell wants everything back to the way it was and overcompensates by being extra, but his family simply want him to be in the present with them, and then take one step at the time.

Stella tells her dad that there is no version of life where he’s being gone is better, it will just be a different kind of pain. She gives him the letters he wrote while he was undercover in case he doesn’t make it out alive. She and August didn’t read the letters because it came from a different version of their father and they don’t need that now. However, perhaps Cordell do, and figures it out from there.

Despite Cordell’s assurance to Geri that the Jackal case was an “exception of exceptions”, Geri wisely tells him that there’s always going to be “the next big case” and when it happens, she wants Cordell to go to her for support. This makes me super happy that Geri doesn’t demand that he cuts back on his work or give up his job altogether but wants to be there for him when his job inevitably gets messy again.

Cassie has to reach back to the past to galvanize herself into thinking about a different future than the one she planned with Luna and goes to the lieutenant job interview. Trey appears to give a stronger interview, but he’s only been a ranger a short time and the job goes to Cassie. Of course it does because they changed Cassie’s personality from Cordell-lite in season 2&3 to James-lite in season 4, so she got the lieutenant job as the newly minted female version of Larry James, who was also Cordell’s previous partner. Anybody remember when she and Cordell tamper with evidence just to satisfy their curiosity? (X) It was actually one of my favorite scenes.

The job promotion further propels Cassie to “leap forward” into a new future. It also means Cassie will no longer be Cordell’s partner, which is for the best because emotionally she blames him for Luna’s death even when she's concerned about Cordell and asked Geri how he is doing. Two things can be true. I predicted a while back (looking for the specific post) that Cordell and Trey would eventually become partners and now that it’s confirmed, we are robbed of that dynamic in season 5.

August graduation party is crowded and loud and its cathartic for the audience to see everybody happy and celebrating. We even see Cassie smiling at Cordell’s toast to his son, August Edward Walker, and the rest of the family. Here I was expecting a Shakespearean middle name for August but it’s from Emily who was a Twilight fan. Liam and Ben declared themselves team Jacob and just like that they’re moving in together.

The party grows raucous, and Bonham and Abilene hide out in their house. Abilene apologizes to Bonham for abandoning him while she was launching her wedding venue business and assures him that she wants to oversee and “meddle”, not deal with the bride of the week. Nope she’s leaving bride handling to the gay guy. Bonham compromise by keeping the boat and uses it for her events as a tax write off. Win win!

Cordell takes a leave of absence for the summer to take August, Stella, and Geri (and a secret ring box) on a much-needed vacation, which Cassie grants on the first day of the lieutenant job because “they both need this”. A time apart from each other and away from the daily reminders will do them both good.

While the finale is a 'happy ending', there are underlying sadness that's been there since the pilot episode, starting with Cordell, then Micki, and now Cassie. Each of them has lost romantic partners to death and Cordell said time doesn't heal everything. What is unspoken is work and more work will get them through the pain of grief.

As Bonham and Abeline enjoys a boat ride and Cordell and his children and Geri head out of town, an unexpected double cliffhanger happens: Liam gets recruited by the governor for a secret job and he’s whisked away by men in black in front of the impressed Ben; the Davidson lands is sub-leased by a hippie version of SPN Lucifer, due to his all-white outfit, who is none other than Dawson Leery, played of course by a grinning James Van Der Beek!

Final score: 9.7. Point 1 deduction for each arcs we won't see in season 5: Cordell and Trey's new partnership , Liam's new job from the governor, and new neighbor cult leader Dawson Leery

#Walker review #Jared Padalecki

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thescribblesofreverie · 1 year

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WIP Excerpt - Aaron Hotchner x teen!reader

I thought I would share just a little snippet of a project I'm working on. It's a series about Aaron meeting a teenager on a case who ends up being involved, and there's just something so familiar about her...

Reader does use she/her pronouns.

Everyone had that one touchy subject that seemed to bring back memories of events and cases past. Everyone knew that J.J. was the one who was affected by cases involving children.

But this time it was Hotch who felt his chest restrict with each new fact presented. With every body found the pressure of solving this case felt ten times heavier on his shoulders.

