#I just wanted to talk about their houses because I wanted to get it out of my head.

[ja3yun]

The Doll House | Park Sunghoon

doll!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (f.rec), fingering, dom!hoon (i didn't mean this, it just happened), begging but not really, horror elements, anything else lmk! wc: 8.9k synopsis: once you find out the dolls' secret, you're on the hunt to find out how they became this way. in the library you stumble across something and you're left alone with park sunghoon who promises to keep your rendezvous with jaeyun a secret from their owner, but not without something in return jaeyun | masterlist | jongseong a/n: hi! this is the second installation of this series and i'm enjoying writing it so so much! there's a little bit of the lore in here and i tried to put in some little nuggets like word play and everything to give you guys some hints! i hope you enjoy and as always, likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are always appreciated <3

In the week following your encounter with Jaeyun, you've stirred something deep within him. Whenever possible, he finds his way to your side, lending himself to you as he helps you with your daily chores, holding onto your hand when you sit down for some relaxation time between cleaning and cooking, and most importantly - at least for him - he’s been fucking you like crazy.

Something about last week made him feel alive, stronger than he had ever felt before, and he wanted to have that feeling ignited within him almost every day. He coaxed you into having sex a second time around by using those beautiful round eyes to pull at your heartstrings and break your resolve and from then your embarrassment subsided and you used one another to your heart's desire.

Having sex with a doll puts you in the same bracket as those lonely middle-aged men who have no friends and find solace with their rubber girlfriends, which is quite embarrassing. But this is different, you like to think, Jaeyun is for all intent and purpose alive and might as well be a real human.

Sure, he doesn’t have internal organs, his skin is made from thermoplastic elastomer, and his doll shell is made from durable porcelain with insulated heat, but he’s as real as they come. You did ask him how he can get hard and fill you up to the brim with his faux seed, but he says it’s just the way he’s designed. 

Soonyeol is a kinky bitch and she knew exactly what she was doing when she purchased these specific dolls.

You break Soonyeol’s rules almost every day because of him though, venturing into his room to fuck him silly, both of you seeking pleasure and comfort in each other's presence, holding one another close late into the night, swapping stories and laughter; it is nice to have someone to talk to, even if it’s in hushed tones.

Your inquiries into his origins and existence yield no concrete answers; after all, he's only been "alive" for a short time and consequently doesn’t know much about himself, his only offering is to explain that Heeseung and Jongseong know the most out of the four of them. And with your promise to Jaeyun to keep his slip-up of spilling the beans to you a secret from his brothers, seeking clarification from the other dolls remains off-limits.

That doll can get you to do anything he asks if he wants to and it’s almost embarrassing to admit.

As you go about your daily routines, you maintain a facade of normalcy, interacting with the other three dolls just as you did before discovering their secret. You speak to them as if they were merely inanimate objects, not expecting any response in return.

Despite your efforts to remain composed, a sense of unease creeps in the longer you’re in the room with any of them that isn’t Jaeyun. You can't shake the feeling that their eyes are following you, tracking your every move with an unsettling intensity. What once was blissful ignorance is now hyper-awareness. 

At times, you catch glimpses of movement out of the corner of your eye, only to find objects mysteriously rearranged or misplaced when you turn to investigate. It's a subtle form of mischief, one that leaves you feeling disconcerted and off-balance, unsure of what other tricks they may have up their sleeves.

Jaeyun assures you time and time again that none of his brothers would act in malice, however, his words fail to instil any comfort, especially around Heeseung. 

From the moment you arrived at the mansion, Heeseung had captivated you with an inexplicable allure, drawing you in with an intensity that bordered on hypnotic. It was as if he possessed a power unlike any of the other dolls. He was the one that got you to say yes to staying, you know it.

But beneath that surface charm, there's a darkness that unsettles you, a sense of malevolence that lingers in the air whenever he's near. You can't quite put your finger on it, but there's a palpable sense of foreboding that hangs over your interactions with him, like a shadow creeping across your consciousness. He is dangerous and the soul - or whatever it is that he has that brings his doll to life - is entrenched in a dark cloud, one that you want to steer clear of for the rest of your time.

Despite your reservations, you find yourself drawn to Heeseung, unable to resist the pull of his enigmatic presence. But with each passing day, the feeling of unease only grows stronger, leaving you to wonder what secrets lie hidden beneath his doll facade.

You’re cleaning the library and the sun is beaming through the large windows, the hot sun adding an uncomfortable heat to your body.

You continue regardless, wiping your brow and dusting down the shelves with a lime green feather duster you found hidden in the kitchen cupboard. You wanted to do a good job but the library is extensive with wall-to-wall shelves filled with books ranging from present to pre-world war one and you’ll be damned if you’re cleaning each book one at a time; the feather duster will be your new best friend.

As you make your way toward the desk positioned in the centre of the room, a surge of curiosity washes over you, compelling you to indulge in a bit of snooping. The allure of uncovering secrets about the mansion and its mysterious owner, Soonyeol, proves irresistible, fueling your determination to explore further.

With cautious steps, you approach the desk, scanning its surface for any signs of hidden compartments or concealed documents. Your fingers itch with curiosity as you reach for the drawers, your heart pounding with excitement and trepidation. If there are any clues to be found, surely they would be nestled within the confines of this desk.

It’s ridiculous how exciting you find all of this like you’re in some James Bond movie about to uncover the deep secrets of the villain. It’s not that deep but you need to find some excitement in the quiet of this home, so why not make snooping around the fun part of your day?

Beside Jaeyun, of course. 

When Jaeyun is with you, you don’t pry into the mansion, scared that he will take it the wrong way, like you’re trying to expose the brothers and their minder.

Listen to yourself, Y/N. You’re worried about a doll’s feelings, you think to yourself and cringe. It’s concerning how much you don’t want to hurt the doll but that’s just the effect he has on you.

Your fingers wrap around the drawer handles, eagerness flowing through you as you prepare to reveal whatever mysteries may be hidden inside. You gently tug on the drawers, but to your dismay, they remain firmly closed, guarding their contents from prying eyes.

Frowning in frustration, you give the handles a harder shake, trying to remove whatever mechanism is keeping them locked. Despite your attempts, the drawers refuse to move, it's secrets tantalisingly out of reach.

“Shit,” you murmur, trying one more time.

Your gaze wanders over the desk, looking for any sign of a key or secret compartment that may lead to the contents of the drawers. Your pulse rushes with excitement as you dig through the desk, brushing your fingertips around the edges in search of a secret latch or trapdoor.

However, as you scan every inch of the desk, your search provides no results, leaving you feeling irritated and dissatisfied. There must be some way to get those drawers open, there’s no way if there wasn’t something secret inside, some form of incriminating evidence about Soonyeol, that she would keep them locked up. 

As you stand before the locked drawers, your mind flows with questions regarding Soonyeol's occupation and the mystery surrounding her actual identity. The mansion's vintage furnishings and rows of ancient porcelain dolls appear to point to a career in antique collecting, but an ongoing feeling of anxiety suggests darker possibilities. If she was a mere collector, how on earth did she manage to obtain four dolls who are alive? Is she just insanely clued up on possessed dolls and where to find them on eBay?

You look around the room to see if any pictures are hung suspiciously, all those nights of binge-watching Sherlock Holmes are coming in handy because you know now that pictures almost always hold either a safe or a taped-up key behind them.

You meticulously inspect each picture frame in the library, your eyes scanning for any signs of hidden compartments or concealed keys. You check portrait after portrait, your fingers tracing along the edges of each frame, but your efforts yield no results. Disappointment threatens to overwhelm you as you realise that your search has so far been fruitless.

Why is this proving to be so difficult? Surely there has to be something you can scope out, even a bobby pin would suffice at this point so you can pick at the locks.

Just as you're about to give up hope, your eyes fall upon an unusual floor-length portrait hanging inconspicuously on the far wall. It depicts the bizarre scene of a lamb with a human body, eating its sheep counterparts. It’s an unsettling fusion of outlandish and grotesque. You can't help but grimace at the tasteless decor choice, wondering what possessed Soonyeol to hang such a peculiar painting in her library. 

“Seriously? She is one fucked up lady,” you wince to yourself, wondering why she couldn’t just have a poster of some kittens or literally anything else.

Despite your feelings of unease, curiosity overcomes you, and you move forward to inspect the painting more closely. As you reach out to touch the frame, your fingers brush over the edge, and you notice that it seems there is a gap between it and the wall, as if there is something hidden behind it.

With your heart pumping from anticipation, you carefully pull the picture from the wall, exposing a dark wooden door that is concealed behind it. Your breath catches in your throat as you realise that this may be the breakthrough you've been waiting for. With shaky hands, you reach for the rusted doorknob and give it a cautious jiggle.

But just like the locked drawers, the door remains firmly sealed shut, thwarting your attempts to uncover its secrets. You groan out loud, tossing your head back and shutting your eyes in frustration. 

"What has a girl gotta do to find out what the fuck is going on in this place?" you mutter under your breath, your voice tinged with frustration and determination. You refuse to be deterred by this setback, knowing that you're not one to give up easily.

Gathering your resolve, you kneel down to inspect the door handle, your fingers tracing the contours of the keyhole with a sense of anticipation. You can feel the weight of the unknown pressing down on you, the tension in the air palpable as you prepare to uncover whatever secrets lie beyond this enigmatic door.

As you peer inside the keyhole, your breath catches in your throat, your eyes straining to penetrate the darkness that shrouds the room. Every fibre of your being is on high alert, a sense of anticipation tingling at the back of your mind. 

But then, just as you begin to make out the faintest hint of movement within the darkness, something catches your eye - a faint glimmer of red light flickering like a flame from within the depths of the keyhole. Your heart skips a beat as a surge of apprehension courses through you, a sense of foreboding tightening its grip on your chest. 

What is that? 

Your heartbeat quickens as you realise whatever it is, it’s not good and it’s trapped behind that door for a reason. You squint your eyes further, trying to focus on the faint shapes you can see throughout the room but it’s proving difficult, the red beam being your only sense of light.

Time appears to slow to a crawl as you watch the red light pulse and flutter, its intensity increasing with each passing moment. Your palms go sweaty in anticipation, and the hair on the back of your neck stands on edge as you brace yourself to find out what is behind the door.

Then, without warning, just as you go to reach for the handle once again, the red light bursts brightly, obscuring your eyes. With a startled scream, you stagger backwards and deck onto the hardwood floor, your heart beating as adrenaline rushes through your veins. The room swirls around you as you try to regain some form of direction, your senses overwhelmed by the abrupt blast of light and the overpowering feeling of dread that persists in the air.

“Fuck!” you manage to yell out and as your senses slowly return, you find yourself gasping for breath, the remnants of the red flame still burning brightly in your vision, creating white spots behind your eyelids. With trembling hands, you reach out to steady yourself, your heart pounding in your chest as your blood pumps nervously through your veins.

In a daze, you glance to your right, your gaze falls upon the portrait you had removed from the wall and it's changed - it is now portraying a human head with a sheeps body, eating it's mesty carcass, blood smeared over it's mouth and wool.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you quickly rush to replace it, your hands shaking as you fumble with the frame. Your heart feels as though it's about to burst from your chest as you struggle to hang the painting back in its rightful place.

Finally, with the portrait back on the wall, you step back, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to steady your racing heart and swallow the sick that rose from the pit of your stomach out of fear. 

But as you turn around, your heart jolts to a panicked stop in your chest as a new wave of terror washes over you. Sitting there, in the corner of the room where there was nothing before, is one of the dolls - Park Sunghoon, motionless and silent.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you are the last thing I need right now,” you say in frustration, pinching your eyes to extract the last few spots from your vision. It’s bad enough that you’ve just been blinded by god knows what, and now you’re being startled by Sunghoon’s sudden appearance.

Breathing out, you compose yourself and nod, “Okay, so I won’t be going near that door again,” you swallow thickly, trying to inject a laugh to lighten your heavy heart. Scouring around in Soonyeol’s drawers was one thing but you would rather be massacred by a hatchet at the hands of dear Sunghoon over there than find out whatever the fuck is behind that door.

As you regain your composure, a manic laugh escapes your lips, a mix of nervous energy and relief bubbling to the surface. Sunghoon remains motionless, his expression unchanged, as if unaffected by the chaos unfolding around him.

You approach him with a mixture of curiosity, noticing the pair of frameless glasses perched on his face. It's a strange sight as you certainly didn’t put them on him this morning because why on earth would a doll need reading glasses?

"A fashion statement?" you quip, tapping the side of the lenses lightly. The failed joke eases some of the tension that still lingers in the air, and you find yourself chuckling softly as you take a seat on the table beside him.

Leaning in close, you lift Sunghoon's chin to meet your gaze, studying his features with fascination and admiration. Despite the unsettling circumstances, there's a strange comfort in his presence, a sense of solace that washes over you as you take in his ethereal beauty.

His hair falls in soft waves around his face, his bangs framing his eyes in the most captivating way. His features are striking, from the delicate freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks to the sharp line of his jaw. Sunghoon's beauty is almost otherworldly, captivating you in a way that you can't quite explain.

"You'll protect me from whatever is in there, right?" you joke, trying to lighten the mood but Sunghoon sits mute and unmoving. You ponder if staying still like that hurts them or is uncomfortable; does it just come naturally? There are so many questions but after that ordeal, you’ll give up on prying for now.

You pat Sunghoon's cheek softly, smiling down at him before deciding to press on with your chores, hoping that the mundane tasks will help ease some of the weight from your shoulders and restore a sense of normalcy to your day.

With careful hands, you adjust Sunghoon's head to stare forward once more, a futile attempt to spare him any unnecessary discomfort - although you can't help but wonder if he's even capable of feeling pain. Setting him back in place, you make your way to the desk and retrieve your duster, ready to resume your duties.

Focusing your attention on the far side of the room, away from the ominous door, you begin to polish the ancient globe that sits near the entranceway. 

Spinning it idly, you sigh and think about all the places you want to see before you die. You’ve been stuck in this city your whole life only going as far as hopping from city to city and you are in dire need of some vacation time. Maybe it’s the red light that almost blinded you, but you’ve never felt more of an urge to pack up and go.

Maybe it’s just this place you need to get away from. 

But you’re stuck, something is keeping you here. Any normal person who saw what was behind that door would have run for the hills and never looked back, yet, despite the fear in your body that lingers deep inside, you don’t want to leave.

You’ve said this whole time it’s for the money but you could find work somewhere else, a job that wouldn’t give you chills in your bones. 

Once you’ve settled your nerves fully, you want to keep investigating this place and find out why Jaeyun and the other dolls are alive, and unfortunately for you, you have a sneaking suspicion that whatever is behind that door might just hold your answers. 

As you continue to clean, your eye is pulled to an object perched on one of the shelves: an old camera. Intrigued, you approach it, admiring its appearance with a mix of curiosity and nostalgia. The camera's folding body, made of worn leather, emanates timeless beauty and carved nameplates on the side hint at its extensive past.

Upon closer inspection, you recognise it as a model from the 1940s or 1950s, similar to the Agifold your grandmother used to own. Memories of her beloved camera fill your thoughts, followed by a twinge of regret that you never got the opportunity to use it yourself. But now, with no one to stop you, an opportunity presents itself.

Gently, you pick it up and inspect it further, opening the back to see some film still lodged inside. You gently pick up the camera, its weight cooling in your hands. Opening the back panel, you uncover a roll of film that is still wedged inside.

Raising the camera to your eye, you adjust the focus and squint, searching for the perfect angle to capture the essence of the room. With a steady hand, you press the shutter button, the satisfying click echoing in the silence of the room.

Flash.

As you lower the camera from your eye, a satisfied smile tugs at the corners of your lips. But as your gaze sweeps across the room, a chill creeps down your spine, and the smile freezes on your face.

Something is…different.

You scour the room, your eyes darting from one corner to the next in an attempt to discern what has changed so abruptly. It feels as though the world shifted in the blink of an eye, leaving you disoriented and on edge. The familiar sights of the room offer little solace as you search for any sign of what could have caused the sudden disturbance.

The painting of the sheep still hangs on the wall, which means the door remains shut - good. The books on the shelves remain undisturbed, their spines aligned in neat rows. The windows are shut tight, allowing only a faint breeze to filter through the cracks in the draught. Everything appears to be as it was before, except for one glaring absence.

Sunghoon.

Your breath catches in your throat as you realise that the lifelike doll is no longer within your line of sight. He has vanished without a trace, leaving behind only an eerie emptiness in his wake.

A shiver runs down your spine as you consider the implications of his disappearance. Despite Jaeyun's assurances that his brothers are harmless, you cannot shake the feeling of unease that settles over you like a heavy fog. Even though Jaeyun is kind to you, the others may not share his benevolence. In a house filled with secrets and shadows, trust is a fragile thing, easily shattered by the slightest whisper of doubt. 

“You shouldn’t go around touching things that aren’t yours,” a hushed voice flows from behind you, taking advantage of your transfixed body to reach around your waist and take the camera from your trembling hands.

As he lets out a chuckle, Sunghoon moves around you with grace, returning the camera to its rightful place on the shelf. His towering presence now looms over you, casting a shadow that seems to swallow you whole.

Yet, you don’t feel threatened like you thought you would, somehow it was his lack of presence that put you on edge but now that he is standing before you, you know deep down you are in no harm. Your body relaxes a little, your spine finding its strength again as you straighten your posture.

Your movements amuse Sunghoon, his tongue running along his prominent canine as he smirks, “You don’t seem surprised?” he asks but it’s more of a statement than a question. He knows you must have already been in on their secret, “So was it Jaeyun? Did he spill like we thought he would?”

Jaeyun’s saddened face pops up into your head after your first time with him, begging you not to tell the others as they already see him as incompetent. The memory tickles your heart and you start to shake your head definitively, “No, I am shocked, look!” you say, bringing up your shaky hands to his eye level, a feeble attempt to convince Sunghoon.

“Oh really? Then why didn’t you question how I moved from my bedroom to the library without you carting me around in that fuck awful wheelchair?” Sunghoon queries, raising his eyebrow in mock suspicion. He knows you know, he’s just waiting for you to admit it.

“No, I…I just thought…I was…”

“You are a terrible liar, Y/N,” he scoffs out an endeared laugh and pushes your hand away from his face, “It was him, wasn’t it?”

Your heart pounds against your chest as Sunghoon’s stare holds you captive, those beautiful glass eyes slowly dissolving your loyalty to Jaeyun. You are trying so hard to come up with an excuse as to how you know their secret but the doll before you is so alluring in his beauty that your brain might as well be replaced with a tin of mushy peas.

He licks his bottom lip and starts to laugh as your silence becomes his confirmation. 

“Shit,” you huff out, looking down, feeling bad for betraying Jaeyun like this. One tiny secret was all you had to keep and you’ve given it up without even uttering a word. Fuck these dolls and their power over your resolve.

Sunghoon looks up at the ceiling, shaking his head in disbelief, “He really can’t keep his mouth shut,” he says to himself quietly, astonished that he even had any faith in the yapping puppy to begin with.

Your back goes up, eyebrows knitting together, “Hey! Don’t blame him like that,” you say defensively.

He halts his laughter and slowly looks at you, tilting his head, “Oh?...oh…” he mutters, a wide smile of bewilderment appearing on his face as he starts to piece you and Jaeyun’s relationship together, “How on earth did he manage to pull you? Did he give you a bat of his lashes and that signature pout? Did he make his eyes do that stupid sparkle? Hmm?”

You're taken aback by Sunghoon's accurate description, a mix of surprise and embarrassment colouring your expression. How did he know exactly what Jaeyun had done to win you over? Does Jaeyun do this with every housesitter?

Sunghoon watches your reaction with amusement, his grin widening as he sees the realisation dawn on you. "Ah, I see it now," he says, his voice tinged with playful mockery, "He's quite the charmer, isn't he? You know, he isn’t as innocent as he looks, he knows what he is doing."

You shift from one foot to another, looking down at your hands. It’s embarrassing for any woman to be hit with the truck of truth, especially when it’s about succumbing to a man, but a doll? That’s even more humbling. 

Lifting your chin, he gives you a smug smile as he sees inside your mind, “You shouldn’t feel ashamed, baby girl, Soonyeol is the same. She loves it - to look after him, coddle him whenever he wants, and give him kisses in passing,”  he leans down to make direct eye contact with you, a flash of something behind his iris’ brings you to attention as he continues, “That’s all that matters, isn’t it, that you have fun?”

You feel yourself nodding because he’s right. Inside of yourself, you knew Jaeyun was luring you into bed but you wanted it just as much as him, so did you really get played? And you enjoy his company, his constant telling of stories and his high energy, you’ve grown to cherish him with each passing conversation. 

Sunghoon observes the gears turning in your mind. "Can I tell you something?" he asks, his lips whispering over your cheek. You nod, permitting him to continue, your eyes fixed on his as he leans in closer, his lips almost brushing against your ear. "He's been unusually happy since you arrived," he murmurs softly, "I think you might be his new favourite person."

His admission causes a warm flush to spread across your cheeks, a mixture of surprise and delight flooding your senses. Knowing that Jaeyun feels a similar connection to you fills you with a sense of happiness and validation. You can envision Jaeyun becoming a lifelong friend, someone you cherish deeply.

While his initial intent might have been to charm you into fucking him, the time you've spent together since then feels genuine and sincere. You take comfort in knowing that Jaeyun values your companionship and enjoys your presence for more than just physical intimacy.

Sunghoon inhales sharply through his teeth, a disapproving tsk escaping him, "I don't think Soonyeol would be too pleased about that," he remarks, pulling back slightly as if considering the ramifications. "After all, Jaeyun is her favourite, and if she were to discover you've been fucking her precious little puppy..."

Your eyes widen in alarm as you grasp the implication of his words, shaking your head frantically as you instinctively raise your hands in a defensive gesture, "No, no, no, you can't tell her!" you exclaim, your voice tinged with desperation. You find yourself on the verge of pleading, almost dropping to your knees in a last-ditch effort to appeal to Sunghoon's mercy, "I need this job," you implore, your voice trembling with anxiety.

Sunghoon's lips curl into a sly smirk as he watches your panic-stricken reaction. "Well, I suppose I could keep my mouth shut..." he muses, drawing out the suspense and relishing in your apprehension.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hang on to his words, hope flickering within you at the possibility of him relenting. But just as quickly as your hope appears, it’s gone as you see the dark shimmer in his eyes behind his glasses, the way his tongue is sitting on the inside of his cheek as he watches you.

“You can’t be serious? You’re blackmailing me into having sex with you?” you retort, the revulsion evident in your tone.

"I'm not a creep, Y/N, I wouldn't do that," Sunghoon responds, a hint of offence lacing his words. As you meet his gaze, you feel a pang of regret for assuming the worst about him. But he lowers his voice, his eyes hooded as they lock onto yours. "I'd only fuck you if you wanted me to," he murmurs, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You find yourself involuntarily rubbing your thighs together, a nervous habit forming as you bite your lip.

Sunghoon's hands find their way to your waist, drawing you closer until he’s pressed firmly against you. His nearness is intoxicating, and you can't help but tip-toe to etch closer to his face, craving more of his presence. His lips hover tantalisingly close to yours, teasing you with the promise of something more.

"Oh? Would you like that?" he asks smugly, his grip on your waist tightening as he effortlessly makes you melt under his touch, succumbing to him like putty in his hands. It's crazy how much power these dolls possess over you, their allure is irresistible and their influence undeniable.

His smug expression only adds to the internal chaos, making you feel both irritated and strangely drawn to him. You want this more than you would like to admit, perhaps it was the comfort he was bringing to you after your ordeal with the door, or maybe it’s because you’re an idiot that simply wants to fuck him.

Sometimes there is no other reason than pure lust.

Sunghoon's grin widens as he sees you surrender to him, his fingers dancing on your waist as he leans in even closer, closing the already minimal gap between your lips and before you can fully comprehend what's happening, his lips brush against yours in a teasingly soft caress. It's a fleeting touch, but it ignites a fire within you, awakening something.

You're acutely aware of how vulnerable you are in this moment, how easily Sunghoon has managed to unravel your defences and ensnare you in his web of temptation. He is doing exactly what Jaeyun did to you last week, and just the same, you’re letting him because you want it.

"Tell me to stop," Sunghoon whispers, his voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. His hands continue their gentle exploration, tracing the contours of your sides with a feather-light touch that sends tremors of pleasure coursing through your body.

It's a cruel temptation, the way he places the power in your hands, knowing full well that you won't utter that simple word; not when every caress feels like fire against your shivering skin.

Instead, you close the gap, your mouth melding against his as your once shaky hands now thread through his hair, pulling him further into you. You can feel his victorious smile against your lips as he guides you to sit on the very desk you were snooping around earlier, pressing your ass against the edge.

He briskly undoes your jean buttons, his lips planting one long kiss on yours before he sinks past your tits and stomach until he is on his knees in front of your pussy. Teasingly, he pulls down your bottoms, slowly but surely exposing your dampened core to him.

“There you are,” he mutters, placing a gentle peck on your pubic bone, his lips lingering there as he savours the moment. He looks up at you behind his glasses and smirks as he sees your chest rising and falling in anticipation, “I’ll make sure you feel good, baby girl, don’t worry.”

His smirk widens as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he trails kisses along the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. Each touch is deliberate, calculated to elicit a response from you, and you can't help but arch your back in anticipation, silently urging him to continue.

With a soft sigh of contentment, Sunghoon grants your unspoken desires, his tongue delicately tracing the beginning of your slit. He flattens it against your tender flesh, savouring the taste of you as he lingers there, lost in the intoxicating sensation of your essence. 

You grind your hips onto his face and before you know it, you’re riding his face, using your hips to move your clit along his rigid tongue. Your fingers desperately seek to find refuge on a surface to steady you, which they find in his hair, tugging gently at his scalp to help anchor you.

Sunghoon is loving it as much as you are, the smile on his face is a testament to this. He pries your legs further apart to sink his mouth further into your heat, the tip of his wet muscle now working in tandem with your hips to help you out.

"F-fuck," you moan breathlessly, your body arching instinctively towards him as he spreads your folds between the fingers of his right hand. Anticipation courses through your veins as he teases you with soft, long licks, each stroke of his tongue sending waves cascading through your body.

You're consumed by both pleasure and longing, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of his touch. Every lingering, deliberate swipe of his tongue against your clit makes it throb with need, and you find yourself clenching around nothing, yearning for more.

You want him to go faster, to get you to the edge quickly so he can fuck you against this desk, but at the same time, you're intoxicated by the slow, deliberate pace of his movements. He’s so good at this it’s almost awe-inspiring. 

Sunghoon's long fingers stroke up and down your folds with a delicate touch, savouring the sight of you spread open before him. But he needs more, he wants to see you completely exposed and at his mercy. With a determined gaze, he shifts your legs over his shoulders, positioning you firmly on the edge of the wooden desk.

"Your pussy is the closest to heaven I'll ever get," he remarks, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes in your needy expression. Your whimper for attention to your clit only fuels his desire further, "I want to make you beg so bad, baby girl," he adds, his voice dripping with need, "but I don't want to wait to see what it feels like to have you cumming on my tongue."

The plea escapes your lips before you can stop it, your desire overriding any sense of restraint, "Please, Sunghoon," you moan, your hips instinctively thrusting towards him, begging for his touch.

He can't resist the temptation any longer. With a hunger that borders on desperation, Sunghoon spreads your folds open once again, his gaze fixated on you in this new position. He licks his lips in anticipation, his mouth watering at the sight of your glistening wetness.

His tongue flicks over your hood, teasing your clit with quick, back-and-forth strokes that send electric shocks through your veins. You writhe beneath him, lost in the overwhelming sensation of his touch as he expertly pushes you to the edge. 

Sunghoon’s glasses steam up as he switches between licking and sucking your clit, drawing out moans of pleasure from both of you. There is nothing he loves more than eating pussy, the feeling of someone’s sweetness on his tongue is the best feeling he’ll ever know, he could spend hours just worshipping each and every cunt on the planet.

But he knew from the moment you walked in, that he had to have just one taste of you.

“Sunghoon, fuck,” you moan through bated breaths, holding his head hostage between your legs - not that he minds, the desperation your exhibiting only heightens his desire to consume every part of you, to make you unravel under his touch.

Your back presses against the desk, the crumpled documents from Soonyeol's work forgotten beneath your squirming body. In this moment, nothing matters except the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you both.

Sensing that you're on the brink of orgasm, Sunghoon dips two of his fingers into your warm, inviting heat, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Fuck, Sunghoon, yes," you scream, your voice filled with desperation and hunger as his fingers join his mouth to drive you wild. You're teetering on the verge of bliss, your body twitching with anticipation as he deftly guides you to the peaks of pleasure.

"That's it, baby girl," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "Let go for me..."

As the waves of your orgasm wash over you, you cry out his name, your body trembling with the intensity of your release. Sunghoon watches you with a satisfied smile, his own desire burning brightly in his eyes. His fingers never let up, continuing to pump in and out of you as your climax washes over you, coating his hand and even spurting onto his face.

Standing up, Sunghoon keeps his digits buried deep inside you, still wriggling them around as he leans over your spent body on the desk. "If this is you with just my mouth and fingers," he says, pausing to give you a sweet kiss, "then just imagine you on my cock."

His words send a shiver of want down your spine, and you can't help but imagine the feeling of him buried deep inside you, filling you completely. The thought alone is enough to reignite the fire of desire within you, and you find yourself yearning for more of him, for the pleasure only he can provide.

Withdrawing his fingers from you, he brings them to his mouth, licking himself clean of your cum. The sight has you gasping, wishing his mouth was back on you, using that tongue just one more time. Sunghoon sees the need in your eyes and smiles cockily.

"You want a taste?" he asks, already offering his fingers to your parted lips. You eagerly accept, sucking and licking them clean, savouring the lingering taste of yourself on his skin. "You taste unreal, right?" he remarks, his voice husky with desire.

You nod, popping your mouth off his fingers, "How can you taste me if you've got no taste buds?" you ask, genuinely curious. There's still so much you don't know about these dolls, and each revelation only adds to your intrigue.

"Ah, we're all different makes. Some have functions others don't," Sunghoon explains as he begins to undress, leaving him in only his boxers and glasses.

"So you can taste? What can the others do?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued.

"You bored of me already, baby girl?" he teases, deflecting your question with a smirk. His hands grip the bottom of your t-shirt, and with a swift motion, he lifts it over your head, leaving you exposed and vulnerable on the desk, "The real question you should be asking is what else I can do."

You lie naked before him, anticipation palpable in your expression as you look him up and down, suddenly intrigued by the possibilities. "What can you do?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, eager to discover the depths of pleasure he can offer.

“Let me show you,” he murmurs, his voice low and seductive.

He pushes his boxers down, revealing his throbbing arousal. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, his length throbbing in his hands. Each time he pumps, the pulsing of the fake veins quickens. He presses his cock against your folds and you feel the pulse.

"Do you feel it?" Sunghoon asks, already knowing the answer as he watches you involuntarily move your hips, seeking more of the delicious friction his cock provides.

You nod eagerly, your desire mounting with each passing moment. The anticipation of what's to come sends a wave of heat rushing through you, and you can't help but yearn for more of him.

You understand Soonyeol a lot more now.

Slowly, Sunghoon guides himself to your entrance to let you feel the throbbing more intensely as he begins to push inside you. The sensation is electrifying, sending your body into a flush as he fills you completely with his length.

Imagine if every man possessed this kind of touch; maybe, just maybe, there'd be less reason to complain. It's like slipping into a dream, feeling his hands explore every inch of you as he eases into a gentle rhythm of thrusting.

You find yourself lost in the sensation, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. His movements synchronise with the rhythm of your heartbeat, building a crescendo of desire.

You can't help but draw comparisons to Jaeyun, though you don't mean to. Their approaches to pleasing you are starkly different. Jaeyun is fervent and eager, consumed by his own need for you. His passion is raw and primal, leaving you breathless and craving more, even as you revel in the intensity of his desire.

In contrast, Sunghoon's touch is confident and measured. Each thrust is a masterpiece of skill and intention, as if his sole purpose is to ensure you experience the pinnacle of pleasure. There's a depth to his movements, leaving you utterly captivated by the artistry of his fucking. He was born to do this.

Once he senses your body yielding to him, growing accustomed to the girth of his cock, he presses his hand firmly against your lower stomach, anchoring you to the desk as he intensifies his rhythm. His muscles tense with each powerful thrust, driving deeper into you with a primal urgency.

"God, you're tight," he remarks, a cocky grin spreading across his face. His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose, his tousled hair falling into his eyes, "Are you sure Jaeyun's been fucking you?" he teases, his voice laced with playful arrogance as he revels in the control he holds over your pleasure.

As Sunghoon's words cut through the haze of pleasure, a pang of guilt tugs at your conscience. Despite the lust coursing through you, his casual dismissal of Jaeyun stirs conflicting emotions within you. Jaeyun may not be perfect, but he holds a place in your heart that you can't deny.

"I... I don't like when you talk about him like that," you manage to say between breaths, your voice wavering slightly. 

But that only makes him pound into you deeper as you cry out. Your hands reach for his arm as you grip it tightly, trying to keep yourself grounded as he fucks you with an intensity like never before.

Sunghoon's response is a low growl, his grip on you tightening as he drives into you with an almost punishing force, "You don't want me talking about your little puppy?" he taunts, his words laced with a mixture of lust and disdain. The sound of the drawers rattling beneath you only adds to the chaotic symphony of pleasure and pain enveloping you.

Your head swims with conflicting desires, torn between the familiar comfort of Jaeyun's touch and the intoxicating thrill of Sunghoon's dominance. And as his thumb finds its way to your clit, sending bolts of ecstasy shooting through your body, you can't help but succumb to the overwhelming pleasure, surrendering yourself completely to the man who's determined to claim you as his own.

"I hit a nerve, huh?" Sunghoon's laughter rings out, a mixture of amusement and triumph lacing his words as he continues to tease your sensitive clit, each flick sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You try to form a coherent response, but all that escapes your lips are desperate moans and gasps as Sunghoon's relentless assault pushes you closer to the edge. Sensations overwhelm your senses, leaving you trembling and breathless in his grasp.

"What's the matter, Y/N?" Sunghoon's voice drips with mock concern, his tone betraying his underlying satisfaction, "Did I touch a sore spot because you know I’m right? That pup could never fuck you this good, just admit it." His thumb circles your clit once more, sending a bolt of lightning up your body.

