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springtyme · 1 month

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𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐍𝐨 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 ♡

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐈'𝐦 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Spencer Reid x f!reader || Series masterlist || Series playlist

Main masterlist || can also be read on ao3 || Next chapter

summary: After having worked for the BAU for two years, you have seen and experienced a lot, but after a series of murders of young married couples, you’re asked to do something that you never had thought you would have to do; going undercover, as an expecting, married couple, with Spencer Reid.

word count: 5.8k

warnings/tags: Eventual smut! (18+, mdni!) Undercover as a married couple. Pretend pregnancy. Language. Drinking. Angst and fluff. Slow burn. Mutual pining. Coworkers to lovers. Not set at a specific time, but definitely somewhere in the early seasons. Reader uses she/her pronouns. Mention of canon-typical violence.

The table is a bit sticky, and the music could be better, but the drinks are decent and you’re just so happy to finally be out with your friends after what feels like forever. Your job is demanding, and being an FBI agent in the Behavioral Analysis Unit means that your work-life balance is almost non-existent. But tonight, you don’t want to think about the gruesome crime scenes or the long hours spent profiling and investigating violent crimes, all you want to do is have a good time and catch up with your friends. And finally having an occasion to dress up and feel cute isn’t bad either.

Closing your glossed lips around the straw of your Strawberry Daiquiri, you take a long sip and let the sweet, icy drink cool your throat as you sit back in your chair, listening to the lively chatter of your friends. Michaela and Piper are going back and forth about some new movie that you haven’t had the time to watch yet, and you and Janelle, who is sitting across from you, are laughing at their antics as you listen to their debate with half an ear, but you focus shifts as Janelle gently nudge your shin under the table.

“That guy is totally checking you out,” Janelle says with a playful raise of her eyebrow, gesturing towards the bar with her eyes, as she takes a sip of her Mai Tai, while Michaela and Piper continue their discussion about whether the final plot twist of the movie was too predictable or an actual genius twist.

You can’t help but let out a tired giggle and roll your eyes as you follow Janelle’s gaze, glancing over to the bar and catch the eye of a man who is indeed looking in your direction, but you quickly turn back towards your friend again. “I thought we had decided to just focus on having a girls’ night out tonight, no boys allowed?” you say, giving her a knowing look. She shrugs her shoulders and smiles jestingly.

“You can still appreciate the view, even if you’re not looking to buy,” she teases, taking another sip of her drink. You shake your head, laughing at her antics, but you can’t help but look over in the direction of the guy at the bar again. He catches your eye and flashes you a charming smile. He is cute, sure, but not cute enough for you to want to do anything about it.

But to be fair, he could be the cutest guy in all of D. C. and you probably still wouldn’t do anything about it. You don’t really have the time or energy for dating right now and you are not really currently in the mood for meaningless sex with a stranger either.

Your job consumes so much of your life already, and you’re content with just focusing on your career, or at least that’s what you tell yourself. Sure, it would be nice to have someone to share your life with, but what you’ve learned over the last few years is that most guys don’t understand the demands and emotional toll of your job. They either can’t handle the long hours, and all the time you have to spend on cases, or the gruesome details of your work, or they simply can’t comprehend the darkness that you have to face on a daily basis. And so, you’ve built up walls to protect yourself, to shield yourself from potential heartbreak or disappointment.

“You sure it’s not you who he’s checking out?” you ask, trying to shift the focus of the conversation away from your lack of interest in dating. Janelle laughs and shakes her head.

“No, I think he’s definitely into you,” she says, nudging you playfully.

“Well, I’m not interested, so he is all yours, Nell,” you reply, taking another sip of your drink as you give her a playful wink. Janelle just laughs and shakes her head.

“Nah, I’m good. I’m just here to have a good time with my girlies,” she says, raising her glass in a toast, making Machaela and Piper forget their never-ending debate and cheerfully join in.

Just as you’re about to raise your glass and join in the toast, your phone buzzes in your purse, interrupting the moment. You reach into your bag and pull out your phone, seeing Hotch’s familiar number flash across the tiny screen.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you say with a sigh, standing up from the table giving your friends an apologetic smile. Your friends nod understandingly, knowing that your job always comes first as you excuse yourself from the table and head to a quieter corner of the bar to take the call. You feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you, knowing that your night out with your friends is about to be cut short.

“Yeah?” you answer, putting the phone to your ear, not bothering with any formalities as you know that Hotch is going straight to the point when he calls you outside of office hours.

“Sorry to interrupt your Friday night, but we’ve got a new case, high priority,” Hotch’s voice comes through the line, his tone serious and professional, but you can also hear the tired edge in his voice. It can’t be easy being the Unit Chief and always having to be on call, but you respect him for his dedication to the job. “I’m afraid I need you and the team back at the office ASAP.”

“I’ll be there as soon as possible,” you say, already mentally preparing yourself to switch back into work mode.

“Great, thank you, agent,” Hotch says, and you can hear the gratitude in his voice before he hangs up. You can only imagine how shitty it must feel to have to call in your team on a Friday night only a few hours after everyone has left the office. But that’s the nature of the job, and you have accepted it a long time ago, even though it means sacrificing your personal life and plans at a moment’s notice.

With a deep breath you take a moment to collect yourself, trying to shake off the disappointment of having to leave your friends behind. As you head back to the table to break the news to your friends, you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for having to leave them hanging. They all look up at you expectantly, sensing the change in your demeanor. “I’m sorry guys, I have to go. Work…” you trail off, your voice apologetic, you hate having to disappoint them.

Michaela and Piper exchange sympathetic looks, while Janelle just nods understandingly. “It’s okay, we understand,” Janelle says, giving you a reassuring smile.

“I’m sorry I have to cut the night short,” you say, feeling the weight of disappointment settling in your chest.

“Hey, your job’s important, we’ll catch up another time,” Michaela says, standing up to give you a supportive hug. “And we are really proud of you, just so you know,” she adds, giving you a reassuring smile as she pulls back from the hug.

Suddenly you almost feel like you could cry. You spend so much time burying your emotions and focusing on the job that it almost feels overwhelming to be reminded that you have people outside of work who love and care about you. “Thank you, Kay,” you say, smiling back at her. You hug the others and say your goodbyes, before you quickly gather your things and prepare to head out and find a cab.

· · · · ·

Spencer is abruptly pulled out of his slumber by the sound of his phone ringing. The book he had been reading sprawled open in his lap. The softness of the armchair and the long week of work finally caught up to him, and he must have dozed off. He blinks groggily as he fumbles to grab his phone. He squints at the screen, momentarily disoriented from being woken up so suddenly. Seeing it’s a call from Hotch, he quickly answers, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Hello?” Spencer mumbles, trying his hardest to sound awake and alert despite his groggy state.

“Reid, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we have a new case, high priority. I need you and the others back at the office ASAP, we will have a briefing as soon as you’re all here,” Hotch’s voice comes through the line, terse and serious, but also tinged with exhaustion.

Spencer’s heart sinks at the news, knowing that his plans of spending a quiet Friday night at home, recovering after a hard work week is now dashed, but he quickly pushes the book aside, already mentally preparing himself to switch into work mode.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he replies, removing his glasses that he had swapped his contacts out for earlier in the evening. Rubbing his eyes and sitting up straight, the sense of urgency now kicking in.

“Thank you, Reid,” Hotch says before ending the call, leaving Spencer to gather his things and head out to Quantico without delay.

As he makes his way out of his apartment and towards his car, he can’t help but feel a sense of disappointment at having his night disrupted once again by work. He had really been looking forward to a quiet night in, and finally enjoy a break.

Spencer watches the city lights pass by in a blur as he begins to make his way out of D. C., the reality of his job sinking in once again. He knows that as a part of the BAU, his work is never truly done. The cases are always waiting, the criminals are always out there, and the demands of his job are always pressing. And while he loves what he does and finds fulfillment in helping to catch the most dangerous offenders, and having his mind challenged, there are days when he longs for a sense of normalcy, for a break from the darkness that seems to follow him everywhere he goes.

With a deep breath, he steels himself for the long night of driving and work ahead, knowing that he may not see his bed again for a while.

· · · · ·

As you arrive back to Quantico, you rush into the FBI building, quickly making it through the security check. The heels of your stilettos click loudly against the floor as you hastily make your way to the conference room. The short, tight dress that had made you feel so confident just a few hours ago now makes you feel exposed and vulnerable as you walk through the sterile hallways of the building.