On his nightstand, the alarm clock’s neon blue numbers read 3:22 A.M. He was pacing around the hotel room, mind racing a mile a minute. The facts and theories of the case were incredibly confusing. Everytime the team got close, something drastic changed and they were at square one.

Four young, innocent girls were dead, and a fifth was going to be soon if they didn’t shape up.

Hotch glanced out the window of the third story room to see a small diner in the plaza across the street. On its left there was a tobacco store with big yellow block lettering covering the window pains with advertisements promoting vapes and discounted cartons of Mavericks. To its right there was a laundromat, with a few letters of the sign tilted from rusted out nails crumbling away instead of holding it fast. The glowing blue and pink sign on the diner read “open 24 hours”, though it flickered out every few seconds. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he sighed.

Nothing was getting done in this small room, and the diner would have coffee. He had heard before the coffee from 24 hour diners was always better. He doubted that to be true, but at least it would be caffeinated.

He grabbed the coat off of the chair in the corner of the room, and quietly left, locking the door behind him.

It was a short walk across the street. He pushed open the door, and a bell jingled.

Soft sounds of 70’s music filled his ears. His eyes found a pastel yellow and mint green jukebox in the corner. It was your typical retro themed diner. Checkerboard flooring, blue and pink booths and tables, milkshake decals on the wall, and a long bar that a waitress was cleaning with a rag. With the typical 50’s decorations and colors, but 70’s music playing and newspapers from the 80’s on the wall, the establishment seemed to lack a general knowledge on what decade it was supposed to be emulating. Nonetheless, there was a pot of coffee sitting behind the counter, and it wasn’t like this was the strangest 3 A.m. experience he had ever had.

Hotch looked away and sat at the counter, waiting patiently for the waitress to meander her way over to him. She finished wiping down the section of counter she had been working on and dropped the rag in a basket beneath the counter. Finally, she looked over at him.

20-24 year old girl, medium build, round face, brown eyes, umber skin, and dark black waves of hair. She shouldn’t be working alone at night, he thought. Not with a killer on the loose.

“What can I get for you?” She asked, all but rolling her eyes. Her name tag said “Marisa”.

“Just a coffee please.” He said quietly.

“Black?”

He nodded.

As she went across the room to fill up a mug, he took a moment to revel in the peace he rarely got to feel while on a case.

The soft lighting and low music was almost comforting, in an odd way. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

Marisa set the mug of steaming coffee in front of him. “Just brewed a new pot, so you’re lucky.”

“Thanks-”

The jingling of the door interrupted him.

“Marisa, darling!” A feminine voice cooed.

The waitress had a look of annoyance flash across her face before she quickly covered and plastered on a smile.

“Julie, welcome in. Go ahead and take your usual booth. I’ll get you a coffee and… I’m so sorry sweetheart, what’s your name again?”

“Y/N. I’ll have orange juice, please.”

At the mention of her name Hotch looked over his shoulder. Y/N was dressed in a pair of plaid pajama pants and an oversized hoodie. Her shoulders were hunched and as she sat down in the both, she immediately curled into the corner, like it was supporting her. Dark circles hung under her eyes and as he watched, she put a hand up to her mouth to hide a yawn.

It was early Thursday morning. And unless there was something going on that he didn’t know about, she had school in four hours. What was she doing up?

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch x daughter!reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x teen!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #thescribblesofreverie #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds x teen!reader #criminal minds x reader #bau x teen!reader #bau x reader

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coven-of-genesis · 1 year

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Herbal teas that assist with sleep:

Chamomile tea: Chamomile is a natural sedative and is known for its calming properties. Drinking chamomile tea before bed can help relax your muscles and calm your mind, making it easier to fall asleep.

Valerian root tea: Valerian root has been used for centuries as a natural remedy for insomnia. Drinking valerian root tea before bed may help you fall asleep faster and improve the quality of your sleep.

Lavender tea: Lavender is well-known for its soothing and calming effects. Drinking lavender tea before bed can help reduce anxiety and promote relaxation, which may help you sleep better.