You bite back a whimper, your mind clouded with a mixture of arousal and frustration. The realisation dawns on you that you're caught in the middle of a rivalry, a competition between two men, each determined to outdo the other.

But amidst the chaos of conflicting emotions, one thing becomes clear - in this moment, there is only Sunghoon, his touch, his dominance, consuming you completely.

As Sunghoon redoubles his efforts, fucking into you so good you think you might struggle to walk for a week, you find yourself surrendering to him; but as long as you’re getting fucked like this, who cares?

"Sunghoon," you manage to gasp out between ragged breaths, your voice pleading yet smothered with arousal, "Please..."

He pauses, his movements slowing as he looks down at you, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Please what, Y/N?" he taunts, his voice dripping with amusement, "Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head frantically, unable to form a coherent response, "No," you whimper, your fingers clutching at the edge of the desk for support, "Fuck...don't stop."

A wicked grin spreads across Sunghoon's face as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear, "That's what I thought, baby girl.” He kisses you messily, his fingers circling your sensitive bud as he continues his pace.

Sunghoon's eyes latch on yours, a knowing grin on his lips as he awaits your release. The air crackles with eagerness, "You're almost there, aren't you, Y/N?" Sunghoon's voice is deep and husky, sending shivers down your spine as his words stoke the fire inside you, "Just a little more..."

His words propel you over the brink, sending you spinning into oblivion as waves of ecstasy rush over you. You yell out his name, your body quivering with the intensity of your release as you surrender totally to the euphoria surging through you.

Sunghoon stares at you with dark, hungry eyes, his own release near as he continues to push into you with unwavering passion. He turns his thrusts from rapid to sharp, the vibration excruciating with each punch of the tip of his cock to your linings. He is so smug as you knock the lamp off the table by accident, too busy trying to escape the overstimulation you’re pussy is experiencing, but he holds you still.

"Give me just one more minute, baby girl, you can handle it, right?" he rasps, his voice thick with desire, eliciting a groan from you. He's moving with the intensity of an animal, overwhelming yet fucking satisfying.

His glasses teeter on the edge of his nose, moving by the force of his thrusts. With a swift motion, you snatch them from his face, placing them on your own and viewing him through a new lens. He's breathtakingly beautiful, with or without the glasses, but especially in this moment.

"Please, Hoonie, cum inside me," you plead, pushing the glasses to the tip of your nose. As Sunghoon takes in the sight of you, combined with your newfound nickname for him, he loses all semblance of control.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his release coating your insides as some spills onto the desk below. The vibrations from his cock cease, and he remains still inside you, his face buried in your neck as he trembles with the intensity of his climax.

Sunghoon's trembling subsides as he lifts his head from your neck, his eyes locking with yours in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss, "You're incredible, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and reverence, “I can’t let him have you to himself,” he admits, a smirk playing on his face.

You return his smile, your chest still heaving and your body buzzing with the aftermath of your shared passion. "He did mention that Soonyeol shares you all," you point out, a playful glint in your eyes.

Sunghoon nods, his expression turning serious as he brushes a strand of damp hair away from your face. "True, but she doesn't exactly fuck us every day," he confesses, his voice low and husky with desire, mischief evident in his expression.

"We don't have to..." you begin, but Sunghoon cuts you off with a determined look.

"You're fucking mad if you think for a second I'm going to let any opportunity to have you slip away," he declares, his tone leaving no room for argument, "I'll take you whenever and wherever I can, Y/N. That's a promise."

“Am I going to have to sort out a rota?” you joke, giggling as you begin to sit up, his cock slipping out of you with a soft pop.

Taking a tissue from the box laid on the desk, he wipes you down, something Jaeyun doesn’t do at all. But Jaeyun does cuddle which is something you can’t imagine Sunghoon doing. 

As he tosses the tissue into the waste basket and begins to get dressed, you watch him with a mixture of affection and anticipation. "Put me on the first shift tomorrow, yeah?" he requests, his voice tinged with eagerness.

You nod with a smile, already looking forward to the next time you'll be together. "Consider it done," you agree, a spark of excitement igniting within you at the prospect of what tomorrow might bring.

You hop off the desk and begin to put your clothes back on, satisfaction courses through your body, yet your mind remains unsettled. There’s one lingering question you hope Sunghoon can answer before he retreats back to his room.

“Hey, Hoonie?” you shout before he reaches the door to exit. He turns around and looks at you expectantly, “What’s behind that door?” It’s a loaded question but one you need answers. No amount of fucking can make you forget that spine-curling red light.

Sunghoon sighs, his steps retracing back to where you stand, his hands reaching for your face. You wonder what he's up to until you feel him peel off his glasses, giving them a quick clean before settling them back on his nose.

“Do me a favour?” he asks, his tone carrying a weight you can't ignore. You nod, hoping he'll grant your request for insight into the mystery beyond that door.

“I won’t tell Soonyeol about you fucking us if you agree to stop sticking your nose into matters that don't concern you, understood?” his words sting, his stare unwavering as he awaits your response. Whatever lies behind that door is a sensitive topic, only fueling your curiosity further.

There’s no denying you need this job though, so with a reluctant sigh, you nod in agreement, accepting the terms of his proposal, "Okay, Hoonie," you concede, the weight of your decision settling heavily on your shoulders, "You have a deal."

Sunghoon's lips curve into a small smile, a glimmer of appreciation shining in his eyes. "Good," he replies, his voice softening with approval. "Now, let's keep this between us, shall we? Jaeyun doesn’t even know and if Heeseung catches a whiff that you know about that thing, he will kill you before you can even attempt to find a key.”

His warning sits like vomit in your throat at the mention of Heeseung, the most mysterious one of them all. You don’t know enough about the cherry-haired doll to debunk whether Sunghoon is joking or not.

You offer him a solemn nod, a silent promise to uphold your end of the bargain. But what he doesn’t know is that as he leaves, you have your fingers crossed behind your back.

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @ui11iane @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @belowbun @emi-en @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

#enhypen smut #enha smut #sunghoon smut #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #park sunghoon smut #enhypen fic #enha fic #; tdh #aj writes

[secretsofafangirll]

oral fixation - m.s.

summary: matts girlfriend loves to have things in her mouth. when she gets home after a day of minor inconveniences, she seeks comfort from her boyfriend, in a rather, unconventional way.

warnings: oral (male receiving), praising, pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc.), soft!dom matt, sub!fem, talk of anxiety,

a/n: couple of things; one, the girl doesn't have a name so you can imagine whomever you'd like, two, i've started planning my Matt series...anyways, hope you guys like it! :)))

"A touch / From your real love / Is like heaven takin' the place of somethin' evil"

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜

For my entire life, I’ve loved having things in my mouth. 

When I was younger, it was impossible for my parents to get my thumb or my pacifier out of my mouth. The comfort that came from having the object resting in my mouth was too intense for me to leave behind. Behaviors like that followed me into childhood with things like gum or lollipops. In high school, I chewed copious amounts of gum, always had a pen or pencil in my mouth and played with my lips all the time. 

Naturally, when I managed to find myself a boyfriend, he became aware of my oral fixation in many ways. He would always notice how often I had things in my mouth or if I was biting my lips, he would offer me something else so I didn’t tear up the delicate skin. It got to a point where, if he and I were laying down together and one of his hands was unoccupied, I would simply reach down and grab his hand, bringing it to my mouth and wrapping my lips around one of his fingers and playing with it in my mouth. Of course Matt enjoyed this himself, but there were other ...situations, where this oral fixation benefitted him much more than putting a finger in my mouth. 

Matt also understood why I do what I do. Him and I both struggle with anxiety, and we both have for years. In high school, I was medicated for it and had a hard time getting through the day. However, I hated the way that the meds made me feel and I swore to my parents that I wasn’t going to take them anymore and that I’d find another way to cope. Matt copes with alone time and silence but I get more overstimulated than he does and when I do, all I want is to have something in my mouth and someone to touch. 

Which is why on days like these, anxiety ridden and insane days, I need my boyfriend and one of his extremities to rest between my lips. 

After several cars cutting me off on the road and almost hitting me on the way to the gym this morning, I was already slightly shaken up and worried for my safety. When I got to the gym, there was a man somewhat following me around, conveniently using all of the machines next to me. After that, I went to the grocery store in hopes that they had some grapes and snacks for me to feel better, they were out of seedless grapes which sent me into a frenzy about the way that the seeds feel in my mouth, and the self-checkout lanes were under renovation and I had to talk to the cashier to check out. 

I took shallow and quick breaths as I walked swiftly out to my car. I tossed the bag into the back seat and swung open the driver door. The second that I was enclosed in my car, in my space, I was able to calm myself down. Once I had myself under control, I started the car and drove home. When I arrived, I grabbed my things from the car and headed inside. I used my house key to unlock the front door, using my foot to close it behind me. I tossed my keys in the dish and heard Matt typing on the couch. 

“Hi baby,” He said without looking up. I didn’t respond because I just wanted to put the groceries I picked up away and sit with him. “Alright,” He said and continued typing away. 

I put the cold stuff in the refrigerator and the dry stuff in the pantry and cabinets before heading to his room to slide out my dirty and uncomfortable gym clothes and into one of his shirts. Once I was comfortable and the smell of his cologne filled my nostrils, I was finally ready to lay down next to him on the couch. 

“Sorry,” I murmured quietly, gently taking a seat next to him and pulling a blanket over my legs, curling into his side and latching onto one of his arms, “I just wanted to put those away so that I could sit with you.” 

I sat there looking for something of his to grab onto but his hands were occupied and I don’t think he’d appreciate it if I put anything else, if you know what I mean, in my mouth at the moment. I sighed quietly to myself and began to bite on my lips. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” He said, leaning over to kiss the top of my head. 

I continued my assault on my lips and I felt the skin tear and the metallic taste of my own blood rested on my tongue. When it started to hurt too bad to bite my lips, one of my hands found my mouth and I started to bite and suck on that instead, the other arm wrapping impossibly tighter around his. His elbow nudged my side and he looked over at me. 

“You doin’ okay?” He asked without looking away from his computer where he was replying to emails and taking notes in a Google Doc. I only hummed, unwilling to take my fingers out of my mouth. My lack of a real response, which I know he hated, made him finally look up at me. My eyes blinked guiltily at him when his brows went from furrowed to concerned, “Sweetheart,” He sighed and reached up to pull my hand away from my mouth. I flexed all of my muscles to keep it in my mouth but he tilted his head at me and pulled harder, his strength easily overpowering mine. 

“I’m sorry,” I sighed, relaxing my muscles and looking down my hands with guilt and embarrassment written all over my face. 

“Hey,” He said softly, reaching out to grab my jaw and gently pull my head up to look at him, “You don’t have to say sorry. There’s nothing to apologize for.” He shook his head and looked into my eyes for an explanation, “D’you have a bad day?” He asked and closed his computer screen ¾ of the way down. 

“Kind of,” I said, questioning in my tone, “I don’t even know. It’s just been, like, too much.” I tried to spit it out but I struggled to pin-point how, exactly, I felt. It was just too much.

“That’s okay, baby,” He cooed, “You want my hand?” My eyes widened in excitement and I nodded before correcting myself with a ‘Yes, please’. 

He brought his left forearm up to my mouth and I played with his long fingers trying to pick which one I wanted. I decided on the pointer first, but planned to use every finger but the pinky. He used his other hand to scroll through emails and business inquiries, also scrolling through pinterest to find inspiration for future videos. 

I, on the other hand, swirled my tongue mindlessly around his fingers, taking them all the way into my mouth and then back out, my saliva coating his fingers down the knuckle. Every so often, he would shift his hips slightly or clear his throat and scratch his neck. I knew how this was affecting him, but he also respected my needs more than his and wouldn’t want to make me uncomfortable. After close to twenty minutes had passed of my sucking on his fingers, he looked at the time on his computer and closed it all the way. He leaned back against the couch, his hand still in my mouth and he turned his head as it laid against the top of the couch and he watched me mindlessly play with his fingers. When I fully pulled off his middle finger alone, I pushed his ring finger to meet it and took them both fully into my mouth. He groaned and I snapped my eyes to meet him and worked my mouth around his fingers. 

“God, don’t fuckin’ look at me like that when you’ve got my fingers down your throat, honey,” He instructed gently, understanding of my rather fragile nature. I pulled off his fingers, letting my tongue teasingly drag across the length of them. 

“Sorry,” I swallowed to clear my throat and scooted closer to him. He reached across himself and wrapped his dry hand around my thigh and under my knee to pull me onto his lap. I squealed at the sudden movement but settled and nuzzled into his lap. 

“How many times are you gonna apologize, hm?” He questioned with a smile, tucking my hair behind my ears. 

“You know how I am, Matt,” I laughed and grabbed his wrists and put them on top of my thighs, encouraging him to tickle them. 

“Yeah, I do,” He smiled, “But that means that I know you’re gonna keep saying sorry until you feel better.” He accused me and I smiled like I’d been caught stealing, “What else do you need, baby?”

I blushed and looked down at my hands, “I don’t wanna-,”

“Oh, you’re gonna.” He said sternly. 

“I want you.”

“You have me.” He said and nudged my chin with his knuckle, “What do you need?”

“Need your cock,” I said quietly. 

“What was that?” He turned his ear toward me. 

“I need your cock, Matthew.” I said louder. 

“There she is.” He said and gently moved my thighs to allow me to sink to my knees in front of him. “See? Wasn’t that hard, no?” 

When I was comfortable at his feet, I worked to remove his belt and unbuckle his pants. He did the work of actually pushing them down. His hard cock sprung out of his pants and he hissed as the cool air penetrated the sensitive and tacky skin. His tip was lathered in a small amount of pre-cum and he pulsed and twitched slightly. I pouted at the sight for two reasons; one being that it made me want him in my mouth even more, and two, I felt bad for the state I’d put him in. 

“Matty,” I whined, tracing circles with the fingernails on his knees, “I didn’t know it was this bad. I’m sorry.” 

“If you say sorry one more time, all you’re getting is my fingers,” He tutted. My eyes widened in fear. 

“Okay, I’ll stop.” I promised and he smiled down at me. 

“Good girl.” 

I got to quick work pumping his cock in my hand to get him ready. His cock looked so big compared to my smaller hand. It didn’t even fit around the entire thing. He groaned and hissed at the stimulation, his breathing getting heavier and slightly more labored. Soon, I leaned down and gently licked the tip before wrapping my lips around the tip. Pleasure and comfort washed over me and I continued to sink my head down onto his dick. His hands gathered my hair in a make-shift ponytail on my head and he held my hair out of my face. He didn’t push my head down, he just simply aided me in my quest for comfort, which I was most definitely finding. 

“There you go baby,” He praised, “So fuckin’ good,” He whispered, more to himself than anyone else. 

I took his cock down my throat slowly, suppressing the slight gag reflex I still have, though it’s not too bad. I whined around his dick with comfort and need. 

“What baby?” He asked breathlessly, pulling me off him, “Why’re you whinin’? You got what you wanted, no?” 

“No!,” I protested, pushing his hands away, “I’m fine! I just love having you, s’all.” I explained with a smile before going back down on him. As I continued to work his cock, my body visibly relaxed and the sighs of content that left my mouth. Matt simply closed his eyes above me, opening them periodically to watch me take him down my throat. 

Matt started to get close, his hips becoming restless under me and his hands that were in my hair started to guide me down his cock faster. He moaned and whimpered as he grew closer and closer to the edge. 

“Oh fuck-,” He whimpered, “God, so good, baby. So close.”

His stutters and whimpers encouraged me to work with him faster, yet take my time on all of his sensitive bits. I relied on the relief that accompanied the weight of his cock on my tongue. I worked him until hips stuttered and bucked off the couch and he moaned my name and praises into the air.  

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum.” He whispered, bucking his hips into my throat making me choke slightly but I didn’t care, “M Sorry. Fuck,” He whispered and then e shot his load down my throat. I felt the warm liquid hit the back of my throat and I swallowed it down. “Show me,” He demanded, once he caught his breath and he pulled me off him all the way. I stuck my tongue out to show him that I swallowed it and he smiled at me in response, lightly tapping my cheek with the hand that held my jaw. 

“Thank you,” I sighed, my throat somewhat sore. 

“No, thank you, my beautiful girl.” He leaned down and kissed me gently, rubbing my cheeks with his thumbs. When I pulled away, I bit the inside of my lip and looked into his eyes, silently yearning for more. His brows pinched together and his mouth opened slightly, “What, baby? Not enough?” I looked at him with a guilty smile and shook my head. 

“I just want more,” I said quietly. He opened his mouth to respond but as soon as he did, his laptop and phone dinged several times, he looked at his phone and saw what it was. 

“Look, sweetheart, I’ve got more work shit to do,” I groaned and sat back on my heels below him but he pressed a finger to my lips, “But, if you’d let me finish you impatient little baby,” he teased, “if you’re good and hold me without moving your tongue at all, you can stay where you are.” 

“Yes please. I promise I’ll be good,” I nodded my head and sat back up right. He nodded at me and grabbed everything he needed to continue working and I took him back into my mouth. I zoned out with him in my mouth but it was still exciting to be getting what I’d been craving all day and my tongue jerked against a few times. 

“Ah, ah,” He asked, “Settle, sweetheart. You promised me.” He directed and when I calmed down around his cock, his hand patted my head softly and he went back to typing away. 

//

a/n: i'd been working on this for about a week or so. hope you guys liked it!!

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #fluff #nicolas sturniolo #fanfic #matt sturniolo x fem!oc #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #smut #light smut #light angst #masterlist #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x oc #sturniolo x reader

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 61 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The wedding day itself wasn't all that important to Bradley. He just wanted to get to the point where you and he were officially married, and the details didn't much matter. At least that's what he thought before he saw you step out of the house. Then he realized that these were the exact moments he'd never planned for but desperately needed to experience.

Warnings: pregnancy topics, swearing, smut, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Bradley must have been able to tell that you were anxious on Friday evening. It was just a normal day, really. He went to work and dropped Noah off at preschool on the way. You used a vacation day to clean up the house a little bit with the promise that you wouldn't overexert yourself. And you made some snack trays for Saturday afternoon along with a lasagna for dinner.

But to you, it wasn't a normal day at all, because you were getting married tomorrow. Whenever you started thinking about it, you had to stop what you were doing and sit down for a few minutes. When Bradley left with Noah this morning, he kissed you goodbye like he always did, seemingly unfazed by the weekend plans. But now it was hitting you hard. You were getting married.

When the boys got home, they ran inside while Skittles barked at them. "Hi, Mommy! I painted a wedding!"

Bradley scooped Noah up with one arm before he got to you, and Noah brandished a colorful painting that looked absolutely nothing like a wedding, but you took it and exclaimed, 'It's perfect!"

"I know," he replied as you kissed him on the cheek. Then he started to squirm to the floor, and after that, Bradley's lips were on yours.

"It smells good in here," he whispered. Then he really looked at your face and asked, "Everything okay?"

You nodded and kind of half shrugged. "Yeah."

"You and the baby feeling okay?"

"Mmhmm."

He gave you a skeptical look. "We're getting married tomorrow, Baby," he murmured, holding up a cup from the coffee shop. He'd written Princess across it like he always did, and you looked up at his earnest eyes as tears filled yours. "If you've got cold feet, then I-"

"No!" you gasped, reaching for the cup and pressing your body to his. "No," you told him with all of the conviction you had. "I love you." His arm wrapped around your back, and you felt instantly better. You tried not to jostle the coffee too much as you ran your fingers along his cheek and up into his hair. "It's just hard for me to believe I was just your babysitter earlier this year."

Bradley smiled and said, "You were never just my babysitter. God, I wanted you bad. Right from the start. In my bed, and in my life."

You let your cheek rest against his shoulder as you inhaled the scent of French vanilla coffee, and Bradley traced your spine with his fingers until you shivered. "I wanted you just as bad, Daddy."

He kissed the top of your head. "Nothing's changing. You know that, right? We'll just have a little piece of paper saying we're legally married, but nothing is really going to change. We can take a honeymoon next year. We can eventually tell your parents we got married if you feel like it, or not. We can talk about combining the rest of our bank accounts if you want to. But it's still just me and you. Us and Noah and the baby."

"And Skittles."

"Obviously Skittles, too," he said, and of course the dog came running into the room.

As the kitchen timer started going off, you tried to slip out of his grasp, but he held on. "Tell me what's bothering you first."

You buried your face against his neck and inhaled deeply. Bradley smelled like home. "I'm a little nervous. I wrote my vows, and now I think they sound stupid."

"Nothing you say could sound stupid to me."

You groaned and added, "And I'm exhausted by eight o'clock every night now, and we have all these people coming over for the wedding. I look tired all the time."

"You're beautiful all the time. And I'll kick everyone out after dinner. I'm not going to want them here after that anyway."

When you laughed, Bradley started walking with you held against him. The kitchen timer was still beeping, and you didn't want dinner to burn, but you didn't want him to let go of you either. "I just want to adopt Noah and have a million more nights like this one," you whispered, still holding Bradley's hand and the coffee as he pulled the meal out of the oven.

You took a sip of your drink and it was delicious, and so were Bradley's words as he told you, "Then that's what you'll get."

So maybe it was kind of a regular night after all. You cut up Noah's dinner into bite size pieces for him, and Bradley was drawing lazy shapes on your pregnant belly with his knuckles while he ate. Then he cleaned up after he sent you and Noah to the couch to watch Mickey Mouse cartoons.

"Mommy, do you remember when we met Mickey? With Aunt Natasha?"

"I sure do," you said with a yawn. "That was the best day." Then Noah yawned, too, and it didn't take much coaxing to get him into his pajamas and into bed.

"Will you lay with me?" he asked as you tucked him in.

"Just for a minute, because I need to finish a few things for the wedding tomorrow."

You climbed into his bed, and the next thing you knew, Bradley was waking you up with a kiss. "Come on, Baby. Let's get in our bed."

You groaned and let him help you stand, and you ran your fingers through Noah's hair. "What time is it? I still need to vacuum and wash the kitchen floor."

"I already did it," he whispered as he led you out of the room.

You yawned. "I wanted to shower and shave my legs."

"Do it tomorrow. Or don't. I don't care."

"But it's our wedding day."

You let him tuck you into bed, and he slipped in next to you. "It is, Baby. Our almost-Christmas wedding since I couldn't wait until next year. And all I need is my exhausted Princess with her hairy legs for it to be fucking perfect."

You stifled your laughter as he curled up behind you, keeping you warm while you dozed off again with his big hand resting on your belly.

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

When you woke up the next day, Bradley and Noah were already gone. You knew the plan was for them to get ready at Natasha's place while she joined you here to help you with your makeup, but tears stung your eyes as you walked around the empty house. You missed them already, and you wanted them to come back home so you could make Bradley your husband. You decided to take that feeling as a pretty good sign that the wedding was going to be perfect. 

The kitchen smelled good, and you found that Bradley left the fancy coffee maker on for you, but you gasped at what else you found. There was a light blue bakery box, and you opened it to find crown shaped donuts with icing that spelled out I LOVE YOU. You moaned softly and picked up the letter I donut and took a bite. You also found the bag from the jewelry shop, and you immediately remembered how sneaky he was the night you picked out the wedding bands. 

You shoved the rest of the donut into your mouth and dug inside the bag. Your eyes went wide when you pulled out a tiara. An actual tiara with some purple gemstones adorning it, like an upgraded version of your paper crown. Now you really wanted Bradley to come home so he could see it on. He probably spent a fortune on it, like he did everything else for you, but you were already imagining that it might make its way to bed later.

"It's me!"

Natasha's voice pulled you from your wedding night daydream, and you rushed into the living room where she was already wearing a simple blue dress and holding several bags. "How are my boys?" you asked.

"Great. Excited. Noah already looks adorable. I guess Bradley looks okay."

You were cracking up as she wrapped you in a hug, and that's when you realized you were wearing an old TOP GUN sweatshirt and your underwear. "I need to start getting ready."

"Yes," she replied with a smile and a quick kiss on your cheek. 

"And I really need to shave my legs."

"You should do that first."

"Yeah," you replied, laughing as you made your way to the bathroom. "I'll do that first."

Once you were clean from the shower, Natasha helped you into your new set of purple lingerie. You appreciated that she treated it like a business deal, simply saying, "Bradley will lose his mind later," instead of making a big deal about your growing belly. You were sure you'd be marrying him even if you weren't pregnant, but maybe it wouldn't be happening so soon. "Let's get your hair and makeup settled before we get your dress on. Go grab your tiara."

"You know about that?" you gasped, excitement filling you up.

"Please. I know about everything."

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

Perhaps you were a little nervous last night, but now Bradley was the one who could barely handle himself. You were inside the house, but he wasn't even allowed to go in there, and it was killing him. He wanted to see you in the worst way and make sure everything was okay, but instead he and Noah were stuck on the back patio as everyone else started arriving. All he managed to get was a text from Nat with a thumbs up emoji.

"You look adorable!" Bradley turned around to see Penny kneeling in front of Noah, making a fuss over him. "You match with your dad!" It was true, because you had been the one to find the light gray suits and floral purple dress shirts. Bradley simply ordered them and got himself and Noah dressed.

He hated to say it, but the wedding wasn't that important to him. Not really. He would have done a big, overpriced ceremony if that's what you said you wanted. But this was fine as well. All he really wanted was to make it official. The Bradshaws. His family. He didn't need anything else.

As Maverick pulled him in for a hug, Bradley saw some more of his friends from work arrive. Not that he'd ever really consider Jake Seresin a friend, but after he took the seven hundred bucks in tip money, Bradley said it was fine if he wanted to stop by. You were with Bradley now, and you were never going anywhere. He'd see to that. He'd had a lot of time to come to terms with how young you are and how guys were always going to be looking and hoping. If Bradley were less confident in himself or your love, he'd have never made it this far. But here he was, waiting for you to walk outside in your wedding dress so he could take the wedding band out of his pocket and slip it on your finger. 

Nat came strolling casually through the back door as Bradley hugged Tracy and Noah played with Amelia. Bradley broke away from his lawyer who congratulated him and assured him that all of the paperwork he needed was in perfect order for today and for the adoption. When he pulled Nat aside and asked, "Is she okay?" he got an eye roll in response. 

"She's great. She ditched you and ran away with another man and his adorable son not five minutes ago." Nat smirked at his deadpan expression and said, "You need to learn how to relax. I was just coming outside to tell you that we're ready to get started, okay?"

"Yes," he replied, already scrambling to locate Noah and Skittles. "Let's fucking do that."

Bradley knew the ceremony was going to be short; you and he had designed it that way. Ten or fifteen minutes, and you'd have it in the bag. It would be a done deal. But when Natasha screamed at everyone to be quiet and Javy started playing the song Bradley asked him to, it all felt very real. The music was just the right volume, flowing through the speakers as Bradley held Noah and Skittles in his arms, and it washed over him when he finally saw you. His favorite song, the one you knew immediately back in your babysitter days, had him remembering the way he fell for you. How you picked on him in the best way about all the old music he loved. The way this song made him think only of you ever since he heard you singing it in his kitchen.

And now you were stepping out of his house wearing a wedding dress and the tiara he picked out for you. Your glossy lips only made your smile brighter as you walked across the deck, purple shoes peeping out from the bottom of your dress. It wasn't a long walk along the path to where he was standing, and he'd remember every step you took for the rest of his life. 

He grunted softly as he noticed the way your dress was snug enough to hug your bump like you were showing it off, allowing everyone to see what he'd done to you. He knew that the bouquet of purple wildflowers you held in one hand smelled as sweet as you always did, and you waved your fingers at him as you got closer. 

"Hi, Daddy," you said with a smile just for him, and he rushed forward a few steps, closing the gap to get to you sooner.

"Princess," he whispered, leaning down to kiss you while Nat balked behind him.

"You're already doing everything out of order!" she said. "The kiss is literally supposed to be the last thing!"

You just laughed and kissed him again before also pressing your lips to Noah's cheek and patting Skittles on her purple bow. "It's okay, Natasha," you told her as you wrapped your free hand around Bradley's bicep and guided him to where she was standing. The song faded away, but you remained next to him as you smiled and said, "It doesn't really matter what order we do this in just as long as I end up married to Bradley."

"Okay, fine," Nat said, opening her notebook in a huff as Bradley set his son and his dog down. Skittles ran off toward Amelia, and Noah stood with his arm around your thigh looking up at you. As you ran your fingers through his son's curls, Bradley leaned in to kiss you again. "Stop kissing. Seriously. Or there won't be a big climax at the end."

The guys all hooted with laughter at what Nat said, including Bradley. "I don't think that will be a problem," you said, lacing your fingers with his.

"It certainly won't be," he whispered. "You gonna keep that tiara on all night?"

You looked a little bashful, but you said, "Of course, I'm a Princess."

When he tried to kiss you again, Nat started snapping her fingers in his face. "Enough. I need to read all of this shit that I wrote down so you can get married, okay? Just stand there for a minute, and keep it in your pants."

You were laughing now as you said, "This is already the best wedding I've ever heard of."

Nat cleared her throat and started reading from her notebook. "Hi everyone. You all know me, and you all know these two idiots who decided they wanted to marry each other, so I'll make this quick. Bradley Bradshaw is my very best friend, and I don't even know why. He's not particularly funny, nor is he the wittiest guy around, and he absolutely can't cook anything."

"Jesus," Bradley said. "Why did I ask you to officiate?"

She chuckled and said, "Because I also have a couple nice things to say about you.... Bradley is a lost cause in many ways, but he's loyal, and he has a cute son. Hi, Noah."

"Hi, Aunt Natasha."

Bradley was shaking his head as you squeezed his hand, and he gave Nat the signal to keep going. "Right, well, here's the other thing about Bradley: he's been there for me for a long time, so any time he needs something, I'm always going to help him. It was easy to see that he was lonely and ready to start dating again at the beginning of this year, and when he said he was falling in love with his babysitter instead of the women he was meeting from the dating app, I told him to go for it. I'd never seen him happier than he was on the days when he got to see you," Nat said, smiling at you.

"Really?" you asked, looking at her before looking up at Bradley in wonder.

"Really," he and Nat said at the same time, and he had to fight the urge to kiss you again. Instead, he ran his fingers along your cheek and didn't take his eyes off you as he asked, "Nat, can I say my vows now?"

You kissed Bradley's thumb as Natasha said, "Clearly you're just going to do whatever you want, so go right ahead."

"Great," he whispered. He had everything he wanted to say written down on a note card in his pocket, but he didn't really need it. With Noah standing in between the two of you, he knew he had everything he needed right here with him. "You still never told me how you did it, Princess."

You looked up at him as he held your hand, a puzzled look on your face. "How I did what?"

He ran his thumb in slow circles along the back of your hand and said, "How you walked into my crumbling life and made everything better."

Your lips twitched as tears filled your eyes, but you were smiling as you said, "There was nothing to fix, really. You and Noah just made me fall in love with you." 

"Mommy, I'm hungry," Noah whispered, tugging gently on your dress as Bradley tried to contain his own tears.

"I know," you told him with a watery laugh. "I made you a snack tray, but you need to let Daddy finish talking first."

"See, Baby? We are pure chaos," Bradley told you, reaching down to scoop Noah up again. "We were so much worse before you, though. Thank you for falling in love with us. Thank you for putting up with me. Thank you for being more patient than anyone else I've ever known. Thank you for taking care of us, and for letting us take care of you. All I want is to be with you forever. The four of us," he said, his knuckles grazing your belly. "It's perfect, really. But I can't promise we will ever be less chaotic. All I know for sure is that I'm always going to love and appreciate you. And that it was worth going through all the bad stuff to get to this point. You were the missing piece. You were always the missing piece that we needed."

You nearly dropped your bouquet of flowers as you threw your arm around his neck and snuggled in against Noah. "I love you both so much," you sniffed. "And I don't even think you're chaotic at all. Being around you is the calmest I've ever felt. Like I know you'll protect me and make sure I'm comfortable. I started falling in love as soon as I met you both, and I keep falling in love a little bit more all the time. And I will never take this for granted, because I never expected anything this good to happen to me."

"I'm still hungry," Noah whispered loudly, clearly concerned everyone had forgotten about him. 

"I know, sweet Noah," you said as you laughed and cried at the same time. "And I'm going to take care of you forever, okay?"

Bradley watched you kiss his forehead as Noah said, "I got you a coloring book. It's Princesses."

"Of course you did," you told him as your voice cracked. "You're the best." You were crying more now, but you looked so happy. 

Even Nat was wiping at her eyes as she said, "Are we ready for the rings then?" When you both nodded at her, she pulled Bradley's wedding band out of her dress pocket and handed it to you. "Just put them on each other. Oh my God, I didn't think I would cry." 

Javy handed Nat his handkerchief as you took Bradley's hand in your smaller one and slid the thick band into place. Then he kept his eyes on yours as he and Noah did the same with your diamond wedding band. You let your hand slide up Bradley's arm and settle on his chest. Your eyes were focused on his, and the purple gems in your tiara were catching the sunlight. You were flawless. You were his wife. Almost.

"Nat?" he asked, covering your hand with his own and pressing it against his heart. "Are we married?"

"Oh, right," his best friend replied as you laughed softly and bit your glossy lip. "Yeah, according to me and the state of California, you're married. You already kissed and messed that entire part up, but you can kiss again, I suppose."

He handed Noah to her, and your lips came crashing to his as he wrapped one arm around you. This other hand settled against the side of your belly where the baby was growing, and he heard everyone cheering in the backyard. You were right, this was the best wedding he'd ever heard of as well. "I love you, Princess," he murmured against your lips, the sweet smell of wildflowers everywhere as you deepened the kiss again.

Then you pulled away and whispered, "I'll love you forever, Daddy."

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

With two rings on your finger and your husband standing behind you, kissing your neck to the point of distraction, you tried to pull Noah's tray of ants on logs out of the refrigerator. "Daddy!" you gasped when his hand slid up from your belly to your breasts which did look pretty great in your wedding dress.

"Hmm," he hummed, giving you a little squeeze. When you whimpered softly he made a suggestion that you almost agreed to. "Let's sneak off to our bedroom for a few minutes. I want to play with my wife."

That word made you giddy, and you could feel every inch of Bradley's strong body pressed against yours. When you glanced outside, you saw your handful of wedding guests, dancing and playing with Noah. It was very tempting. Nobody would miss you, but everyone would know where the two of you went and why. "How much longer until you can kick everyone out?" you asked softly. 

You felt him shrug behind you as he said, "The caterers will be here shortly, so probably about two hours before I can demand everyone leaves."