You try to pull down the short hemline of your dress, as you push open the heavy door to the conference room, but it doesn’t change the fact that most of your thighs are on display and that your tits are almost spilling out of the low-cut neckline. It is so rare that you get the opportunity to dress up and feel sexy, so you might have gone a little overboard with your choice of outfit for a simple girls night, or at least that is how you feel now as you’re about to walk into a room full of your colleagues, who aren’t that used to see this side of you, and are about to hear about the details of a violent crime case.

As you step into the room, you see that Derek and Spencer are already sitting at the big round table, waiting for the rest of the team to show up, Hotch is probably in his office getting more details for the briefing before the entire team is here. They turn their heads in your direction as you enter, and you can feel their eyes lingering a moment longer than necessary, seemingly surprised to see you in such attire.

“Damn, princess, you clean up well,” Derek says with a smirk, giving you a once-over. “You had a hot date tonight or something?”

You roll your eyes at his comment, knowing that he always loves to tease you about your personal life. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Morgan,” you reply with a raised brown and a playful smile, taking a seat at the table and crossing your legs and adjusting your dress as you sit down.

“Of course, I would like to know, that’s why I asked,” Derek chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “You come in here looking like that, and you expect us not to ask questions? I just need to know, is he more handsome than me, should I be worried?” he teases, earning another playful eye roll from you.

“Can’t a girl just want to look good for a change, without it having to be for a man?” you shoot back.

“What do you mean, for a change? You always look good,” Derek counters with a charming smile, before he turns to Spencer, who has been awfully quiet this entire time. “Isn’t that right, pretty boy?”

Spencer looks up at Derek and then at you, a faint blush rising to his pale cheeks. His hair is slightly tousled and he is wearing his glasses, making him look even more adorable than usual. You don’t know if it is wrong of you to think of your colleague as adorable, he is a grown man and exceptionally capable of his job, you respect him a lot, but you just can’t help but find Spencer extremely endearing.

“You don’t have to answer that, Spence,” you quickly interject, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable. You know that Spencer can be a bit awkward when it comes to social interactions and you don’t want Derek’s teasing to make him feel even more self-conscious.

You and Spencer have become good friends over the two years that have passed since you joined the BAU team, you and him are the youngest agents in the unit. You have always admired Spencer’s brilliant mind and his ability to remember almost everything he reads as well as his sweet, quirky personality. You have a mutual respect for each other’s intelligence and dedication to the job. You have also noticed the way he sometimes gets lost in his thoughts or stumbles over his words when he’s nervous, and you have always tried to support him and make him feel comfortable in social situations.

But despite being friends and good colleagues, there’s also always been a slightly awkward tension between you and Spencer, at least on your end, it’s not like it’s there all the time, but you do feel it from time to time. You are not even sure where it comes from or why it’s there, but there’s something about Spencer that can make you feel slightly flustered and unsure of yourself, if you ever stop to think about it. It’s probably just because you admire him so much and don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of someone you respect so deeply.

“No, it’s okay,” Spencer says, his usual rambling tone coming through as he speaks. “You do look very nice, tonight. Wait, no, I mean, Morgan is right you always look nice, but you also look real nice tonight,” he stammers, stumbling over his words as he tries to explain himself.

You can’t help but smile at his adorable awkwardness, grateful that Derek’s teasing didn’t faze him too much. “Thank you, Spence,” you say, giving him a kind smile and reaching out to pat his arm reassuringly, hoping to ease his discomfort. “I appreciate it.”

“Oh, so when it is him you appreciate it, I see how it is,” Derek jokes, earning a playful shove from you.

“Shut up, Morgan, you know that I love you,” you say with a laugh, playfully rolling your eyes at him, which makes him laugh, but you don’t get to continue your banter as the rest of the team starts to filter in, Hotch enters the room with a stack of case files in hand, his usual stoic expression in place as he takes his seat at the head of the table to begin the briefing.

“Thank you all for coming with such short notice,” Hotch starts, his voice authoritative and commanding. “We have a new case that just came in and it’s classified as high priority. A series of brutal murders have been reported in Northern California. Local police have finally reached out to us for assistance after multiple cases after two new victims were found earlier in the day. They have all been double murders, with the assumption that the victims have been stalked for a while beforehand, and are then killed in a very specific and violent manner. All have been young married couples, all under thirty, and in all of the cases, the female victim has been between five and nine months pregnant.”

As Hotch continues to outline the details of the case, you can feel the weight of the seriousness of the situation settle in the room. You are usually able to compartmentalize your emotions and focus on the task at hand, but the thought of innocent lives being taken in such a violent manner always hits a nerve and you feel a chill run down your spine as Hotch describes the details of the case, the gravity of the situation sinking in. This is a disturbing and horrific case, one that hits close to home for you as a woman.

As Hotch finishes the briefing he turns to Spencer. “Reid, I would like to have a word with you in my office. The rest of you, start looking into the evidence and see if we can find any leads or patterns that may help us track down the unsub.”

You watch as Spencer nods in acknowledgment, it’s clear that he is a bit confused about being called into Hotch’s office alone, as he follows Hotch out of the room, leaving you and the rest of the team to start digging into the case files and evidence.

· · · · ·

“Please take a seat,” Hotch says as he gestures towards the chair in front of his desk, as Spencer follows him into his office. Spencer feels slightly anxious as he takes a seat, his eyes searching Hotch’s face for any clues as to why he’s been called into his office while Hotch takes his seat behind the desk. Hotch clears his throat before speaking, his tone serious and professional. “I have something to ask you to do, and it’s not a small thing,” Hotch begins, his eyes fixed on Spencer. “I need you to think carefully before you answer.”

Spencer can feel how his heart starts to race, his mind already trying to anticipate what Hotch is about to ask him. “What is it?” he asks, his voice steady despite his growing nerves. Hotch takes a moment to gather his thoughts before he speaks again.

“I’ve spoken with the local authorities in California, as well as our own expert and with the circumstances of the case and lack of leads, we have decided that the best way to proceed is to send in two undercover agents that fits the profile of the victims, and I want to ask you to be one of those agents.”

Spencer’s eyes widen in surprise, his mind racing with the implications of such a task. Going undercover in a case like this would be incredibly risky, not to mention emotionally taxing and it is not something he has much expertise in.

“I understand that this is a big ask, but you fit the profile of the victims and your ability to think on your feet and adapt in high-pressure situations makes you the best candidate for this job,” Hotch explains, his eyes searching Spencer’s face for any sign of hesitation.

Spencer takes a moment to process Hotch’s words. He can see the logic in Hotch’s reasoning with the specific details of the case and the lack of leads; it might be the best way to proceed, and Spencer knows that it is only done when absolutely necessary. “And you’re sure I’m the best agent for the job, I don’t have much experience with undercover work,” Spencer says, keeping his voice as steady as he can while feeling the uncertainty within himself.

“You’re more than capable, Reid. Your intelligence and quick thinking are your strongest assets, and we have full confidence in your abilities. I would never ask this of you if I was not fully convinced that you are fit for this job. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I also know that you have it in you to handle it,” Hotch reassures him, his tone firm and unwavering.

Spencer nods, taking a deep breath as he processes the weight of the task that has been given to him. This is a very serious assignment, one he knows is crucial to solving the case and bringing justice to the victims. “If you believe I can do it, then I’ll do it,” Spencer says finally, his voice resolute.

Hotch nods, a sense of relief crossing his features. “Thank you, Reid. This means a lot to the case, and I know you will do a great job,” he says, his voice showing his appreciation.

Spencer reciprocates the nod, feeling a surge of determination coursing through him. It’s a lot to take in, and it takes his usually so fast thinking mind a second to realize that he won’t be going undercover alone. “Who will be the other agent going undercover with me?” Spencer asks, wanting to know who he will be partnering with.

“I have someone in mind, but I want to make sure that she is on board before we move forward.”

“Is it, Y/L/N?” Spencer can’t help but ask, his mind already considering the possibilities of who he is going to work undercover with, and you are the person in the unit that would fit the profile of the victim the best. He really hopes it’s gonna be you, even though a part of him also doesn’t want you to be put in a potentially dangerous position. Spencer knows that your skills and intelligence would complement his own in such a high-stakes situation. And most importantly he just really likes being around you. You are always so kind to him and you never fail to make him feel included and supported.

Hotch nods. “Yes, she fits the profile as well and I believe that she has the expertise for this kind of operation. I will speak with her and see if she is willing to take on this assignment. I trust that the two of you will work well together on this case and you seem to get along well, and that’ll be important in this case. I’ll have to be sure that the agents I’m sending in can deliver a believable performance.”

And that is when it really dawns on Spencer, the two of you are not just going into a dangerous situation together, you will also have to pretend to be a couple, a young married couple expecting a child. He had been so caught up in the seriousness of the assignment and the potential risks involved that he hadn’t even considered that part of going undercover with you.