Lemon balm tea: Lemon balm is a member of the mint family and has been used for centuries to help promote relaxation and relieve stress. Drinking lemon balm tea before bed may help reduce anxiety and improve the quality of your sleep.

Passionflower tea: Passionflower is a natural sedative that can help promote relaxation and reduce anxiety. Drinking passionflower tea before bed may help you fall asleep faster and improve the quality of your sleep.

It's important to note that while herbal teas can be helpful for improving sleep, they are not a substitute for proper medical care. If you are experiencing chronic sleep problems, it's best to consult with a healthcare professional.

#herbology #herbs for sleep #herb magick #herb basics #witchblr #witchcore #witchcraft #witchlife #white witch #beginner witch #witch tips #green witch #grimoire #spirituality #book of shadows

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roosterforme · 2 years

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A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Things finally boil over for Bradley. You don't understand the full extent of what you've done and how much you've hurt him until after a phone call and too much to drink.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing and smut

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my Masterlist!

"I hate to say it, but this is not the worst date we have been on together," Bradley told Jake, pouting as they sat down together in the movie theater.

"Hey, I had fun at hot sauce class. You were the one who was grouchy," Jake told him before shoving a fistful of popcorn into his mouth. "Now why couldn't Angel come tonight?"

"Work," Bradley muttered, popping a few Junior Mints into his mouth. "Busy with work."

He had felt a lot better today. Work was going well for him, and instead of feeling neglected, he forced himself to feel happy for you. It wasn't his accomplishment, but it was the next best thing.

"She's been working a lot?" Jake asked cautiously. "Barely seen her around. Usually you can get her to eat lunch with us a few times a week."

"She's been working nonstop," he said quietly. "I miss seeing her at lunchtime, too."

Jake cleared his throat as the lights dimmed. "It's not another Josh kind of thing, is it?"

Bradley's jaw dropped. He hadn't even considered that.

"No," Jake said quickly. "I'm sure it's nothing like that. She would have told you if there was a guy giving her a hard time."

Bradley swallowed against his fear. "I think she's just trying her best to be as successful as she can while she has a good commanding officer. She's kind of chasing that next promotion, you know? And this project deadline is coming up soon. Hopefully things get easier after that."

"And then you two lovebirds can plan your wedding," Jake said.

"Right," Bradley replied as the previews started. "Right."

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

You were holding up your champagne flute and smiling brightly. Your entire group was seated in the private room of a rooftop restaurant along the beach. Your belly was full of seafood and wine, and now the desserts were coming out. It had been weeks since you were eating on a real schedule, and you'd probably feel sick tomorrow, but you had as much as you wanted.

Bradley would love it here. You would have to tell him about it and bring him one day. Maybe you could make some seafood for him this weekend as a treat. Maybe he could help you practice your presentation. You could make a game out of it again.

You returned your attention to the toast and took a sip before taking a bite of chocolate cake. You were tired, and kind of ready to go home, but everybody else wanted to hit another spot for drinks, so you agreed to go.

And after three more drinks, you realized you were going to need to wait around for a while before you could drive home. It was late, and you didn't want to call Bradley for a ride. You knew he would come get you, but there was no sense in waking him up. And even if he was up, you didn't want to have to come retrieve your car before work tomorrow morning.

This was fine. Tomorrow was Friday. You were way ahead of schedule with work now. You could spend a day with Bradley. You could catch up on some sleep.

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

Bradley was easily persuaded to join Jake at the Hard Deck. It was better than going home to a house without you in it. But it was Thursday, and there were no other aviators there.

"This is weird, Hangman," Bradley said as they shot some pool. "We never come here on Thursdays."

"True," Jake said, lining up a nice shot. "But, I'm a little worried about you. Plus, it'll be easier for me to pick up a girl with your ugly mug next to me."

Bradley gave him a blank stare.

"I'm kidding, Bradshaw. Clearly. You bagged yourself a dime. You couldn't be that ugly."

"Thanks," Bradley muttered, focusing on his next shot.

"Now you gonna tell me what's wrong?"

Bradley looked at his former nemesis turned friend. He knew you and Jake were friends as well, so he felt a little weird talking to him about you. He preferred to do that with Nat for a number of reasons. But he couldn't help himself. He shook his head slightly. "She won't work on any wedding planning with me. I'm not even sure she wants to."