"Damn it," you said, pulling the snacks out of the fridge and unwrapping them. "I just want to take you and a slice of wedding cake to bed." You thought back to Noah's birthday party and the horny kitchen sex with the leftover cake.

"I'll feed it to you, and then I'll fuck you so good," he crooned, and you were about to tell him to send everyone home now when dinner and the cake arrived.

"Mommy!" Noah shouted through the back door, apparently no longer worried about his healthy snack since the sweets arrived. "Come look at the cake I picked out!"

You turned around in Bradley's arms, and he looked delighted to be presented with your baby bump. "You let Noah pick out the wedding cake?"

He winced in response as he ran his hand along your belly. "Yeah... about that. I'm really sorry."

You grabbed his left hand, his wedding band smooth against your skin where his fingers were usually a little rough, and you pulled him back outside with Noah's snack. "I don't know if I should be scared or-" You gasped when you saw it. "Oh my god, Bradley. It's perfect!"

The cake had two tiers. The bottom was decorated with white buttercream and a bunch of green and brown dinosaurs. The detail was amazing. There was even a volcano. The top tier was decorated with purple flowers and topped with a knight holding hands with a princess that looked a lot like you. The two layers looked pretty ridiculous together, but it was beautiful.

"I love it!" you squealed, making sure Amelia took some pictures of it for you. Actually, everyone had been doing a pretty great job of capturing the afternoon on camera. After dinner, when you cut into the cake and fed a bit to Bradley, Nat took a video of you smearing some of the purple icing all over his lips and mustache. He looked startled as you started laughing before kissing him. 

"You'll pay for that later," he promised, holding you close while someone queued up his favorite song again for you both to dance to. But he wasn't complaining when your mouth was on his for most of the song, tasting all of the sweetness on his lips. 

The afternoon was kind of crazy, and Bradley held onto you the whole time, only releasing you so you could dance with Mav and then Javy. And then all it took was one yawn out of you, and your husband was clearing everyone out of the backyard. Noah was all pumped up with too much sugar, but luckily he was going home with Penny and Amelia for the night. And lucky for you, your husband was as sweet as the wedding cake.

"Let me help you out of your dress," he whispered, setting butterflies off in your belly as he carried you inside the kitchen. "And I'll get your tiara out of your hair so you can get some rest."

"But I don't want to rest," you said, licking at a bit of icing that still clung to his mustache. "I want my husband."

He paused in the middle of the kitchen, eyes closed as you dragged your fingers through his hair. "Say it again, Baby."

"Husband," you whispered, kissing the prickly stubble on his jaw. "Please?"

Bradley just grunted in response, slid the door shut with his foot, and carried you all the way to bed. Once he had you spread out, you watched him make quick work of removing his suit coat and purple shirt. "Did you pick out this dress on purpose because of the way it shows off your bump?" he asked, kicking off his shoes. "That sounds like the kind of thing my wife would do to make me go insane for her."

"Maybe." You felt silly there in your tiara and high heels, but oh... the way he was looking at you. Bradley climbed into bed where you were being careful not to put your feet on the bedding, but you didn't need to worry for long. He took your ankles in his hands and placed them over his shoulders, stroking his hands up and down your thighs.

"Tell me what you want to do instead of resting, Princess."

The fabric of your dress was bunching up around your hips, and you knew the moment he saw your purple lingerie, because his knuckles connected with your core through the lace as you moaned, "I want my Daddy."

Bradley kissed the inside of your knee and caressed your thigh until you shivered. "Want me to do what?" he crooned, leaning down to kiss your lips. You could still taste the icing from the wedding cake when you ran your tongue along his mustache, and even though you knew what you wanted, you still felt shy asking for it. 

When Bradley reached back to gently take your shoes off and toss them aside, you whimpered his name. He worked the zipper down the side of your dress and helped you shimmy out of it, and then you had your legs spread before him in just your tiara and purple lingerie. He looked sinful in his suit pants with his erection bulging and his wedding band on his finger as he said, "You're my wife. You get anything you want. Especially when you're wearing this."

You coaxed him closer so he was on top of you, and his length was resting on your core as you whispered, "I want you to make me squirt."

He groaned as he got to work like it was absolutely at the top of the list of things he wanted, too. "My pleasure, Mrs. Bradshaw," he murmured against your lips, and you were already clenching as soon as his fingers tucked inside the front of your underwear.

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

Bradley let you be as loud as you wanted. In fact, he was trying his damndest to get you louder and louder. You were his wife now, and Noah was gone for the night. Skittles seemed to have retreated to the kitchen for some solace as Bradley buried his face in your ass and pussy, legs spread open wide and shaking. 

You cried out, "Daddy," over and over again as he changed his tempo from luxuriously slow to rough and fast. You wanted to squirt? Well he wanted you to soak the fucking bedding until you were crying. Every time he looked up at your face, he saw the swell of your growing belly, and he couldn't stop himself from grinding his cock against the bedding. 

"Fuck," he growled, watching the rings on your fingers as you grasped at the pillow beneath your head. He could tell you were getting close as he brought you to the edge and then let his pace slowly fade away one more time, and when he slipped two gentle fingers inside you while sucking on your clit, you screamed his name. You soaked his face and hand, and he was afraid he was going to cum in his suit pants as your thighs clamped around his head, riding him through your orgasm.

"Oh my god, oh my god," you panted, sitting up in a bit of a daze even as your legs went limp. Your tiara was crooked, and your makeup was smeared, and Bradley couldn't get enough of the sight of his sated, pregnant Princess. Your eyes met his, and you smiled through your daze, sitting there on the wet bedding with your left hand resting on your belly. Meanwhile Bradley was a different kind of mess, trying to get his zipper down and alleviate his aching cock.

"Let me help you," you whispered, putting your hands on his wet ones before taking over for him. "Want me to go down on you?"

Bradley shook his head as you eased his pants and underwear down his legs and took his cock in your hand. "Baby, I want to fuck you. It's our wedding night, and I want to be inside you."

A soft yet determined look settled on your face, and somehow he ended up sitting in the wet spot with you straddling his hips. You didn't seem to care that his forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat and that he wasn't going to last very long. You just sank down around him, rocking gently as he whispered, "I don't want to hurt you. Either of you."

"I know," you replied, kissing him and brushing his hair back from his face. "I know, Daddy." He came with you just like that, your lips and hands gentler on his body than any touch he'd ever known before you. Your voice as soothing as his favorite song. It was no wonder he was so in love with you. It was no wonder he and his son couldn't live without you.

After he got you cleaned up and carefully removed your tiara, you fell asleep in his arms as he reminded you that in a few days, you and he would be finding out the sex of the baby after you adopted Noah.

"You're already the best wife and Mommy. I can't wait for number two."

"I love you."

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

It's official! Bradley married his babysitter! Noah is on his way to officially having Princess as his Mommy, and we will learn more about the baby so soon! Two parts of this series left! Thanks for reading and interacting and making this so much fun to write! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster imagine #rooster fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #the younger kind

[ronintales]

ೃ₊ 🌾 ❝ So When I Die ❞ ╰►, Gojo Satoru

𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒 | following gojo satoru’s death, his ex wife is in charge of taking care of his funeral service and everything else that comes with it.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 | 4,676 words

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | character death, possible spoilers, funeral, angst, and not proofread ;p

 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 | I did NAWT want this to be my first work on here but due to certain circumstances…. AHEM his DEATH!!!! I felt it was necessary because laik… grief LOL. I wrote this a while back tho. Enjoy.

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ♡ ༘° 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓, gojo satoru …

Your ex-husband is dead, and in his line of work, yes, you know that he has a higher risk of dying than the average person, but still, death never comes expected, does it? Even if he always says—oh wait… used to, you suppose, say that he was crazy strong and no one could ever take him down. Well, he was wrong in the end like a bunch of other things. Like how well he took care of you, how he’d give you six kids, how—you won’t ramble, noting he’s dead now and there’s no point, but also because it’s quite rude of you to talk down on someone who is dead and can’t defend themselves. Whatever.

You just… don’t expect it. Yes, you understood he was hard headed and insanely cocky, but in a way… you always believed that he would always come home alive and, even if he did get hurt, he would be okay eventually as he heals. You don’t forget it, he’s only human, you know because of the many mistakes he’s made, but still… he’s… he’s gone?

You hesitated when you heard that. Gojo Satoru, the so-called love of your life from two years ago, is dead? Impossible, you think. Gojo Satoru found death embarrassing, with all the things he said. He said that he would be okay. He was always okay. What are you supposed to say to that?

When you get the call, you wonder why you, of all the people in his life, were the one they called to inform about his status. Why did you have to go to his place and clean out all his things? Take all his belongings with you? At first, your instinct was to say “throw it all away,” because what does Gojo Satoru mean to you now? You’re not his wife! He neglected you for years and filled your days and nights with sorrows. He broke your heart. But still, he didn’t mean nothing to you at the same time.

Those precious years of being his acquaintance in middle school. When you had shorter hair and he didn’t know much about you other than you were in his class and he had bought you cute white socks for your class gift exchange on Christmas that year. The long years that Gojo Satoru pined for you after you both attended the same high school. The hard and dark times he went through losing Suguru and shutting you out, though he loved you for so long. When you turned twenty, and Satoru had gotten better, to the point where he felt he was ready to move on and continue with his pursuit for you. When you turned twenty-three, and got married to him on a spur. When you moved in and shared a bed, until the marriage got cold and most nights you spent alone.

You couldn’t say for the past fourteen years, Gojo Satoru was nothing at all to you. The news was shocking, and knowing he was dead… did you have to be careful about how you felt about him, or how you thought of him? Well, now that he is dead, should you be so ruthless and hostile toward the man who broke your heart? You don’t know, so naturally, and it really just slips out, you agree to take care of the process of his passing.

For the most part, you’re calm. You don’t actually know how to feel, and you don’t know how to be. You’re not his wife, you have no obligations to take care of him, or anything that he cared about. Yet, you’re here. In his lonely apartment that doesn’t even smell like him. He probably never even spent much time in this place, even so, he still had a lot of belongings. Pictures of you in frames surprisingly. He did take them all when you got divorced and he moved out of the house, you just didn’t expect that he’d put them up on display. He probably didn’t get many visitors to question him about the lady in his pictures. You were sure that would get annoying.

Anyway, you don’t know if you’re supposed to cry or even feel sad. You don’t know if it’s strange to feel that way or not. You can’t quite make out how you feel, being surrounded by Gojo Satoru’s personality and things. You don’t think too much about the things inside the apartment because you don’t want to be too reminded of what you used to be. What you felt about the man once upon a time. If there was still love in your heart for him.

Gojo Satoru wasn’t a slob, but he wasn’t clean either by any means. Given he probably didn’t stay here much, it made sense that you didn’t need to clean a whole lot of the apartment. You get there and you take it all in. Satoru’s little apartment, because he didn’t want to pay for such a luxurious place he wouldn’t even stay in. Maybe that kind of place made him feel more alone too. Thoughts you should not be thinking start to trickle into your brain, but you stop yourself. You shouldn’t feel bad for leaving, nor should you want to go back. You made a decision to leave and you should honor it. It was the right thing to do for yourself (hopefully).

Do you even want his things? No, not really. But you have a keep, donate, and a throw away bin anyway. Most of it keeps going to the keep bin and donation box. Somehow the feeling of someone else getting Gojo Satoru’s things is unsettling to you, but it’s even worse to think that all these things will just go to a landfill where things that were once valued are forgotten and it’s all going to be considered “trash.” Maybe that’s because you know why every item is there and the story behind that certain mug or decor piece. You don’t know it, but you’re trying your best not to care.

You sigh, the thought that this is all so strange, bothering and pestering you like an annoying fly. You tell yourself you know that already, so stop thinking about it. Maybe you’re in denial that Gojo Satoru is actually gone. You can feel him. He’s still there, you know it. That or you’re just surrounded by his belongings and that’s why his presence is here.

In your hand, you hold a big black garbage bag as you make your way to his bedroom to clear out his closet. This is a room of his that you haven’t been to, strange right? You wondered if another woman spent time here. Jealous much? You’re supposed to be clearing out your ex-husband’s apartment, not pondering about what he was up to after you two had split. The man is dead for one, what are you going to do about it? Confront his dead body? You shouldn’t be thinking about things like that, so that thought is one you shake off and ignore too.

You sigh because you’re tired from cleaning all day and clearing his things out and you’re probably only a quarter’s way done with the place. It’s not even that big, it’s just been uncomfortably hard for you to bring yourself here with your mixed and strange feelings about this whole situation. Isn’t there anyone else who cares about Gojo Satoru? How come you’re stepping up to the plate when this is how you feel—confused and unsure? What are you even going to do for the funeral? You took the task up because Gojo Satoru would probably turn in his grave knowing the higher ups organized his funeral. So while it is strange for you to do all of this, you’ve rationalized the lot of this situation that you put yourself in. Once upon a time, he loved you right? So surely he would prefer you over—you’re so silly, thinking all these things when Gojo Satoru is your dead ex-husband.

You plop on the bed with a small groan as you turn over. This is a bit inappropriate, to be laying on your ex husband’s unmade bed. It’s left in the state that it was the last time he woke up. That’s a little precious you think, freely, not even denying it. Are you ruining this precious thing here? Well, in all honesty, you’re kind of cherishing it, because this is a small piece of Satoru that is really still here in the present times. He always liked soft things and this blanket is soft. The sheets still smell like your ex-husband. The light musk of his skin and his soap is there. The thought of this bed being his is comfortable enough. Like you miss his warmth and touch, you curl up on the mattress, hugging yourself to the scent of him surrounding, and you can almost imagine that he’s holding you right now, like he used to. His detergent is faintly there too, well actually, it’s the same as yours. He asked when you two had split and he was settling into his own place all the household items you used. You supposed that it was all he knew.

You offered to go shop for household things with him and it was probably the last time you two had exchanged any kind of affection. You let him put his hand on your thigh as he drove you two to the supermarket. He let you link your arm with his, sides flush together like you two didn’t just get divorced. It was a silent message of “I miss you,” because it was and—quite frankly, still is—hard to get over someone you loved for so long. Even if he left the marriage long before you did, emotionally and physically. This was something you wanted while you married, for Satoru to present, and in your arms. For him to show you that he cared and loved you. You were even a little upset that was the only time he was doing all of that for you, but you chose not to ruin the moment for the both of you.

Funny how all these memories and things between the two of you are flooding in constantly. It makes you feel kind of sick. Nauseous and unable to breathe. You open your eyes in realization of what you’re doing right now. You sit up immediately, flustered and embarrassed as if Satoru would open the door right now and have that annoying smug grin on his face with his arms crossed, just to say as he leans on the door frame, “I knew you missed me.” Following with your name because he liked your name the best. He always said your name was pretty and he wouldn’t give you a pet name because nothing will ever be as great as calling you by your name. A nice little reminder that Satoru loved your name makes you smile a bit. Weird how all of these just keep piling up. One thought triggers another and it almost makes you itch and feel bad for the way things ended between the two of you. You almost have regrets about—

Whatever, you have a deadline to clean this place up you remind yourself. You spread your palms out on the sheets once more, feeling every thread that Satoru once laid his body on. You should take these for your bed, you think. They’re not so bad, just a plain white sheet, but it reminds you of Satoru’s hair and it would be waste.You lift yourself from the bed and open his closet, not even noticing how you keep having to make excuses for yourself to keep some of his things.

Already feeling overwhelmed because you keep holding back, opening the closet makes you feel like you’re cracking. You let out a suppressed sound. You can’t even register what it sounds like. A squeak or something? But looking at all his clothes almost makes everything so real for you. All his uniform? All his coats and sweaters? Ah, the one from high school. And then you can see all the ones you bought him. Damn, does that really test your strength.

Lined up neatly and nicely put away, it’s almost a shame to you to give these away. Your hand shakes as you hesitantly reach for one of his favorite button ups. Your skin meets the soft fabric and you only lightly touch it because you don’t want to wrinkle it. You remember when you used to iron Satoru’s clothes early in the morning before he woke up. Even until the end of your marriage, you still ironed them.

You look up, reaching for his work uniform. This is what he wore most often, you know that. So you let yourself crumble. Carefully taking off the hanger and sitting on his bed as you hold the shirt close to you. You bring it to your nose, just to smell it. You wish it smelled like Satoru more, but even so, it makes you break down.

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you take another sniff. The thought that Satoru really isn’t here anymore makes your heartbreak. It comes crashing down on you. You really miss him, and you regret that you didn’t spend as much time as you would have liked to with him. You wish you could have had the courage to tell him how much you still cared and loved him. Yes, it might not have been the same kind of love you had for him before, but you did still love him.

You let out a little sob. In frustration and despair, tears flow out as you hold his clothes close to you. The walls of your bruised heart collapses as you hold his clothes so tight as if he was still in them. Well, you really do wish he was. You’re desperate to feel him in your arms physically. Just a moment with him so you could say your last sentiments. Just a moment to see him again. Just a moment to love him.

You’re helpless as your tears flow endlessly onto his shirt. You feel silly, but you just can’t stop. You really miss Satoru, and you have been for so many months now. You stroke the shirt as you would his body, wallowing in the grief you’re supposed to feel, even if the dead man is your ex-husband. You spent so many years loving him, how could you just not feel anything to hear news of his death? How could you not feel any regret or remorse for how messy you left things with him? There’s so many things you want to say to him, and it kills you to know you will never get to say any of it to him.

You wonder if Satoru was still around, would he wrap his arms around you and tell you not to cry? Would he kiss your temple like he always did when you were down? You wish he would just do all of it. You wish you two could have tried harder. Your love for him never burned out, you know that much. It’s the reason why you’re here, alone in his room crying as you hold his clothes dearly to you. And even if you hate to say it, even if you don’t want to admit it, Satoru loved you until the very end too.

“I’m still in love with you y’know…”

“Shut up,” You mutter as you slide the eggs off the pan for the hungry man at the table.

It was the dead hours of the night when he returned from a mission, knocking on your door, telling you that he was hungry and needed a place to crash.You slammed the door on him of course, but he wedged his foot in the gap of the door (no, it didn’t hurt, he’s got magical powers that prevent him from actually getting hurt like damn maniac) and used his own strength against you to push his upper body through the door to beg you to let him stay. It was a mistake on your part, but it actually wasn’t all that terrible that night. You were just bitter.

“My bad,” Satoru said dramatically as he took a bite. “Just thought you missed me. That’s the reason you let me in, right?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, not in the mood for any of his games. His smug grin made everything even worse, because he was right. “Gojo Satoru, wipe that grin off your face.”

“Must have hit a nerve,” He teased like it was still appropriate to do so.

You actually don’t even remember what you said then after that, but you just know… Gojo Satoru has you all figured out yet… he never said anything about it to you. And that was just him. He knew well enough not to break your heart one more time, but he was selfish enough to constantly flirt with you any time he could. If he passed by, or was coming home late from a mission and knocking on your door to remind you that he existed. Not anymore.

After cleaning his apartment, it’s all empty now. Which is a little strange. You’ve never even been to his place until after he died, and yet… it makes your stomach turn and feel upset after realizing that this place is no longer where your ex-lover resides. You understand that he’s no longer occupying it. There’s no point in keeping it for him. But maybe because you don’t think it through while you’re still in the grieving process. You don’t think about Gojo Satoru being dead because you don’t want to. It makes your heart squeeze and your breath stop. You can’t face the fact that he no longer exists and you can no longer see him anymore. You just can’t, so you wonder: where will his home be? Who's going to take care of him? Where is he going to go to shelter himself from the rain or snow? Where is he going to sleep? Where can he feel safe and secure?

You sigh, rubbing your eyes. You really need to get some proper rest. You feel yourself withering in the bitter feelings you still have toward Satoru, but also the dangerous sorrow that’s sinking your whole body down. You can’t believe that you really miss Gojo Satoru after all this time hating him and wishing you two had never met when he was here and alive, waiting for you to just cave into what your heart wanted. Truth is though, you never would. You were too strong for that.

Finally, you pack up the final things, leaving absolutely nothing behind. Satoru isn’t here anymore, and it looks exactly like that. This little corner of the world isn’t his anymore, and you’d like to say that it never was because he didn’t spend much of his time in this place. It’s just sad to see it all gone, stripped to the bare white box it actually is without the fun of your late ex-husband. You shut the door, leaving this place behind and bringing this part of Satoru with you, maybe the only part of Satoru that is still worldly and able for you to have in your grasp. You leave the key to his apartment on the landlord’s desk and leave with the rest of Satoru’s things in your arms, all thrown in the cardboard box labeled “Satoru” in your handwriting with a permanent marker. Silly of you to not even realize it, Gojo Satoru’s home is not a place, it’s you.

The end of it was the funeral process. Which was much more work than cleaning his apartment. You wish somebody was worried about your well-being, but that somebody, the most likely candidate, was dead. Satoru would have told you to chill out a bit and ask you to wind down with him, but this is his funeral, he can’t really do that now, can he? But you don’t want to seem like you’re so reliant on him. You’ve done plenty of things without him, and this will be no exception. He just… sort of made the process easier and bearable. You’re on your 10th phone call with the carpenters of the coffin when you really wish you didn’t take on the task of carrying out Satoru’s dying wishes. He didn’t even have many, because he was so sure he wasn’t going to die so soon.

Through it all, you hold yourself together quite elegantly. Even through the eulogy. No one would even guess the mental strain you put yourself through to make this all happen. All the floral arrangements are beautiful, Satoru’s corpse is dressed nicely—though you grace him with a closed casket funeral because you were sure that he did not want anyone to see him so vulnerably lifeless and you simply could not handle the sight of his stale and unresponsive body. But everyone could indeed tell, Gojo Satoru was loved. They could understand your love for the man. You wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t love him. But you just deny it.

His guest list was quite large. Some people you didn't even know, and you were sure he did not want that. But the higher ups had their own agenda too, and you had to make compromises though you stood your ground quite well for the sake of your late ex-husband's well being in the afterlife. You wonder, would Satoru love you for eternity for loving and caring for him unconditionally and so thoroughly? When you eventually join him, will he thank you for so meticulously planning and giving him a proper send off? You hope so. You hope that he will continue to love you in the next lifetime, and in that lifetime, you two will be happily together. Not miserably apart like you are now.

Maybe the only time anyone can see you break is when the casket is lowered and this is the last time that you’ll ever see Satoru’s face again, except you don’t. His casket is closed and covered with all the flowers you bought to send him off beautifully. There’s a complex look on your face, and no one could quite read it, but it was clear that there was a storm going on inside of you, stirring and rumbling. Your eyebrows knitted together and your eyes glossy with a down turn of your lips. You’re just keeping yourself together for Satoru. You need to.

The only time you get to break down about it is when you get home from the long day. Crumbling down your door, as you miserably sob. How could the world be so possibly cruel that you had to bury the last man you loved for the past ten years? It never gave you time to move on. You weren’t ready to let go just yet and be content with the distance. Sure, you asked for it when he was still tangible, but now he was untouchable, not existing, and it felt so painful. You curl up in a ball, on the bed you used to share with him. The bed you two used to gossip on and the bed where you simply just held him to sleep on your good days. The bed that you laid alone for most nights wishing he’d come to hold you and not be too tired for you. All the bad and good memories come to make you think of one thing; you wish Satoru was here right now.

You lay there, contemplating if you just want to stay there for the whole week or get up and cook yourself something. You haven’t been eating with how hectic it’s been to take care of Satoru’s send off. You sigh, closing your eyes. Sleep sounds like the best thing to you at the moment. You were drained and exhausted from preserving the life of Gojo Satoru as well as commemorating it. You needed that rest.

When you drift into sleep, you kind of hope that Satoru is there for you, waiting in a field of beautiful flowers like he came to visit you in a dream. Even if it’s just your imagination. You’d like to think that he cared enough that he left you alone to deal with all of the things he left behind. He doesn’t though, because you don’t dream. You just black out and you wonder if you’ll ever dream again. But maybe you’re just being dramatic because you miss your ex-husband so much. You blink the tears out from your eyes, wiping them before getting up and pulling yourself together. You can be sad, but not miserable. You were never the type to just crumble, however, even this shook you down to the very ground and yes, it is hard to get back up. But everything with Satoru was hard, and this was no different. You should have been used to this.

Eventually, you do get yourself together. Sad, but you’re functioning. You go back to work and you continue with your daily life. Satoru’s never really been a part of your daily routine after the 3rd year of being married to him. It was no different not seeing him at all, but it was just the fact that he truly wasn't there anymore. If you were to call his cell, it would just ring on your dresser in your room and go to voicemail. Sometimes, you wait for the voicemail just to hear his voice, but most times you stay away from his contact. You’re recovering, just slowly.

People at work send their condolences, just like they did when they found out you divorced Gojo Satoru. They give you a pitiful look and tell you to be strong, but when they think you’re not listening they bash Satoru for passing and still putting the responsibility of carrying his will out on his ex wife—you. You don’t defend him nor does what they say settle well with you. They’re right, of course. Gojo Satoru has always been selfish, up until his last breath, but you just can’t seem to feel validated when you’re the one who buried Gojo Satoru. He was once your whole world, how could you just completely numb yourself to the pain of losing your connection with him, absolutely and completely?

Apparently, you’re the only person on his will too. You inherit everything of his one day, and it’s kind of overwhelming. All of his money is transferred to your bank account, all his belongings, everything is yours. You don’t even know what to do with most of it. You don’t even want to look and use anything of his. So you store most of his things in a box and label it “Satoru,” along with the other things that you took from his apartment, and you make an account to store all his money in, for what? You don’t know, just something.

When you're older, you’ll come to realize that you made Satoru a loved person until the very end, and that you were perhaps the only person that he still had love for, even if you weren’t his wife anymore. This is why Satoru loved you so much, and yes, he got very lucky with you, you will give yourself that. But you also won’t feel so bitter about having to be the person to handle his departure because you made sure to do just the way he wanted it, by you. for now, you’ll miss him lots and bring him flowers whenever the time comes. You won’t call him your ex-husband, but your late-husband. You keep some of his clothes to wear like you used to. You still sleep on your side of the bed, leaving the space Satoru used to fill empty for him. Life goes on the way it used to.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo #satorugojo #jjk satoru #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #gojo fanfic #gojo angst #jjk angst #jjk fluff #satoru x reader #satoru x you

[dudeitiskarev]

If You Only Knew | Aaron Hotchner

My One and Only prequel

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau female reader

Summary: Broken hearts find each other and in the process, they mend each other.

Word count: 10.7k

Tags/warnings: season 10 Hotch <3; cheating (on reader); food and alcohol consumption; Hotch has a soft spot for reader<3; lazy case talk whoops; canon typical violence; one bed trope; smut: unprotected and dirty office sex (p in v); secret relationship; stolen glances and kisses in forbidden places!!1!

Author’s note: I don’t usually do second parts mostly because I wrap up the story in a single one shot, but while writing the first fic I had this prequel in mind because oh boy, they have HISTORY (which is why it ended up being longer than My One and Only). Both can be read as a stand alone. First fic was based on Dress by miss T. Swift, and this one is like a mash up of every Taylor’s ovulation songs (I listened to this playlist a lot while writing this) 🙂‍↔️ Call It What You Want x I Can See You being the main inspo. Or were the songs inspired by them???🧐 it’s just so sexy sexy. Anyway, hope you enjoy!!!!

MASTERLIST

There used to be an engagement ring on your right hand. 

A bright but simple ring that from the moment it was given to you, had you hopeful about your future. That future had always been uncertain. You rarely pictured yourself more than two years ahead, to begin with—for many reasons, neither worth mentioning—but no matter how long your future was, you were sure it was going to be just as bright as your ring. 

And how wrong you were…

It hadn’t been more than two months since your fiancé promised you the world when you caught him in a lie. You’d let it slip away, fidgeting your ring as a reminder that he was the one. 

If you hadn’t ignored the signs, you would’ve saved yourself from getting your heart ripped out. 

He cheated, and even worse, you caught him in the act, with another woman in your own bed. You stormed out leaving every door open. Zac came running behind you, yelling your name, but you didn’t stop. You ripped the engagement ring off your finger and threw it at him without looking back. That clink of the band bouncing on the pavement was so faint compared to the sound of your castle crumbling, and your prince kept yelling at you to come back.

You didn’t. You got in your car and drove off aimlessly. 

You’d been driving around the city blasting music since then, and yelling the lyrics hoping you’d go numb. You didn’t, but at least you had some clarity. 

You had nowhere to be. There was no home anymore, no bed to sleep on, and no arms to run to. The place you used to call home now was stained with lies and haunted by another woman. 

The only place that could shelter you for the night was the BAU. At the end of the day, that was your home. You spent most of your days there with the people you worked with. People who would take a bullet for you. They were your family—Derek being the one you loved the most—but you couldn’t run to him or any of them right now. The wound was too fresh and letting them see you like this would be disappointing and just… sad. They’ve always known you as a tough and reasonable woman. How were you supposed to tell them you weren’t that smart now that your entire relationship crumbled?

You parked at your usual spot and searched for your emergency go bag in the backseat. It was always stocked with everything you needed for at least a week. You weren’t planning on staying at the BAU for an entire week, of course, but also, you never knew. Your ex was capable of lighting your house on fire just to get rid of any evidence of his betrayal so for now, that bag was all you had. 

You took a deep breath and made your way inside the building. You walked through security as you always did and smiled at the night guard. It was Rick, the oldest of them all but you felt the safest when he was at the door.

“What brings you here at this hour, young lady?” Rick adjusted his ivy cap. 

It was past three in the morning. 

“Piled up paperwork,” you merely said. 

And he didn’t question you. “Oh, sure,” he answered politely with his old, raspy voice.  

You smiled at him and made your way to the elevator, pushing the number six as you always did. You kicked the bag with your knee until the doors dinged open. 

Not a single soul received you.

You walked past the glass doors and reached your desk, looking up at Hotch’s office that was right across. He had a couch there that you could use as your bed for a few hours. Everyone has slept there at least once— for whatever reason—and now it was your turn. You marched up the short stairs and paused. You knew his office remained unlocked (he once said that he’d lost the key, but deep down you knew he left it open in case anyone needed somewhere to crash for the night). 

You knocked, just in case, and once there was no answer, you twisted the knob. His perfume was faint in the air—soft and woody—so it was easy to assume he’d left not long ago. You closed the door behind you and walked to the couch, leaving your bag there and turning the lamp on. 

The dim light triggered the memories of the moment that tore you apart hours earlier: Another woman riding your fiancé. They even dared to light up romantic candles. 

Your fucking candles.

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. You wasted three years of your life and now with a cool head, you realized it was in your hands how you handled it. It could either be the best thing that's happened to you or you could let it drag you down. 

Right then, you decided the first option was the only one. You stood there, both hands on your hips, your chin up and took a deep breath, filling your lungs with air until your chest swelled. 

This was going to be the only night you’d let yourself mourn your relationship. No tears. Just you and a glass of scotch. It wasn’t your drink of choice but it was all Hotch kept in his office and you knew exactly where he kept the bottle (right under his espresso machine García had gotten him for his birthday a couple of years ago). You crouched down and opened the little cabinet. The bottle was almost full and you wondered if it was brand new or if he rarely drank. You shrugged it off. You poured yourself some and began pacing around his office.

You’ve been here a million times and you’d never paid much attention to all the things he had. There were quite a few awards granted by the bureau displayed on the wall behind his desk; a bunch of books, too. You ran your fingers through them as you walked from end to end. He had a picture of Jack and Haley over his desk and you looked around, searching for a picture of Beth. Your eye landed on her contagious smile, over the little table by his couch. You walked there to get a better look at the picture. She was looking at the camera and he was looking at her. You’d met her a few times and it was nice seeing Hotch in love again. After Haley, everyone thought he’d refuse to let someone in again, but when love knocks on your door there’s not much you can do. 

You sighed deeply and placed your empty glass in front of the picture. The alcohol was making you sleepy so you made yourself comfortable. You went to brush your teeth, put on your pajamas and fuzzy socks, made a blanket out of your blazer, and used your folded pants as a pillow.

You rubbed your feet together. It wasn’t a cold night, but you wished you didn’t have to spend it alone. 

The constant sound of a pen scraping on paper gradually woke you up.

Shit. 

You meant to sleep only a few hours and have Hotch’s office as it was before he got here; pretend you’d gotten there earlier than everyone. You must’ve slept through your alarm. 

You slowly squinted your eyes open and caught Hotch sitting at his desk, brows low in deep thought.

How long has he been there?

“Hotch.” You rubbed your eyes and sat upright. “Hi. Sorry, I— What time is it?”

“Eight-thirty,” he answered, never taking his eyes off the file.

So you didn’t sleep through your alarm. 

“When did you get here? I didn’t hear you.”

“A few minutes ago.” He put the pen down and lifted his head to look at you. His face softened. 

He didn’t seem upset about you invading his office but you still felt the need to explain yourself. “I, uh, stayed until late last night and I was too sleepy to drive and—” You realized mid-sentence how bad you were lying.

But he let you. 

“It’s not a problem, you can always sleep here. As long as it’s not already taken.” He stared at you for a moment, rubbing his thumb with the rest of his fingers. You wondered how bad you looked. How bad everything seemed. “It has a foldable seat,” was all he said, gesturing at the couch. “There’s a blanket under it.”

“Oh, thanks. It wasn’t that cold.” You braced yourself. 

It was cold now.

“You can sleep for another hour,” he added. 

“We don’t have a case?” 

“No.” He glanced at the open door and then back at you. “Not yet anyway.”

Then why was he here so early?

You smiled at him and began to gather your things anyway. “Thank you, but I still should go. I’m… invading your space.”

“Oh, please. Don’t worry about it,” he said before going back to work on his paper. 

Even if he didn’t mind you sleeping there while he worked, you did. You stood up, stretched your neck a bit, and began to fold all of your clothes, putting them back in your bag. 

You felt his eyes on you every once in a while and just when you grabbed the evidence of your late night—the empty glass of scotch—he asked, “Is everything alright?”

You looked at him. There was that soft look again.

“Yeah, I just…” you trailed off, fidgeting with your now invisible ring. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

He didn’t have to say anything. He knew. You knew he knew just by that look he gave you. Wise. Emphatic. The ‘I’ve been there before’ look. 

He opened his mouth to add something, but his phone buzzed on the table, making him tear his eyes off you. He sighed as his brows lowered.

“Now we have a case?” You asked and he nodded. “I’ll put on some work-appropriate clothes, then.” You looked down at your pajamas.

“Take your time. We’ll meet in thirty.”