The thought of pretending to be a married couple with you, even if it’s just for the sake of the operation, sends a wave of feelings and thoughts through him, too many at once for him to fully process. Sure, it’s all part of the job, but the idea of being so close to you and having to maintain that facade is a challenge he’s not sure he’s fully prepared for. The idea of playing the role of your husband, even if it’s just for work, is both exhilarating and absolutely terrifying at the same time.

But as Spencer looks into Hotch’s eyes, he sees the trust and confidence that his boss has in him, and he knows that he can’t back down now. He has a job to do, and he will do it to the best of his abilities, alongside you.

· · · · ·

After Hotch and Spencer left the conference room, you and the other agents moved back to your desks to go through the evidence and case files. You are now wrapped in the cardigan that usually hangs from the back of your desk chair and you feel a little more office appropriate.

“Damn, this is a tough one,” Derek says, shaking his head as he scans through the crime scene photos. “The level of violence in these murders is just brutal.”

You nod in agreement as you flip through your own stack of evidence, looking up from the file in your hand as Spencer and Hotch emerge from Hotch’s office, Spencer walking down the stairs to join the team, but Hotch stays back, his expression serious and you get a little surprised when he addresses you.

“Can I have a word with you in my office?” Hotch says, his tone somber before he steps back into his office.

You can’t help but feel a sense of urgency as you put down the file in your hand and get up from your desk. You pass Spencer at the foot of the stairs, his eyes flicking down to meet yours. “Everything okay?” you ask, a hint of concern in your voice. Spencer nods, but there is something in his eyes you can’t quite read.

“Yeah, uh… yeah, Hotch will explain,” he says, his voice slightly tense, and a slight crease is formed between his brows but the look in his brown eyes are soft as they meet yours.

“Okay,” you whisper, giving him a small smile, before you quickly step up the stairs, or at least as quickly as you can in your five inch heels. You feel a small knot of anxiety starting to form in your stomach as you step into the office, wondering what this is about.

The door clicks shut behind you, and you feel the weight of Hotch’s gaze on you as you stand in front of his desk. “Please, sit down,” Hotch says, his tone grave as he gestures towards the chair in front of him. You take a seat, feeling a sense of unease settling in your stomach.

Hotch’s expression is unreadable as he looks at you, and for a moment, you can’t help but wonder what all of this is about.

“I have a very big thing to ask from you, agent, and I want you to know that I’m asking this of you because I trust you can handle it. It’s a request, but the choice is fully up to you,” Hotch starts, his voice steady but filled with seriousness. “Due to the lack of leads and the nature of these murders, we have come to the decision to send in two undercover agents who fit the profile of the victims to try and draw out the unsub, and I would like to ask you to be one of those agents. Agent Reid has already agreed to take on the assignment, the two of you match the victim profiles, and I truly believe that with your skills and expertise, you would be the perfect choice for this task.”

You lean back in your chair as you let Hotch’s words sink in. So this is why Hotch wanted to talk with Spencer. Going undercover on a case as gruesome and high stakes as this is not something to take lightly, but with the circumstances of the case and the lack of current leads you can see the logic in it. It’s a risky move, but you know that sometimes risky moves are necessary in order to catch the unsub and bring justice to the victims.

“I know that this is a very big thing for me to ask of you, and I want you to know that I fully understand if you have any reservations or concerns,” Hotch continues, his tone earnest. “But I also believe that you have what it takes to handle this assignment, and your dedication to the job is unparalleled. I wouldn’t ask this of you if I wasn’t convinced that you could handle it.”

“I understand the gravity of this assignment, Hotch,” you say, your voice calm and steady, wanting to reassure him that you are aware of the importance of the task at hand. “I am aware of the risks involved, and if you think I’m the right person for the job, then I’ll do it.”

Hotch nods, his features softening. “Thank you, agent. I know this is a lot to ask, but I have full confidence in your abilities and I truly believe that you and Reid will be able to handle this assignment with the utmost professionalism.”

You nod in acknowledgment, a surge of determination coursing through you by your decision. You also can’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over you at the fact that Spencer will be the person going undercover with you. You trust him implicitly and that makes you feel a sense of ease.

“I will arrange for a briefing with you and Agent Reid to go over the details of the assignment. You’ll also have to go through a training course while we set up a location for the undercover operation, and you will of course be given your undercover identities. I’ll inform the rest of the team about the assignment,” Hotch’s words are firm and decisive, and you can see the weight of responsibility in his expression. “But you better get home and get some rest. You have a long and intense process ahead of you, agent,” he adds, a softer tone creeping into his voice.

“Copy that,” you reply as you stand up from your chair. Soon you’re back down in the bullpen, standing at your desk as you gather your belongings and start to make your way out of the office. Just as you’re about to close your purse, you catch Spencer’s eye from where he’s standing over at his own desk, and as you give him a tired smile, which he mirrors, you swing your purse over your shoulder and walk over to his desk.

“So, Hotch asked you?” Spencer says as you approach him, his brown eyes meeting yours. You nod, the weight of the assignment settling in as you face each other.

“Yeah, he did. Looks like we’re partners in this one,” you reply, smiling at him once again.

Spencer nods, a small smile of his own tugging at the corners of his lips. You both stand there for a short moment, the weight of the assignment hanging heavily between you, before Spencer breaks the silence. “Do you need me to walk you to your car? I know the parking lot is just outside and that we have security, but still.”

You feel a wave of gratitude wash over you for his offer, and you can see the concern in his eyes as he looks at you, but that is also when you remember that you didn’t drive here yourself.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you,” you say, feeling touched by his concern. “But I actually didn’t drive here tonight, I took a cab.”

“You took a cab all the way from D. C.?!”

You laugh at his surprised expression. “Yeah, I was out, I didn’t have my car and I also had had a few drinks.”

“You should have called me, I could have picked you up and we could have driven together,” he says, his tone filled with genuine concern. You can’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness.

“I appreciate that, Spence. Maybe next time,” you say, giving him a grateful smile. You know that Spencer is always willing to go above and beyond to help his friends and colleagues, and you can’t help but feel extra lucky to have him as a partner in this assignment.

“Well, you have a ride back home now,” he says, offering you a gentle smile.

“That’s nice,” you reply, with a bright smile, feeling very grateful for his offer. You had expected to get a lift from one of your colleagues when you drove out here, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to get hold of a cab this late out here, but it feels really nice that you didn’t even have to ask for one.

“Of course,” Spencer replies, his smile growing wider. Soon the two of you are stepping out of the FBI building and are met with the brisk night air, your feet are hurting and the cool air makes goosebumps rise on your skin. But almost before you get to register it, Spencer has removed his jacket and offers it to you. “You must be cold,” he says, giving you a kind look. You try to protest, but he insists, draping the jacket over your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you mumble, not feeling like protesting further as soon as the warm feeling of the jacket engulfs you.

Once you reach his car, he opens the door for you and you slide into the passenger seat, feeling a sense of gratitude for his kindness. “You want this back?” you ask, removing the jacket from your shoulder. You don’t really feel ready to give up the warm garment, but you also don’t want to assume that he offered it for more than just the walk to the car.

Spencer shakes his head as he settles into the driver’s seat and you watch him start the engine. “No, you just keep it.” You smile happily as you toe off your shoes and curl up in the seat draping the jacket over your bare legs, feeling like it is enveloping you in a comfortable cocoon of warmth and safety as Spencer starts the car and begins the drive back towards D. C.

The landscape passes by in a blur outside the window as the two of you drive in comfortable silence, the both of you seemingly getting lost in your own thoughts for a little while. The weight of the assignment in front of you settles heavily between you.

“I’m really grateful that you’re going to be my partner on this assignment,” Spencer breaks the silence eventually, his voice soft but filled with sincerity.

“Me too,” you reply, turning to look at him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Another comfortable stretch of silence fills the car as you continue on your way back to the city. Despite trying to fight it, your eyes start to feel immensely heavy. Fatigue from a long day and the weight of the impending assignment finally catching up to you, and with the gentle lull of the car you never really stood a chance and soon you are starting to doze off, slowly sliding into the sweet embrace of sleep as you sink deeper into the soft car seat.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated :) let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter ♡ edit: it would especially be nice if you reblog when you ask to be added to the tag list ♡

Taglist: @luivisa @babyspiderling @reidsdaisies @eddioto @sadroses98 @lovelyygirl8

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ki-yomii · 2 months

Text

personal taste | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 1.3k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; established relationship, teasing, bent in half, premature ejaculation, implied cum play, implied oral (f receiving), inexperienced!jk ➥ summary | jungkook gets a little too excited and cums early, but he's more than happy to make it up to you. ➥ notes | ✌️idk man, its 2 am. i hope you enjoy lol

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

It was safe to say Jungkook wasn’t the most experienced of lovers when you first get together. Idol life consumed his adolescence, and by the time he’s a young adult, too many eyes are on his every waking move.