Jake frowned. "You tried talking to her?"

Bradley took a long drink of beer. "Yeah. Just blames everything on work. I'm sick of asking her about it." He set his empty down and shook his head. "I don't know what happened. Everything feels wrong now."

"Jesus, man. Let me get you another beer," Jake said before setting down his pool cue and ambling up to the bar.

Bradley re-racked the balls and practiced breaking a few times while he waited. He didn't realize anyone was behind him until he heard a voice.

"Hey, you're really good."

He turned to see a cute girl. Bright eyes. Pretty smile. Probably in her late twenties. Exactly the kind of girl he would have tried to take home with him.

Bradley glanced up at the bar and saw that Jake was in heavy conversation himself, so Bradley nodded and said, "Thanks."

She smiled and licked her lips, and Bradley's mind took him there. He thought about how easy it would be to hook up with her. He knew it would be. It could be a one time thing. Meaningless. Just the way he used to operate. You would never have to know about it.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He was engaged to you, a walking, talking dream. How could his mind have possibly gone there? He was disgusting.

"So, you wanna teach me how to play pool?" she asked, inching closer until her hand was resting on his chest.

Bradley didn't respond. He couldn't even figure out how to breathe correctly. He didn't even fucking deserve you.

He shook his head. "No, sorry. I'm not interested," he said before moving away from her and heading for the door.

"Bradshaw! Where are you going?" Jake asked as Bradley walked past.

"Home."

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

You tried to come in as quietly as you could, but Tramp still came running to the front door. It was so late. You were exhausted, but you also really wanted to take a shower. When you walked into your bedroom and found Bradley asleep, you decided to skip the shower and just curl up next to him. After you brushed your teeth and took your contacts out, you got undressed and just climbed right into bed.

You were dying for a good night of sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day, but then you'd have two in a row off. You pressed your naked body against Bradley's, and that was when you realized how much he reeked like liquor.

How much had Jake let him drink? Did he drive home like this?

"Bradley?" you whispered. "Are you okay, Roo?" you asked a little louder.

He groaned, "I'm going home."

You kissed his cheeks. "You are home, Roo. I just got home as well."

"Baby Girl," he mumbled, rolling over toward you. He smelled like he drank an entire bottle of bourbon, but at least he seemed to be okay.

"Yeah, I'm here," you told him, letting him pull you against his body. You dozed off with his strong arms wrapped around you.

Then you woke up to the sounds of him getting sick in the bathroom. You climbed out of bed just as the first rays or sunlight were filtering through the bedroom windows.

"Are you okay?" you asked him as he sat in front of the toilet cradling his head.

He turned to face you, his brown eyes raking over your body. He looked terrible, but you could still see the longing on his face. "Yeah," he told you, his voice hoarse.

"Did you and Jake overdo it last night?" you asked, running your fingers gently through his hair. He seemed to melt into your touch.

"Something like that," he groaned, turning back toward the toilet to be sick again.

"Roo, how are you going to go to work like this?" you asked. He should know better. Maverick would ground him for the day in this condition.

"Very carefully," he told you with a grimace as he stood and washed his face.

"Okay," you hesitantly agreed as you started to get yourself ready for work. "Want me to make you some coffee?"

"Sure."

You finished getting yourself ready and left some plain toast and black coffee on the counter for Bradley.

"Do you need anything before I leave?" you asked softly. He was halfway dressed and sitting on the end of the bed.

"No, Sweetheart. I'm fine." But he really, really didn't look fine. He looked miserable, sick, hungover and sad.

"Listen," you told him. "It's Friday, and we have the whole weekend to ourselves. I'll probably work a little late tonight, but when I get home, I'll make dinner and we can relax. Sound good?"

He looked up at you and nodded.

"Perfect. Bye, Roo," you told him, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

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

Bradley deserved to feel this shitty. After the thoughts in his mind last night, he honestly deserved much worse than this. He hated himself right now, and he didn't deserve you. Even on your worst day, you weren't as bad as he was. That's why he drank half a bottle of scotch when he got home from the Hard Deck. He just wanted those thoughts out of his mind.