The jet took off and the clouds were never-ending. 

Two women had been abducted (and murdered) already in Fort Myers before you were invited to investigate. Victimology and M.O. were discussed and you barely said a thing. Your mind kept wandering off to the night before and how miserable you felt. The phantom of betrayal was still heavy on your shoulders. 

Hotch sat next to you during the three-hour flight, and the only thing he said to you that wasn’t work-related was: ‘Would you like some coffee’, to which you gladly accepted. His eyes, though, kept asking if you were okay. 

Minutes before the jet touched the ground, your phone caught some signal and began to buzz uncontrollably against the table. You already knew who it was so you didn’t bother to glance at the screen, you just sighed in annoyance and put your phone in your pocket. You felt Hotch’s eyes on you again and you tried your best to ignore him.

Right now, he was your boss, not your friend. 

The moment the jet doors opened, the dense, humid air stuck to your skin. Everyone groaned in annoyance.

“Ugh, I hate Florida,” Emily commented. 

You didn’t mind it. You needed a bit of heat and sun, hoping they’d woosh away the gray cloud over your head.

Hotch assigned everyone’s tasks for the day and partnered you up with Morgan to interview the victims’ families. Smart move. It was known that Morgan was your person inside the team, and even if he didn’t know about your heartbreak right now, he’d surely find out soon after spending the day with you. That’s what Hotch wanted. For you to have someone to talk to if you wanted.

You would’ve preferred to be out in the field instead of inside an office, that way you’d have more distractions. Right now, as you talked to one of the victim’s husbands, your only distraction was your phone. Your ex started to call you again and spam-texting you. He was getting on your nerves and you couldn’t quite focus on your job. The one that you considered was your forte—when it came to good people. 

These men weren’t good people. They were exactly like your ex. 

And they got on your nerves. 

Morgan shot you a frown as he walked the last person out of the office, “What’s going on with you? You almost punched the guy.” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb.

“I would’ve if you hadn’t caught me.” You rolled your eyes. 

“I’m being dead serious, what’s going on with you?”

“He called his dead wife a whore, Morgan.”

“I’m not just talking about this. All morning you’ve been acting weird.”

There was his big brother attitude.

You sighed, shaking your head. You couldn’t not tell him. So you told him. Some of it. “Zac and I are fighting. He keeps calling but I’m not gonna answer yet. He’s gonna have to wait until I’m back.”

“What did he do?” He asked, brows shooting up with concern. 

You walked to the small coffee station the sheriff had set up for the team. “We’re just fighting.” You poured yourself some coffee. You couldn’t tell him everything. He was friends with Zac—and a really good one. 

“I don’t buy that,” Morgan insisted. “I know what your fights look like. This isn’t a fight over how he didn’t do the dishes.”

You hated how well he knew you. You and Zac. It was sad to think there wouldn’t be any more double dates with him and Savannah. 

“I don’t want to talk about it yet,” you merely said.

Morgan let out a huff and glared at you in silence. “Alright.” 

He respected you and didn’t bug you any more about it. And neither did Zac, thankfully. The messages and phone calls stopped but even then, you couldn’t get your mind off whatever he wanted to say. 

The day went by painfully slowly. Not many leads were found and the unsub seemed to have gone dormant, which meant the investigation was done for the day. 

Hotch, JJ, and Rossi were still finishing up a few things with the sheriff, and you decided to wait for them outside, sitting on the sidewalk. There was a dinner reservation at the hotel at nine. It was thirteen past nine and you’d been running on five cups of coffee. 

Your stomach rumbled. 

Steps came from behind. Morgan silently sat next to you and handed you a protein bar. He sat close, his arm touching yours. “Zac called me.” 

“Good for him.” You didn’t bother to look at him. Instead, you began to pick your nails. You weren’t hungry anymore. 

“And he told me.” Derek placed one hand over yours, stopping you from destroying your nails. 

You shot him a look. “What did he tell you?” You asked because you didn’t think Zac would rat himself out to Morgan. 

“I’m on your side,” he said. “He’s my friend, but you’re my sister. He’s dead to me now.” He quirked his brows. 

“What did he tell you, Morgan?”

“That you caught him cheating.” 

The disappointment on his face was as clear as the night sky.  

You tore your eyes off him and sighed.

“I was so stupid.” You rubbed your forehead. “I caught him in lies multiple times and I brushed them all off. Like a part of me wanted that to happen,” you confessed. 

“What do you mean? That you didn’t want to marry him?”

“I… I don’t know.” You looked back at Derek. Now that the truth was out you needed to talk about it. Maybe that way you could realize it was all your fault. “I loved him, and he was a great guy but at some point, after the engagement and before the lies, I stopped seeing a future with him. So I guess it’s my fau—”

“Nuh-uh.” Derek interrupted you, placing a finger over your lips. “He did this,” then booped your nose. 

You couldn't help but smile. “Yeah but I stopped being… a girlfriend to him,” you explained, moving your hands around to make your point. “I came home late, he’d wait for me with dinner but I just… stopped seeing him.” You sighed. It really was your fault to some extent now that you talked about it. “He sought the attention I stopped giving him on someone else. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want… to be the person who just works and can’t balance it with personal life.”

“It’s tough.” 

“Yeah, but you seem to make it work with Savannah.” You nudged his arm.

They had the kind of love you aspired to have one day.

“It took us a while, but we made it work. Still do. It’s a good thing she also has a time-consuming job. She just gets it. But it takes a lot of effort from both parties.”

You nodded in agreement. “Zac and I are over. This isn’t something we can talk about and get through and forget or forgive. He betrayed me.” 

Derek hung one arm over your shoulder and kissed your temple. “I know.”

“At least I don’t have to plan a wedding anymore. It seems exhausting.”

“Oh, believe me, it is.”

You gasped and pulled away to look at him. He had a grin on his face now. That’s what you needed. A smile from him even if it made you forget for just a moment. “What? What does that mean? Did you propose?!” 

“Whoa, whoa.” Emily came from behind and joined the conversation right away, standing in front of you. “Who’s proposing?”

“Morgan,” you were quick to respond. Anything to avoid anyone else knowing you’d been cheated on.

“Shhh!” He stood up, signaling you both to shut up with a finger over his lips and looking around to make sure no one else heard. “I’m planning to, alright. Don't…. Freak out. She can say no.”

“She’d be silly to say no,” Emily laughed a little. “Are you kidding?”

“You’re already planning the wedding,” you laughed too while standing up. “Don’t pretend you expect her to say no.”

“Of course, she’s gonna say yes.” Derek grinned. “I’m just playin’.”

On the way to the hotel, the team split into two SUVs and Hotch kept glancing at you through the rearview mirror at every red light and stop sign, with that know-it-all look, a pinch of concern. He was worried about you (and soon to be pissed for the stunt you pulled earlier). 

You got a triple room with Emily and JJ and you didn’t give them a chance to make any conversation with them since dinner was canceled.  You threw your bag over your bed and headed to the rooftop. You figured it’d be the only place none of the team would be. You needed fresh air, and you felt ready to talk to Zac. You reached the rooftop and pulled out your phone. Just the thought of hearing his voice tightened your throat. But you had to. You needed to know what he had to say.

You dialed his number and some agonizing butterflies still managed to flap their wings at the pit of your stomach with that first ‘hey’ on the other line. Tears welled up in your eyes. Your only witness was the moon hanging above and she wouldn’t judge you, so you finally allowed yourself to feel it.

His voice was a stab to your heart and a soft sob got caged in your throat. He said he was sorry, that he missed you, that he loved you. That you will always be the love of his life and that he knew he’d lost you. You muffled your sobs against your hand and once he was done talking, all you could reply was ‘okay’. 

Then you hung up.

“Damn it.” You let your phone slip through your fingers to cover your eyes with one hand while you braced yourself with the other arm. 

You stood there—for who knows how long—until a pair of unfamiliar arms enveloped you from the front. Their scent, though, was like home—faint and woody bathing you whole. You nestled against their chest and it only made you cry even more. 

“Shh. It’s okay.” 

Hotch’s voice snapped the knife out of your chest and he wasn’t about to let you bleed out. With one hand he caressed the back of your head, giving you soft scratches. The other rubbed your upper back with short and tender strokes. You weren’t planning on crumbling and you surely didn’t expect Hotch to be the one comforting you, but it felt right. You needed a hug and a gentle voice telling you it was okay to feel like this. 

Your entire relationship flashed before your eyes. You were mourning its death, after all., and there was no going back from it. You wouldn’t do that to yourself and had to accept that his laugh would eventually fade away from your memory and his eyes would no longer shine because of you—they haven’t for a while.

You peeled yourself from Hotch’s chest and noticed how his shirt was damp with your tears.

“Sorry, I—” you sniffed; looked up at him.

His soft eyes scanned your face for a moment. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ they asked, a sweet frown taking over his face. 

“You look like you need a drink,” he said instead.

You chuckled, nodding, even when the after-crying headache was creeping up on you. You would’ve taken the elevator to the first floor, but Hotch guided you through the staircase. 

“Were you up there when I got there?” you asked him. 

“No, I went there to clear my head and… found you standing there.”

After all these years working with him, he was still the hardest to read. “Is something bugging you?” you asked him. 

“No.”

Okay, then. You understood it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about (with you). 

You reached the first floor and headed to the bar. It wasn’t crowded, and Rossi was already there. You two joined him, each at either side of him.

“Ah, FBI agents,” Rossi told the bartender, taking a sip of his drink. “You’re not gonna interrogate me, are you?” he then asked you two.

“I don’t know. Should we?” Hotch asked with a tint of humor.

“You should interrogate her.” He gestured at you by twitching his mouth in your direction. “I heard she almost punched one of the victim’s husbands.”

“Thanks, Rossi.” You glared at him, and he couldn’t have cared less. 

“Is that true?” Hotch asked you, leaning a bit forward to glance at you over Rossi, even when the wall in front of you was a whole mirror. 

“Goodnight, kid.” Rossi slid off his stool. “Night Hotch. Keep an eye on her.”

“Great.” You glared at him again. “Just throw the grenade and run away.” He just laughed and waved a dismissive hand. He had clearly had quite a few drinks so you couldn’t blame him much.

“Is that true?” Hotch asked again.

“He was a jerk,” you responded, sipping on your drink. 

“That has nothing to do with it. Jerk or not, you can’t be acting like that.” His frown grew strong but his voice remained as soft as when he was comforting you moments earlier. 

“He cheated on her, Hotch.” You shot him a look through the mirror. “That’s why she went out and got abducted. Murdered.”

“I understand that, but we push our feelings aside, you know that.”

“I know.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Just… let it go, please. You know I won’t do it again.”

“Of course you won’t.” He took a short sip of his drink and looked forward, making eye contact with you through the mirror. “You’d be off the case if you pull something like that again.” 

A light bulb lit up over your head right then. 

“Do you think that’s why the unsub is targeting the victims?” You grabbed his forearm with excitement. “Because they got cheated on?”

You were right and your tragedy helped save the last woman the unsub had abducted. You wrapped up the case with a bittersweet taste. 

On the flight home, Morgan sat next to you, and for some reason, you wished Hotch had sat there.

You searched for him on the jet and he’d chosen to sit farther back. You wanted to thank him for comforting you when he didn’t have to, and as if he’d read your mind—

Good job today—He texted—I know this was a particularly difficult case for you.

You lifted your head and caught him looking at you. You smiled at him as a response.

It was difficult, but it also helped you heal a little. 

Morgan nudged your arm gently, gesturing for you to take your headphones off. 

“Hm?” you raised your brows.

“Are you planning on going home now?” 

You sighed. “I have to.”

“You can stay with me for a few days. Savannah would be thrilled to have you over.”

“Thank you but I think that’d make me feel… small? I have to see him eventually. And I’d rather get it over with soon.” You smiled at him. “After that conversation, though, I’m not sure if I’ll have a place to stay so I’ll let you know if I need a place to crash for the night.”

“I’ll be there, then.”

When you made it to your place, Zac was waiting for you with dinner. You would’ve laughed, but you were too exhausted to even smile at him. 

“I’m just here to get my things,” you said, walking past him to your room.

You smelled fresh paint on your way there, and you really laughed then. He’d repainted the whole thing. Did he think changing the wall color would make you forget what happened there? 

“It’s your favorite color.” Zac stood at the door.

“You’re unbelievable.” You scoffed.

You threw all your belongings in two suitcases and left. 

To never come back.

“You’re getting discharged.” Hotch drew open the curtain of your cubicle.

“What? What about Morgan?” You sat upright, keeping the ice close to the bump on your head. You’d been in a car crash in the middle of a prosecution. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. He just dislocated his shoulder.”

“Well, the doctor said I can’t fly, let alone drive.” You rolled your eyes. “So who’s driving me back to Quantico?”

“I am.” You couldn’t help but let out a huff. “Yeah, I’m not excited about it either.”

“It’s seventeen hours, Hotch. You don’t have to. I’m sure I can take an overnight bus or something.”

“You’re not taking any bus. You got a brain bleed. Someone’s gotta be there if something happens.” He glared at you. “Gather your things. I’ll bring the car. A nurse will walk you out.”

Your things were only your badge and gun. Everything else was still at the hotel, so you assumed you were going to make a stop there before hitting the road back to Quantico.  

You were officially discharged by your doctor minutes later and you’d underestimated Hotch’s efficiency. He’d already gone to the hotel to get your things. He even bought snacks—your favorite snacks. 

You reclined your seat and threw a blanket over you. Your head was much better but it still hurt despite you being high on painkillers.

“Are you cold? Do you want me to turn the heater on?”

“Not cold.” You assured him. You just wanted to make yourself cozy. “Hotch, I don’t know if I’m gonna handle a seventeen-hour drive.”

“I know.” He gave you a quick glance. “I don’t think I will either. We’ll make a stop if you need to. Just let me know.”

You dozed off and on during the first two hours—your eyes darting to Hotch’s firm hands on the steering wheel—until it started raining. Normally, you would’ve been on high alert since you weren’t a fan of driving when it rained, but it was Hotch who was driving. And he was a great driver. 

The sound of the thick drops hitting the windshield turned out to be a perfect lullaby and helped you fall into a deep and cozy slumber. A dream began to take over your mind at some point but it didn’t become one entirely. 

Loud noises dragged you out of it.

You blinked your eyes open. You were parked on the side road, and the rain wasn’t normal rain anymore. It was loud, hitting the rooftop like daggers. You feared it might fall through. 

“Are those hailstones?” You adjusted the seat back straight.

“Not yet,” Hotch responded. “But we can’t keep driving like this. I can barely see past the hood. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m no weather expert but I’m sure there’s a storm coming.”

Hotch nodded in agreement. “We’ll have to make an emergency stop.” He pulled out his phone and typed something. “There’s a motel 3 miles away. We can spend a few hours there until the storm passes.”

“You just said it’s dangerous to keep driving.”

“It’s more dangerous to stay here or on the side of the road. Plus you need to rest. It’s been a long drive already.” 

Long? You glanced at the clock on the radio. 

“It’s been six hours already?!” Your eyes widened.

It didn’t feel like it, though.

“You snored half of it.” He teased, his soft dimples making their first appearance of the night.

“I did not,” you laughed a little. 

You knew he was just kidding, but you clearly needed those hours of deep sleep. Your headache was much better now.

Hotch kept the blinkers on as he started driving again, slowly until the map on his phone signaled him to turn right. 

There was a blue-light vacancy sign glitching. 

“This is it?” you asked. The place looked straight out of a horror film and the dark sky didn’t help.

“You stay here,” Hotch ordered. “I’ll check if they have any rooms.”

You didn’t disagree and locked the doors once he stepped out. Just in case. 

Minutes later, your phone buzzed.

There’s only one room available, Hotch texted you. 

Two beds? you texted back right away.

King, he replied.

Great. It was either sharing a bed with Hotch or staying in the car.

I don’t mind if you don’t, you texted. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Then you added, we’ll only be here a few hours until the rain stops, right?

Yes. Don’t move. I’ll come get you, he replied.

You gathered your things within reach, as gently as possible so your brain wouldn’t get all scrambled by sudden movements and unlocked the doors for Hotch.

He opened the door and ducked his head inside. “It’s the farthest room,” he raised his voice over the loud rain.

“That’s fine,” you matched his tone. “Let’s make one trip. I can carry my things.”

“You sure?” he frowned in an attempt to keep the rain out of his eyes.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” You nodded and stepped out of the car. 

Once you had your things and Hotch had his, he took the lead with you walking fast behind him with your head low. You both were already drenched so there was no point in running. 

The room was better than what you expected. It welcomed you with warm air, one bed, a small desk facing the window, an old TV, and a bathroom. They even had a small station with a kettle and tea/coffee, and the heater was on

You stripped out some of your clothes right next to the heater and changed your muddy shoes for your slippers. 

“Do you mind if I take the bathroom first?” You asked him.

“Not at all,” Hotch replied, ridding himself of some damp clothes.

You walked past him with your bag and locked yourself in the bathroom. You unlocked it right away. What if you passed out? It was going to be a quick shower to regulate your body temperature, but with a brain injury, you never knew. 

You were in and out of it in less than ten minutes and Hotch had already changed his clothes to sweatpants and a white t-shirt. It was always so strange seeing him out of his suits.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, hanging his clothes on the improvised drying rack he made out of the single chair and desk and placing it close to the heater. 

“A little.” You sat on the left side of the bed.

Hotch grabbed the snack bag and displayed what he’d bought over the bed. Along with your favorite snacks were some fruits and two instant noodle soups. The first time you pulled out one of those, Reid told you all about them and how they were some of the most cancerous foods there could be, but they were a guilty pleasure and you didn’t eat them often. 

“Take your pick,” he said. “I’ll take a shower now.”

He was being a good caretaker to you and you trusted him so all you had to do today and tomorrow was obey him. You could shut your brain down when Hotch was around.  

You turned the TV on to have some background noise and put on the news. The weather had been catastrophic already in some parts and they said it was going to last at least eight more hours. It was 8 pm so you didn’t mind waiting all night for it to pass. It was a cozy room, after all.

You prepared yourself the instant soup and sat cross-legged on the bed. Your phone buzzed against the mattress.

How’s your head? Morgan texted.

Better. Your shoulder?

I have a good doctor at home so I’ll be alright. How’s the trip going? 

The sky is falling here. We had to make a stop for the night. 

Sharing a room with the boss? ;) 

You didn’t know why he would say that or why you would lie about your answer, but you lied. 

Of course not! We’re gonna wait for the rain to pass before hitting the road again.

You hit send right when Hotch came out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel. 

You put the phone down. “There’s still hot water in the kettle.”

You rarely saw him eat, and since all he bought were things you liked, you assumed he liked them too. He prepared his soup as well and sat on the other side of the bed.

“It looks pretty bad.” He glanced at the TV.

“They said it’s gonna last all night.”

Something was odd about him now. Maybe it was the fatigue of the trip that hit him after the shower. But he kept looking at his phone and putting it down. You saw him clench his jaw more than once. 

“Everything okay?” You had to ask.

He gave you a look. 

Everything was not okay.

He hesitated a moment, twisting the noodles with his fork but never taking a bite. 

“Beth got a job offer in Hong Kong.” Oh. “And she’s boarding the flight now.” Oh, no. “She asked my opinion before taking the job offer.” He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, I encouraged her to take it. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

You didn’t want him to regret his choice about encouraging her—she put him between a rock and a hard place—but you had a string of questions about it. What if she asked for his opinion because she wanted to stay and settle, but needed him to say it?  

“So you let her go,” you said instead and he nodded. “How’s Jack handling it?”

“She talked to him, we took him to Orlando for the weekend and he understood it but”—he sighed—“I know it’s been hard on him, too.” You couldn’t imagine how his son was feeling. He was a kid and he’d lost someone, too. “But we ended it on good terms.” He raised his brows. 

“Why did you offer to drive me home?” You asked. “You could be there with her by now. At the airport.”

“We said our goodbyes.” He shook his head and looked down. “It would’ve made it more painful.” 

You hummed in agreement. “They say if you love someone, you let them go. If they come back, it means they’re truly yours.” He looked at you. “She could come back.”

His eyes were glassy. For some reason, you felt he was thinking about Haley, too. He was once again losing someone he loved—by choice this time but losing her nonetheless.

“Sorry,” he sort of laughed. “I’m talking about my heartbreak when…”

When you were recently heartbroken too. 

“Don’t worry about me. I’m—”

“Fine,” he finished your sentence. “Of course you are.” 

“I’m over it and I laugh about it now. I wasted three years of my life. My good years.” You chucked. “It's funny now.”

“It’s not. And you still have a few more good years ahead of you?” He commented, confused.

You talked as if your youth was already over but you had a good reason. “Yeah, but I’m not gonna be as hot as I was when I met him.” He smirked. “He went for a younger woman.” You then added. 

“Younger?” He raised his brows. 

“I know. I think that’s why I feel old. But she was a 25-year-old trainee.”

“That’s not much younger than you.” 

“You flatter me.” You let out a small laugh. “I just… Why do men always go for the younger woman?”

He took a subtle deep breath. “I—“

“Generally speaking,” you added. “Men who cheat go for a younger woman.”

“I don’t know but I’m sure Reid can give you all the statistics about it.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “I don’t wanna hear them.” 

You let out a yawn, and soon Hotch did too. You two agreed in silence it was time for bed already.

“It’s not cold in here so I’ll sleep over the bed covers,” he commented.

“Hotch, you don’t have to. I don’t mind, honestly. I’ve shared beds with most of our team.”

“Alright,” he let out a small laugh, raising his brows. 

The rain stopped around 5 am and within thirty minutes you both were up and ready to hit the road again. There were ten hours ahead of you and this time you didn’t feel the need to sleep through it. You slept like a baby last night and also, talking to Hotch was really nice, and he seemed well-rested too. 

You stopped for a quick breakfast two hours in and had it in the car to optimize time. Throughout the drive, there were talks about the landscapes and weather and he’d throw in some random stories about his brother, or Haley and Jack when something reminded him of them.  

Your favorite was how he and Jack had a tradition whenever it rained: chocolate chip cookies. And how Jack had already decided that he was going to do the same with his kids one day. 

And the more the clock ticked, the more you wished he’d slow down his speed (even when he was going just below the limit). You didn’t want the trip to end, but it had to eventually.

Around 3 pm. Hotch was dropping you off at your place.

“It’s a nice neighborhood,” he commented. Only Derek had had the chance to visit your new place.

“It is. It’s mostly old people that live here so it’s very quiet all the time.” You smiled. Silence filled the air for a moment. You missed him already. “Hey, I know we’re both exhausted but… would you like to come in? We can make some decent lunch.”

Hotch took a subtle deep breath. “I would. I’d love to but… Jack’s waiting for me. I was supposed to arrive yesterday and he was excited to see me. I… I’m picking him up at school after this.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You gulped. Stupid.

Why did you feel nervous around him all of a sudden?

“Maybe some other time?” He asked.

Your stomach fluttered. 

“Definitely.”

Spencer was turning 33, and Penelope thought throwing him a surprise birthday party was a good idea. She asked everyone to show up earlier than usual to decorate a conference room. You were the first one to show, then one by one everyone arrived. 

The only one you wanted to see walking through the door, though, wasn’t the birthday boy. It was Hotch. 

After the gloomy night at the motel, Hotch became a permanent thought. You didn’t know if it was because he took such good care of you, or because he trusted you to tell you a personal thing—or both—but since that night, something changed.

You’d always admired him, but this was more than that. Your cheeks grew warm whenever he looked at you. You started to feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. And you felt ridiculous. He was your boss, he’d been your boss for five years so why had your feelings changed? 

The truth was, you’d always had certain feelings for him. Nothing ever happened before because you met him as a divorced man, who only had time for his kid and his job, so at the time, besides your boss, he was a nice face to look at (a very nice face). Then Haley's death came and he shut himself down, drowning himself in work. You started dating Zac soon after, then you didn’t have eyes for Hotch anymore. He became who he was: your boss. 

Now, that both were single, your true feelings for him were coming afloat. Of course, you didn’t let them show; how your stomach fluttered at his sudden presence and constant glances. You insisted those were in your head, that he’d always looked at you the same amount or the same way, but when the attraction is reciprocated, there’s a spark. 

That spark almost lit up a fire in your chest when he finally showed up. The lights were off, but you’d recognize his silhouette anywhere, and he was walking up to you.

“Hey,” he whispered, standing next to you.

“You’re late,” you whispered back.

“Is Reid here?”

“No, but we did all the work.”

“I’m… the boss for a reason.”

You held back a laugh. Thank god it was dark.

“Shhh, there he comes!” Penelope whispered loudly. 

Everyone moved to their assigned spot and your hand accidentally brushed his in the process. “Sorry.”

It’s okay, he whispered. 

That accidental touch was the first of many not-so-accidental.

You tried to convince yourself it was all in your head, but he looked at you, paid attention, listened to every word you had to say. He saw right through you. 

There weren’t many moments outside work, though, and that confused you even more. You couldn't ask him to see each other casually. It wasn’t something you or he did, and it made you wonder. You wondered. Always. Every day. Every hour. Every time you looked at him you wondered what was going through his mind. 

Weeks went by where unspoken words were said. Your feet itched to go to his office every time you knew he was going to stay until late. To offer him some coffee, or ask him if he needed help with something but all you always ever did was turn in your reports and linger there for a second or two, hoping he’d ask you to stay. 

And tonight was no exception. You had your excuse to stay late this time, though. A doctor's appointment forced you to clock in late, and for that, you had to stay to meet your weekly worked hours. 

Everyone had left, even the janitors. 

Everyone except for Hotch, of course. 

You glanced at your watch when you finally finished your last report. It wasn’t even an appropriate time to have dinner. You were dreaming of your bathtub and a glass of wine with some cheese.

You stacked your folders and adjusted your skirt before going to Hotch's office to hand them in. You knocked three times and waited for his Come in! to enter the room. 

You walked in and he wasn’t at his desk as he usually was. He was on his couch, with only the lamp lights on; he’d removed his jacket and had his sleeves rolled up right below his elbows. 

“Hey, I… I finished my reports.”

He looked at you—stared. You swore a faint smile was curling the corner of his lips. “Toss them on my desk.”

You slowly walked in and did as he said. “Are you… leaving soon?” you clasped your hands behind you.

“I don’t think so.”

“Is there… something I can help you with?” You gestured at the folder he was holding.

He paused for a second before replying, “Yes, actually.” He scooted to give you space on the couch. “Close the door.”

You did as he said and sat next to him, but not quite close. He put the folder on the coffee table and spread all the documents, filling in every gap.

“Choose,” he said. 

You laughed. “What?” 

“Our next case.”

“Oh, I’m not… I don’t think I’m qualified to do that, am I?”

“There’s a reason I’m asking you to choose.” He raised his brows to make his point. 

Your eyes flickered between pictures and reports. Neither was worse than the other. “Well, it’s not like I can choose, right? You have to… study each one of these murders to decide which one has more priority. Which is… a bit twisted. As if one is less important than the other.”

“It’s hard.” 

“And you do it every time.”

Hotch nodded. “JJ used to do it when she was the liaison. Now she still does when I can’t or ask her to since she has the right criteria, but it’s on me now.” He raised his brows as he spoke. 

Your eyes were stuck on his lips, a sudden urge to kiss him brewing in your chest. 

“I don’t know how you do your job without breaking down sometimes,” you said. He smiled, scanning your face up and down. God, you really wanted to kiss him. “I mean your unit chief job.” You tore your eyes off him and adjusted yourself a bit farther on the couch. You had the perfect view of the side of his head.  

Hotch leaned forward resting his elbows over his knees and lowered his head. “It’s… the one thing I’m good at.”

“Not the only thing,” you let out a breathy laugh. He turned to you, raising his brows as if he were waiting for you to mention another thing he was good at. “You’re a great dad, Hotch,” you said without hesitation. 

“I,” he licked his lips. “I could be better.”

“We all could be better at everything, doesn’t mean we’re bad at it.”

Hotch sighed. “You’re right.”

“You’re also… good at sports?”

“Stop.” He chuckled, lowering his head once again. 

You rubbed his back by impulse, and you withdrew it right away as you felt him tense up. Your hand tingled at that brief contact and it burnt when he reached for it and enveloped it with his large hand. Your heart rate skyrocketed and all you could hear was your pulse in your ears (not that any of you was saying anything anymore).

He turned his head to you, adjusting farther back so his back would rest on the couch. Your shoulders touched now, and his hand was still on yours and this time, his thumb caressed your knuckles, and his eyes were stuck on your face. 

The urge to kiss him was flush against your skin. 

“You should go home,” he said, swallowing thickly. “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” you licked your lips. “I really should.”

He let go of your hand and with the same one, you caressed the side of his head where a few satly strands of hair were gloriously shining. You put the short pieces behind his ear and cradled his face. You held your breath. What the hell were you doing? 

A pained frown took over his face and he shut his eyes for a second. You wanted to kiss the frown away so you leaned, kissing his cheek. He tilted his face until the tip of your nose was touching his. 

His shaky breath ghosted your lips. 

Would a kiss on the lips be so bad?

You were closing the gap before you thought about the answer. Your lips touched—a soft peck—and there was barely a sound when you pulled away.

“I’m sorry I”— You placed your fingers over your lips right away.

Hotch wasn’t giving you any signs of anything at all and panic began to take over you. 

God, what have you done?

Your name came out of his mouth in a whisper filled with longing. He was leaning closer. He studied your face from up close as he paused. His nostrils flared and he licked his bottom lip before going for a kiss. Just as tender as yours. 

At first.

One of his hands found a spot on the side of your thigh while the other went to the back of your neck, bringing you closer and allowing the kiss to intensify. His chin scraped yours with his barely noticeable beard and his lips were gentle despite his sudden urge. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for this—him kissing you back or reciprocating any sign of affection. But he was, and he was getting so into it his tongue was already teasing yours. 

A small moan escaped you when he opened his mouth a bit more. Your breathing quickened with each kiss and when your tongues finally tangled together, you lost it. 

“C’mere.” He murmured against your lips.

You hopped on his lap and gave yourself in. You wrapped your arms around his neck tight and pressed your hips down. It became sloppy with each kiss already and only heavy breathing filled the room. His heavy breathing. 

He was so needy for you.

This wasn’t how you expected your night to go, but you were ecstatic. No matter how far this went, it already was much better than your bathtub. 

You let go of his lips for a second. You needed to catch some air. 

“Aaron.” 

You’d never called him by his first name. Never, and right then you wished you’d done it sooner. It seemed to have awakened something in him. He groaned into another kiss and grabbed your hips tightly, encouraging you to move them. 

He liked it. He loved it. 

You obeyed, grinding him and going back for another kiss. His hands were still shy, hesitantly resting at the curves of your hips. You pressed your hips down. His hard bulge was right there. You couldn’t help but bite his bottom lip, cupping his face harshly with both hands as if he could go anywhere. He was a prisoner of your body; you had him caged with your legs and arms and he didn’t seem to mind at all. 

His hands raked down your curves, lower on either side of your hips and slowly traveled down, cupping your ass and guiding you back and forth. 

Hotch’s lap was heaven on earth. 

You moaned into a wetter kiss, tongues gliding together. You were embarrassingly loud now. He smiled against your lips. 

“Sorry.” You let out a small, embarrassed laugh, pressing your foreheads together.

His chest was heaving in and out as he tried to regulate his breathing. His hands went up to your lower back and he pulled you close into a tight and tender hug. 

A sudden clarity hit you. This shouldn’t have happened. He was your boss for fucks sake. You were sure, that once you came out of his office, you would lose your job. The one you fought so hard for. 

“I… I have to go.” You slid off his lap and stood in front of him, adjusting your skirt. 

He was staring up at you through his dark lashes and you couldn’t look at him without feeling embarrassed. You wiped your lips clean and took a few steps back. 

“I am so sorry this—” You took a few more steps backward on your way to the door and turned all the way, giving him your back.

Hotch stood up, his broad silhouette taking a few steps towards you. He said your name with his deep, deep, oh-so-deep voice as your hand touched the knob. He was right behind you now, his torso glued to your back and his arms wrapped around your waist. 

You shut your eyes as he inhaled your hair.

You locked the door.  

“Are you sure?” he murmured next to your ear. 

All you could do was nod. 

He flipped you around by your hips, capturing your mouth, body, and soul. This time he groaned like an animal, hungry for you. God, he was desperate and your entire body fluttered. Your knees when weak right when he scooped you by your thighs and walked with you towards his desk, plopping you there while knocking everything down with one hand. 

No words were necessary. His hands talked for him and the kiss was never-ending. You were a fucking mess already. You were at his will, so open to let him do anything he wanted with you. 

To you. 

The air was getting hotter and the layers of clothes began to bother you. His body heat and breath were to blame. He was everywhere. 

He sneaked one hand in between your legs and gripped your inner thigh, his thick fingers sinking into your flesh. You squirmed over the wood, encouraging him to go a little higher. He did, the tip of his fingers ghosting your panties. They were damp with your arousal already (you’d felt it leak through you when you were kissing on the couch), and by the way he smiled, he could feel it. He lifted your skirt up to your waist and pressed himself onto you, his erection finding your cunt like a magnet. He cursed under his breath, looking down at where your bodies touched the most. But not quite. 

You wanted to touch him, feel how hard he was. You palmed his thick bulge and gulped. Your mouth went dry as you began to massage the outline of his erection while making eye contact, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered. 

There were so many clothes in the way, making it hard to focus but then he grabbed your jaw and looked into your eyes and whatever was about to come, was the best thing that would ever happen to you.

He sneaked his fingers from the side of your panties, the wet sound of your arousal against his fingers was embarrassing. But it made him drop his head to your shoulder. He cursed again and began to massage you, spreading your arousal all over with his thick fingers. Your cunt clenched, desperate to have him inside you. You cursed under your breath with pleasure as his fingers found your wet entrance. He made circular motions without entering, teasing you. 

He was driving you insane, too.  

“Hotch,” you murmured, I need you, you wanted to say, but he shushed you. Gently. Tenderly. Shushed you with an open-mouth kiss. 

You whimpered against his mouth and with clumsy hands, undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants, sneaking your hand inside to touch his length. Finally. You whined again at that first touch. His skin was burning.

“Would you fuck me?” you whispered, wrapping your fingers around his length. They barely covered him. 

“Of course, sweetheart. Just give me a minute. Let me feel you.”

He moved his fingers up and down between your wet folds, feeling you as he’d said. He knew exactly what he was doing, he was skilled, gentle and put the perfect amount of pressure.