A quick affair is rarely worth the effort, and the ones that are leave much to be desired. Relegated to liquor-soaked make-out sessions, and quick, dirty fucks that leave him filled with more sweat and regret than satisfaction.

You’d only been dating a few months when he divulged why he got so jumpy any time your hand grazed his thigh, why he broke off your kisses before they got too heated.

He was adorably shy when he expressed how anxious he was about his performance in the bedroom; how the reality might not live up to your expectations.

But he shouldn’t have worried, having more than made up for any shortcomings with his eager to please attitude and boundless enthusiasm.

The number of times you’ve had sex since getting together can be counted on one hand, but he’s leaps and bounds ahead of where he was when you first started being intimate.

It certainly helps that Jungkook is a dedicated student; throwing himself, as he does with everything in life, full throttle into any and all efforts to learn the secrets of your body.

A quick learner, it isn’t long before he can make you cum with a skillful twist of his fingers, a harsh rut of the hips that settles him so deep inside your pussy, your thighs tremble.

Not only is he able to wring orgasm after orgasm out of you, his stamina is insane. Almost to the point where you’re having trouble keeping up with him, having to take little breaks between rounds to gulp down water and catch your breath.

So… when it happens, it’s altogether unexpected.

But so fucking filthy hot you’re pretty sure you astral project to a higher plane of existence.

You’d been teasing him all day: the brush of your hand across his ass, the skim of your knuckles over the crotch of his pants, pressing close against the wide berth of his back and whispering soft, nasty little nothings into his ear.

Delighting in the blush that crept up the sides of his neck. The cherry red burn of his ears as he gulped, readjusting himself before shooting you a glare.

Jungkook lasts longer than you give him credit for, though that’s most likely due to his competitive streak. He breaks all the same; however, shoving you into his bedroom as soon as the door to his apartment closes behind you.

So needy and desperate he can’t wait any longer, even if the rest of the boys are due to arrive in an hour.

You only just got undressed, the bed creaking under the combination of your weights when he cages you beneath him. His chest flexes with every hurried breath, his ribs expanding with labored puffs of air. His cock bullies its way inside your pussy, hips slotting into place against yours.

“J-Jungkook,” you whine, your toes digging into his sides as your thighs fall open across his. “So deep, I - haaah -”

The fat head of his cock nudges against your cervix with every little rut, sparks of pain fissioning out and deepening the warmth fizzling behind your belly button.

Thick and long, he stuffs your pussy to the brim every time without fail, stretching you wide until tears cling to your lashes and your nails dig into his shoulders.

It hurts no matter how long he spends prepping you, but you like it better this way. The pain only enhances the pleasure; deepens, and darkens.

And knowing he has to force his cock those last few inches because your pussy can’t take it without assistance always riles you up.

Makes you needy and desperate to take everything he can give like a good girl.

“Mm, I know, baby,” Jungkook’s breath hitches as his teeth tug on his lip ring, his eyes - half lidded and greedy - shadowed by the sweaty curtain of his bangs, “Feels so ffuh - fucking good inside you.”

“Hhn!” Your fingers inch up the corded muscles of his forearms, caressing over the whorls of ink as they shackle themselves to his elbows as he bends you in half. “Right there, right there. Jus like - ohmygod! - like that.”

Jungkook grunts, rocking into the cradle of your hips harder, the shaft of his cock dragging almost completely out only to slide to the hilt in one thrust. His pelvis grinds against the swollen bud of your clit as he holds himself there, your slick smearing into his skin.

He curses under his breath when your walls flutter, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. “Shit! Don’t - don’t do that, baby. I can’t - hnggg - I can’t -”

And then his cock throbs hard once, twice.

A litany of soft, breathy exhalations of pure pleasure accompanies the slick echo of your bodies crashing together. Then his head bends low, the dark briar of his hair clinging to his temples. His jaw drops slack, and a devastated moan punches out of his throat.

Muscles ripple into a full body shiver, Jungkook’s sharp hips stuttering against the backs of your thighs. Sticky warmth floods your cunt, and his hazy, lust-blown eyes stare into yours as he pumps you full of cum.

You groan, blinking up at him, “Did you just-?”

Jungkook’s arms buckle.

Flopping down onto you, a sweaty, panting mess, he tucks his hot face into the crook of your neck. Moist breath puffs across your skin, a ticklish awareness skittering down your spine. Goosebumps rise along your arms.

His heartbeat hammers against your ribs.

“Yeah, I - I…” Jungkook huffs, his nose dragging over the length of your collarbone, tongue flicking over your skin when he licks his lips. “I did. ‘m sorry, baby.”

Breathing in through your nose, you card a hand through his sweaty hair. Swallow down the pleading whines sitting on the tip of your tongue. You don’t want to embarrass him any more than he probably is.

He hasn’t cum this quick since the early days, and you’d rather not ruin the evening by making him spiral.

So even when your pussy flutters, trapped on the edge of an orgasm as his cum leaks out of you, you bite down on your impulses. Resign yourself to being horny for the foreseeable future until you can sneak away and take care of yourself with a vibrator.

“It’s alright, Kook. It happens.”

Your eyes close, and you breathe through your nose, trying to calm the gallop of your heartbeat.

Relaxing seems almost impossible with Jungkook’s constant shifting, but you try your best to get your body on the same page as your mind.

Only for all efforts to go to waste when Jungkook shimmies down between your thighs. The tips of his hair tickle your skin, your lower belly jumping at the sensation.

Furrowing your brow, you peek down at your boyfriend. “Kook, what’re you--?”

Broad palms caress your hips, Jungkook using his thumbs to trace over the jut of bone. His chest glitters under the light, the muscles shifting under his skin almost mesmerizing as he settles on his belly. Forearms hook over the tops of your thighs, and his dark eyes flash with hunger.

His mouth pulls up into an impish smirk. “Can I?” he asks, dropping his gaze to the apex of your thighs. “Please?”

He giggles when he sees how flustered you get. Syrupy sweet, boyish; altogether too endearing for the current circumstances.

“...Are you serious?”

You can’t deny the fresh wave of desire the thought brings - Jungkook with his thick fingers, his tender mouth and soft tongue stroking over swollen, abused flesh - but flap a hand between your bodies in a vague gesture all the same.

“Isn’t that kind of - you just, y’know?”

You aren’t the only one affected by the idea, Jungkook’s cock jerking feebly where it rests against his thigh. A pink tongue flicks out to run along the length of his red-bitten bottom lip, toying with his lip ring as his teeth sink into the soft flesh.

He regards you with predatory anticipation.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I’ve always wondered what we taste like. Please let me.”

Well… who are you to refuse?

#jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts x reader #bts jungkook #jungkook fic

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dawnagustd · 1 year

Text

hours || jjk

⇝ author’s note: she’s here, bitches!!!! lol thank you @m1sss1mp and @monvante for putting posters of this man all over my blog. this fic is for the both of you. thank you so much for holding my hand through it all. thank you @baljinciaga for beta’ing and screaming in the comments because you gave me the confidence to post this lol. listen, i’m rusty with the smut y’all so i apologize if it’s a mess. anyway, i hope you enjoy. this has been beta’d but there’s still probably some errors since i changed some things after it was beta read.

masterlist | permanent taglist form | read on ao3

drabbles: the unholy drabble | nails drabble | keeps

“So are you spending the night or…?”

Jungkook props himself on his elbow so he can see you. He uses his fingers to comb some hair away from his face, revealing his flushed cheeks and a horseshoe septum piercing. Ask yourself how many rounds you’ve gone, and you wouldn’t be able to give an accurate answer.

You came over at six, had a beer, did some karaoke, showed him some shit you learned in twerk class, and as some as the Netflix intro came through the tv speakers, your clothes were scattered all over his apartment and your ass was in the air while Jungkook fucked up your guts.

This is kind of a Wednesday night routine for you two. Has been for a few months. You’re just vibing and having fun with your hot neighbor, nothing serious yet. Right?

“As much as I’d like to stay—”

“Pussy.”

Your mouth falls open.

“Excuse me?”

He giggles until you reach for his hair and tug on his strands. You slide closer, trying to intimidate him but he keeps teasing.

“You’re pussy. You’re tapping out,” he repeats.

You scoff. “Boy, I’ve never tapped out a day in my life. Get the fuck out of here.”