But damn it, he also wanted some sort of reassurance from you. Every time he asked for you to plan even the smallest wedding detail, you shut him down. And he didn't want to push you too hard right now, because he knew you were busy. You had Annapolis coming up. This was all very important to you.

He wanted to feel like he was important to you too, though.

He scrambled through work, thankful it was only a classroom day. When Jake tried to ask him why he left the bar so suddenly, Bradley didn't know what to say.

"Was it that pretty little thing talking to you?" Jake asked, and Bradley's eyes snapped up to his. "You could have tossed her my way, you know. Instead of running out like your ass was on fire."

"I told her I wasn't interested. Nothing happened."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Obviously nothing happened. Look, Angel's not gonna care that some little airhead touched you, Bradshaw."

"Right," he agreed. "She wouldn't care about that."

But that's not what had Bradley rattled. He was starting to question too many things. He needed to get himself home and wait for you. He would demand your attention.

So when he got there, he sat on the couch with Tramp, but then he decided to just finish the rest of the bottle of scotch to help him relax a little bit. When Jake texted asking if it was okay to come over and workout in the garage, Bradley responded and told him that was fine.

He sipped more of the scotch and ate a bag of the disgusting, unsalted pretzels you liked. He finished the bottle around seven o'clock and was just about to pass out on the couch when he remembered that he had hung up the dirty calendar you gave him in the garage next to his weight bench.

"Shit," he hissed, rolling off the couch and making his way out to the garage. He could already hear Jake's music playing, and then he noticed his car in the driveway. Bradley was having a really difficult time walking, but he did manage to get inside the garage.

"Bradshaw," Jake said in greeting as he did some bicep curls.

Bradley shook his head and unclipped the calendar from the wall. "Don't look at her."

Jake snorted. "Yeah, it's a little late for that, man. Angel looks good in red though. And if I haven't already told you before, you are one lucky asshole."

Bradley ran his hand through his hair and turned back toward the house.

"Are you okay? Wait, are you drunk?" Jake asked, hopping up from the bench and following Bradley. "Whoa. What the fuck is going on?"

Bradley tried to stand still, but his head was spinning. "I don't know."

"Let's go inside," Jake suggested softly, guiding Bradley back into the house and helping him sit on the couch.

Bradley watched him bring in a glass of water and some crackers. "Eat and drink some water. I'm going to call Angel."

"No... don't bother her at work. She's busy." Bradley closed his eyes to keep the room from spinning.

But he could already hear Jake talking on the phone.

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

"Hey, Jake, I'm a little busy," you said when you answered your phone. "What do you need?"

He was silent for a beat, and your heart started pounding.

"Angel, I think you should come home right now."

"What happened? Where's Bradley?" you asked, tossing your computer into your bag and heading for your office door.

"Can you just come home?"

Now you were scared as you rushed out of your building. What happened to Bradley? And why was Jake at your house? When you finally pulled into your driveway, you saw Jake's car. And when you rushed inside, he was there talking to Bradley.

"What happened?" you asked, out of breath.

"Sweetheart," Bradley groaned from the couch. He was clutching the calendar you gave him to his chest. You watched his eyes slide in and out of focus as he looked at you, reaching for you as he tried in vain to stand up. Sinking back to the couch with a deep sigh, his eyes drifted closed.

"He's drunk again?" you asked Jake. "Why did you let him get trashed again? He was a mess last night and this morning!"

"What are you talking about?" Jake asked. "He only had one beer with me last night. Ran away when some cute girl started flirting with him. Didn't even stay for a second drink. And he was already like this when I got here an hour or so ago."

You let Jake's words sink in as you tried to puzzle through this mess. Bradley must have gotten drunk here last night. He must have been trying to do it again tonight when Jake found him.

"You came over to use the garage?" you asked, eyeing up his gym clothes.

"Yeah. Rooster came stumbling in and took down all the scenery," Jake said, pointing at Bradley. Well, at least the calendar's presence made sense now. "Red is definitely your color."

"Shut up," you told him, making your way over to Bradley. "Are you okay, Roo?"