But you were growing desperate. 

“Please, Hotch.”

He didn’t give you any warning and in one fell swoop, he had his length out. Fuck. His cock stood on its own—thick and long—so close to your cunt. The tip glistened with his arousal. 

“Scoot to the edge,” he ordered. 

You did as he said and he lined himself at your entrance and barely pushed the head inside. You both let out a quiet moan at the same time.

God, it felt good. He felt good. You both looked down and watched as he slowly entered, inch by inch until he was all the way inside. He looked at you then and you lost it. 

Aaron Hotchner was fucking you. Aaron Hotchner, whom you admired and respected. Aaron Hotchner, the man who has been messing with your head these past few months. 

This was an eye-opening experience. Paradise on earth. How have you gone so many years without him? New feelings were brewing in your chest with each thrust, each stare, and each kiss. 

You gripped the back of his head and pulled him closer as he began to move, rocking his hips back and forth. You’d milked his dark and thick curls with your arousal already, making each slam sticky to your skin. 

His cock was exquisite, spreading you open and reaching every right spot. 

“You feel so good, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You couldn’t resist. 

He kept fucking you until your butt went numb, you needed to finish but you didn’t want this to end. Ever

You showed your discomfort by adjusting over the desk.

Bend over, he whispered on your lips. 

He kissed you one last time before you hopped off the desk and obeyed, bending over his desk and glancing at him over your shoulder, ready to take him. He squeezed your ass with both hands and lined himself again. He teased you, pulling it out and moving it up and down. You let out a needy hum, wiggling your ass, begging for his cock.

He entered again and this time, he was ruthless. He slammed into you, hard. Then again. And again. Over and over until the only sound in the room was the clash of skin against skin. You had to muffle your moans—and smile—by biting your forearm. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. God, Aaron Hotchener fucked good. So good you were seeing stars already and so close to grazing the sky. 

He bent down too for a moment just to bring you up close into a hug. “Come here.” You already knew he liked having you close.

He sneaked one hand from the front and massaged your clit as his thrust became sloppy. You threw your head back to his shoulder, and he captured the underside of your chin between his teeth. 

This was it. The beginning of an addiction you never wanted to rid yourself of.

There were a few more slams before he came. Hard. He was a vocal man. Grunting and groaning and cursing quietly as his cock twitched inside you. 

Your legs were shaking, and if it wasn’t because he was holding you, you were sure you would’ve fallen to your knees. And he didn’t let go of you for a moment, his cock still inside you. 

You needed to know what he was thinking, see his face. 

You took a sharp breath to speak, but he slipped his cock out and you gasped. His cum dripped down.

“Sorry,” he murmured and was quick to clean you with a tissue. 

You finally turned around and caught a look on his face you hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t guilt. It wasn’t disappointment. But it wasn’t a positive thing. 

“This“—he began, buttoning his pants—“changes everything.” He glared at you. 

You adjusted your skirt and pressed your lips together. “I know.” 

“And it can’t happen ever again.” Your heart dropped to your stomach for a second as he added, “Not here.” A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lip

You pressed your lips together, hiding a smile.  

“Yes, sir. Won’t happen again.” You walked up to him, placing your palm flat over his chest. His heart was still racing. “Not here.”

You kissed him, and he kissed you back.

“Should we, uh, leave together?” you asked, licking your lips.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He caressed your cheek with his thumb. “You can leave first.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” 

“See you tomorrow.” He nodded and stole another kiss before you left.

You walked out of the building so put together as if nothing had happened, and kept a straight face until you were inside your car.

“Holy fuck,” you laughed; squealed, almost.

That really happened. You covered your face with both hands trying to come back to earth. 

You decided to drive off before Hotch appeared in the parking lot, or else you wouldn’t resist taking him right there all over again. You replayed what had happened in your head the entire drive and as soon as you made it home, he texted you. 

I hope you know this isn’t something casual or unimportant to me. 

You smiled. You loved that he couldn’t hide his professionalism when texting. 

I know, you texted back, for me either. Believe me

Good, he replied.

Goodnight, Hotch. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Tomorrow came and from the moment you laid eyes on each other, you agreed: no one could know about it. 

He explained to you, when no one was around, how relationships within the bureau had a reputation. It would’ve been different if he was at the same level as you, but since he was your superior, it wouldn’t be well seen. 

So this being a secret was more for him than for you, but you didn’t mind. It was such a rush. The whole forbidden thing did something to you, which caused you to be horny at work more than once. 

But he made up for it when you saw each other at his place or yours. 

There, it was different. You allowed yourself to be softer and he didn’t hold back any kiss or touch. His affection confused you, though, since the talk hadn’t come up yet. The ‘what are we?’ talk, and you didn’t want to be the girl who asked that after the second date.

There was sex—lots of it—, there were dinners, movie nights, and everything couples did, so it made sense if you asked, but you didn’t. You didn’t want to spoil the magic. 

Because it was magical, your lives took an awful turn when you got your hearts broken and you both were right at the curve to meet each other. He’d been there, in front of you this whole time and a fragment of you glued back together every time he stared into your eyes while nothing was said. While he caressed your face and kissed you just because he wanted to. He managed to heal you between the lines, with subtle words that’d get stuck at the back of your mind. 

And the more you two met outside work—whether it was at his place or yours, his bed, or a fancy hotel room—your feelings for him intensified. 

They were worse on nights like these, when you found yourself tangled between sheets with him after sex, talking about anything and everything. 

He often had an expression of everlasting love. 

At least, you liked to think that way. 

“What are you thinking?” He asked you with that glimmer in his eyes.

You sucked in a breath and brushed the front pieces of his hair with your fingers. “Did you get Morgan’s wedding invitation?”

You don’t know why, but he laughed. “I did, yes.”

“I think we should bring a date.”

“Why?”

“We have a plus one and… I don’t know. I’m gonna be wearing a dress so for your sake, I should have a date. That isn’t you.”

“Oh, really?” He teased, placing a kiss on your ear. 

“This is inappropriate, Agent Hotchner, I’m your subordinate.” You laughed. You were ticklish there.

“Not when you’re in my bed.” He adjusted himself on top of you, lowering to kiss you. “And don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

You laughed again. 

You loved it.

Loved him. 

I hope you liked it!!! I’d love to hear your thoughts about it too!🤭❤️‍🔥

#I’m so excited for this one pls don’t let it flop #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic

[letshaikyuu]

pretty setter squad (kageyama, akaashi, oikawa) with their s/o post-practice

a/n: lol hello, I honestly just come here when I am knees deep in uni shit and I should be writing a paper rn but I am writing this heh. hope you all are happy and healthy, and wishing you a lovely month of May soon!

warning: oh definitely some grammar mistakes so i apologize if that triggers you :3

🎀────────────🎀

KAGEYAMA TOBIO

y'all know our boy is dead tired after practice and needed much persuading to finish practice, let alone come home. he only wishes to jump in the shower, eat a hearty meal, lay down in bed, and not move. most of the time he does forget to text you once he's back home, but it's mostly because he's dead tired and wants to chill. he'd be super confused and apologetic at the same time if you were disappointed and/or anxious if he didn't text you that he was home.

if you two don't live together, I imagine him finishing his post-practice routines and then laying down in bed with his washed hair wetting the pillow while he waits for you to video call him. I don't think he'd be the one to initiate a conversation first, especially when he is one minute away from falling asleep, but he does admit that hearing your voice before bed is the best thing ever. while on call, you would do most of the talking, while he nods and occasionally chuckles in amusement, until ultimately dozing off while on call. make sure to take a lot of screenshots of that face because he can either have the most peaceful look on his face and you just have to have that angelic face in your gallery; or he can have the most ridiculous type of face on, with a lil drool, some snoring happening...

if you two do live together, you'd be greeted with a sweaty body just dropping its total weight on you because he's just so tired and also wants to annoy you with him being all sweaty and smelly on you. it's difficult to actually get him to move, especially because he gets rather comfortable in such a position. when you finally get him off, he goes off to shower and spends so much time there you're pretty sure he falls asleep there. he asks you to prepare a hot cup of milk for him once he gets out. you'd get such a gentle kiss on your cheek or lips because he is already dozing off and it'd be such an adorable sight, especially with his freshly washed and dried hair tickling the softness of your cheek and the smell of his body wash enveloping the both of you.

ngl, he would easily fall asleep without you in bed because he's just dead tired lol

AKAASHI KEIJI

he never forgets to call and/or text you once he's done and out of the gym because he knows you'd be worried otherwise. if you live together, he makes sure to ask you if you need anything from the convenience store and also asks you to prepare a hot cup of tea for him (for the two of you if you are also a tea drinker). even if you say you don't need anything from the store, he stops by and buys your favorite snacks and some of his own. i do think his favorite thing to do post-practice is to sit down on the couch with you and talk about your day. i do headcanon him to have a sweet tooth, so he is enjoying that cup of tea with some crackers or cookies and definitely enjoys hearing some of your tea ngl.

even though he is super tired, he cannot fall asleep without you beside him. he finds it interesting how dependent he has become on you, especially if you have moved in together recently. if he is not super tired, he'd move to the bed with a book by his side and read until you're finished with your evening routine and lie down. if he is exhausted, then he forgoes the book, he then lays down and toys with your pillowcase so he doesn't fall asleep. if you take long he definitely closes his eyes and then jolts awake once you get in bed, but he only pulls you closer, kisses you, and falls asleep.

akaashi who does not live with you is fairly similar. while walking back to his house, he'd call you and chat with you until he arrives. you'd end the call while he finishes his shower (maybe not) and dinner, and he'd call you right back once he's done. he then sits down in bed with a cup of tea and a cookie or two on his bedside table, his phone in an active call with you. he may be tired but makes sure to listen to you intently, and when he is almost falling asleep, he apologizes for not paying more attention to you (because he's such a sweetheart like that ngl) and then gives you one of those air kisses before turning around and ultimately falling asleep.

OIKAWA TOORU

he ALWAYS calls you when he's done with practice because this guy has tea to spill from the day. he is so enthusiastic and vibrant that you would think he went out for a cup of coffee and not coming back from volleyball practice. legend says (aka iwaizumi) that he is a part of the Walking Dead in the locker room but always puts on the best version of himself when you're around. when he's finally at the front of his house, he makes sure to be as quiet as possible so he doesn't wake his family up and then says he'll call you once he's in bed.

now, Oikawa does sometimes fall asleep without showering or anything which is definitely a shocking statement for someone as tidy and clean as Oikawa, I can easily imagine him just face-planting on his bed and saying he'd get up in 5 minutes and just falling asleep lol. however, that's a rare occasion and also he'd wake up once you text/call him anyway. you will be on a video call while he's doing his skincare routine because he needs to show you that soft-ass skin and all his products.

oikawa who lives with you is very much needy once he's back home. he wants a hug as soon as he's home because he misses you so much and he'd like to have dinner together with you. i don't think he's the best cook out there, but he knows how to prepare some bomb-ass meals for pre-/post-workouts. of course, if you're not up for that he can stomach a cup of ramen. the night is not complete without him spilling the tea on every mishap that happened during practice and also inquiring about your day. he falls asleep on the couch and spills whatever food he's holding in his hands. this leads to him startling awake and screaming at the mess he's made...it's never a dull moment with this guy.

🎀────────────🎀

#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #hq fluff #hq headcanons #haikyuu x gn!reader #i forgot how i tagged these things lol #hope you enjoy #<3

[dixons-sunshine]

I'm not even gonna put this as anon like I usually do with requests because I just can't be bothered to- Could you do Daryl making a stressed out reader slow down because she's running herself ragged and needs some downtime? Fluffy all the way.

Reader really is me right now lol

Spa Day | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine.*

Summary: With the walls needing to be rebuilt, runs needing to be made and crops needing to be planted, it was safe to say that you were at your wit's end. However, things needed to get done, causing you to get overstressed. Luckily Daryl was there to help you slow down and relax.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Mentions of exhaustion.

Word count: 1.6k.

A/n: My migraine finally subsided enough for me to focus on finishing this. This was a really cute idea and I hope I did it justice. I hope you like this! (Forgot to tag you in this 😅 I was so tired when I posted this. @celtic-crossbow)

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

The scorching afternoon sun was relentlessly beating down on the people of Alexandria. The inhabitants of the safe zone were restlessly working to fortify the fallen walls to ensure that the community remained impenetrable from the the dead wanting to find their next meals.

However, none of them were working themselves to the bone quite like you were. And Daryl was starting to get fed up with your antics.

Daryl grumbled to himself in frustration as he leaned on the car he was busy fixing up, watching as you walked past him in a hurry for the hundredth time that day, occupied with yet another task that somebody else probably could've handled on their own. However, with you being you, he knew that you offered to take someone's job for them so that they could relax and get out of the blazing summer sun, all at your own expense. Everyone else was enjoying their day while you ran around like a headless chicken.

Your caring, helpful and selfless nature was something that the archer loved about you. Despite the horrors in the world, of everything you've seen and experienced, you managed to clutch on to your humanity and keep it locked safely in your being, like a vault. However, on that particular day, he wished so badly that you'd just be selfish and take the day to slow down and unwind, maybe get some much deserved sleep. You were awake even earlier than he was lately, and went to bed way later than almost everyone, so he knew there was no way you were going to last if you kept this up. It seemed to him like it would be his duty to pull you away and force you into your home to relax.

He's officially had enough of your stubbornness. You were going to relax, whether he had to drag you home or not.

He hurried after you, calling your name. You stopped when you heard his voice, turning around to look at your partner. You sent him a smile and called back to him. “Can't talk right now! I have to go help Denise restock the infirmary!”

You turned around and started to stalk off towards the infirmary, but you were stopped in your tracks when Daryl grabbed your wrist and spun you around. You looked up at him in surprise, observing the determined look the archer had in his eyes.

“Daryl, what—”

“Nah, ya ain't goin' nowhere,” he told you matter-of-factly, moving his hand from your arm to hold your hand in his. He looked to the side and saw Aaron walking somewhere with Eric. “Hey, Aaron, Eric! Would ya mind helpin' Denise with restockin' the infirmary? She can't do it alone.”

Aaron smiled and nodded. “Sure! We were just heading that way anyways.”

Before you could start to protest, Daryl started pulling you with him, leading you towards the house. That didn't stop you from trying to resist, however. The need to help everyone, even if they didn't need it, ran deep in you, and you hated that your responsibility was now pushed onto someone else.

“Daryl, what are you doing?” you questioned, sending your partner an incredulous look. “I should be helping Denise. Aaron and Eric were relaxing today. They shouldn't have to tire themselves out.”

“And neither should ya,” Daryl stated, pushing inside your small home and closing the door behind you. “Dun' think I haven't noticed ya overworkin' yerself. Takin' on extra guard duty, workin' day and nigh' to fortify the walls and helpin' Maggie with the crops when she has 'nough people helpin' her already. Yer outta here earlier and earlier each day and gettin' home later each nigh'. Ya deserve to relax, too. And I dun' wanna hear any complaints.”

You couldn't help the smile that spread over your face. Your heart swelled with love for the man before you. Never before in your life had you been with a man quite as amazing as Daryl. None of your previous partners would even have realized that you were working yourself down to the bone. You were extremely lucky to have the archer in your life.

“Okay, Mr Dixon,” you started playfully, sending him a teasing smile. “What do you want me to do first on this relaxation journey you seem to have planned for me?”

Daryl breathed a sigh of relief. “Go take a shower and get changed into somethin' more comfortable. I'll get started on makin' us somethin' to eat.”

Following his instructions, you headed up the stairs. A few minutes later, Daryl could hear the shower turn on and he inwardly celebrated his victory. You were actually listening to him. You were actually going to relax for the first time in weeks. If he had known that him voicing his concern would get you to start slowing down, he would've done it a while ago.

Working like a man on a mission, he quickly grabbed some pillows and blankets from one of the cupboards and made a comfortable place for you to relax on the couch before moving to the kitchen. Grabbing a few things he needed from the cupboards, he made good on his promise and started preparing a simple snack for the both of you—some omelettes.

In no time at all, you were done in the shower. You got dressed in a pair of freshly washed flannel pants and one of Daryl's shirts and made your way down to the kitchen. However, the sight that met you had you stilling in your tracks—Daryl was busy dishing up the omelettes, a glass of wine for each of you next to the plates.

“Well, this is a sight I could get used to,” you voiced, making the archer turn to face you, pan still in his hand.

He shot you a small smile before handing you a glass of wine, ushering you out of the kitchen. “Go on and get settled on the couch. I'll be right there.”

Accepting the glass of wine, you nodded and headed to the living room, pleasantly surprised to see the blankets and pillows set up on the couch. You did as you were instructed and sat down on the couch, covering your legs and lap with one of the blankets. You were slowly sipping on your wine, waiting for Daryl to join you.

As if being summoned by your mere thoughts, Daryl appeared in the living room, balancing two plates in his hands. He placed one of the plates in your lap before placing his own on the coffee table, moving to grab something from his bag that was resting near the fire place. When he turned around, you audibly gasped in surprise at the object in his hand, placing your glass of wine and plate on the table.

“Where'd you get nail polish?” you questioned excitedly, sitting up straighter to allow Daryl to sit next to you.

“Rosita found some on a run a few days ago,” he explained, sitting down on the couch and gently taking one of your hands. “She didn't like this colour and asked me to give it to ya. I forgot 'bout it until now. Figured I'd paint yer nails and turn this day into a spa day of sorts.”

You smiled fondly at the archer, watching as he placed your hand flat on his leg and opened up the bottle. “You know you don't have to do this, right?”

“I want to,” he replied easily, carefully applying the nail polish to your nails. “Ya've been overworkin' yerself lately. Jus' let me take care of ya, alrigh'?”

“Okay,” you whispered.

The next few minutes was spent in a comfortable silence. Daryl was surprisingly good at applying the nail polish, making little to no mistakes whatsoever. In no time at all, your nails were done, and Daryl motioned for you to turn around. You did so, and practically moaned in relief when Daryl's hands started gently massaging your shoulders. His hands were expertly working at the knots that had formed on your shoulders, transferring you to a state of bliss.

“That feels really good,” you mumbled, closing your eyes at the heavenly feeling.

“Yeah?” Daryl smiled, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder blade before resuming his actions. “Told ya tha' ya were overworkin' yerself. Ya deserve this.”

You let out a groan of satisfaction, enjoying the feeling of Daryl's big, callused hands working at the painful knots. You were in heaven at that moment. Not only did Daryl make you food, he poured you a glass of wine, made you a comfortable spot on the couch, painted your nails and now he was giving you a massage. You truly believed that no man could ever compare to the man you had the lucky privilege of calling yours.

“I love you,” you whispered almost inaudibly, but loud enough for Daryl to catch.

Daryl smiled softly. “I love ya too,” he replied, pressing another gentle kiss to your shoulder blade before withdrawing. “Now lay flat on yer stomach. S'time to get workin' on yer back now.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied playfully, slowly flipping over to lay on your stomach.

“Good girl.”

#krys writes .ೃ࿐ #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader

[mattyriddlesbitch]

matty + ravenclaw reader 🙏🏻

(a little bit of smut if you want

I love this because I'm a Ravenclaw and am in love with Matty, so I got you!

I think Mattheo is actually really smart, like could get straight As type, but doesn't apply himself, so he wasn't too thrilled when McGonagall told him he needed to get a tutor and she already assigned him one. Which was obviously you.

He'd seen you around, thought you were pretty, but he never really talked to you. He thought you'd be some type of annoying know-it-all.

So imagine his surprise when you had your first tutoring session and you were actually pretty chill. He didn't actually need to be tutored, he knew that, but you didn't and kept trying to get his focus back on the work while he was trying to distract you the whole time, either with jokes or asking questions about yourself. He loved when you got annoyed at him and tried to get him back on track.

That's how all study sessions went. About a few minutes of studying and then he was trying to get you off topic. He actually did want to get to know you. You were so pretty and smart and witty and pretty. That's what he thought. Even when he was quiet and not trying to distract you, he was staring at you, whether you were talking or not.

I will always stand by this, he is almost stalkerish when he likes a girl, trying to find out everything about her, befriending her friends. You're no different. He's trying to catch you out of classes, trying to catch you in the library, or even in the halls between classes.

Will 100% annoy you when you're trying to study in the library if he finds you there. He'll sit down with you and try to get your attention, taking your books or notes. Loves your glares.

After a few months of study sessions, he tells you he doesn't need them. You think he's lying, his grades haven't improved. He makes a bet that if he can get 100% on his next test, he gets to take you out. You roll your eyes but agree. Just imagine the smug face he makes when he comes up to you the following week with perfect marks on his test.

And he takes you on such a nice date. He may love annoying you and playing around with you, but he actually wanted to impress you, show you he can be a decent guy. He finds out from your friends what your perfect first date would be and tries to do that as best as he can. Coffee shop date? Perfect, he'll take you to the nicest one in Hogsmeade. Movie and dinner? If he can't take you to a theater, he'll set up a projector in his dorm and bribe the house elves to either make you guys food or let him make it in the kitchen.

He loves reading, but isn't an obvious and reads everywhere type of person, but he loves just relaxing together and reading, while occasionally annoying you until you threaten to leave. Will also read the books you read. Better hope he doesn't see any of your smutty books. Or maybe hope he does. He'll recreate some scenes with you.

Loves how smart you are, brags to his friends about it all the time. Will always go to you with questions. But will also tease you if you don't know something that he does.

Will start making your grades a competition too. Likes annoying you by scoring higher. It does help his grades in the end anyways, so you take it as a win. McGonagall wasn't expecting this outcome, but is pleased with the result.

I also think he would send McGonagall a 'thank you' letter/note for putting you two together but will never admit to it

He loves you so much. He loves the sweet side to you and the sassy, witty side as well. He loves that balance you give him and knowing how to read him to tell what side he needs.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath

Let me know if you wanna be added!

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys headcanons

[romanticintheory]

Hello!!!! I was wondering if you could write an angst with Ghost/Simon where the reader was too clingy after having a bad day and he lashed out on her but he didn't think anything of it because the next day the reader was acting normal. He only noticed after a few weeks when reader became more distant and quiet. Feel free to ignore if it's too weird or you don't like it!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

this one is dedicated to all the ones who were hurt and never got that apology. hope this alleviates the pain.

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader || masterlist || request rules

-there was no one specific reason as to why today turned out to be a bad day. it just was.

-from accidentally burning yourself trying to make breakfast after waking up late to having to deal with the most insufferable customers, it just wasn't your day today.

-but it was okay, because you had simon to return to when everything was said and done.

-the frown on your face immediately softens the moment you see him walk through the door to your shared home. as soon as he pulls his mask and boots off, you make your way toward him and engulf him in a tight hug.

-you are painfully (but understandably) unaware of the thin veil of his patience and the frustration that had been brewing within him in the past few hours. he half-heartedly returns the embrace.

-"how was your day, si?" you ask him gently.

-"fine," he responds shortly, hoping there isn't more to the conversation.

-even after you pull away from him, you trail behind him as he moves around the house. this wasn't irregular behavior from either of you. simon wasn't usually the most talkative person in the room, anyway, but he loved to hear your voice. that was one of the things he loved about the two of you together; you filled the space he couldn't.

-today, though, was different. he was pissed off at all different kinds of people. for some reason, couldn't bring himself to tell you that he was having a bad day and needed some space, especially because it was evident you were having a bad one yourself.

-so when he turned on his heel after listening to your rambles for as much as he could take and lashed out at you, he tried not to think about the unbearable amount of guilt seeping into his veins.

-"would you just stop clinging to me for five minutes? god, 's like i can't get away from you or your constant fucking talking!"

-you had heard stories, mostly from simon, about the kind of man he could be when pushed to his limit. mostly, it was of violent, physical acts when it came to work or protecting the ones he loved. other times, he would tell you about when he'd lash out at others just like he did to you, now, and he always told it to you with a quiet fear. there was an unspoken meaning to him telling you about the times he's acted out: i don't want to do the same to you. i don't want to hurt you.

-but here he was, towering over you with a coldness in his eyes and a dryness in his throat from the sheer volume of his words.

-averting your gaze from his, you let out a meek, "'m sorry," and watch as he slams the door in front of your face.

-when he slinks into bed next to your sleeping form later that night, ridden with shame and guilt, he misses the tear-stained face hidden from him. after his outburst, you felt like all of the energy in your body had been taken away from you and retreated to bed early. you cried on and off for hours.

-you always thought you had a clinging problem. it was an insecurity you carried with you starting from childhood. friends would become acquaintances and family would keep you at arms-length. after years of believing the issue was you, simon walked into your life and told you different.

-if you stopped talking because you thought he stopped listening and was uninterested, he'd always turn back to you and genuinely ask why you stopped talking. whenever you apologized for hugging him for too long or asking to spend time with him for the third time that week, he'd always tilt his head at you and say in that low, sincere voice, "but i love you?"

-for all those reasons, you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt despite how much he hurt you. so, when he tries to bring it up the next morning, you do your best to brush it off. he was having a bad day. that was all. no need to make a fuss.

-"listen, love," he calls to you as you pop your piece of toast out of the toaster. "about last night-"

-completely disregarding his words, you look at the clock and stuff your phone into your pocket. "it's fine. honestly, simon," you tell him with the best smile you could muster. "i'm gonna be late. i'll see you tonight."

-you were so adamant on getting out as quick as possible that simon had no time to respond. he thought to himself that maybe he was making a bigger deal out of it than you. maybe there were no hard feelings and you were completely fine. after all, he was always overly worried for you, anyway.

-so, when you came home, he didn't mention it. it was as if last night didn't happen, and the two of you were perfectly fine. there were times where simon thought you were being a bit more restrained in your movements or words, but he tried to chalk it up to just him being overly paranoid. you said it was fine, so it was better not to push you on it, right?

-at first, you were doing really good at keeping yourself from overthinking the situation. however, as time went on and you paid more attention to how you acted around your boyfriend, you began to wonder if you were really that clingy.

-as the week progressed, your state of mind would deteriorate. what if it wasn't just a bad day? what if that was what he thought the entire time and was just waiting for the right moment to tell you? had he just been trying to cheer you up about your insecurities the entire time? and if he was, how much of this relationship was even real, then?

-the more you thought about it, the more distant you became. the last thing you wanted to do was make simon feel like he was being suffocated by you. you slowly stopped initiating physical affection with him, restricted talking about your day to a few sentences, and tried to answer simon's questions in one word when possible.

-he notices. of course he notices, it was like a stranger was living where you were supposed to be, and he missed it. he missed you.

-he asks you about your change when you're getting ready for bed, pulling the rest of your nightshirt over your head. despite being exhausted from work and looking like you were sitting out in the wind, he thought you never looked more ethereal than you did now.

-"(y/n)," he said.

-"hm?" you hummed to him, not turning toward his direction. you sat down on the edge of your side of the bed, turning off the lamp at the same time.

-your lack of emotional presence was starting to eat at him. he sat down next to you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight and forcing you to lean toward him.

-"you alright?"

-"yes. why?"

-"i dunno, you just seem..." his eyes tried to find yours, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. "quiet."

-it was then that you looked at him, and it was scary to simon because he couldn't make out the emotion in your expression. there was nothing he could read.

-"isn't that-" you had to pause to try and stabilize your wavering voice. "isn't that what you wanted?"

-there was a tension-filled silence that settled in the room, and for a second you were worried that what you said was somehow incredibly offensive.

-finally, he chokes out, "i'm sorry."

-again, you try to muster up a smile. "it's fine, i already told you. i should've known you wanted space."

-"no."

-"no?"

-"it was my fault," he explains. "how could you 'ave known? i didn't tell you i wasn't in the mood that day, and that's not even considering the way i talked to you. i shouldn't have- nothing excuses what i said to you."

-still, you were convinced you were to blame. "well, i have a history of being clingy, so," you were trying to come up with more excuses for him. for most of your life, you had decided that you were the issue. it couldn't be any other way, right?

-"i know. it's one of the things i love you for," he says quietly. "not to sound cheesy but it's what makes you you, and i don't want you to lose that jus' 'cause i'm still shitty at communication."

-you knew in some capacity he was right. there was no excuse for how he talked to you, but the next words you wanted to say evaded you.

-simon thought about talking some more. instead, he grasped your back with one hand and slid his other underneath your legs, repositioning you on his lap. it was like a silent plea from him, a way of proving that he wanted to be close to you just as much as you wanted to be close to him.

-"you're sure i'm not too clingy?" you ask tentatively.

-"positive," he reassures you, rubbing small circles on your back with his thumb. "you wanna know something?"

-"what?"

-"if i wasn't so fucked up-"

-"you're not fucked up."

-"right." you never let him talk badly about himself. that was something he was still getting used to after all this time. being loved and learning to love himself. "well, if i didn't grow up the way i did and became the person i am, i'd probably be way clingier than you."

-"that's impossible," you deny, unconsciously letting yourself lean into his touch.

-"you don't know how much i want you. if my mind and body would let me, i'd be close to you all the time, showing you the attention you deserve."

-"you give me plenty."

-"agree to disagree," he stops with the circles and pulls you impossibly closer to his body. "but 'm trying. 'm trying to learn to let you love me and to not be afraid to love you. 'm sorry, love. i stopped trying that night, and i think it'll be the death of me."

-you let his words sink in, a thoughtful look on your face.

-"next time you'll tell me, right? what you're thinking?"

-"pinkie promise," he agrees, letting the hand under your legs slide out and raise his pinkie finger toward you.

-in return, you link your pinkie with his to seal the promise, and it feels as though the heavy tension in the air has cleared away.

-"i love you," he says, feeling bold from his previous admission.

-"i love you, too." there's that smile on your face. he never realized until now how he probably couldn't live without it.

-he kisses you on the lips, and for a moment the two of you just stay there in each other's arms, forgiving the past, healing the present, and dreaming of the future together.

#call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod imagine #cod mw x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #cod angst #call of duty angst #simon riley angst #ghost angst #cod hurt/comfort #simon riley hurt/comfort #cod fluff #call of duty fluff #rarawrites

[gyuscoffee]

kim mingyu ᯓᡣ𐭩 best friend to lovers

bestfriend!mingyu who never leaves your side when you’re hanging out your mutual friends.

bestfriend!mingyu who watches you drink with chan and soonyoung; he’s talking to jeonghan and seokmin but occasionally stealing glances at you to make sure you don’t drink too much.

bestfriend!mingyu who later checks the time and stands up, pulling you up and away from the table with shots lined up to prevent you from taking any more.

bestfriend!mingyu bidding all your friends goodbye so he can take you back to your house, loving the way everyone already trusts him to take you home safely.

bestfriend!mingyu who unlocks your front door without assistance, knowing the way around your house.

bestfriend!mingyu who gets you ready for bed, only going to wash up after you’re fast asleep in your bedroom, then ending his night by crashing in your guest bedroom.

bestfriend!mingyu who is already cooking breakfast in your kitchen like he lives there, smiling brightly later when you compliment the food.

bestfriend!mingyu who seems very curious when you bring up a blind date that seungkwan has set you up on later that day.

bestfriend!mingyu who bitterly replies to you while you prepare for your blind date, giving you puppy eyes to cancel and spend the night hanging out with him instead.

bestfriend!mingyu who pouts when you still put on your shoes but nonetheless reminds you to call him later if anything happens.

bestfriend!mingyu who immediately goes to pick you up when you text him that the date wasn’t going well, driving you to his house without having to ask.

bestfriend!mingyu who hands you his oversized clothes and lets you shower while he brings out soju bottles and sets up your favorite comfort movie to watch because you looked stressed.

bestfriend!mingyu who drowns the nth shot of soju during the night, listening to you ramble about everything that went wrong with the date, before you come to the conclusion that you’re going to be single forever.

“but i can treat you better,” he interrupts your rant, turning his body to face you completely, “why not just date me instead?”

bestfriend!mingyu who is now staring at you intensely, making you turn red; it’s probably from the alcohol and his hot living room but his windows are perfectly open.

bestfriend!mingyu who pauses the movie and pulls you closer to him, staring at your lips and waits for you to make the first move because he doesn’t want to think it’s all in his head.

bestfriend!mingyu who is stunned when you really kiss him, trying to see if he was dreaming or not.

bestfriend!mingyu who smiles brightly when you confess your hidden feelings, a bit sad when he hears how long you’ve liked him and thought it was hopeless.

bestfriend!mingyu who confesses his feelings, teasing you for not picking up on his subtle attempts at flirting or trying to hangout with you alone every chance he got.

boyfriend!mingyu who asks you to stay the night in his bed, finally getting to cuddle with you.

boyfriend!mingyu who wakes up with his heart racing because the love of his life is sleeping next to him.

#seventeen #svt #seventeen mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagine #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen drabbles #kim mingyu fanfic #kim mingyu imagine #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu fluff #mingyu fanfiction #mingyu imagine #mingyu oneshot #mingyu x reader #mingyu drabbles #mingyu fluff #svt fanfic #svt imagine #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt oneshots

[6ix9inewiturmom]

The Scare- Chris Sturniolo

Summary: you end up having one of the biggest pregnancy scares of your life while chris is in boston

Warnings: Cursing, Crying, use of Y/N, talks of sex, taking a pregnancy test

A/n: may be tmi but lowkey relate to this so this was easy to write LMFAOO, ENJOY

PSA: DO NOT USE MY WORK FOR “inspiration” OR ANYTHING ELSE!!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Chris has been in Boston for the last 2 weeks, and he's finally coming home. I decided to shower and shave before he came home because that man is the most sexually active 20-year-old I've ever met, the Facetime sex at 3 am for him isn't nearly enough to satisfy both of our needs.

After my hour-long shower, I'm digging through my shared bathroom with Chris in an attempt to find my body lotion to prevent my dry ass skin in this heat when I find my box of tampons, which got me thinking I haven't had a period in a while and Chris and I aren't the safest people when it comes to sex because neither of us can even remember to put a condom on, it always fucks up my mood.

“Shit,” I say to my self.

Chris and I are only 20 and with his career there's no fucking way in HELL we can have a kid or even raise a kid, I am nowhere near ready to raise an actual child.

I open my Flo app and see the little circle that's normally red is grey ‘1 week late’

“Shit shit shit,” I say out loud again, panicking.

I can't keep it from him, he's gonna see the pregnancy test in the trash. Would he be mad if I kept it from him? Should I just tell him? Should I go to Tara?

After about 30 minutes of standing in the bathroom looking at the message in my phone, panicking about what to do, I just decided I was gonna tell Chris, he loves me, and we've talked about having kids way later in life anyway, he couldn't be mad.