Your thumb wipes the little smirk off of his face, but it returns seconds later.

“Your dick isn’t that good. Humble yourself,” you joke.

His cocky ass knows you’re dickmatized, but you still won’t admit it.

“Whatever. You know I’ve been holding back.”

“And who told you to do that?”

“You,” he answers. “Oh, Jungkook! Please, I’ll come!”

You smack his ink-covered arm drawing a chuckle from his lips.

“You’re so full of shit, Jungkook. Okay, let’s fuck again, and don’t hold back this time,” you request.

Jungkook begins shaking his head, laughing at your persistence.

“Love, the only one getting that kind of dick is my girl so…”

“So what are you trying to say?” you ask.

He shrugs. “You tell me. You know I’ve been trying to see about that.”

An eye roll from you follows his statement. “Whatever, I’ve already let you know how it is.”

“Yeah, but I wanna hear you say when you’re not stuffed with cock,” he gripes.

“Well, come here then. I’ll say it in your ear.”

You call him over using your finger, but he doesn’t move.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me, love.”

You throw the covers off of both of you, kicking the comforter until your legs are free. Jungkook doesn’t move initially when you spread your legs. He stays in a sitting position, letting his hair fall in his face while he smiles menacingly. His Calvin Klein’s hug his thick thighs, creating creases in his flesh.

“Well, show. Teach me. Make me aware,” you tease, using your foot to caress his calf.

“Careful, baby.”

His throat growls those words, his voice dropping octaves so low your pussy clenches.

“Why? Tired, hm?”

“You know that’s not it,” he chuckles.

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit your pussy gets wet just looking at him. Imagine being hot inside and out. That’s Jungkook. A gentleman, and the cutest weirdo immediately after. The sex is just the cherry on top.

You two just clicked, and the rest is history. Whether you need someone to act an absolute clown with or someone to fuck your brains out, Jungkook is that guy. You can’t keep your hands off of him, and he can never resist the chance to slide his dick in you.

“I don’t. So make me understand.”

“Ai yi yi,” he sighs. Then he looks at you and shakes his head. “...so much attitude.”

“Fix it for me.”

Jungkook nods then swiftly pounces on you. You start giggling, knowing you’ve struck a nerve.

“You’re pushing it, you know.”

“I don’t care,” you retort.

Jungkook smirks. “Oh, you will.”

He lowers his body, leveling his face with your pussy. You can feel small puffs of air leave his lips and come in contact with your center.

Jungkook brings two of his fingers to your entrance and prods teasingly, getting you riled up almost instantly. You grip the sheets and lift your lower body off the bed to chase his digits, but he doesn’t push in.

“Still wet for me?” he asks. Jungkook spreads your folds to examine your arousal, looking at you when he discovers that you’re soaking. “Damn, you are.”

The sound of your slick as your opening widens makes your cheeks burn with shame. You turn away, but Jungkook doesn’t like that.

“Uh, uh. You wanna get fucked, you gotta watch,” he says.

Reluctantly, you give him your attention and you immediately regret looking away. His messy hair and puffy eyes give you butterflies as you wait for his next move. You almost forget about how close his face is to your cunt.

Jungkook’s fingers slowly slip into your pussy. You gasp while they sink deep into your crevice. He knows the exact route and the perfect arch in which he must curl them to make your body quiver with pleasure.

Hearing your arousal filling the room entices both of you and Jungkook becomes eager to pick up the pace. Your hips buck and move in a circular motion to match his movements, creating a familiar build-up of pressure within your core. The sheets below you start to dampen from the juices dripping down your center.

“You’re so hot,” he whispers before he kisses your clit. “And you taste so good.”

Jungkook makes out with your bundle of nerves while his fingers pump in and out of your opening. His hair covers his face, much to your disappointment, so you gather it all and keep it contained in a makeshift ponytail.

Now that his face is visible, you can see the way his tongue swipes your pussy each time his lips part. You moan his name, swelling him with so much pride he can’t help but smile briefly. His fingers slide out of you but only so he can kiss lower and fuck you with his tongue.

The deeper he enters, the more pressure his nose places on your throbbing clit. His septum piercing tickles your center as he rubs his face in your pussy, creating a pleasant sensation that penetrates your core.

Quickly, you lose control over everything. You can feel your stomach tightening, hear your moans getting louder, smell the desire growing stronger but you’re unable to grasp the one thing you so desperately want. It’s so close, but then, Jungkook snatches it away.

“Fuck, you asshole!”

Jungkook suddenly stops just as you’re reaching your peak. He withdraws and leaves you a whining mess while he laughs.

“Oh, now I’m an asshole?” His smirk never fades while he removes his underwear and tosses them on the floor. “I think I’m a gentleman.”

He looks over at the nightstand and sighs defeatedly.

“Fuck, man.”

“What?”

“Out of condoms,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “It’s fine. I’m on the pill. We’re good.”

“Are you sure? I can just finish—”

“No, just pull out, dude. I wanna get fucked,” you insist.

“Well, yes ma’am. You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Jungkook hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you on his lap. He keeps one hand underneath your thigh while the other one grabs his dick. You prop yourself on your elbows and watch as he strokes his cock a few times, using your arousal for lubrication before he aligns with your center.

The tip probes your entrance until it’s nestled inside and he no longer needs to hold his shaft. He redirects his attention to your clit, and he massages your bud as he buries his cock inside of you.

“Shit!”

Your back arches and your fist punch the bed. Inch by inch he fills your pussy until he can’t fit any more of himself inside of you. The fullness you feel from his girth leaves you breathless and panting.

“Still so tight,” he whispers. “...feels so good.”

Jungkook hovers over you when you lie down again and kisses you, leaving the taste of your pussy on your lips. His tongue slips into your mouth and arousal coats your tastebuds. Your moans are muffled but are still clearly heard. His name escapes your lips repeatedly as you beg him to fuck you.

“Ready?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Another kiss graces your lips and then another for your chest. He moves to your breast and does the same to your nipples, but envelopes the right one between his lips and suckles it tenderly. Your arms wrap around him to bring him closer as he starts nibbling your sensitive bud with his teeth.

He starts to move, setting a pace that has your toes curling instantly. You bury your face in his dark strands and beg him to keep going.

“Jungkook, please don’t stop. It’s so good.”

“I’m not,” he promises, sending waves of vibrations through your areola. His mouth feels so warm and moist against your skin. Hair raises along your flesh caused by both the chill of the room and Jungkook’s gentle touch. It’s a contrast from the way he roughly thrusts inside of you, but it’s the kind of fire and ice that has your body yearning for more.

As if he can read your body language, he changes his position. A lewd noise pierces your ears when his lips release your stiffened nipple. The cold air makes your skin tingle due to the sensitivity and the presence of his saliva.

Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. His fingers comb his hair away from his face, revealing his flushed face, his pierced lip tucked between his teeth. The intimacy of the moment intensifies the pleasure growing inside of you, and your watery eyes begin to produce thick salty droplets.

“Feel good, baby?” Jungkook quizzes. “Does it really feel that good?”

“Yes, Jungkook. It…”

Your voice is so weak and raspy. You have difficulty speaking clearly, and articulating your sentences. Jungkook is very displeased.

“Speak up,” he requests. He slaps your tits, leaving you trembling and hanging on by a thread. Your pussy clenches around him, and he responds by squeezing your throat. “You feel that?”

You croak out a response. The best you can with your airways being constricted.

“Good,” he grunts. “That’s how my dick feels inside this tight fucking pussy.”

He loosens his grip and air finally refills your lungs, making you lightheaded. Your head starts spinning, your vision becomes blurry, and slowly the familiar feeling begins to form within your gut. Grabbing Jungkook’s arm, you try to warn him, but you are immediately dismissed.

“Nope. I’m not done.”

Jungkook opens your legs wider and his thrusts deepen. It’s like he’s trying to fit his entire dick inside of you, but each time he runs out of room.

You can feel him entering your guts over and over. The blunt outline of his cock is faintly visible whenever it lodges itself in your womb. Your muscles clench tightly as you try your hardest to keep it together.

One thing’s for certain, he has been holding back. Now you’re addicted to this new side of him, and there’s no other way you want him to fuck you. It feels like no experience you’ve ever had; you can’t get enough, but your body can only take so much before you lose control.

“Ah, shit! You’re fucking tight.” Sweat drips from Jungkook’s forehead as he struggles to hang on. He’s drawing this out; savoring the moment just like you are, but both of you are nearing your peaks, and it’s only moments before you topple over the edge. “I want this forever.”

“You have it, though. I’m not going anywhere,” you promise. “I’m yours.”

“Oh, fuck.”