He cracked his eyes open and nodded. You pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed his cheek. "I'm going to walk Jake out. I'll be right back." Bradley whimpered in response and nodded his head as you stroked your fingers along his flushed cheeks.

Jake took you firmly by the hand, and you followed him out onto the porch.

"Listen, Angel. I don't mean to pry, but why are you putting him through the wringer like this?"

You gasped. "What?"

Jake ruffled your hair before you could duck out of the way. "He's crazy about marrying you. Just tell him you're looking at dresses or you picked out some exotic flowers or you know what flavor cake you want. Give him a little hope. It'll go a long way."

He was already walking to his car when you let your shoulders slump. "No," you whispered as you rushed back inside.

Now Bradley was up and walking around, still holding the calendar.

"Roo, why don't you sit down and I'll get you something to eat?"

"Not hungry," he told you, pacing over toward the piano.

"Okay, well how about we sit on the couch together?"

His eyes went a little wide. "You'll let me touch you?"

You nodded your head and took him by the hand, but you were starting to feel like shit. "Yeah, you can touch me."

You guided him to sit down, and then you started to unlace your boots. His unsteady eyes followed your every move as you took them off and set them near the front door. When you sat next to him, he curled up with his head in your lap, running his hands along your uniform pants. He kissed your legs through the fabric before letting his cheek rest on your thigh.

"You look really nice in khaki," he told you, his voice deep and raspy.

"So you've told me. I've also heard I look nice in red," you said, raking your fingers through his hair.

"Fucking Hangman shouldn't have been looking at that," Bradley muttered, nuzzling the back of his head against your belly. You were just thankful the photo with your bare breast wasn't the one on display in the garage.

You took a deep breath. "You gonna tell me what's wrong, Roo?"

Bradley sighed. "I wish you still wanted to marry me," he told you, and you felt like someone had kicked you in the stomach.

"Bradley. I do," you promised him as tears stung your eyes. But he was wrapping his arm around your leg and starting to doze off.

Okay, so you had made a mess of things. Even Phoenix and Jake could tell what was going on, but you were so absorbed in your own work projects, you had been oblivious. And now Bradley was drunk, again, and you couldn't even put his mind at ease.

You let him sleep, running your fingers along his cheek and looking down at his beautiful face while you cried. You had to fix this. And you needed to do it this weekend. You had one more week here before you left for Annapolis, and you needed Bradley to know you wanted to marry him. You wanted to do everything with him.

When he started to stir a little bit, you helped him stand and walked him to the bedroom. "Let's get you undressed," you told him softly, peeling his shirt and jeans off. He just did whatever you said, so you sent him into the bathroom to brush his teeth while you got him a fresh glass of water and something for the headache he was going to have in the morning.

You were waiting for him next to the bed, and when he climbed in, he said, "She wanted me to teach her how to play pool, Sweetheart."

"Who?" you asked, handing him the water.

He shrugged and shook his head before he snuggled back against the pillow. "I dunno. It was a girl."

You kissed his forehead and started to get undressed from your uniform. Bradley got hit on all the time at the Hard Deck. If there was something you should be worried about, Jake would have told you.

You climbed in bed with him until he was definitely asleep. But it was still pretty early, and you had been neglecting more than just Bradley. So you slipped out of bed and gathered up all the laundry. Then you cleaned the kitchen and pulled out ingredients to make a nice lunch tomorrow. Then you cleaned the entire house before you got your phone out to text Jake.

You scrolled through your calendar, and your eyes caught on what was listed in your schedule for Monday. You'd take the day off. You would use some of your vacation time and spend the day at home. Everyone would just have to get over it.

And then you started to look at wedding dresses. Because you wanted to. You also knew you wanted that weird confetti cake batter as your wedding cake. Bradley always complained it was too sweet, but you would insist upon it to the point where he would concede and smile and kind of grunt at you.

You emailed three dresses to your mom and Maria, and then you took a quick shower before climbing into bed. When you were both awake, you and Bradley would have a calm, rational conversation about what was going on.