I finally built up the courage and got dressed in a pair of tight ripped jeans and a baby tee, with some Converse, and sat on the couch waiting for Chris to come home going through Tiktok and whatever else was on my phone.

“BABY IM HOME” Chris yells from the stairs

I squeal in excitement as I spot Chris and run towards him. Jumping into his arms, he effortlessly lifts me, allowing me to wrap my legs around his waist.

“Umm Y/N there are other people here too you know? Also, Chris get out of the fucking way so we can fucking put our shit down” Nick says in annoyance.

“Well hello to you too Nick,” I say jumping out of Chris’ arms moving out of the doorway, and letting Matt and Nick come inside the house.

“Sorry babes, we've all been up since about 6 am Boston time trying to catch our flight we almost missed because your fucking boyfriend wouldn't get the hell out of bed” Nick replies sending me a soft smile and giving me a soft hug.

“To be fair none of us went to bed at a decent time, mom was making sure we had everything packed so we didn't leave anything behind” matt defends.

“Thank you, Matt, now Y/N do you wanna take a nap? I know we were gonna go out to dinner but I'm very fucking jet lagged and kinda just want to order dinner and watch movies with you” Chris wraps his arms around my waist nuzzling his head between my neck as my hands rest on his shoulders.

“Thats fine with me i don't mind” i pull away from his embrace and smile at him.

Chris grabs his luggage and my hand and guides me to our shared bedroom. As we enter the room he seats his luggage down and plops on the bed letting out a groan of frustration.

“I have missed this damn bed, don't ask me how I slept in that bed at my mom's house for god knows how long because this one is so much more comfortable,” Chris says adjusting the way he's laying to rest his head down on the pillows. “Now after 2 weeks of no sex and just my right hand, I'm gonna need to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you” he smirks at me patting his lap and signaling me to sit on it.

“Yeah so about that” give him an awkward smile “So I didn't know how to approach this to you, 'cause you know we're not the most responsible sexually active humans” I start babbling getting nervous of his reaction based on the puzzled look on his face.

“Y/N what the hell are you getting at? cause if you don’t wanna have sex with me right now that’s fine just say that, but considering our last facetime call the constant ‘oh chris i need your cock’ was really misleading to me” he says with a puzzled faced.

“Chris i’m late” i breathe out.

“late for what? did we have reservations for dinner? did you have something for work?” he says with frustration in his voice.

“No Chris my period, I'm late, my period is LATE, I'm 1 week late today,” I say aggressively from his lack of acknowledgement.

“wait we haven’t had sex in 2 weeks? i’m confused” he sits up moving to the edge of the bed.

“last time we had sex i was ovulating, remember when i told you like a while ago that if im ovulating means im FERTILE?” i say in frustration.

“Fuck” he runs his fingers through his hair “Did you take a test? Do you know for sure that you are pregnant?” he questions

“No, and no, I didn't wanna take a test without you, and I for SURE didn't wanna hide it from you,” I say softly sitting next to him on the bed.

“So why the hell are you freaking out now? You don't know for sure that you are” he asks placing his head in his hands.

“Because you and I are nowhere near ready for a fucking kid Chris, your career, and my inability to even fucking care for myself some days, yeah there's no fucking way I can care for a child who can't even speak on its emotions, Chris” I stand up out of frustration and start pacing.

I can tell Chris obviously got upset with my statement about our ability to care for a child but i was stressed and honestly wasn't thinking.

"I want you to know that I care about you deeply, Y/N. If you are indeed pregnant, please know that I will do everything in my power to support you and our child. Even if it means giving up my career, I will do it willingly. Let's go get a pregnancy test and we can talk about everything else later, okay? I am here for you, and I will always be." he says, his voice filled with empathy and understanding as he gently cups my cheeks in his hands, rubbing them softly up and down and warm smile spreads across his face.

As our eyes meet, a warm smile spreads across his face and I can't help but return it. He takes my hand in his and gently guides me towards the living room, his grip firm yet gentle. The coolness of his skin against mine sends shivers down my spine.

“Girl, were you guys arguing? Normally after we come home from Boston it's all ‘Oh Chris more, more’ typically a traumatic event” Nick says mocking me with a smile plastered across his face.

“Y/N and I are running to CVS so well be back in a little,” Chris says walking him and me down the stairs and to my car.

The drive to CVS was filled with a bunch of conversations and laughter, talking about if I was pregnant how we would raise our child, and Chris talking about the dad jokes he's gonna have, and considering he's a triplet he carries the genetic that I'm probably gonna twins or triplets.

“How many of these things do we need? What brand is best? why are there so many options?” Chris says holding 3 boxes of pregnancy tests and struggling to figure out which one to pick “fuck it why don't we buy all of them and use one pack tonight then we'll have the extra on hand in case our irresponsibility gets the best of us” he continues.

Chris and I walked up to the front counter and dropped the boxes of tests. The worker behind the counter took a look at the tests and then looked back at us, giving us a fake smile. After ringing up the purchase, we made our way to my car.

“So do you think you are pregnant?” Chris says breaking the silence.

“I mean normally my cycles are normal and a week late is not normal at all but it could be my hormones changing or something, but I do wanna make sure,” I say glancing at Chris nervously biting his nails.

“You were right about how irresponsible we are with our sex lives but when we first started fucking we knew the risk of everything and I mean our kids would be pretty cute,” he says placing his hand on my leg and rubbing a small circle with his thumb.

Chris and I pulled up into the driveway. As we got out of the car, he held my hand tightly and carried the CVS bag in the other hand as we made our way into the house and up the staircase.

“did you get any snacks?” Nick says eating a bowl of popcorn on the couch with Matt watching the most random movie on Netflix.

“Uhm no I just got a couple of personal things” I say nervously holding up the bag and sending a warm smile to Nick.

Chris and I pretty much B lined to the bathroom, anxiously “So which one do we use?” Chris says looking down at the boxes.

“Just give me the one that says Clearblue” i say softly laughing as Chris opens the box for me and inspects it before handing me the little stick.

“Do you want me to hold the stick while you piss? I'm sorry I have no idea how these things work” he says laughing allowing his back to slide down the wall and sit with his back against the shower door.

“Chris it's fine i know how to use these, believe me my friends in highschool weren't the most responsible either” I say laughing beginning to pee on the little white and blue stick.

“So how long do we wait?” Chris says helping me take a seat on the floor next to him.

“5 minutes” I breathe out setting a 5-minute timer on my phone and leaning my head against the shower door.

As we sat in the bathroom, waiting for the pregnancy test to show its result, the silence felt palpable. It wasn't an awkward silence, but rather a deafening one that seemed to fill the entire room. With just the two of us present, we anxiously waited for the five minutes to pass.

“Would it be a bad thing if I wanted it to be positive?” Chris chuckles.

“I wouldn't necessarily say a bad thing, there's a part of me that kind of wants it to be positive too” i smile back at Chris.

The alarm on my phone quickly broke the once-loving moment sending us into a panic. Chris and I stand up walking to the counter.

“Wait should we film it in case you are then we could always have it if you could be pregnant?” Chris’ gaze softens as he looks at me.

“Chris not the time” I softly laugh out.

“Right,” he nods smiling back at me. “WAIT” he grabs my hand “Whatever happens, I love you,” he says in a serious tone.

With a warm smile, I gaze lovingly at him and reciprocate his affectionate words, "I love you too Christopher." However, my attention is quickly drawn towards the counter where the pregnancy test lays face down, taunting my nerves. With trembling hands, I muster up the courage to pick it up and slowly turn it around to face me, my heart pounding in anticipation of the result.

‘Not Pregnant’

“YES, MORE CREAMPIES” Chris shrieks wrapping his arms around my waist and picking me up, and spinning me around as I giggle out of excitement.

He carefully seats me down back flat on my feet. Our moment was quickly interrupted by both Nick and Matt barging through the door.

“ARE YOU GUYS- wait is that a pregnancy test? Y/N ARE YOU PREGNANT?” Nick yelled as Matt's eyes widened at the little blue stick in my hands.

“Please for the love of god, I don't want a little Chris running around, or two, or even three” Matt places his hand on his forehead.

“No she is not” Chris chuckles at the boys’ comment.

“THANK YOU,” matt and nick say in unison.

“Wrap it before you tap it next time Chris,” Nick says walking away and back to the living room.

“Now I'll say it again, after 2 weeks of Facetime sex I would like to absolutely fuck your brains out” Chris says smirking down at me.

“Please do” I smile as he picks me up gripping the backs of my thighs as my legs wrap around his waist leading me to the bedroom.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N pt 2: I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THISSSSSS AND TYSM TO @cosmicmistake42069 FOR THIS INSPIRATION!!

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo

[chuusmuts]

sleepover at your boyfriend!kazuha's house

smut. fingering (bcs i suck at writing other than this), (slightly) possessive/yandere kazuha. not proofread.

no words about gensin. just going crazy over an's new commissioned song.

you were supposedly having a sleepover at your boyfriend!kazuha's house. with his suggestion, both of you came to a decision to have a deep late night talk before sleeping. whilst you were engrossed in his tale, you didn't realise his hand was playing with the band of your pants. his mind had become a little fuzzy after having the need to touch you, but you looked so cute listening to him, with you biting your lower lip so he couldn't just put an end to his story.

as he continued talking, his hand slowly creeped up inside your pants. and as soon as you felt his fingertips brush your cunt, you let out a quiet gasp as you fought the urge to buck your hips and moan. slowly, his fingers grazed lightly on your pussy before starting to rub your clit while his other hand rested on your hip. in this moment, he was still talking, but not about his previous story, he was whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

your pants was pulled passed your butt as he worked his fingers on your pussy like magic, stroking your clit in a slow motion and teasing your fold. your hand was put over your mouth to hide your moans, but oh, you really couldn't hold it anymore as your breath kept hitching. his fingers felt so good, too good, and the way he whispered sweet nothings into your ear only made you even wetter. after a period of time, you struggled to keep your legs open as they kept trembling.

kazuha could feel it, how wet you were and how tight and hot you were down there, your body practically begging for his attention. he leaned down and nuzzled his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent and sucking on your skin, leaving a few obvious hickeys before moving up to your ear. his voice was low and husky as he spoke in a gentle manner, barely above a whisper. "sweetheart, i can't stop myself from touching you. you're so unbelievably hot and sexy."

he really tried to resist himself every time he saw you wearing nothing but only a thin layer of white shirt and short pants, no panties, no bra and whatsoever. and tonight, he finally snapped. as he moved his finger up and down, he curled his fingers and put more pressure, his nails scraping against your skin. it was almost unbearably intense, but he knew you could handle it because you're such a good girl all for him and seeing you squirming and writhing beside him, still trying to hold back your moans, he couldn't resist but to plunge two fingers into your tight, wet hole and teased your sweet spot in which he succeeded making you whimper.

he groaned, unable to help himself, as he continued to move his fingers inside you, feeling your walls squeeze around him. his fingers twisted and turned inside you, his thumb brushing against your g-spot, causing an involuntary shiver to run through your body. he looked up at you again, meeting your eyes as he did so, and his lips parted slightly as he watched you squirm and writhe. the thought of filling your hole with his cock, filled him with an insatiable need that he just couldn't ignore. as he began to thrust his fingers faster and harder, he spoke once more, this time his voice deeper and rougher than ever before. it was full of raw, unbridled passion as he whispered in your ear, "i want to fuck you badly, baby. please let me take you right here and now, i need you so much."

hearing no response from you pissed him just a little. but when he heard you accidentally let out a clear and loud whimper, calling his name, he took the initiative and wasted time getting on top of you, straddling you while still scissoring your sensitive cunt. the sight of your face contorted in pleasure was amazing and he knew it wouldn't be long before you cum on his fingers hence why he plunged the third finger, successfully making you moaned his name again.

breathing heavily, his eyes never left yours as he fucked you with his fingers. he could feel your walls closing around him, the heat of your body enveloping him as he slid in and out of you. with each stroke, he felt his own arousal grow, his cock hardening beneath his boxers. he swore he could hear your heartbeat echoing in his ears, a steady drumming that matched the rhythm of his fingers. he loved how you always seemed to respond to his touch, especially when he played with your sensitive spots, he loved it when body shook with anticipation.

he crashed his lips into yours roughly, his tongue lapping at your lips hungrily before inviting his tongue inside your mouth and playing with yours as he continued to work his fingers inside you. with his free hand, he reached down and grabbed your thigh, holding it firmly in place as he thrusted his fingers deep into your pussy, making sure they hit your g-spot with each movement. he groaned into the kiss as he felt his balls slapping against your thighs with each thrust. a sweet, adorable scream keened from your throat when you finally came from your high only to come out in a muffled moan into his mouth. you gripped on his shoulder tightly as cum spilled nonstop onto his fingers.

his lips curved into a smile as he felt you clenched down on his fingers, your muscles tightening around him. he looked down at your face, your eyes closed as you cried out in pleasure before kissing you again. his tongue slid along the inside of your mouth as he pulled out his fingers and shoved them into your mouth, making you tasted yourself and choked slightly. he grinned at you as you licked his fingers obediently before getting off of you, taking his boxers off and revealing his already rock hard cock. grabbing your clothes harshly, he took them off before tossing them to who knows where.

he spread your legs wider and positioned his leaking cock at your entrance, teasing you a little and you couldn't help yourself but to moaned unabashedly, rutting and bucking your hips. his thumb found its way on your clit again giving you more pleasure by feverishly rubbing on it. as he buried his cock inside you, his lips connected with yours once more, muffling any of your moans trying to get out while still stroking your clit. you could feel the fatness of his cock stretching you out and filing you up as he began to thrust slowly, wanting you to adjust to his size beforehand as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

his big and strong hands held you close, keeping you close to him as his heart beat wildly while looking down at you. your soft breasts pressed against his chest as he held you in his arms, his thumbs rubbing against your clit and your inner thighs. his eyes burning with passion as he thrusted inside you, his cock hitting your g-spot with each thrust. he smirked as he watched you try to keep up with his pace, your hips bucking and rolling against his as he continued to push his cock into your womb. the sight of your face was undeniably mouth-watering, your face flushed with pleasure and your eyes half-closed as he continued to thrust, your body shaking with the force of his movements.

your body was so perfect, so fucking beautiful. he loved everything about you, how your breasts jiggled with each movement, and how your nipples hardened under his touch. he stroked your clit with his thumb as your moans grew louder and louder. when you moaned loud, very loud, he just knew he had hit the right spot. you whined, your legs around his waist loosening though he quickly grabbed your ass and pulled you closer to him so he could get his cock deeper inside your tight pussy until it hit the spongy spot inside you.

he groaned in bliss, his voice low and rough as he gazed at you with his eyes dark and hungry. leaning in closer, his lips barely brushed against your ear as he spoke. "fuck, baby, you are so fucking hot. i can't wait to fill you up with my seed." he grounded his teeth together, his eyes flashing as he continued to thrust into you, his cock hitting your cervix with each powerful motion that the bed made a creak sound. "please, please, please let me fuck you so hard. i need to fill you up with my cum, to feel you squirt on my cock, to see your tits bouncing as I fuck you." he moaned.

feeling your walls clamp down more on his cock, his movements began to get sloppier and he could feel a knot forming in his lower stomach. you squirmed more underneath him, and your body shook violently, your nails dugging into his shoulders, and a loud scream of his name left your lips as you reached your high. he picked up his pace pace again after you squirted, and shortly after, a load of hot seed was shot into your womb as he squeezed your breasts to relieve the pain from his body.

the feeling of his cum shooting into your womb was indescribable. sweat covered his body and his breathing was heavy as he felt his entire body trembled with the power of his orgasm. he collapsed on top of you, burying his face between your tits, his body shaking with the intensity of his climax as he continued to shoot his seed into your womb. he looked up at you, his eyes still filled with passion and desire and his heart pounding wildly. his cock continued to twitch and throb as he tried to catch his breath. he chuckled lightly, his voice hoarse and low as he looked at you. "i think i might have fucked you too hard," he said, his brow furrowed in concern as he looked up at you through the space between your boobs. "are you okay? do you think you can go for round two?"

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin imagines #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha #kazuha imagines #kazuha x reader #kazuha smut #kazuha x you #kazuha x y/n #kazuha x female reader #genshin kazuha #sleepover at boyfriend!kazuha's house

[zegrasdrysdale]

I know you’ve been getting Ethan Edwards smuts recently but I just thought of one today and thought I’d share it with you! Riding Ethan because he’s too hurt to be on top!

Hoping you could write this for me!! Thank you!!

[ saddle up ] e. edwards

paring : Ethan Edwards x fem!reader

summary : a bored and injured Ethan finds his girl’s cowgirl hat from Halloween after a few months and is wearing it when she comes to the hockey house after class hoping she gets the hint

warning(s) : smut ! dirty talk, use of pet names during sex, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), injured!ethan (but he’s also horny lol)

author’s note : pls send all the ethan smut requests bc i am a whore for this man and i will pretty much write anything i get abt him lmaoo. enjoy anon <33

༺═──────────────═༻

The moment she walks into the hockey house after a full day of classes and lectures, something’s off. The house is usually buzzing with hockey players by the time four rolls around and she comes walking into the house.

This time, the house is empty. Luca isn’t sitting in the living room playing some kind of game with Adam, the Duke boys aren’t yelling at each other in the kitchen, no stray hockey player is doing his homework or playing with Luca if Adam has a game.

It’s too quiet.

“Ethan?” she calls out. “Are you here?”

There’s no way they’d leave Ethan alone with his injured shoulder. He still needs help with a few basic things and can’t put a lot of weight on his shoulder yet. That’s why she’s practically been living with four hockey players since she and Ethan came back from summer break.

As she walks up the stairs, a soft “here” comes from down the hallway. She pushes the door to Ethan’s room open and peeks her head inside.

Ethan is lying in bed so she feels a little better, but he’s wearing an unbuttoned checkered flannel and a pair of jeans. Her sparkly black cowgirl hat from Halloween is on his head. She covers her smile with her hand and has to stifle a laugh.

“What the hell are you wearing?” she asks, voice muffled by her hands. The laughter is evident in her voice. “What is happening?”

He smiles and slowly manuvers himself so he’s sitting up against the headboard behind him. “I got bored and was pacing around my room and I found your hat while I was doing that,” he tells her. “Dressed the part. I was hoping you’d do me a favor though.”

She kicks the door shut behind her and drops her bag on the floor next to it. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“Save a horse, ride a hockey player?” Ethan tells her. It’s more of a question than a comment. “Well, a hockey player dressed as a cowboy. Anyway, please?”

Even injured and ordered by the doctor to rest, Ethan is thinking about sex. Possibly explains why the house is so empty. “Did you kick everyone out or something?” she asks. “It’s Wednesday. The house is usually filled to the brim with hockey players by now.”

“Coach Naurato called an emergency practice at Yost,” he explains. “There’s a team meeting I have to go to at seven but until then, I have the house all to myself.” He pats his lap with the hand that’s attached to his healthy shoulder. “So, saddle up.”

The laugh that she’s been surpressing bubbles from her throat. She loses it for a second, but she kicks off her sneakers anyway. “You are insufferable, Ethan Edwards,” she laughs. “Hot, but insufferable.”

Ethan shoots her another smile. “Yeah, but you still love me anyway,” he comments as she carefully crawls onto his lap. “Plus, it’s been a while since you’ve been fucked so I knew you couldn’t turn this down.”

She rolls her eyes and plays with the button on Ethan’s jeans. “I wanted to be careful because of your shoulder, E,” she tells him. “But yeah I’m losing my mind a little bit because it’s been a while.”

“Knew it,” Ethan laughs.

“You better be nice to me,” she reminds him as she pops his jeans open by undoing the button. “I’ll make sure this goes excruciatingly slow for you if you’re not nice to me.”

He throws his hands in the air in surrender. “Alright,” he says. “No need for threats.”

She smiles and kneels between his knees so she can get his pants off. She wiggles the jeans off of his legs and throws them on the floor. She can clearly see the bulge that’s formed in his boxers. With a light touch, she traces the bulge and Ethan presses his lips in a line.

Her fingers trail up over his abs and toned chest until she grazes his stubbled jaw. She carefully leans over him so she doesn’t accidentally put pressure on his shoulder.

Their eyes meet and Ethan smiles. “Hi, baby,” he says.

“Hi, handsome,” she giggles. “You sit there and rest like the doctor you to. I’ll take care of you.”

Ethan nods and she surges forward to capture his lips in a needy kiss. She cups his jaw and moves herself so she straddles one of his thighs. One of Ethan’s hands slides up the back of her shirt that she borrowed stole from him.

It’s very much been a while since they’ve properly had sex. It was before Ethan’s surgery, which was nearly seven months ago. Even then it was sporadic because he was playing through an injury and she didn’t want to hurt him even more. It’s been consistently hands, fingers, and mouths since about five months ago.

They’re great, especially when it’s Ethan’s fingers or tongue that make her come. Nothing will compare to being filled by Ethan’s dick though.

Yeah, she’s missed proper sex. Just a little bit. Or a lot.

She reaches down between them to pull her Ethan’s shirt over her head. The kiss breaks but Ethan leans up a bit and presses kisses to her collarbone. The hat he is wearing is knocked off his head and falls onto the pillows behind him. She grabs it and puts it on her own head.

He looks up at her and pulls back. “Saving a horse, riding a hockey player,” she comments. “Plus, it’s my hat.”

“It looks better on you anyway,” he replies. She tilts her hat in his direction and Ethan laughs.

His fingers slide to her back and unclasp the bra she had on. It falls between them and Ethan tosses it to the floor. He kisses her collarbones and chest. His lips trail down to her boobs. He’s always loved her tits and has always given them extra attention. Now is no different.

She leans her head back and sighs as Ethan cups one breast while he takes the other in his mouth. He switches after a moment. Her fingers are in his hair and she leaves the occasional kiss to his temple. “Ethan,” she sighs into his hair.

“Let me give my pretty girl some love first,” he mumbles against her skin. She smiles into his locks. “Then you’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

It feels like an eternity later when Ethan finally pulls back and looks up at her with the most innocent look on his face. Her chest is covered in red marks that only the two of them will ever see since it’s not bathing suit season. She shakes her head with a laugh before she leans in and captures his lips in a soft kiss.

Ethan begins to push at the waist and of the leggings she has on. “Come on, baby,” he whines into the kiss. “Off. Want you to ride me, pretty girl.”

His words shoot straight to her core and she hums. She loves when he talks to her like this and calls her ‘pretty girl’.

She has to break the kiss so she can get her pants off for him. She pushes the leggings, along with her already wet panties, down to her knees. She kicks them off from there. Ethan bites his bottom lip when she crawls onto his lap, completely naked.

Very carefully, she pushes the flannel that he’s wearing off his body. He sits up so she can get it off his arms without bumping his shoulder. The shirt joins the rest of their clothes on the ground.

Just to be a tease, she rolls her hips against Ethan’s. He groans and both his hands fly to her waist. “Keep doing that and we’re gonna have a problem,” he tells her. With a smile, she pulls his boxers off of him. His dick springs free of it’s confines as she throws the fabric to the floor with a soft thud.

She takes him in one hand and reaches over to his table to grab a condom out of the drawer. He intercepts her hand and she raises her eyebrows at him. “As long as it’s okay with you, I don’t want to use one,” he comments. “I just want to feel you.”

“You are so lucky that I started taking the pill,” she tells him with a laugh. “I’d be saying absolutely not if I didn’t.”

“Thank God for birth control,” Ethan replies. She smiles and leans in to kiss him again. One of his hands comes up to cup her face. She moves herself so she straddles his waist.

After a few extra pumps, she lines Ethan’s dick up with her entrance. She slowly sinks down on his cock with a sigh against his lips. His hands are on her waist to help her stay balanced. She feels the familiar stretch as she lowers herself onto his dick.

Once he’s completely inside of her, she gives herself a second since it’s been a while. Then she slowly moves her hips, still trying to be careful of Ethan’s shoulder.

Soft pants pass her lips into the messy kiss. The quicker her movements are, the heavier the pants. She has to break the kiss and rests her forehead against Ethan’s so she can breathe.

One of his hands comes up and cups her jaw. His thumb runs over her swollen lips and her hair has formed a curtain around their faces. She continues to move at a steady pace.

“Fuck,” she pants. “Missed this, E. Missed you.”

“Never left, baby,” he tells her. “Missed this too though.”

She smiles and kisses him again. Her hands rest on his torso as she quickens her pace.

The kiss doesn’t last long. The tip of his cock grazes her favorite spot and she groans. She sits back and is able to move at a slower but more comfortable pace and speed.

Ethan’s fingers trail from her jaw, down between her tits and over her stomach until he reaches her clit. She falters in her pace for a second but quickly recovers as she gets used to his fingers on her clit. “Don’t stop, E,” she pants as the knot in her stomach forms. “Shit.”

“I have you, pretty girl,” Ethan tells her. His own voice is shaky. “Look so pretty riding my cock, baby.”

She bites her bottom lip as her legs begin to shake on either side of his waist. Her orgasm is imminent but she isn’t ready for this to be over so quickly.

Her hands slide from his torso to his chest. Ethan’s able to lean his head up a bit and press soft kisses to her wrist. He grabs her hand with his free hand and kisses the back of it before he trails kisses down her arm. He gently pulls her so she leans over him again.

She lightly wraps her arms around his neck and quickens her pace one more time. “Fuck, E,” she gasps as the knot threatens to come undone. “Don’t want this to be over.”

“Come on my cock, sweet girl,” he tells her. “We’ll do this as many times as you want. Just wanna see you come on my cock, baby.”

His words mixed with his fingers on her clit and dick inside her are too much and she comes the next time she lowers herself onto him.

She loudly cries out his name as she reaches her high. Ethan cups her face in his hands so she doesn’t fall but she also grabs onto the headboard just in case. She loses her vision for two seconds and sees stars.

Ethan isn’t far behind her. With his healthy arm, he lifts her up and comes on her stomach and thighs. She heavily pants with a smile on her face as Ethan sinks back against the headboard after his own orgasm. He has a lazy smile on his own lips.

She leans in and they share a handful of lazy kisses as they both come down from their highs and get feeling back in their bodies.

As soon as she feels like she can stand, she gets off of Ethan and grabs the shirt she stole from him to wipe herself off. She finishes the job once she pees and wets a cloth.

When she comes back into the room, Ethan has the hat back on and is laying under the covers from the waist down. She laughs and shakes her head as she crawls under the covers with him.

She presses soft kisses to the scar on his shoulder. “I love you,” she mumbles. “The hat’s gotta go though. I’m down to do that again without the hat.”

Ethan tosses the hat somewhere in the room. “I love you,” he tells her. “I have an alarm set so you can sleep if you want.”

With a soft hum in agreement, her tired body gives in to sleep as she curls up around her boyfriend.

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

have a request ? check out the guidelines !

wanna be added to the taglist ? fill out this form !

taglist : @dasiysthings @equallyshaw @dancerbailey3 @love4lando @prettyinsatiable @ivy-34

#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #hockey smut #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #nhl smut #umich hockey fic #umich fic #ethan edwards #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards smut #zegrasdrysdale request

[caramelcleopatraa]

WORKOUT

word count: 801

x: typed this out in a couple of hours because I saw these pictures and imagined Roman working out in the outdoor gym and just started writing whatever came to my mind (not proofread) Enjoy this impulsive imagine.

content: 18+ mdni, established relationship, Roman Reigns x reader, Exhibitionism/Vouyerism, doggystyle, (sorta) public

He bought an Airbnb for you two after losing his championship title. Time to get away from the rush of it all. So, you two escaped and went to Miami, enjoying quality time alone in the house, or eating high end food in sparkling restaurants. The house was beautiful in itself. The exposing windows that separated the modern house from the outside. A mix of beige, black, and green. Decorative trees and bushes sprinkled around the house, complimenting the beige and black interior. The house had everything. Multiple bedrooms and bathrooms, a spacious pool with beautiful greenery surrounding it, and an outdoor gym overlooking the water and other modern houses in the distance. Of course, The outdoor gym was his favorite part of the house. And you reeked of the benefits. Watching his beautiful face contort as he pushed through different exercises. His warm caramel skin shining brighter with the sun’s help. You never thought that you would find yourself using the outdoor gym equipment. Except for today, grabbing onto the stable black bar while you and Roman engaged in a…. different type of workout.

“Mhm that ass so damn fat, making me feel so fucking good baby.” Your hand was starting to hurt from how tight you were grabbing onto the gym equipment. Your other arm was no help, being held behind you by your samoan lover. Soo, you wouldn't have to worry about grabbing on to the bar, because your other arm would be held behind you as well. Usually, you shied away from doing sexual acts in public, but he looks so sexy working out, you forgot to have shame while he fucked you stupid. Neither did you try to find shame because of the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you. 

Your nails scratched at his forearms, yelling his favorite names in that sweet honey voice that hypnotized him into doing anything for you. “Ooohh~ shit! You’re fucking me so good!” The sight of his woman high off pleasure because of him gave him indescribable feelings of pride and happiness. “My baby so nasty, fuckk- keep talking to me mama,” Roman purred, burying himself deeper in your pussy, marveling at the wetness. Your legs were turning into jelly from his sudden slow and methodical, but forceful strokes. You needed more than that though. “Faster Roman…” His silence let you know what you needed to do. You knew that you would have to beg him to get what you wanted. “Daddy please stop playing! Fuck me for real!” But he didn’t give you any time to catch your breath, pulling you closer to his body by your torso and kissing you. He walked you closer to the edge, giving both of you a better view of the houses around you. But that also gave them a better view of you. 

“Ask me correctly.” “Baby, they can see us.” He held you tight against him, slyly slipping his thick hand between your thighs to rub your clit. “Let them see how good I’m fucking you. Ask daddy again.” You let out a heavy breath before saying, “P-please fuck me daddy. I need it so bad.” As much as he liked to tease you, he needed it as much as you did. Your arms were held behind your back again, but he submerged himself in the crook of your neck, talking you through it while sliding his dick back into you. Welcomed by the warmth and tightness he always missed when he pulled out of you. “That pussy feels so fucking good baby. You this wet because of me, huh?” You couldn’t respond before he started fucking you again. Your mouth fell agape, moaning like crazy. “Mhm, let ‘em hear. Let them hear how good I’m fucking this pussy.” His breath on your neck, his hold on you body, the way he fucked you, it made you dizzy. Your mind was going blank, and your knees were going weak, trying your best to communicate to him that you were going to cum without stuttering. “Daddy! Ugh shiit! Please let me cum.” “Go ahead mama, cum for me.” He held you up while you collapsed in his arms, legs shaking, eyes rolled back, screaming his name a couple more times while saying, “I’m coming!” as well. Your moans meshed with his deep grunts and groans, coming deep inside of you with some final thrusts, jerking your body forward. You could feel his chest rising and falling against your back. You grabbed the back of his neck, relaxing into his hold, sweaty and satisfied, close to your man. “Best workout you ever had huh?” He laughs at your joke, but doesn’t let you get the last word. “Just wait until after our date tonight sweetheart. You won’t ever need to hit the gym again.”

🏷️ tags :) @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @cyberdejos2 @murrylove @sassginaswanmills @pixiedust4000

#caramelcleopatraa #roman reigns #wwe #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x chubby reader #roman reigns smut #joe anoa'i x reader #joe anoa'i x black reader

[ladykailitha]

How I would do a sugar daddy/sugar baby AU. (I hope this doesn't awaken anything in me *side eyes the omegaverse*)

I've seen this well done in this fandom, I'm not saying I haven't, but of the ones I've seen they tend to be omegaverse or mafia/shady sugar daddy.

And I want thirty year old rockstar!Eddie with twink Steve. I said what I said. I think we forget that for the most part Steve isn't beefy. When he's "bulked" up, it's his clothing (Eddie's vest) or its his thighs that are "thicc". But Steve (Joe Kerry in particular out of the role) is thin.

So we have rockstar!Eddie with Corroded Coffin touring the country and doing a couple of dive bars because that's where they got their start and hitting up The Hideout, because again that's where they got their start.

Steve, who recently got kicked out of his parents house because he came out with liking men (gay, pan, bi don't care) and lost his job because again with the liking men thing (small town homophobia for the loss!)

So with his last twenty dollars, he decides to hit up on the local bar and drink away his troubles and maybe even get laid for a warm place to sleep tonight.

He gets dressed in his sluttiest clothes. Crop top, cut off booty shorts, sparkly blue sneaks.

Only he shows up on the night that Corroded Coffin is playing. After paying what he thought was a stiff cover charge (was actually a ticket to see the show) he gets in. He has less money than he hoped but he can only hope that someone is willing to buy him drinks.

He settles in next to the bar and realizes his mistake. The rest of the patrons are dressed in metal gear. Leather, black denim, and lots of chains. Steve doesn't just stick out, he sticks out like a prep in a metal concert.

But he can't afford to go anywhere else, and hopes he doesn't get too harassed tonight. So he keeps he head down and hopes of the best.

Only what he doesn't know is that he has caught the eye of the frontman and lead singer of Corroded Coffin, Eddie Munson. The fact that Steve stands out isn't a detriment, it's a perk.

He wants to find out everything about this boy who stumbled into his enclosure.

The rest of the band is rolling their eyes.

Eddie sends out one of the PAs to make sure that all of Steve's drinks go on Eddie's tab and spends the whole concert watching this guy.

After the concert Eddie sidles up to him and they get to talking. Immediately he picks up that Steve is not old enough to be there. So now he's worried he's under age.

They head out for a smoke and Steve admits that he's not twenty-five like the fake ID says, but nineteen. He shows Eddie his real ID as proof and Eddie is relieved.

They start making out and Eddie takes him to his hotel room to have sex.

In the morning, Eddie asks if he can take him home and Steve starts sobbing. He tells him about his shitty day with shitty parents and shitty boss.

And Eddie's bleeding heart immediately goes out to him and tells him to stay at the hotel for as long as he needs, order room service. Just no booze.

Steve pouts at that but agrees. That as long he stays at the hotel he won't buy booze on Eddie's dime.

Eddie gives Steve his phone number if he needs anything. He transfers the hotel room over to Steve's name, gives him a sultry kiss goodbye and leaves to finish his tour.

Steve doesn't have anywhere else to go and is not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he stays at the hotel. He gets to spend time in the luxurious bathroom with it's fancy shampoos and conditioners and hot tub like bath.

He finds that Eddie keeps sending him clothes and jewelry and suddenly the rich life style that he had with his parents pales in comparison to the extravagant lifestyle Eddie is providing for him.