Jungkook’s movements stutter when he hears your voice speaking to him through your soft moans. Your words are like a match igniting a flame deep inside of him. He begins fucking you harder, like he’s on a mission to ruin you.

“Shit. Come on my dick, baby,” he moans, probably waking the neighbors. “Make a mess.”

At his command, your body gives in and chases the pleasure it’s been longing for. You scream his name like it’s the only word you know. Your soul leaves you lying on the bed and elevates to the ceiling, probably even further. You tremble and shake beneath him as the coil snaps inside of you, sending ripples of pleasure shooting through your veins.

Your arousal gushes out of you with enough force to push Jungkook’s dick out of you. He slaps your pussy repeatedly, milking you dry while he strokes his shaft. As you lay there, squirting out the last of your orgasm, you slowly return to your body, but you’re still basking in your post-sex daze.

“Flip over.”

Jungkook turns you on your stomach and straddles your thighs. He strokes his cock while he stares at your ass, still tender from all the spanking he did early. He slaps it with enough force to get a muffled moan out of you. Your head remains buried in the pillow because your body refuses to move an inch.

“Softest fucking ass on the planet,” he mumbles. “And all mine.”

You relax under his touch as his large hand begins to massage your flesh. You become more exhausted as the seconds tick by. Jungkook’s pants and moans fill your ears as he chases his high, and soon his breaths become shallower, indicating that he’s approaching his release.

“Fuck.”

Moments later warm droplets of his cum paint your ass while Jungkook cries your name. He plops on top of you, careful not to use all of his weight, and leaves kisses along your shoulder. When his breathing settles, he gets up and finds a shirt to clean your body. He covers you with the blanket when he’s done so you aren’t cold.

“Are you still with me?” he asks, and you giggle.

“I’m here.”

“Well, I wish you’d say something.”

When you turn your head in his direction, you find him standing there in all of his naked glory, his dick slowly deflating, but still standing at attention while he chugs down his leftover beer.

“Maybe you should drink some water,” you suggest.

He puts the mug down and raises a finger. “You’re absolutely right. I’ll be back.”

When Jungkook leaves, the door remains open and someone else enters the room moments later. You don’t even flinch when Bam jumps on the bed, claiming his spot at the end. You’re just glad he’s finally warmed up to you. At first, you think he was a little jealous, but you guess he realized that with you in the picture, he receives two times the love and attention.

Jungkook’s footsteps make their way down the hall and he’s shocked by the sight of his pup lying beside you when he enters the room.

“I see you two have finally become friends,” he points out. He walks over to the bed and gives Bam some love while he whispers to him. “Don’t steal my girl, dude.”

You giggle and shake your head, as if Bam would ever leave his side. You’ve noticed that he has been more drawn to you lately, but you think it’s just him getting used to you being around. He knows you aren’t going to steal his dad from him, so now he’s more open to spending time with you.

“Did you bring me some water?”

Jungkook nods. “Of course.”

He gives you the water bottle and you sit up so you can drink some. Jungkook sits beside you and waits for you to finish.

You know he’s about to ask you something, so you quickly gulp down your water to get it over and done with.

On cue, he speaks.

“You still haven’t given me an answer.”

“Ah,” you sigh. “I don’t know, Jungkook.”

“That’s not an answer. I mean no is fine, but I just wanted some kind of idea about where this is going,” he states.

You’ve thought about it, and dating Jungkook isn’t a bad idea. You’re just nervous because this is going so well and you don’t want to mess it up. However, the advice your friend gave you a week ago still plays in your mind.

“If you really need more time, it’s fine but I feel like you’ve been holding back too. I want you in my life, Bam wants you to be his mom, and—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, fighting back a smile, but you fail.

“What is it?”

You set your water on the nightstand and grab his hand. You absentmindedly trace his tattoos, while you talk to him.

“I’m nervous because I don’t want this ‘honeymoon’ phase to end,” you start. You can see his shoulders droop because he thinks this is bad news. However, it's not. “But every day we grow closer, so why should I let my mind prevent my heart from being happy?”

“You are so fucking trashed,” he blurts out. “Did I really fuck you that good?”

“Jungkook shut the fuck up. I was trying to be deep. Leave me alone.”

You try to turn away and go to bed but he pulls you on his lap.

“Hey, I’m kidding. That was cute,” he says. “I got it. You like me, and I like you. Let’s just continue to take it slow.”

“Thanks.”

“Mhm. But just so we’re clear, you’re my girlfriend now by default because we just… Well, you know.”

“I’ll be that,” you reply. “As long as you’re my… boy boy b-b-b-b-b-boyfriend.”

When Jungkook rolls his eyes, you erupt with laughter, knowing he doesn’t want to admit he likes BTR.

“Whatever, go to sleep.”

“In my bed, or yours?” you ask.

“Don’t start.”

You both snuggle together on the dry side of the bed while Bam snores peacefully at your feet. Jungkook hugs you from behind and the two of you slowly drift off to sleep.

“Goodnight,” you whisper.

But your boyfriend has already tapped out. Looks like you’re the real champ around here.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging and/or leaving feedback.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #thekpopuniverse #bangtansorciere #bangtanbathhouse #kvanity #jungkook fanfics #fic: hours #sugakookitty

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bayjaruchel · 7 months

Text

Always

－－－

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Hiccup has a lot on his mind. You help him relax, in more ways than one. (3.6k) (originally posted on ao3)

－－－

Whenever Hiccup was tired — either mentally or physically — he'd find you.

It wasn't like you didn't spend time together when he was in good health, though. On the contrary, you saw him basically every day. After the whirlwind of events that involved him, a certain Night Fury, and the Red Death, you'd somehow been flung into a rapidly developing relationship.

Sure, he was … Shy, at first. But also devastatingly sweet. Excruciatingly compassionate. Sometimes you wondered what you'd done to deserve him — correction, what you'd done to earn his perhaps years- long infatuation with you, which you learned about later. Honestly, you still didn't know. Whenever you tried asking, his prepubescent bashfulness roared back like a Thunderdrum.

Not that you minded too much. It was still cute.

Regardless, whenever you spent time together, it was usually pre-planned. Maybe you'd have lunch together. Maybe you'd go on long flights — dragons either flying in lazy overlapping figure-eights or shooting through the air, diving precariously to skim the surface of the ocean. The location or activity didn't matter much, as long as you were together. Sometimes, you'd just sit together on the high hills near his home and watch the sky. Still, all those things were proper dates, with proper times and proper locations. Hiccup rarely liked to intrude on your personal time.

However, on occasion, he'd break that personal law of his.

This was one of those certain occasions.

He found you, already in your house due to the late hour.

You could tell he'd been out flying, due to his ruffled appearance. Although his hair was always at least a little out of place, it wasn't normally this windswept without good reason. He'd shed his helmet, but not his armor; upon entering, though, he took off his vambraces and delicately placed them on the table nearest the door.

Automatically, he closed the distance, wrapping his arms around your upper back. When you returned his embrace, he practically melted into you, hair tickling your cheek where he'd tucked his head into your shoulder. Hiccup smelled faintly of the sea, and of dragons; it made you wonder just how far he'd gone.

"Hey," he mumbled, muffled into your tunic.

"Hey yourself." Turning just so, you pressed a kiss into his hair. "Something on your mind?"

He backed away a little, raising his head to look at you, but didn't let go. He looked tired, shoulders slumped and eyes faintly shadowed. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

Sounded tired, too. Frowning, you reached up to idly push a lock of auburn hair out of his face. He leaned subtly into your touch, seeking further the warmth of your hand on his skin. At your proximity to him, you could pick out the slight stubble he'd developed. Or his freckles, patterned like constellations across his cheeks and nose. His eyelashes were pretty, too, but he'd never understood why.

"You didn't push Toothless too hard, did you? He's strong, I know, but even he can only take so much before having to rest." Fondly, you added, "he'd follow you to the ends of the Earth, that one."

His eyes softened. "I know. But I swear I didn't wear him out — we only flew for so long before heading back."

"Good."

You looked at each other for a moment, smiling, before your hand found a familiar place on his cheek.

"... Did something happen?"

Hiccup's gaze darted off to the side, his expression fading back into one of weariness.

"Yeah? I guess?" He paused, before glancing back at you. "I should've seen it coming, but, you know me — always blowing things out of proportion, at least by a little bit." Laughing weakly, he probably would've done one of his sardonic arm movements if he wasn't still holding you. Speaking of, his grip tightened, just a bit.

"Long story short, my dad wants me to be his … successor." He winced. "Uh, he wants me to be the next chief."

"Oh."