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

Bradley woke up with a pounding head. And he was pissed off. He was fucking angry about everything. He was mad that Jake saw his calendar. He was mad that you came home and took care of him. He was mad that the house was cleaned up. He was mad that he was throwing up again. God, now his ribs were aching, and he was laying on the bathroom floor.

He wasn't a fuck up. Not entirely. He hadn't let the house get too bad while you'd been busy working. He'd managed to feed himself. He hadn't chatted up that girl at the bar. In fact, he'd come home on Thursday night and jerked off while thinking about you.

God damn it, he would be a fucking great husband, and he knew it. He remembered all the dumb shit so you didn't have to. Like when to pay the bills, when to buy dog food, when to change the oil in your piece of shit car. He even remembered to change the batteries in the smoke detectors.

He let Tramp lick his ear while he rolled over to stand up so he could wash his face and brush his teeth. Then he sat on the floor in front of the sink, and the pup climbed into his lap. He scratched him behind the ears and tried to calm down, because he was fucking mad at you, too.

There was no way he was going to beg you for your affection, but he would demand your attention today if he had to. He wanted a real reason why you didn't want to plan a wedding. You'd been engaged for two months already, and you couldn't even tell Bradley one single detail you wanted. And if you didn't want to get married, he deserved to hear you tell him why not.

"Roo," you said softly from the bathroom doorway. He looked up at you, wearing one of his Top Gun tee shirts, and he wanted to bend you over and fuck you. He also wanted to yell at you until he felt better. So instead of doing either of those things, he just sat on the floor and stared at you.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

He cleared his throat. "What are you sorry for?"

He watched you swallow hard and swipe your fingers across the tip of your nose. You were going to cry. He could already tell. But Bradley refused to get up and comfort you.

"I made a mess," you told him, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "I've been working a lot and neglecting too many things."

"What things?" he pressed, tired of dealing with this shit. Tired of trying to pry information out of you when most of the time you weren't even home. "And I swear to God, if you tell me we can't have a conversation right now because you need to go to work, I am going to lose my mind."

Tears started to stream down your face, and the sight actually made him feel a little better. "You! I've been neglecting you! And myself! Us!" You were sucking in air as you tried to talk.

Bradley nodded and watched you grab the door frame. "Yeah," he agreed, making you cry harder.

"I'm sorry! I just wanted to get through this work project, because it's important to me. I told you before we even started dating that work is important to me. You know how much I love what I'm working on now. And women don't get promoted as quickly as men."

Bradley nodded his head slowly. "Yeah, I understand that. And I know it's important to you, and I know promotions aren't always fair. I guess I just got used to being on your list of important things."

You swiped the tears away from your cheeks and took a step toward him. "You are on my list, Bradley! You're at the top. And I'm sorry we aren't having sex as much as you want, but how do you think I feel when you're deployed for weeks or months?"

"No," he said, setting Tramp down and standing up. "That's not fair. I can jerk off when I need to. That's not the problem. And I don't need you to give me pity blowjobs to get me off your back. It's not about that, and you know it."

"Pity blowjobs?" you asked, still inching closer.

Bradley ran his hands over his face, suddenly wishing he was wearing more than just his underwear as your gaze dipped downward. "I've had to practically beg you to let me touch you for the past three weeks. And every time I try to be with you physically, you turn me down."

"Bradley." Your voice sounded pitiful, and your face was all red and splotchy now. "I'm sorry."

He took a step in your direction but raised his voice. "Why don't you want to plan a wedding with me?"

"I.... do.... I want to."

Bradley threw his hands in the air. "I can't plan this without you! I don't even know what you want to do, because you won't tell me anything! Two months of asking, and I have no information from you! And you haven't asked me what I want to do. Not once."

"Roo," you whispered, your lips quivering.

"We can wait and get married next year if you want to. We can get married tomorrow. For all I fucking care, we can get married in Spain or New Zealand or Maryland or our back fucking yard! I don't care! I just want to know what you want! I'm begging you!" He realized he was yelling, but he couldn't stop now. "Do you even want to marry me at all?"

"Yes!" you yelled back. "Yes, Bradley, I want to marry you! I want confetti cake! And I want to wear your mom's veil, because it's prettier than anything you can buy today! I already emailed three wedding dresses to my mom! And I don't want to look at the venue in Laguna Beach, because it looks too fancy in an annoying way!"