Through all this Steve is still looking for a job as he doesn't want to overstay his welcome. But news hadn't gotten around town that he was gay and even people he thought he could trust are telling him that they can't hire him.

Eventually he gives up. He talks to Eddie all the time and whenever he feels discouraged Eddie will send him something pretty to cheer him up.

Finally Steve catches the fairy that had been leaving things in his hotel room when he's in the shower or out on the town.

Her name is Robin Buckley and she's a summer intern. Her uncle knew a guy who knew a guy that got her the job. She actually loves it, but she has one more year of high school and her parents won't let her drop out to be a PA for a rockstar.

They're concerned that he'll take advantage of her. Robin thinks it's funny because she's gay. Steve thinks it's funny because Eddie's gay and not into under eighteen year olds.

He tells her his story and over the summer they become best friends. Robin had heard that the Harrington boy had run off so imagine her surprise when Eddie's management had her deliver things to his hotel room. Staying in a hotel room in Hawkins is hardly running away.

Eddie comes back and just continues to throw money and gifts at Steve but doesn't ask for sex again. It's not until Steve tells him that he didn't fuck Eddie for his money or even for a warm bed at that point when he went back to the hotel with him, it was because Eddie cared. And god was that sexy as hell.

When Robin graduates Eddie hires her to be Steve's PA and the pair of them get to travel the world with the band as besties.

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #sugardaddy #sugarbaby

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 11

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 14.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* Fingering, shower sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, Marcus Pike the Breeding Kink King, a dash of dirty talk, the tiniest whiff of roleplay, sexual activity in a public place, cum eating. False accusations of cheating, gossip rags being gossipy, descriptions of getting a tattoo (needle mention). Summary: The end of your trip to Texas comes with a few surprises, and a meeting with your mother goes far better than expected. But good things do not guarantee paradise forever. Notes: Hi my lovelies! I do apologize for the spotty posting timeline lately. My health has been inconsistent to say the very least and continues to be unpredictable. Thank you for bearing with me and always being so incredibly supportive. I'm certain that I missed fixing some errors in this chapter, but I blame the migraine I've have for the last 10 days. Enjoy this week's chapter!

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10

The last night you and Marcus are in Texas comes after an afternoon-long barbecue that somehow manages to outdo every barbecue of every previous day. You're pretty sure that you've been nibbling constantly since sunrise but rather than being overwhelmed, you're just sorry that you're going to have to leave tomorrow and not see most of these people again for a long time.

The water in Marcus's hand is for you and he comes over to drop a kiss on your lips as he presses it into your hand. "Band is starting at seven." He tells you. "Do you want to shower beforehand?"

"Probably should." There's mischievousness in your agreement, though, and you tuck a smirk in the corner of your mouth as you take the water from him. "I saved my cutest top for tonight. To be the very best groupie I can be."

"Oh really?" He chuckles at how eager you have been to meet his old bandmates. "I like groupies." He smirks, wrapping his arm around you and tugging you close. "Really like them."

"Do you want to show me how much?" You ask, letting that smirk loose but keeping your voice very quiet even when you bat your eyelashes at him.

"I can do that while we shower." He groans wickedly, winking at you. "Unless you want to save that for after the show?"

"No need to save," you assure him easily, drinking down half of the glass of cold water he brought you and letting your grin grow wider. "There will be hours in between. We can do both."

"Insatiable." He grins back and you, wrinkling his nose slightly and proud about that fact. "I love it."

"C'mon." Grabbing his hand, you head for the house with a bitten back grin. Back inside and upstairs to his room – now appropriately defiled by the fact that you're in that Early Relationship Honeymoon Period and horny as hell – to add his childhood bathroom to the list of places you've fucked on this property.

Marcus smirks when there’s a number of suggestive whistles that ring out. Everyone here aware of how eager the two of you are and he gives a halfhearted wave before disappearing. You might be embarrassed if you cared at all, but his cousins have been nothing but welcoming and accepting. They all seem to share the opinion that Marcus has waited too long to meet his match and you are more than happy to be the one that they have welcomed as their cousin – or nephew or son's – perfect match.

“I love them all, but I need to get you alone.” Marcus huffs as he practically races over to the stairs.

"Alone, naked, and wet, I hope." You're on the stairs just ahead of him, the advantage of one or two steps meaning your ass is right in his face as you hustle up to the second floor.

"How wet you are depends on how good of a job I do turning you on." He can't help himself, reaching out and slapping your ass, something you love if your delighted giggle is anything to go by. "How wet are you?"

“Wet enough that if you even touch me over my clothes, I’m going to moan,” you admit, glancing back at him when you reach the top of the stairs.

"Promises, promises." Marcus reaches out and cups your pussy from behind, jumping up the last two steps to press close to you. "Fuck, I love you." He growls into your ear as he rubs your clit.

“Oh fuck—” Maybe it’s more of a whine than a groan but the arousal in your voice is unmistakable. Pressed between Marcus and the wall, your hips rock to get as much pressure and friction from his hand as absolutely possible. “I—I love you too, baby. Fuck.”

"Shower." He orders softly, pulling away from you reluctantly. He knows he can't fuck you in the hallway and his cock is already pressing against his shorts.

Since the discovery of your interest in a more submissive role sexually, you and Marcus have been enjoying playing with the dynamic. Soft orders for things that he knows will bring you both pleasure. Seeing how well you follow his instructions while he’s inside of you in any way. Right now you move with long strides to get to the shower as quickly as possible, already shedding your clothes along the way.

Smirking as he watches the rushed strip show, Marcus pulls his own shirt over his head. He's never had someone so enthusiastic for his touch and it's honestly its own kind of high. Plenty of women wanted him, but not with the hunger that you constantly display. He can only hope that it never changes. "So sexy." He huffs, unbuttoning his shorts to step out of them as he follows you.

“Oh yeah?” As soon as the water is on, you glance back over your shoulder and throw him the most tantalizing glance you can possibly summon. “Come and show me how much.”

“Fuck.” He hisses and immediately rushes forward to crowd into the shower with you, pressing kisses to your back as he folds in closer to you.

Marcus might be testing the waters with how dominant he’s comfortable being, but he still likes it when you show him how much you want him. When you hum at the feeling of his hands on your skin or moan deep in your throat at the perfect kiss. He even loves moments like these, when you whimper at the way his large hands spread over your body to hold you as close to him as you can possibly be without him being inside you.

“Love you.” He whispers into your skin, not wanting you to forget it in the two seconds since he has said it last.

“I love you, too.” Pressed into that little space together, you twist your head around to kiss him and then lean forward against the wall. There aren’t too many comfortable ways to fuck standing up under falling water, but having him press into you from behind is good no matter where you are.

His hands slide over your body and one sinks between your thighs. Immediately parting enough for his hands with a quickness than has him smiling. “You like when I finger you?” He teases. “Rub your sensitive little clit for you?”

“I like every way you touch me.” Your hips roll as if to prove it, searching for the right angle to get his thick fingers to sink inside of you.

“Greedy.” He chuckles softly. “That’s what you are.” He doesn’t pull his hand away, giving you what you want as two fingers slip inside you. “My greedy girl.”

“Can’t blame me for getting addicted.” You moan, forehead pressed against the tile, when his fingers scissor open inside you. “You feel so fucking good baby.”

“You feel better.” He groans quickly, working you open as the hot water rushes over you.

“Made just for you, baby.” If there was ever anyone you could truly feel that about, it’s Marcus. The way he seems to make you feel complete in ways you didn’t know you needed or even wanted is uncanny and beautiful. And the way he fills you to bursting is just as fantastic.

Marcus worships you with small kisses as his fingers move inside you, groaning in your ear about how good you feel. The thick length of him pressed against your ass. “Marcus—” His name is a whine and a prayer with every long stroke of his fingers. “Please, baby. Please fuck me.”

“I’m going to.” He promises, grinding against your ass as he continues to finger you. “Too bad you still have your birth control.” He moans in your ear. “Dreamed about you pregnant last night. Nice and round with my baby.”

“Fuck.” If anyone had suggested pregnancy or breeding or any of those fertility-related kinks to you before Marcus, you might have laughed them out of your bedroom. But in a few short weeks, you’ve got from wanting children but not looking forward to being pregnant — all the way to getting wet at the thought of starting to swell with Marcus’s baby. The impulse to promise you’ll stop taking it tomorrow is right on the tip of your tongue but you know it’s just a touch too soon. “Yeah?” You breathe instead. “You woke up hard to the thought of fucking me full of your baby?”

“Why do you think I was ravenous this morning?” He asks, chuckling at how he had woken you up. He had been a little embarrassed by the dream, so he hadn’t mentioned it at the time, but realized later that it was dumb to keep it from you. “When you’re ready, I’m going to be feral.”

“We need to start building that house now.” You insist, suddenly possessed of a whole new set of reasons to be eager for more privacy.

He chuckles as he nibbles on your shoulder, moving to the hollow of your neck. “Yeah? You want to paint a nursery right away baby?”

“We’re gonna have to if you keep growling about getting me pregnant.” Something which you apparently find far sexier than you anticipated, if the way your cunt throbs and pulses around his fingers is any indication.

"You love the idea." He challenges softly, humming against your pulse. "It's not my fault you're so perfect I can see the future we have in store."

“I love the idea so much I’m ready to say let’s just buy a house.” The throaty laugh you let out burns into a long moan when he curls his fingers inside you. “Need you, baby.”

"Never want you to say that I don't give you what you want." He pushes your feet apart, careful not to let you slip on the slick tile and pulls his fingers out of you to immediately replace them with his cock. A smooth transition planned to keep you from missing the fullness.

There is more freedom here, at least where volume is concerned, and when your moan bounces off the tile it is music to Marcus's ears. The utterly satisfying fullness of having him inside you is indescribable, even if you have tried to find the words several times talking to Syd. Sharp, powerful strokes will work you both up to your peak quickly, letting you enjoy the water that burns as hot as your skin as he pounds into you.

Marcus has learned that going harder is needed sometimes. It’s something that both of you enjoy and lose yourselves in, always making sure that you are still with him with filthy sweet praises in your ear. “My perfect princess.” He groans. “Taking me so well.”

It’s so much filthier coming from such a sweet, unassuming man like Marcus, and he presses you into the wall with a firmness that leaves absolutely no room for questioning. You are his. He is yours. And anything you moan to each other in the throes of passion is fair game. Filth, praise, and everything in between is welcome as your hips slap against your ass and your throat strangled around the endless cries of pleasure.

It’s never been this good. It’s cliched to even think it, but it’s true. He can barely even breathe when you are surrounding him. Drowning in you happily. “Fuck, I love you.” He promises. His hands squeeze and caress before sinking back between your thighs to rub your clit while he continues to fuck you at a frantic pace.

“Love you so — fuck! — so fucking much.” You practically claw at the wall of the shower when the calloused pads of his fingers find your swollen clit and press in on tight circles. Perfect little circles. “So close baby, so fucking close.”

“That’s it.” He groans. “Want you to cum. Want you to soak me. Need it.” He dips his hips lower and changes the angle that he shreds up inside you.

“Fuck—fuck—can’t wait until you’re fucking me full of your babies, oh god—” He’s already an expert at tearing you apart and putting you back together, and this time will be no exception. Your legs shake with it and your belly tightens, coiling at the base of your spine tightening as pleasure rips through you.

“That’s it, fuck, so good, Princess.” He hisses in pleasure. “Cum for me. Fuck, you feel so good squeezing my cock. I love it.” It only takes two or three more sharp snaps of his hips before you’re calling his name, sure that if anyone else is in the house right now they can definitely hear you but too overcome with pleasure and too full of him to care.

When you cum, it’s like your entire soul melt with his. Your heartbeats align and for a split second, Marcus can’t tell where you end and he begins. Perfectly fused together in ecstasy. As soon as you tighten around him, his thrusts ease, still moving but helping you float down from the precipice. “Good girl, fuck baby, you are so good to me.” He pants in your ear. “So good. Giving me everything, aren’t you? Yeah, you are, I can feel it.”

“Fill me up, baby.” Your legs may be rubber at this point but that sensation of his cum painting your inner walls is worth holding out for. It has you rocking your hips back even more than you need to ride the aftershocks of your own orgasm, hoping to bring him to his.

He loves when you say that. Groaning your name as his pace picks back up. The slap of his hips not quite as sharp, but insistent. “Gonna, fuck baby, gonna fill you up.” He moans in your ear. “Drip me all night.”

From the way his hips start to stutter you know he’s close, and you grind back against him with a low moan. “Gonna be dripping your cum while I meet all your friends.”

“Just the way I want you.” He groans, kissing your shoulder and moaning as he pushes deep, throbbing inside you as he fills you up.

There’s nothing but the sound of running water and panting breath for a minute or two as you both collect yourselves, arms wrapped around each other in the best way you can manage while he’s still inside you and you’re leaning on the shower wall. “I love you so fucking much.” You murmur, giggling softly at the giddy feeling still coursing through your veins.

“I love you too.” He whispers, smiling against your shoulder as the soft aftershocks continue to squeeze him as he softens inside you. “Addicted to everything about you.”

“Glad we agree about that.” It isn’t elegant but you twist around and manage to place a kiss on his jaw. “So…breeding kink, huh?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles sheepishly as he slowly pulls out of you. “Sorry. I know that took you by surprise.”

“Not in a bad way.” You promise him, fully turning around now, to put your arms around him before you both have to clean up. “Surprising but…potentially shared?”

“When it actually happens is still one hundred percent up to you.” He assures you, wanting you to know he would never pressure you, no matter how much he dreams about the future. “But shared, huh?”

“Surprise,” you tease, reaching for a washcloth.

“Every day is an adventure with you.” He chuckles and steals another kiss before he turns his attention to getting ready for tonight.

You’re right on time despite taking an overlong shower, arriving at the club in downtown Dallas in time to see a group of his old friends gathered at the bar.

“Hey.” A carefree grin lights up his face, reunited with old friends and their spouses. The band is about to leave to get on stage so it’s quick backslaps and promises to catch up later after he introduces you proudly. They disappear and it seems like all the other crowd around you to all talk about Marcus.

It’s much the same as it was with his cousins. Quick questions about you — or the occasional “That’s why I recognize you!” — but mostly wanting to tell stories about young Marcus in the olden days, teasing their old friend and gauging your reaction to their stories to decide if you’re good enough for him. You don’t mind of course. Your friends would have done the same if they hadn’t already met Marcus before you got together.

“Hey now.” Marcus pouts and protests but it’s all in good fun. He’s enjoying the stories; taking him back down memory lane. He hugs you tighter to him as he laughs at a college age story, where he had imbibed a little too much and made a fool of himself.

“Everyone got drunk and dumb in college at least once, didn’t they?” You hug his side and grin at him while his friends tease and chatter. “And I’m sure you weren’t the only college student in the world to skateboard across campus in boxers and a cowboy hat. I’m just impressed you didn’t fall off the board more if you were drunk.”

“Hammered.” He confirms with a laugh. “Honestly, I don’t know if I would have felt anything that night.”

“All the better that you didn’t get hurt then,” you laugh with him, enjoying these glimpses into the Marcus of the past. “Though I think we should recreate the look. For posterity.”

“Bachelor party.” He grins, leaning in and kissing you on the nose. “One of those boring co-ed ones where the couple is disgusting and can’t be apart for even one night of debauchery.”

“Cause we’re gross in love.” The smile on your face is blinding, lighting you up from the inside out as you beam at him.

“Yes we are.” He agrees, unable to stop himself from kissing you again, as his friends groan playfully around you both.

“Yeah, yeah.” Marcus’s old college roommate huffs good naturedly and rolls his eyes. This is the guy Marcus had lived with before he moved off campus to live with Lara and he’s always known Marcus Pike to be exceptionally lucky in love. “Lucky bastard.”

“I am.” He agrees with a small nod. “I’m honestly surprised that you aren’t already engaged.” One of his closest college study partners snickers as she shoots you a grin. “He always was rushing into things headfirst.”

“Don’t think he didn’t give me a ring right away,” you joke, holding up the shimmering promise ring on your hand. “But we want to keep our heads on straight, so it’s a promise for now and an engagement a little bit into the future.”

“There’s the Marcus we know and love.” She giggles, taking your hand and admiring the ring. “Honey, it’s gorgeous.”

“Isn’t it?” The little heart-shaped diamonds wink and shine in the dim lighting of the club and you can’t help but smile proudly. “I told him he set a dangerous precedent with this one. If the promise ring is this beautiful then the engagement ring has to be, too.”

“Knowing Marcus, it’s perfectly designed to set with your promise ring.” She guesses, grinning wildly when he shuffles guiltily. “I knew it!” She throws her arm around his shoulder and smacks a playful kiss on his cheek. “Atta boy!”

“You did not buy it already!” You gasp in shock, giggling with unrestrained joy at the embarrassment and glee on his face.

“It’s safe.” He promises, shrugging slightly. “I didn’t want to risk them not having the perfect mate when I came back.”

“You’re incorrigibly sweet.” The idea that he’d gone so out of his way makes you melt on the spot, with warmth in your cheeks and a fluttering extra beat of your heart. “And I love you.”

His group of friends cheers when you kiss this time. For all the shit they give him, they are all thrill Marcus has found his sweet soulmate. Right then, the lights dim and everyone turns towards the stage. “Marcus Pike.” His eyes widen when the lead singer says his name. “Report to the stage. There is a bass waiting to be played.”

“Oh fuck yes!” When you squeal with absolute pure excitement you grab his side and practically cackle with glee. Even Agent Bailey is smirking in her plain clothes. “Go, baby! Go!”

“Oh my Gooooood.” Marcus groans as he’s practically shoved towards the stage and he shakes his head, pointing his finger at the band. “I hate you guys.” He moans, even as he shuffles closer, but they just grin.

“Best night ever!” You call back, grinning from ear to ear as you make your way to the front with his friends.

“This is going to be amazing.” Hooking her arm through yours, Stephanie grins at you. “Have you ever heard Marcus sing?”

“No.” And you pout about it for about two seconds before the glint returns to your eyes. “He always demurs and says he’s not that great but I know he’s being humble.”

Marcus shrugs out of his leather jacket and winds the strap of the bass around his neck and back to quickly strum a chord before adjusting the tension to his liking. “I’m going to hurt all of you.” He huffs, even if he’s grinning out at you.

“You fucking love us.” The lead singer, his old friend Leo, reminds him with a shit-eating grin.

Marcus rolls his eyes and huffs, not even able to deny it. “Which songs are we doing?” He asks instead.

“Set list is next to your pedal,” Leo tells him, grin only growing bolder when Marcus doesn’t deny anything. He knows his old friend misses playing. They’ve talked about it. Hence this silly little stunt. “Just like riding a bike, right Pike?”

He snorts and looks out at the crowd, his eyes automatically finding you and he smiles. “Yeah.” He scoffs. “If riding a bike means embarrassing the shit out of yourself in front of your soulmate.”

“It absolutely fucking does, dude.” Leo laughs, slapping Marcus on the back before he steps up to the mic to hype up the already excited crowd.

Marcus winks at you from the stage and looks at the lineup. Most of them are songs that they performed when he was in the band and quite a few that he knows Leo knows he knows. Apparently this wasn’t just a last minute deal. As Leo introduces the band, Marcus starts the bass chords for the first song.

It’s not the night you were planning — swaying to the music with Marcus with a cold beer in your hand while his friends played. This is infinitely better. Marcus is in his element up on that stage, showing off and playing to the crowd and making sure he finds your eyes every so often. Surrounded by friends and an enthusiastic audience, you could see Marcus enjoying many more nights like this. It makes you all the more glad that his friends decided to surprise him.

The crowd is a mix of older and younger people, the songs favorites and he enjoys the energy of the people singing along. Finally finished and sweating, in desperate need of a beer, he grins when you clap and yell.

"You are absolutely incredible." The second he hops down off the stage; you're practically jumping into his arms to give him a kiss. "And I never, ever want to hear anything about your singing voice again. That might be the sexiest singing ever."

He laughs, catching you easily and spinning you around. “Think you might be a little biased, Princess.” He teases, feeling euphoric and like he could do anything tonight.

"So?" The giggle that bubbles out of you is nothing short of adrenaline-infused joy. "I'm still right."

“Shit.” The laughter is infectious and he joins you. “I need a beer.” He admits, squeezing you close.

"Allow me." You insist, and when he makes a face you hold up a hand, still grinning. "Groupie's privilege."

“Groupie, huh?” He chuckles again and slides his hand down to your ass. “You have someone in mind?”

"Yeah," you poke his side and laugh, wiggling the fingers of your other hand in his face. "The one wearing the ring."

“Ring?” He glances at your hand and smirks. “That’s a pretty ring baby, but I could do better.” He flirts. “Dump that guy and run away with me. I’ve gotta sweet van and I know how to treat a lady.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"You think you can do better for me than my soulmate?" Batting your eyelashes back at him and half playing along, you tug Marcus toward the bar to get him his drink. "He's pretty amazing."

“I know I can.” He snorts, grinning at your playful banter. “You’ve never been with a musician baby.”

"Hmmm." An amused hum barely smothers your grin and laughter. "I have heard that bassists are experts with their fingering."

“Then you know.” He nods as you both slide up to the bar and Marcus orders a draft. He turns back to you. “My fingers are magic, baby.” He promises. “I can take you to the stars.”

It's too hard for you not to giggle at that, leaning into his side there at the bar. "I did know that already, though."

He breaks the character he was putting on and winks at you. “I was merely playing my favorite instrument.” He leans in and whispers in your ear. “Your pussy.”

"Marcus." Your tone is very false in its admonishment, and you're still grinning when you swat at his arm. "You can play her any time you like."

“Now?” He arches a brow in challenge.

You should have known he would jump on it, and you tilt your head at him with a wide-eyed expression. "I mean...not here but..." Glancing around the room proves that there is little cover to be found, and you bite your lip. "Bathroom?"

Marcus smirks and nods to the bartender when he sets his drink down. “Come on.” He takes your hand and drags you away, unable to even drink his beer in his haste to make you cum.

Practically able to feel the heaviness of Agent Bailey's eyes tracking you across the club, you can't bring yourself to care. Not when the promise of his hands on you is so close you can already feel it.

Normally, Marcus would never do this. Not now. But somehow, being with his own friends and playing, seems to have tapped into the wilder side he had exposed when he was younger. Not thinking like an FBI agent at this moment.

The club has two single-occupant bathrooms in a back hallway, and Marcus shoves open the door to the nearest one to tug you inside. "Holy shit." You're giggling again, bubbling over with it. "We're so lucky Agent Bailey trusts you."

“Amazing what a background check and a security clearance will get you.” He jokes as he pulls you to him, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. He knows he can’t be in here too long with you, it would be rude, but he has to touch you right now. You are just adoring him too much.

It's almost too bad you wore jeans tonight, but you had wanted to keep that feeling of fullness after the shower and truth be told the denim inseam still managed to give you a little stimulation on the way out here tonight. Now Marcus pops the top button open with eager fingers and you whimper softly, biting back the sound so no one in the hall outside hears you.

“Gotta be quiet, Princess.” He coos, smirking at your already lust blown eyes. “Can’t let anyone know you’re fucking a musician in a bathroom, can you?”

You’ve never done anything like this before and he knows that, but with wide eyes and the shivering desire to obey, you nod your head and bite back a needy whine. His hand slides down your panties, finding you slick with new desire and the remnants of his cum covering your lips. He groans your name in your ear and immediately pushes two fingers deep inside you.

It takes effort not to cry out. Not to whimper or moan or keen his name at the sharp, sweet intrusion of two thick fingers deep in your pussy. The vaguely taboo tint of doing something sexual in a public place only makes it better — a surprising feeling that you’ll have to bite for later — and you bury your face in the crook of Marcus’s neck, knowing that it will muffle the little bit of sound that you simply can’t swallow in your own throat. He doesn’t draw it out, doesn’t tease you. Just pumping his fingers deep and twisting his wrist to rub your clit as he tries to see how fast he can make you cum for him.

It’s like being sent up in a rocket, where all you can do is lean back against the sink in the little bathroom and hold on tight. He knows your body, knows how to make you see stars without breaking much of a sweat, and the adrenaline from playing on stage that’s still coursing through him keeps the pace of his fingers thrusting inside you at an almost punishing speed that feels amazing.

It’s like his playing a song with your body. The soft whimper echoing the timing of the beat of his fingers. Kissing along your neck as he pants against your skin. Already throbbing in his pants, but this is for you. “Good girl, baby. You’re so sweet for me.” He groans quietly.

There's not really much you're doing for him right now except keeping quiet and spreading your legs so he can dive inside you, but you'll fix that later. You'll lay him out on his bed and worship him for as long as he will let you. Right now your back arches and you have to let go of your white knuckle hold on the counter in order to tug him closer, pouring the moan that you want to let loose into a kiss instead.

He feels when you let go. Your moan muffled by your tongue as your walls soak his fingers in their pulsing grip. Feeling your heartbeat through the sensitive walls of your pussy. It’s so good and he loves that you are enjoying yourself as the bar music plays loudly.

"Fucking hell..." When you can finally breathe again you look up him with a hazy smile. "I'm gonna give you the best blow job of your life later on," you promise him with a grin.

He smirks as he pulls his wet fingers out of your fluttering cunt and holds them up to the dim light of the bathroom. They are shiny with your slick and he reaches out to your lips. “Open.” He orders.

That was not at all the response you were expecting, but somehow it far sexier because of that, and even though you've just cum you can feel your pussy fluttering at what he wants you to do. It only takes a second before you open your mouth, letting him put his fingers heavily on your tongue before you obediently clean them of any trace of your slick.

Marcus groans quietly, cock twitching in his pants and all he really wants to do is bend you over the sink to fuck you this time, but he can’t. You pop his fingers out of his mouth and he hisses at your innocent look. “Good girl.” His voice is raspy and dripping with lust.

"I feel like I should start calling you something." Leaning up, you steal a kiss and then rebutton your jeans so the two of you can wash up and go back out to his friends. "But I don't know if you wanted to be that kind of dom."

Marcus chuckles as he watches you in the mirror. “So you’re telling me you want a red room in our new house, hm?”

"I'm not gonna be mad about it if you want one," you answer innocently. "I just had the very intense urge to call you...'daddy' a second ago, but I didn't know if you'd like it. That's all."

Marcus has never been in a situation where someone would call him daddy so he has to think about it. “Only one way to find out.” He decides, patting you on the ass as you move out from the sink so he can wash his hands.

"I guess we'll give it a try later then." The air dryer in the bathroom is loud enough to drown out any other conversation, so you finish cleaning up and steal yet another kiss before dragging him back out into the club feeling like you're living on Cloud Nine.

Everyone in the group knows what happened when the two of you disappeared. At least to some degree. They might not believe that it was only an orgasm for you, but the grins are wide and Marcus snorts at the whistling and clapping from the guys. You brush it off with burning hot cheeks and a grin and go to get fresh drinks from the bar. Tonight has been pretty fucking perfect in every way you can think of. The best possible way to say goodbye for now to Texas, although you know you'll be back as often as you can be.

Marcus accepts this beer quickly, feeling parched and he winks at you before he takes a sip. “I think she might want me to find a band in D.C.” he teases.

"Oh, ya think?" Stephanie snorts, leaning into Leo's side when he comes over to join you at a high-top table.

"Actually..." Leo smirks, looking down at his soulmate before he glances up and around the group. "The guys know this already but...there was a big reason we were glad Pike showed up tonight." He tips his beer toward Marcus in salute. "Tonight was the last Dallas show we might ever play."

“Really?” Marcus frowns instantly, looking around to the group. “You guys are gonna stop playing?”

"We're moving in about a month." Leo announces. His arm winds around Stephanie proudly and he squeezes her tight to his side. "Steph got an amazing job at George Washington Hospital. So we're actually moving to DC."

“What?” Marcus sputters and starts beaming. “That’s great!”

"I'm really excited," she admits, smiling even bigger and brighter than Marcus is. "So maybe you won't have to find a new band after all."

“Well, we’d still have to find other members.” He look at the guys. “Until you come out to visit.”

"Maybe we'll all move East." Their drummer, Clark, jokes. He takes a sip of his whiskey and leans on the table. "Y'all know anyone that needs an electrician or a carpenter? I could be persuaded."

“We’re gonna be building a house.” Marcus snorts. “You’re hired.” He’s joking, because he would never make that decision without you, but it’s interesting to think about. Clark is the best damn carpenter he knows.

"Actually..." Tilting your head to look at Marcus beside you, you shrug your shoulders a little and have a sip of your drink. "There's some work that needs to get done at the inn, too. I've been putting it off because my electrician retired last year and finding a new guy is a pain."

His brows lift in surprise and Clark smirks. “Really, tell me about it.” He encourages.

"It's a historical property," you clarify right away, knowing that that scares some people off. Which is fine with you, really. If they aren't comfortable working on historical structures, you're not going to work with them anyway. "Of course things have been updated, but the structure is colonial so it does require a little bit of tender loving care."

“That’s awesome.” Clark snorts. “I love historic structures. Have you rewired the entire building or are you having to replace as you uncover issues?” He asks. “Code has changed so much since knob and tube. And that’s recent in a historic home, depending on how historic.”

"I've only owned the property for a few years, so we're having to play catch up from the previous owner." His enthusiasm is met with plenty of your own, and you look back at Marcus with a wide grin. "You just watch how fast I adopt all your friends. I was not exaggerating about that being what my family does."

Marcus laughs and leans back. “Adopt away, babe.” He encourages you. “You’ll get sick of them quickly.” He teases, laughing again when they all shoot him a finger.

Two days after touching back down in DC, the early morning meeting that you have with your mother and the communications staffer whose job it is to wrangle all things concerning the First Kids means that you’re up and moving before Marcus. You’re essentially having breakfast at the White House, which is less cozy than having coffee and muffins with your soulmate, but this meeting is important. You really do have things to talk to your mother about.

The staffers show you to the less formal dining rooms in the apartment, a rare time the president allows business to be conducted here, but it’s important that you feel comfortable.

The family dining room in the White House residence is still beautiful, and honestly you prefer it to the larger state dining room. The smaller and more casual room makes it easier to convince yourself that it’s just a normal breakfast with your mother today. Agent Bailey blends into the background here, noticeably more relaxed when she is around other agents and not working solo. It’s a good morning for both of you, and you move to the sideboard in the room to make yourself a cup of coffee while you wait for your mother to come in.

The communications staffer comes in and greets you warmly, laying out folders by the plates. “Your mother should be here in a few minutes. She was just in a briefing.”

“How are you, Annette?” The senior staffer that’s joining you is a woman that you’ve known for years. She was also on your mother’s staff in Pennsylvania and she is a good friend of the family after so many years working side by side.

“I’m doing well, how about you?” She asks politely and gives you a warm smile. “Your mother told me about your soulmate, I’m so thrilled for you.”

“That’s so sweet of you, thank you.” There’s going to be a lot more talk about Marcus as this goes on if your mother and Annette accept your proposal, but for now you sip your coffee and smile. “The adjustment to DC hasn’t been too bad for you? Everything’s been okay?” A little small talk before your mother comes in and breakfast gets served is actually nice. With everyone being so busy you feel like there are people you haven’t gotten to talk to in ages.

“It’s always crazy, but we are adjusting well.” She smiles. “Brad isn’t too fond of the traffic, but who is?” She snorts. “I keep threatening to steal a diplomatic plate.” She jokes.

"I'll nab them for you," you promise her, sitting back with your coffee and smiling at the way your promise ring glints in the room's lighting. "They can't fire me from being First Daughter."

She laughs, knowing that you are completely joking but it would be funny to see the headlines. “I’ll expect one then.” She teases, picking up her own coffee to sip.

It takes a few more minutes before your mother comes in, but you and Annette sit and chat and pour second (or third, in your case) cups of coffee.

“I’m sorry, Birdie, Annette.” Your mother rushes over to drop a kiss on your head and throw her arms around her friend’s shoulders briefly. “That took longer than I expected.”

“Everything okay?” You’re wildly aware that there is plenty that your mother deals with that you do not have the security clearance to know about, but that isn’t what you’re asking. You’re asking if your mother herself is okay.

“Yes.” She rolls her eyes. “But I wish that people would stop trying to impress me with long winded reports going over every minute detail.” She huffs with a laugh. “My favorite briefing is from DIA Agent York. He gives me the bare bones information and it’s over in less than five minutes.”

“Would he consider it a blessing or a curse to be out on the State dinner guest lists in appreciation for his speedy briefings?” You ask, practically snorting a laugh at breakfast is served.

“Knowing the kind of man he is, a curse.” She snorts, appreciating your joke but also because she would never willingly let a man like Dave York around her family unless he was protecting them.

“Well, it’s nice to know that the chaos around here is just normal chaos.” The smile you offer your mother is fully understanding. The inn is your own beautiful area of normalized chaos.

“Of course. Thank you for coming.” She acknowledges that her life, her career isn’t the center of her children’s lives and she doesn’t take for granted when they make time for it outside the normal Friday night dinners. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course, Mom.” An early morning meeting is a small sacrifice to make, especially when Marcus exhausted you last night trying out a sexy little card game you’d had stashed away since Syd’s bachelorette party a couple of years ago. It’s safe to say he liked the suggestions the game came up with. “There’s coffee, amazing food, and my favourite Mom, why wouldn’t I come? Although Marcus’s mother is pretty great. Solid second place in the Best Mom Ever competition.”

“I wanted to ask you how your week in Texas went.” She admits, pouring her own cup of coffee. It’s her third cup of the day so far, but she’s also been up since four.

“Honestly?” You pause when a staff member sets a plate of hot food in front of each of the three of you and a large platter of pastries and fruit in the center of the table. The chorus of Thank you’s is in unison. “It was fantastic. His parents are great, I got along pretty well with most of his cousins, and even met a bunch of his friends from college. It was…” you grin at The admission forming on your lips. “It was really wonderful. His parents are planning on coming up to visit us here this summer.”

“That’s wonderful.” Your mother lights up and she nods. “We will have to have a family dinner.” She suggests. “Here? Personal tour of the White House? Do you think that would be something they would enjoy? I know his father would probably enjoy a game while he’s here as well.”

“Marcus has season tickets to the Nationals so we’re definitely planning on seeing a game.” The omelets that have been set out in front of you are steaming and you dig in to your plate without hesitation. “I was going to ask you about a tour for them so thank you for jumping on that. And I know they would love to meet you guys. A family dinner would be really great.”