You searched his expression and didn't find much of anything. "That's … "

" … A lot," finished Hiccup, resigned. "Yeah, it's a lot."

"A lot of … bad stuff?"

Of course, anyone with two working eyes and a brain would be aware of the fact that Hiccup was very much not like his father. Stoick wasn't a bad man, even if he did have his faults — he and his son merely resembled two opposing elements, clashing and yet harmonizing at the same time. Where the current chief of the Hooligans was brash, all fire and aggression, Hiccup was anything but. He kept to himself most of the time, preferring to spend time alone with Toothless.

You believed in him, and you always would — it was just that, if he needed to step up as a leader, you were worried about how he'd handle it.

"Bad stuff, good stuff, just — stuff," he blustered, his voice rising in volume. "Honestly, I've been avoiding my dad. For the past day or so. I can't even look him in the eye without — without thinking about that . " Inhaling sharply, he slowly released his breath in an attempt to calm himself.

It didn't seem to work.

"I can't accept that responsibility."

Quietly, you brushed aside his bangs again. "You haven't talked to him about it at all? He'd listen," you insisted. "He's not as closed-minded as he used to be."

Hiccup's brow furrowed as he stepped back, arms falling back to his sides. "But he still wouldn't understand why. He'd be all— " Dropping his tone and puffing out his chest in a clear imitation of his father, he declared, "Son, it's only inevitable! You might as well step up while ye can! No use denyin' destiny!"

You couldn't help but smirk. "Hey, you got his accent spot-on."

"Why, thank you." He brightened for a moment, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Sometimes I wonder if I exaggerate it."

"Maybe just a little."

"Aw, man." Shaking his head solemnly, he humored you for a moment. But quickly, he was serious again. "Regardless of my expertise in the great, great field of accent imitation … "

"He wouldn't understand that — all of those speeches, and planning, and running the village — it's second nature to him, at this point." Hiccup rolled his shoulders, averting his eyes from yours. "But for me — no, that's not me. I can't be the leader he thinks I'll be — I can't just slip into that role." Running one hand through his hair, he waved his other in a disjointed motion. "Being the pride of Berk doesn't mean I'll automatically become that strong, confident chief that's needed."

"I guess what I'm trying to get at is that — I'm not him. And I never will be." Dropping his hands back to his sides, he turned his attention to the window. Outside, it was dark, but the sky was clear. A drowsy quiet had fallen upon Berk, a far cry from its usual liveliness.

"And I never met my mother, so … what does that make me?"

Finally, he met your eyes once more. Your heart ached for him.

When you pulled him into another hug, he didn't resist.

For a minute, you just stayed like that — wrapped around one another. And then, you broke the silence.

"You don't have to be your father. Or your mother." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, but you kept going. "I know you're still searching for yourself — who you are — but that's alright. People can change and grow over time, Hiccup. Even if they think they can't." You gently traced circles over his back. "Even if you think you can't."

His breath was unsteady as he exhaled.

When he spoke, he sounded vulnerable.

"Do you think that … I could be a good chief?"

You didn't hesitate before responding. "Of course I do. Maybe you're not ready right now, but when you are, you'll be the strong leader that Berk needs." Another kiss, pressed to his temple. "I just know it."

Hiccup sighed deeply, relaxing more into your arms. For a guy as tall and lanky as he was, he had no problem with making himself smaller in your presence. You had a feeling he even preferred it that way.

"What would I do without you, huh?"

Tenderly, he cupped your face.

You couldn't help but tease him, though.

"Wallow in your own despair, maybe." Leaning in slowly, you gave him a look. "Well, more than usual."

He smiled, eyes crinkling up at the corners. "Ouch."

Still, he met you halfway. His lips were a little chapped, maybe, but other than that you had no complaints. As your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer, his hands fell to your waist with a gentle but firm grip. He tasted very faintly of honey.

It was all very sweet — pun not intended — and you didn't stop it when the kiss deepened. He hummed contentedly, just before you parted; both breathing heavier than you had been before. It was only a brief moment, a brief pause -- and then his lips were on yours again. Passionately, not hungrily. He'd never been a taker. Always a giver.

Inches from you, after you parted for maybe the seventh or eighth time — you weren't quite keeping count— he murmured something, breathlessly.

"Can we take this to bed?" He looked at you with nearly half-lidded eyes, and then added a quiet "please?"

"If you want to," you answered, softly.

"Very much," was his reply, followed by another dizzying kiss.

His armor and various articles of gear were soon discarded into a small pile, leaving him in just his dark green tunic, pants, and other assorted under-layers.

At first, he'd been a bit awkward concerning his prosthetic. Insecure. But now, after climbing onto the mattress with you, he deftly removed it and put it to the side with a dull clunk . It didn't come up often as an issue, anyway — after a fair bit of messing around, trying to find positions that wouldn't cause him to lose his balance and topple over, you'd adapted quite easily.

Right now, you weren't even moving at a speed that could possibly make him fall over.

He settled back onto the pillows as you hovered over him. Then, you leaned down to continue what you'd started. His hands settled somewhere on your back — he made a small noise as your tongue slipped into his mouth. Warm and longing, he pulled you impossibly closer, craving the feeling of your body pressed against his.

Soon, his hands snaked below your tunic, seeking out your skin. You giggled, a little — his fingers were always cold after a flight — but they would warm up. In the meantime, you'd help him warm up, too.

Hiccup shivered, almost imperceptibly, as your lips found his neck for a moment. Indulgently, you nibbled once, playfully, and his breath hitched. But he didn't let you continue much longer, and soon you were back to kissing him where he wanted you most. This was exactly how he liked it best; slow and steady, with no rush to completion.

A short while later: you almost missed his words, soft as they were. You felt his calloused fingertips tracing patterns on your back all the while.

"Can I take this off?" He asked, close enough that you could almost feel his lips shaping the syllables.

You whispered a quiet affirmative.

The cool air was fresh on your skin, goosebumps temporarily rippling across the newly-bare areas, but he soothed them. A kiss on your shoulder, your collarbone, just above your chest area, and then — your breath escaped in a shudder as his lips found one of your nipples, a hot contrast to the otherwise crisp temperature. After a cheeky, parting nip, he gave the other the same attention. His eyes slid shut after you let out a small, shaky sigh.

Eventually, you helped him out of his tunic as well, covering the same ground as he had with your lips. His freckles weren't just limited to his face — they were all over his body, pretty much; some on his lean torso, some on his arms, others on his thighs, and even one or two on certain other areas — but you'd get to that later.

He twitched slightly when you thumbed over his bony hips, his hand resting somewhere between the back and top of your head as you kissed a trail from one shoulder, down to just above his waistband, and then back to the other shoulder. Similarly to the map he was making of the world outside Berk, you enjoyed plotting out the routes between the occasional scar or mole. One jagged mark near his navel, from a bad fall into a thornbush. A couple of assorted scratches here and there from more recent events. You paid attention to each and every one.

You looked at him, from where you rested near his chest, your own chest resting on his flat abdomen. He met your gaze — green eyes filled with nothing except pure adoration.

When you moved upwards, kissing him again, he reciprocated eagerly.

It wasn't long until your previously unhurried kisses grew heated. Hot. Heavy. You felt your face warm as you became aware of your desire — having started out subtle, only a nagging feeling at the back of your mind, but now nearly throbbing, tipping into desperation —

—it seemed he felt the same, as he returned what you were giving him enthusiastically. Even though you were pressed up against him again, his hands returning to your chest before sliding down to grip your waist — it wasn't enough, you were determined to take every low moan and high gasp he released—

Hiccup suddenly broke the kiss, nearly panting

You looked at him quizzically, after instinctively chasing his lips — you were about to ask if he was alright, but he spoke first.

"Can we— " Catching his breath, he quickly continued. "—switch? Positions, I mean."

"Oh." It only took you a millisecond to understand what he wanted.

You smiled. "Oh. Sure."

Rolling off of him, it was your turn to lay back. He helped you shimmy out of your trousers — as he slid them down your legs, he paused to press a kiss just above your knee — before tossing your pants on the floor, where they joined the other abandoned clothes. You didn't care much for wrinkles at a time like this. He never cared for wrinkles, period.

A pillow, most likely homemade, was slid underneath your hips. Hiccup had always liked every part of you, you were well aware of it. However, he seemed to enjoy your thighs the most; he especially enjoyed being between them.

His thumbs found your inner thighs, gently drawing them apart as he made himself comfortable on his stomach.

"Okay?" As he glanced up at you, you could pick out his eyelashes once again.

"Yeah," you breathed.

At the first touch of his lips, close to where you wanted them most, you shivered.