Bradley's heart was pounding. His head still ached, and he still felt nauseous, but your shouted words and scratchy voice were soaking through his skin and making him feel better than he had in weeks. He watched you clench and unclench your fists as you took deep breaths. "Well, fuck! Baby Girl, why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

"Because I feel overwhelmed!" you told him, your voice echoing around the bathroom. "If I can't keep it together now, how is this going to work later?" Your voice softened to a whisper. "I'm scared I won't be enough for you."

Bradley's eyes went wide. "Baby Girl, you're everything," he promised, rushing forward to grab you. He pulled you against his body and mashed his lips against yours before gently letting his fingers ease up along your body until he was holding your face in both hands. "Everything."

You kissed him back, whispering his name, and his entire body was aching. "Roo." Your voice was questioning, pleading with him to understand.

He scooped you into his arms and devoured your mouth, relentless until you were gasping. Then he eased himself to his knees and set you gently on the floor, the back of your head coming to rest on the tub mat. You pulled him down by his hair, and he whispered against your neck, "You're more than enough. You always will be."

You moaned as he pressed his body weight on top of yours and ran his rough palms up along your thighs and over your bare ass and pussy. Bradley kissed your face, your cheeks still pink and damp and cool from your tears. Your tears gave him relief this time; he felt so thankful that you shed them.

Your voice was nothing but a broken whisper as you told him, "I need you."

He kissed your lips, holding your chin with one hand. "I need you, too," he promised. "I always will. Please don't forget that." Bradley eased your thighs apart, settling himself against your core. You rocked against him, your fingers gripping his hair tight and keeping his mouth on yours.

"Please, please," you were gasping against his lips, your teeth grazing his mustache as you pleaded. He loved the way you were needy for him, but he needed you just as much right now.

Wordlessly, he reached between your bodies and stroked your clit softly one time.

"Oh!" you whined, your head automatically tipping back, and he licked a stripe slowly up your perfect neck. He stroked your pussy softly, barely giving you the pressure you needed, which had you writhing. "I love you," you told him, rubbing yourself up against his hand. You were so soaked, he could feel you through his underwear when you rubbed yourself there. "Bradley."

He was instantly yanking down the elastic and pulling himself free. He filled you in one stroke. It felt like ages since he'd been inside you. He hated the way it felt like he'd been sharing the house with you, but you had been just out of his grasp. He hated how he felt like he wasn't a priority.

When you licked your lips, and met his eyes, Bradley started to thrust, slowly at first. A soft smile touched your slips, and then with one sharp movement of his hips, you were whining again. He pinned you down with one hand on your hip and teased up the front of your shirt with the other.

He took your soft breast in his hand, gently working his thumb along your taut nipple while he fucked you with hard, short thrusts. He watched your back slowly arch off the floor as he hit just the right spot, and you pressed your lips together stifling your sounds.

"Be as loud as you want, Sweetheart. I'm gonna make you cum on my cock."

"Fuck," you whined. "I'm so close," you cried, shaking your head against the mat. Bradley could feel your right leg shaking against him. The keening noises coming from you had him on the edge too.

He leaned over you, getting some pressure against your clit as he squeezed your breast. You spasmed around him, crying out and gasping for air. And he spilled himself inside you, jerking into you until he couldn't move.

Your hands and lips were all over his face, and as he let himself rest against your shoulder, you wrapped your arms around him. "I'll be better, okay? I promise you, Roo, I will do better."

"Okay, Baby Girl."

A few hours later, you were still wearing just his Top Gun shirt and sitting on his lap at the dining room table. You were sharing a plate of Marry Me Rooster while a confetti cake from a boxed mix baked in the oven.

"Please, Roo? Confetti cake for the wedding?" you asked, giving him your best puppy dog eyes, which weren't even as good as the ones he frequently gave you.

"It's too sweet, but I'll think about it," he replied. But you both knew you would get whatever you wanted.

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

Let's hope they can stay on the same page and plan a wedding that will make them both happy.

PART 4

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