“Marcus is wonderful and I can guarantee that it’s a reflection of his parents.” Your mother hums. “And as your soulmate, I think it’s important that everyone meets and gets along.”

“I know his parents already said they wouldn’t be offended if you were too busy, but I do want you guys to meet.” Donna and Matthew Pike had sworn that they would completely understand if they didn’t see hide or hair of your parents during the trip, but that hadn’t sat well with you. Your parents have always made time for the important things in their kids’ lives no matter how busy they were.

“Absolutely not.” Your mother sounds offended by the idea. “There is no reason, barring a world catastrophe, where we should meet his parents at your engagement party or some other event. “No, if they want to have something low key, we don’t have to meet here. But I am eager to meet them.” She shoots you a grin. “Diplomacy can wait for one evening.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t pass up the chance to have dinner at the White House.” The grin you send your mother is beaming and appreciative. “That’s a bragging right not everyone gets. There will be plenty of informal meals in the future.”

“Then I will try to make sure that the chef makes something that will measure up to the amazing food Sydney will be plying them with.” If it wouldn’t hurt your business, your mother would have hired her to be the White House chef in a heartbeat.

“I will carry that compliment back to her on a silver platter.” Now that all three of you are eating — devouring — your breakfasts, you don’t mind getting into things. Of course your mother doesn’t have all day for this meeting, but you expect to be sitting here with Annette for at least a little while. “So, before I put my two cents in, what kind of social media and press presence were you thinking you might wrangle me into?” You’re curious, after all. Since Junie has a clear passion and Alex is handsome and personable, whatever route they chose for you was bound to be a little different.

“Well, I was hoping that we could show how small businesses are vital for our economy.” Your mother looks over at Annette who is nodding. “You are a small business owner and you work with others as well.”

“Okay.” You nod, mumbling the word as you finish a bite of food. “So highlighting the small businesses we work with? Making visible visits to other small businesses? That kind of thing?”

“I know that you utilize some of the local merchants for your supplies.” Your mother nods. “Maybe some clips of you with them? We can do a voice over with the message we want to sent.”

“I’ll compile a list of who we have good relationships with and you let me know who you want to have footage of?” It’s a big plug for the businesses that you do actual work with, so you can’t imagine any of them objecting. “Patronizing your local small businesses is a message I’m happy to get behind.”

“Corporations have garnered too much power in the country.” Your mother agrees. “We need to find a balance between them and a simpler time where everyone shopped local.”

“Alright, that’s easy enough.” Although you’re sure that other complications will arise in time, agreeing to this plan is at least something you’re glad to do. “Anything else?”

A look is exchanged between Annette and your mother. A pause that should be concerning. “It’s about…your soulmate.” She begins.

“What about him?” You frown instantly, not liking the tone that has been chosen for this thought.

“I was hoping that you might sit for an interview.” Annette is the one who voices it. “For the Love is Love legislation that your mother is trying to get passed.

“Oh!” The hesitation in their voices is nothing to do with Marcus, really, and you relax measurably. “Yes. We can definitely do that. And actually?” Looking between your mother and Annette, wondering what they’ll think of this idea coming from you of all people. “I think I can do you one bigger than that.”

“What do you have in mind, young lady?” Your mother almost smirks at the idea that you are suggesting something.

“I know I’m not the kid you expect this from.” The look on her face says that loud and clear and you completely understand why. “But Marcus and I talked it over, and we thought we would see what you thought about a First Family love story. From engagement to wedding to building a house.”

As a career politician, it’s been a rare time where your mother has been speechless, but she just gapes at you, her mouth slightly ajar in shock. “I— are you sure?”

"I mean we're not offering to have a White House photographer follow us around every second of every day, but we know that things are going to get said about us no matter what. Our family are public figures, and Marcus grew up with a father in the spotlight. We figured that getting ahead of the narrative and giving people honest glances into who we are was a hell of a lot better than people just speculating wildly."

“That is an amazingly gracious idea.” She can understand that you are going out on a huge limb and that is so appreciated. “Are you sure you would be comfortable with that scope?”

"We've talked through it," you tell her, knowing that it's probably unbelievable for her to hear this coming from you. "And I'm more confident when I have Marcus with me. I feel better able to handle the extra sets of eyes on my life. So...I thought it made sense not to waste that."

“I think that would be incredible.” She reaches out for your hand. “Only what you will give us though. No more.” Your father had reminded her right before leaving for her briefing that you are her daughter and probably the most private out of the three children. You don’t crave the spotlight at all.

"Marcus thought we could start with the engagement," you tell her, knowing that this is a big leap for you and trying not to be nervous about it. "But I think I should put something on my social media about him being my soulmate first. Maybe some photos from a date with a small announcement?"

“It will mitigate any issues that might spring up.” She doesn’t mention how there has been chatter about the congressman being unhappy about the demise of your relationship. That’s not your concern.

"Our favorite restaurant is family-owned, and we can pick something to do afterward that is still small business or community oriented." That shouldn't be too awfully hard, considering the DC area is always crawling with choices for things to do. You're spoiled for it, really.

“Whatever you think would be best.” She smiles at you. “While I would normally have one million ideas, I think it’s better if this is organically from you.”

“I know Marcus already has my engagement ring hidden away somewhere.” A fact which makes your cheeks burn and your smile turn a little dopey. “But I don’t know anything else as far as that goes. Is it okay if I give him your email so he can touch base with you, Annette?”

“Absolutely!” Annette agrees immediately, while your mother looks impressed that your soulmate has already bought your engagement ring. More importantly is your reaction to that information, you look dreamy eyed and she couldn’t be more happy for you. “I must applaud Marcus for thinking ahead.” Your mother hums, taking a small sip of her coffee to hide her smile.

“We’re both thinking ahead.” A fact which gives you no end of pleasure. The flight back from Dallas had been spent in dreams and future plans, cuddled together looking out the window and making up a list of big and small things you wanted for your future together. “We’re starting to plot out what we want for our house, too. That’s the timeline that’s going to take the longest.”

“Your house?” You had mentioned it before, but your mother ticks her head to the side curiously.

“We’re going to build,” you explain, reaching for a scone from the plate of pastries on the table. “Since the land that the inn is on is more than enough and I own all of it, we’re going to use a portion at the back of the acreage to build a house.”

“That sounds like an adventure.” She’s always known you enjoy doing things your way and it’s refreshing to see that apparently your soulmate understands how much of your being is invested in the inn.

“It’s going to feel like a mansion after sharing my apartment in the inn.” After a little discussion, Marcus had decided that he would rather share the smaller space with you while the house is being built and sublet his current place to Clark — ensuring that his friend can have the new start in DC that he wants. “But we’re excited. It’s a whole lot of planning and big steps forward all at once, and for once I really have a partner who’s on the same page as me.”

“That’s the most important thing.” She knows this from experience. There is absolutely no way she would be the current president if your father hadn’t been on the same page as her as far was what their lives might look like. It’s something she’s always wanted for all of you.

“So…I know it’s more than you were going to ask of me.” Which you appreciate. Your mother recognizing and honoring your boundaries is something she had to work on a lot when you were in your teens and twenties. You look at up her and crack a small, bashful grin. “But it seemed a shame to waste the opportunity for something as uplifting and positive as a White House wedding.”

“A White House wedding?” Your mother’s gasp is surprised, honestly believing you would never even entertain an idea like that. “Are you- you’re joking right? It’s not April Fools Day. That was days ago.”

“I am not joking.” Although you can definitely see why she would be shocked. This is not a decision that you made quickly or easily — or alone. “But I do have an ulterior motive,” you admit, wanting there to be full transparency. “I am hoping that a super-secure and publicly documented White House wedding is a trade off for letting us go on our honeymoon alone.”

She doesn’t even glance at Annette. “Absolutely.” Your mother immediately insists. “There is no way I would want any kind of publicity for your honeymoon. You don’t even have to negotiate for that.” It’s honestly alarming that you think she might want you to do something for her political career on your honeymoon.

“Oh, that isn’t what I meant,” you clarify immediately, seeing naked distress in your mother’s face when she’s normally so good at staying neutral. “I meant…without my Secret Service detail. Give Agent Bailey and Agent Sisson a few weeks off while we go overseas. Marcus is very well trained and definitely enough to keep just two of us safe.”

Her expression eases slightly, relieved that’s not what you are talking about and she nods. “I think that will be entirely appropriate.”

“I’m optimistic that we can make sure this works for everyone.” Sitting in your seat in the family dining room, you lean back with a little extra confidence — bolstered by the fact that you know Marcus is with you every step of the way, just like your family. “Make this happy, and exciting, and something to look forward to.”

“Whatever you want.” Your mother agrees. “Whenever you want.” She adds. “I don’t want you pushing up plans for us, sweetheart.”

“We said we wanted to get started on the house before we get engaged,” you tell your mother, though you have to appreciate her insistence here. Plenty of other parents would hack the timeline if they were in her shoes. “So it will depend on how quickly we start in on those plans.”

“And Marcus wants to stay at the inn while you build?” She asks, lifting a brow in surprise. While she has seen your little apartment and thinks that it’s darling, Sam had always insisted it was too small to share space for even more than a day.

“We talked it through and he feels like it’s more important for me to be close to the inn than for his commute to be shorter. He’s going to sublet his current place to a friend that wants to move up from Texas and then the friend can take over the lease when it comes up. We’ll have a little less space than we would if we stayed in his apartment, but we don’t mind close quarters.” A fact which you will not look bashful about right now…no not at all…

“That’s a very solid plan that you have laid out.” Annette compliments. “It seems like you and your soulmate have made a lot of plans.”

“Right now I’d call it our favorite hobby.” Second favorite, but you’re not talking about your sex life in front of your mother…

The president snorts and rolls her eyes as she reaches for another scoop of fruit. “Sure.”

“Anyway.” Forcibly getting the conversation back on track seems like a smart idea. “Annette is my point person, then?”

“Yes.” Your mother takes the hint with a small smile. “I reasoned you would be more comfortable with her than any of the new staff.”

“And I appreciate that.” You offer both your mother and Annette a grateful smile. “Especially since this is going to involve my soulmate, I’m very glad to have someone that I know and trust working with us.”

“I am eager to meet him.” She hadn’t been present at the state dinner, she had been sick, but from what she can tell she will like him.

“Why don’t you come by the inn and have dinner with us sometime in the next week or two?” You suggest, figuring that would be nicer than a formal sit up in an imposing setting. “Something casual for the first time you meet? So we can all relax a little.”

“That sounds perfect.” Annette knows the value of an informal meeting. It often creates a better mood for the entire interaction.

"Awesome." Having everything moving in a comfortable direction is as much as you could ask from this meeting, and it's nice to see your mother semi-relaxed at the start of a workday. "Well, I'm sure you have eighty-seven things to do today Mom, so I won't keep you."

She winces apologetically and looks at her watch. “I’m actually about three minutes late for a cabinet meeting.” She admits, standing up to move over and kiss your forehead again. “Are you and Marcus coming to dinner on Friday?”

"We'll be there with bells on," you promise her. "Go get to your meeting. I love you, and tell Dad I love him too."

“I will, sweetheart.” She promises. “Annette, I will see you later. Take your time finishing breakfast.”

The unfortunate truth is that the dinner with Annette might be necessary sooner rather than later. Within a bare twenty-four hours of the White House Easter Egg Roll and the official photos that refer to Marcus Pike as your soulmate, the commentary on social media and in online tabloids begins.

Marcus frowns as he opens the new story. It’s not uncommon for articles to be inflammatory, he knows that from the state dinner, but this is all but calling you a cheating liar. “Fuck.” He growls, eyes narrowing on the wording from the ‘anonymous source’.

"What's wrong?" Your nose is stuck in the schedule for next week while dinner is in the oven and you sit with Marcus in the living room, but you glance up when he sounds unhappy.

Marcus sighs and turns his phone towards you so you can read the headline. “I hate to accuse anyone, but this fucking sounds like your favorite congressman ex.”

"Sounds more like your ex, if you ask me." Vanessa might look sweet and innocent, but she can be cutthroat and single-minded in her goals when she sets herself to it. Something she learned from her justice father. "Think they're getting their jollies going after us together?"

“Shit- you think?” He ended things on a good note with Vanessa. Actually, she broke up with him, why would she smear his name?

"I don't know what her motive would be besides trying to get under Sam, but I wouldn't be surprised by it." Leaning forward to read the beginning of the article on his phone, you still frown. "I knew somebody was going to try saying we cheated, but damn."

“We know the truth.” Marcus frowns as he rereads the article. “This seems to imply that we are lying about being soulmates.” He looks over to you with a small grin. “That’s proven easily enough.”

"Hmm." That does make you smile, and you look up at him from behind your laptop. "Are you thinking we should stage a little photo on my social media as a response?"

“Absolutely.” He’s not thrilled about the tattoo you both share, but it’s solid evidence of your connection. “Your reputation won’t even tarnish a little.”

"I'm sure I'll get some snide comments about the kind of tattoo we share, but that's on me." You shrug at the truth of it. "I definitely should have gotten it somewhere else."

He laughs and shrugs. “Doesn’t make a difference now.” He reminds you. “It’s on both of our skin, so it’s proof. You’ve had it for years and so have I. Should we post new pictures and old ones with the tattoos?”

"We can do a little album on my Instagram." The suggestion is a welcome one, but it does mean you push your laptop away and set it on the coffee table to snuggle a little closer to him. "You have old photos with the tattoo in them?"

“I do.” Marcus chuckles. “But….” He shrugs. “They were taken by my ex-wife. She’s not in them.” He assures you.

“That’s fine.” Frankly, if Lara gets involved in the conversation it will just reinforce the fact that Marcus has had your marks for a very long time. “I can bribe Agent Sisson to be our photographer for a photo that has both of us in it.”

“And how do we want to casually set up pictures of our lower backs?” He asks with a grin.

“There’s nothing casual about what we’re doing.” You tuck yourself into his side and grin. “This is answering a call out.”

“To address any unfounded and untrue rumors….” He captions with a snort. “Straightforward. I like it.”

"If we wanted to do this casually, I would just say we should go take some pool pictures." You glance up at him, seeing what he thinks of that. "Violating my mom's no bikini rule for a good cause."

“I like bikini’s.” He agrees immediately, his eyes darkening slightly with lust.

"Oh yeah?" The smirk on your face is nearly instant. "Like we should take a tropical vacation level of like?"

“Like you need to book one immediately.” He huffs. “Texas didn’t count as a vacation.”

"Of course it did!" The fact that he's getting all bent out of shape imagining you in a bikini when he sees you naked on a daily basis is adorably, quite frankly. "And you can't even claim it wasn't sexy. We nearly broke that bed."

“Of course we did.” He laughs. “It’s old and we are horny.” He teases, biting his lip as he pulls you close. “But in a bikini, it’s so much less clothing to take off you.”

"You wouldn't even have to take it off." He's getting ideas and you turn your face up to smirk at him, fully encouraging those ideas to take form. "Just shove it aside. Nothing else needed."

“Fuck.” He hisses, clenching his jaw and imagining fucking you on a beach somewhere.

"Gonna keep that imagine in the spank bank, babe?" You can't help but tease him a little, knowing that you would be reacting exactly the same way if it was Marcus teasing you. But you started it this time so you get to tease.

“Fuck yes, I am.” He snorts. “We would get arrested. But it would be worth it.”

"There's a private beach where we could get away with it somewhere." Leaning up to press a kiss to Marcus's cheek, you're still grinning. "Good to know it's on the fantasy list, though."

“Very high up there.” Marcus admits with no shame. Just the freedom to explore these ideas with you is amazing, even if they are never acted on.

"I think..." The only thing that keeps you from shifting into his lap is the kitchen timer going off from the oven. Instead of climbing on to him you just climb off the couch to get to the baked pasta you put together right before Marcus got home from work. "That maybe we should do half the honeymoon in Paris and the other half on the Riviera? Get some swimsuit time in?"

“I like the way you think.” Marcus chuckles quietly, nodding. “How long are we talking? A few days in each place? A week?”

"A week each?" You pull him up from the couch to come to the kitchen with you. There's still a table to set and wine to pour, and all that good stuff. "Two weeks in France sounds like magic."

“I agree.” He grins and grabs the bottle of wine you had set out. It’s become a routine to have a glass with dinner and he enjoys the selection the inn has, although it annoys you that he insists on paying you for the wine.

"A big, beautiful wedding. Two weeks in Paris. A lovely house for us to move into." Every time you think through the plans you're starting to make for the future, they sound better and better.

“That sounds perfect to me.” Marcus admits, smiling softly at the idea. “Have you thought about the style ideas I sent you?”

"I was showing your Pinterest board to Syd on our lunch today." The collection of Dutch Colonial, Queen Anne, Georgian, and Federal style houses that Marcus had put together to share with you is full of so many ideas that you had lost track of time in the kitchen and was almost late to interview a new member of the housekeeping staff. "She likes the Queen Anne style Victorians, of course."

“Of course she does.” Marcus grins as he lifts a brow. “Which one of those were you most interested in?” He doesn’t really mind what architectural style your home is in, as long as you are happy with the result.

Having decided that the edge of the property where you planned to build was far enough from the inn and her out buildings that you didn’t need to be loyal to the colonial structures, you have a little more freedom to choose what you build. “I think I like the Georgian houses you sent me best,” you tell him, setting down two plates of baked pasta in the table at your customary seats. “It complements the colonial style without being obsessive about matching, and it’s not overly complicated.”

“That’s a good choice, and it still fits with the overall theme of the property.” Marcus agrees. “However…one thing I think is a must in our new house.”

“What’s that?” The two of you settle down and pick up your forks, comfortable in the relative quiet of the apartment while Agent Bailey takes one of her occasional walks around the grounds.

“We have to have an elevator in our house.” He’s gotten used to the elevator at the inn and can’t imagine living without one now.

“Non-negotiable?” You tease, knowing that on the nights he goes to the gym after work he groans his way into the apartment on principle. “Noted. You will have your elevator.”

“Thank God.” He dramatically moans and tosses his head back. “Getting older sucks. You’ll see.” He teases about the age gap, but it’s only seven years. “Heartburn is about to start.”

“I was more thinking of our kids,” you admit quietly, poking your fork into a big bite of sausage and zucchini and pasta together. “What if one of them needs the house to be accessible?”

“That thought had crossed my mind.” Marcus agrees. “But we will pray that all our children will be healthy, prepare in case they are not.”

“No matter what, they’ll be cared for and loved.” That, at least, you can both guarantee.

“Plus it will be easier when someone undoubtably breaks a leg.” Marcus snorts, laughing slightly. “It seemed like it was a contest in my family who would break a bone first every year.”

“Kids are gonna be clumsy,” you joke, pointing your fork at him in teasing accusation. “Got it.”

“But they will make up for it with good looks and charm.” He grins back at you and winks.

First Princess Cheating Scandal is the headline splashed across the tabloid on the magazine rack, and your hand twitches before reaching for it. This is the bullshit you absolutely hate about being in the public eye, and now that they’ve started coming for Marcus you hate it even more. The article inside claims that you faked your matching marks — including your scars, which is possible but extremely far fetched — and that you’ve been sleeping together since at least the night of the State dinner.

With another one of those dinners on the horizon and the weariness in your bones over now spending multiple weeks of time on this stupid non-issue, you pay for the magazine and continue on to the J. Edgar Hoover FBI building with it shoved in your purse. Agent Bailey’s advice had been to let it roll off your shoulders because people are always going to gossip, but as much as you’d like to do that it’s possible this might affect your mother’s image. Or your business. Your previously fully booked inn has had multiple cancelled reservations since this whole thing started.

So you walk on, with the little treats you made in a container in your purse and Marcus’s favorite midafternoon coffee order from the shop around the corner to surprise him at the office.

Marcus is pouring over a case when you knock on his office door. He doesn’t keep it closed, preferring to let his team come to him whenever. To feel like they can. Looking up, he sees you and immediately smiles. “Birdie.” He almost said Princess, but since the beginning of this entire ‘scandal’ non-scandal thing, it’s kind of soured the nickname. Immediately abandoning the file, he stands up and rushes around to give you a kiss. “This is a welcomed surprise.”

“I did a little baking with Syd this afternoon and the results were so good that I couldn’t wait to share.” The kiss is a comforting balm, even if it’s short, and you hold up the cup in your left hand. “And I brought your coffee.”

He groans in appreciation, of both the baked goods and the caffeine. “I was just about to get another cup from the break room, but this is better. His hand slides around your back and he rubs it soothingly, seeing the pinch of upset around your eyes but he wants you to talk to him naturally. “Want to come inside? Share it with me?”

You nod and step inside, your own cup from the coffeeshop clutched in your other hand. It’s herbal tea, though. Caffeine didn’t seem like a good idea when you’re already anxious. “Agent Bailey is in the bullpen, I hope you don’t mind.” Now that you’re in a relationship with a well-trained and fully competent federal agent, your Secret Service detail tends to be a bit more relaxed about giving you space.

“Not at all.” Marcus insists, guiding you over to the little couch in his office. “Rodriguez will show her where the donuts are.” He snickers.

“So…” he sits down beside you and you pull a small container of Madeleines out of your oversized purse to offer to him, but the magazine is sitting just underneath and it makes your eyebrows pinch together all over again. “We walked past a news stand on the way here and…saw a new headline.”

“Oh no.” Marcus sighs, he takes the container but sets them aside to give you his full attention. “Bad?”

“Not great.” With a resigned sigh, you pull the magazine out of your bag and hand it over for Marcus to inspect. Under the headline is the now-famous shot of the two of you dancing together and the article inside includes a paparazzi shot of the two of you grocery shopping alongside one torn from your social media of a date night.

He winces at the headline and huffs, opens it, flipping to the article and skimming it. “I want to really get this ‘anonymous source’ into a fucking interrogation room.” He growls, growing more and more upset at the outright lies that are being insinuated. “But it’s fucking hard to be sleeping with you when security from Vanessa’s building has me showing up on a timestamped tape.”

“Agent Bailey was less than thrilled with the accusation that she would lie about anything out of loyalty. You might have to fight her for that interrogation.” Shaking your head as he puts down the magazine, you’re craving his warmth and security enough that you lean in on the couch beside him. “I had an idea, but I don’t know if you’ll like it,” you admit quietly.

“What is it?” He wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close, wanting to protect you from all this. He feels guilty, like you would be better off if your connection hadn’t been acted on.

“It’s….a little dramatic.” You can admit that, too. Although at this point you feel like a dramatic response isn’t uncalled for.

It might be necessary, in Marcus’s opinion. He nods and hums while waiting for you to continue.

“How would you feel about having another tattoo?” The question is posed carefully, quietly, but you had been considering it all the way over and bandied it back and forth with Agent Bailey during your walk. While extreme, it would certainly put all doubts to rest to share a video of you getting a new tattoo and having it appear just seconds after being finished, fully formed on Marcus’s skin.

“No gang or face tattoos.” Marcus jokes, shrugging slightly. “I’ve got no problem if you want to get a tattoo, sweetheart.” He decides. “But I don’t want you to do that simply to prove that we are soulmates. We don’t owe anyone anything.”

“I know it’s not owed.” That thought had never even crossed your mind, actually. “But I want this put to rest and something small that we decide on together would be a nice mark to share under almost any circumstance.” Shrugging a little, you take a sip of your tea and sit back. “It’s just a thought. Obviously I’m not going to just go off and do this on my own. That’s the opposite of the point of it.”

“No, I’m not opposed to it.” Marcus protests softly. “I just want to make sure it’s not from a place of insecurity.”

“Even if we weren’t soulmates, I would think it was sweet to have matching tattoos,” you tell him honestly, savoring the quiet comfort of the moment when your mind was chaotic just a half hour ago.

“What kind are you thinking of?” He asks softly, smiling as you lean against him. He enjoys the warmth of moment. The quiet comfort of you with him.

“I haven’t come up with anything brilliant.” Or even anything original. You had mostly been waiting to talk to him about it. “But something small, that’s reasonably discreet? Behind the ear or on the ankle or something like that? Even the wrist, so you could cover it with your watch when you want. I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

“What about a little flower?” Marcus offers. “Behind the ear. I can cover that with my hair if I need to, and it can be your favorite bloom.”

“That sounds completely adorable.” The smile you have for him is beaming, feeling the way your heart bursts at his absolute acceptance and support. The love that radiates off him even in something as simple as knowing how much you love flowers.

“I thought you would like that.” He admits, tapping just behind your ear. “And you are so sensitive when I kiss right here. Especially when I’m inside you.”

“That’s mostly because you’re inside me.” Even though your cheeks burn with it and you slide down a little against his side, you’re still beaming at him. “If we’re going for things that enhance sensitivity then maybe I’ll have to look into piercings,” you tease.

“Don’t tease.” He pouts, twitching under the proper suit. “I can’t think about those kinds of things and be expected to work.”

“Oh, would you like if I had secret piercings?” You raise one eyebrow in interest, surprised to hear such an enthusiastic response to the passing idea.

“Piercings are hot.” Marcus would never deny that. “If you wanted to get some, I would support you completely. Enthusiastically.” He teases with a grin.

You hum at him, intrigued enough by the thought to actually heavily consider it, just imagining his face seeing them and how eager he would be to play with them. “That would be a very personal gift for my soulmate.”

Yes it would be. Marcus hums, trying and failing to hide a small smirk. “Personal is good.” He agrees, “but don’t feel like that’s something I have to have. If you want it, that’s one thing.”

"It's something to think about." It's no secret to him that you like things that mark you as his – your soulmate marks, of course, but your promise ring and occasionally wearing a piece of his clothing as well. Piercings might be something only he would see, but that just makes it all the more meaningful.

“Hmmmmmm.” He chuckles and nods his head. “It is. But I don’t think you came all the way down here to just fill my head with dirty thoughts.”

"I came down to surprise you with coffee and tell you that I love you." When he cocks his head slightly, you end up grinning. "I might have a little date night planned for you tonight. The caffeine has ulterior motives."

"Oh really?" He perks up, smiling slightly as he looks over at you in utter surprise. "So I need to make sure I'm home on time tonight?"

"Actually?" His delight is gratifying, and you squeeze his arm gently at your waist. "I'm taking you right from here. Our night is in the city."

"Kidnapping me, hmmm?" He grins widens and he bites his lip. "What does Agent Bailey think of such activities?"

"Oh, she helped me plan it." And she seemed to have fun with it, too, which made the little diversion even better. "Even made our dinner reservation for us."

"Wow." Marcus makes an impressed face. "That was a plot twist I didn't expect." he laughs. "Am I allowed to know any details or just show up and look pretty?"

"Just be your handsome self when I come back at five to pick you up." You stretch up to kiss his cheek, glad that he seems to be looking forward to tonight and hadn't been looking forward to just going home. "I'm going to scoot home, finish some paperwork, and get all dolled up for you."

"Bring me back an outfit?" Marcus asks, turning pleading eyes on you. "It can be another suit, I just want to freshen up too. Look my best."

"I'll bring something devastating but understated." That isn't hard considering Marcus's wardrobe is extremely well curated, but you still like to pay him the compliment as you pull yourself back to standing. "I'll be back in a couple of hours, babe."

He can’t help but grin a little more, your compliment making his shoulders lift confidently. “I’ll see you soon.” He promises, pressing his lips to yours in the office where there’s privacy, although he will walk you to the elevator.

"I love you." That is for the privacy of his office too, but only because it comes with such a doe-eyed look from you that it's nearly obscene.

“I love you too, Hummingbird.” He promises, the same sappy look in his eyes as he turns to guide you out of the office. His hand rests on your lower back, over the tattoo.

Unfortunately, no date night photos or other positive presence on your social media is enough to combat the now growing accusation and rumors surrounding your soulmate status. It's only two weeks after first presenting the idea to Marcus that you're both sitting in a tattoo studio with the artist that did a beautiful flower tattoo for Sydney's sister AnnaLeigh.

Marcus had asked Juan to come and film the entire thing, so it couldn’t be said that it was spliced together. Although he was sure that comment was coming. Some people couldn’t be pleased no matter what, they didn’t want to believe there was an innocent reason for them being together.

The simple design would not take long to ink into your skin, and the artist helped Juan set up two chairs so that both you and Marcus could be in the shot to capture the instant the finished tattoo appears on Marcus’s skin. The entire video would be shared on your social media, audio included, so you had had to work up the nerve to even just chat with Marcus on camera. Sharing another mark with him isn’t stressful at all, it’s letting the public so deeply into your personal life that is.

“I like the design.” Marcus sits down on the other side of you and takes your hand. “You should have let me do the tattoo this time.” He jokes. “I don’t know what it feels like.”

“We can switch if you want to?” You’re nervous, and he knows it. Not for getting the tattoo, but from everything that has been going on.

“That’s up to you, sweetheart. Whatever you want to do.” Marcus wouldn’t take this experience from you if you want it.

“It’s small,” the artist assures you, seeing anxiety in her clients. “And behind the ear doesn’t hurt very much for most people. I had one woman nearly fall asleep on the table because she liked the humming and the soft vibrations.”

Marcus can handle a little bit of pain. You know that. A tattoo is nothing compared to broken limbs or the incident when he was undercover and was shot — which had sent you in a flurry of cooing and coddling for about three days when he first told you about it. Tattooing is the kind of pain that some people find pleasurable, so you squeeze his hand and nod. “Why don’t you give it a shot? You might decide you like it and we’ll end up here all over again.”

“Is that alright with you?” Marcus asks the tattoo artist, knowing they might not appreciate a change of clientele.

“Fine with me.” She nods as she sets up her tray. “I have both of your information on file and believe it or not this happens a lot. Soulmates come in with a design they’ve chosen but they’ll change their mind at the last minute about which one of them will actually being sitting for it.”

Marcus chuckles and turns you both so he can sit down in the chair. “We’ll both be wearing it anyway.” He agrees. “So I don’t mind experiencing it.”

“I’ve never been shot but I guarantee it hurts less.” You move to let him sit in the artist’s chair and situate yourself by his side.

Marcus chuckles as the tattoo artists eyes widen. “I’m a federal agent.” He explains quietly. “It was just a flesh wound, but she thinks it’s impressive.”

“It is impressive!” And you’re just going to keep telling him so over and over until he caves, but right now you just throw a pout at him to make him laugh.

Marcus gives you the laugh and turns his head to the side, staring at you. “Still not as impressive as you are beautiful.” He murmurs softly, although the video picks it up.

“I love you, too.” The bashfulness in it is only because you weren’t expecting that kind of compliment right now — as the artist about to permanently ink Marcus’s skin is making sure she has everything she needs on her tray. You lean into his side and tip back your head, nothing but pure love in your eyes right before they slip shut at the brief press of your lips to his.

Marcus hums, an automatic sound that comes out of him when you kiss him. Excited that you are as free with your kisses as he is, it’s liberating to indulge whenever the urge strikes you. When you pull back, he grins. “Now I’m ready.”

"Go ahead and lean forward." Sitting down on her stool, the artist beckons Juan over with the camera for the best angle to watch the action and still have you in the shot. "And here goes nothing."

The first touch of the needle nearly makes Marcus jump. He barely resists the urge and then laughs quietly, trying not to move too much. “This is kind of ticklish.” He admits.

"Then it already hurts less than the one I got," you tease, glad that the experience isn't painful for him. Watching him giggle about it and knowing it's being filmed is downright endearing.

“I’m sorry.” Marcus apologizes, even though he has nothing to be sorry for. “I wish your experience was better.” He snorts after he says it. “Maybe not, or I might be covered in ink.”

"It wasn't bad, but it was definitely more than a tickle." The grin you shoot him, though, is knowing. "If you end up liking this so much tonight, we might be covered in ink because of you instead."

“Only areas that can be respectfully covered.” He teases you, sending you a wink as the artist continues to carefully work behind his ear.

"Sounds like a plan," you toss him a smirk in return and the set of you grow quiet after another round of low laughter, so the only sound in the room becomes the resilient buzz of the artist's needle.

Marcus could probably fall asleep if the noise didn’t vibrate in his head. He smiles at you, squeezing your hand gently. “After this, we will have to go get that cream to keep it clean.”

"We can get a Tattoo Goo kit before we leave the shop." His hand is in yours and you squeeze it reassuringly. "It's going to be tender for a bit, but it won't take too long to heal."

“I’m sure you will be completely cuddly as I heal.” He snickers quietly.

"I think having a cuddly girlfriend is mandatory for the healing process," you tell him seriously. At this point you've completely forgotten Juan is here for any other reason besides moral support. Forgotten about the phone in his hands being a camera and the fact that this video will become public for the world to see. This is just a moment between you and your soulmate. And a sweet one, at that.

“You should have seen me when the scar from your appendix showed up.” He snorts. “I was upset that my soulmate was hurt.”

“We were kids.” Sure he’s older than you, but you were so young when you had appendicitis. “Did it really worry you that much?”

“Yeah.” Marcus admits, not ashamed of that in the least. “Not knowing what happened, I kept imagining horrible things. Waited for other scars to possibly show up for at least a week.”

“If you had scarred from your broken leg or when you hurt your shoulder, I probably would have felt the same way.” It’s less of an admission from you and more of a confirmation, telling him in no uncertain terms how much you have always cared about his well-being. “Which is still your gunshot wound is such a big deal.” One of your fingers digs into his arm playfully. “That scared the crap out of me.”

“Well, now if I get shot, you can baby me right away.” He teases. “And tell the plastic surgeon to make the scar invisible.”

"I don't mind wearing your scars." The thought comes out quieter than you mean for it to, holding Marcus's hand tightly in yours. "I'm proud of you. And proud to wear your marks, no matter how many of them there are."

“Hopefully not too many more.” He hopes, smiling at you. “But I’m proud to wear your marks too, Hummingbird.”

The session doesn’t last too much longer. Marcus has a high pain tolerance but the tattoo mainly just tickles him, making him grin and laugh as he chats with you and with the artist for the last few minutes. When she pronounces him done and stands back, there is a moment of silence before the permanence of the piece takes hold on him and transfers instantly to your skin.

A sharp intake of breath at the momentary pain is how you know it has happened, and you glance over at Marcus — and Juan with your phone — just absolutely beaming with happiness. “Does it look as good on me as it does on him?”

Marcus inspects the area, forgetting the camera is even on and recording. He leans in and presses a kiss to the tattoo. “It looks even better, Princess.” He promises with a smile.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers @missladym1981 @babeincolor @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #soulmate au #First Daughter reader #Juan Badillo #Graceland #Juan Badillo x f!OC #Juan Badillo x OC #love triangle