He was patient again, drawing nearer and nearer to your sex — he wasn't the type to leave marks but also wasn't completely adverse to a little nipping. Nonetheless, he was gentle all the while, soothing whichever places he graced with his teeth with more open-mouthed kisses.

You were tense with anticipation by the time he finally, finally licked a broad stripe up your cunt.

Vividly, you still remembered the first time he'd eaten you out. What he completely lacked in experience, he made up for with sheer enthusiasm and a nearly all-consuming need to please — now, he still possessed that same enthusiasm, but instead of clumsy kisses and clueless, unskilled lapping, he knew exactly what to do. Hands reaching to cup at the backs of your thighs, he let out a muffled, quiet groan that sent wonderful vibrations dancing up your spine.

He kept up a steady, firm rhythm, eyes fluttering shut again as he busied himself with his task at hand — his tongue working at your folds, flicking up to tease your clit, delving inside your cunt — you were growing wetter by the passing minute. He practically worshiped you, and you were a grateful recipient, a grateful deity to a devout follower.

Your legs trembled as you gradually approached the peak you needed so much. When his lips closed around your sensitive apex and sucked, gently — your hips instinctively twitched upwards, and you couldn't help the sound that tumbled from your mouth in response.

One calloused finger easily slipped inside you, immediately crooking upwards towards your stomach, searching. It didn't take long for you to adjust, and after your whispered pleas, he added another, both massaging at the spot that made you sigh and gasp. All the while, he lavished attention on your clit with his tongue, occasionally letting out soft, nearly inaudible moans of his own.

Even though you couldn't quite see it from your position, his hips shifted against the mattress, seeking just enough relief to take his mind off of his own arousal. But the other, rather large percentage of his attention was still focused on pleasing you — on making you come, trembling, onto his tongue as you had many times before.

Speaking of time — you were unaware of just how much of it passed, but eventually, you felt the familiar coil tightening, warmth pooling low in your abdomen. He must've known, too, because that was precisely when he began doubling his efforts; his fingers prodding insistently in a come hither motion, while he pressed sloppy kisses to your clit, thumbing over the nub with the same already-occupied hand.

Your back arched upwards, towards his mouth. Flushed and quivering, you nearly choked on a gasp. "Hic—"

That was the most warning you could give, before you clenched down on his fingers, hips jerking as you came. Letting out a series of short, nearly wanton exclamations, you let your head sink back further into the pillows as he helped you ride out your orgasm. You saw stars for a split second, winking brightly behind your eyelids.

He kept working at you until the aftershocks had faded, fingers sliding out of you with an almost filthy wet noise.

You were still panting, face hot, as he absentmindedly popped them into his mouth, tongue swirling around his digits — eyes already heavy-lidded, they shut for a moment at your taste. After you returned to Earth, you drew him in for a kiss, not minding the slight tanginess. If anything, it made you want him more.

Upon glancing downward, you could easily see the distinct evidence of Hiccup's desire, straining at his pants.

His breath escaped in a hiss when you leisurely palmed him.

Soon, you'd switched positions again, and you hovered just above his needy cock as he shifted back to lean on the headboard.

You were still slick and loose from earlier, so with only a little bit of a stretch, you sank down on him, taking him inside your still-sensitive cunt; the sensations almost bordering on too much, but perfectly so. His face screwed up once he was fully hilted in your heat, and he paused to adjust himself, breath escaping in quick, high-pitched pants. It wasn't anything new — he was always already beyond worked up after eating you out.

"Good?" You asked, after giving him a few seconds.

"Yeahyeah yeah," he replied in a single breath, hands squeezing your hips, careful not to grip too tight — "gods , you're warm, mmh— "

Slowly, you rocked. His grip tightened the tiniest bit. He didn't push you to go faster at all, or harder, letting you ride him at your own pace — but this wasn't for your pleasure. It was your turn to give and his to take. And so, you gave, brushing over his nipples and biting at the spots that always made him lose control. More and more moans fell from his lips, growing in volume and pitch —

He was begging, quietly, breathlessly. You captured his mouth again, biting his bottom lip, making him squirm. His cock twitched inside you, filling you up just right, as if his body was shaped by divine hands to perfectly fit yours —

You watched, reverently, when he finally reached his own ecstasy — you'd pulled him out, given him a couple of firm pumps — his voice cracked on a final, unrestrained whine as his release splattered across his stomach, thick and warm on your palm. It didn't matter how many times you'd witnessed him come — each time, he looked beautiful.

His breath slowed, the dazedness fading from his expression. His hands loosened on your hips before he finally looked up at you, still considerably flushed.

"That … " He swallowed. "Was that, uh … Fine?"

You almost broke into a fit of giggles, but prevented it before it could happen by kissing him instead. Hiccup was perhaps a bit clumsy, but you didn't mind in the slightest. When you parted, you lingered — neither wanting to move just yet, feeling languid in the afterglow.

"Yes, it was fine," you echoed. His nose wrinkled at your teasing tone, but he couldn't suppress his lopsided smile. A quick peck on your cheek, and then he was back to leaning on the pillows.

"I'm glad it was fine."

The sensation of cooling ejaculate was only bearable for a short amount of time, so eventually you did move to clean up. The wet towel was a little cold on your skin, and he thought so too, but it was all in the service of somewhat-proper hygiene.

Thankfully, the cold failed to slip through the combination of your blankets and Hiccup — which was and had always been a very effective combination.

You slipped into a comfortable slumber like that — both cozy and sated. He wasn't tense in the slightest as he held you, his chest rising and falling in a relaxed rhythm. If you concentrated, you could feel his heartbeat against your bare back.

He always fell asleep before you.

You hoped his dreams consisted of lovely things, always.

#hiccup haddock x reader #hiccup haddock iii x reader #hiccup horrendous haddock x reader #how to train your dragon x reader #how to train your dragon imagines

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ncteez · 1 year

Text

philoselene (k.h.j)

You weren’t sure what to think of Hongjoong, with his ever-changing hair and ever-growing piercings. He is the complete opposite of you, and you’re unsure of why he keeps gravitating toward you, or why he found an interest in you at all. Through his eyes though, he swears you’d be able to handle the weight of the moon if he were to pull it down for you.

or the one where hongjoong would do just about anything for you, and he can’t help but show it when he’s got you on top of him for the first time.

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog.

WORDCOUNT― 6.2k

PAIRING― alt!stoner!hongjoong x afab reader

CONTENT― some weed smoking and moon gazing happen, a little bit of them struggling to translate their thoughts into words that make sense, very fluffy stuff, he’s a little shy about his body, service top hongjoong, first time together, intensely passionate smut

NOTE― just fyi, i know the description makes it seem like the reader is insecure. I can assure you, she is not. It’s just two people learning that they fit together like a puzzle, and wanting to know each other’s thought processes. anyway, im very in love with hongjoong and that’s why I basically just wrote comfort smut. BYE. not proof read so pls dont point out my typos, ill actually cry.

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― makeout sessions, they’re really really high so the experience is kind of slow motion, frottage, sweet-talking rather than dirty talking, brief mutual masturbation, missionary on a couch, he’s a service top but it’s not heavily described here bc like– he’s just hella into her and feels good no matter what she does, ummm, unprotected sex bc im lazy

The man whose hair changes at each new moon cycle, the one who smells like winter but has the eyes of a smoldering flame spreading to a forest fire. Both his charm and his wit are entirely unmatched if anyone you’ve ever met in your life is to go by. His hands are the most gentle, and goddamn does he know how to dress to piss off the local business owners.

A new ear piercing for him usually meant heartbreak, be it a lost friend, a failed project, or even an incorrect lunch order at the run-down diner across town. Everything about Hongjoong is telling. He is not mysterious, nor does he want to be.

You, on the other hand, are the complete opposite in terms of how you carry yourself. You worry too much, your posture is slouched when it shouldn’t be, your confidence wavers more often than you’d like to admit, and you keep to yourself most of the time. Minimizing yourself, snuffing out any flame or glow that threatens to show to anyone less than a close friend. You dress much like your personality, muted.

This is why you question the dynamic on each date you end up on with Hongjoong. Dinner dates, movie dates, walks in the park. Normal. fucking. dates. The dynamic between the two of you is anything but natural to you. Time after time now, seeing him after sunset looking at you much like he would if he were seeking out constellations, you feel like you’re not a person meant to be looked at this way. You’ll never get used to another person wanting to spend this time with you, like they’re finding comfort in your silence. What do you have that seems to fulfill him?

Even now, six hours after the date started, you find yourself next to Hongjoong and his bright smile. The small rolled joint burned out minutes ago, and the dull city skyline bursts with pinks and purples from the sunset. His smile is one that is entirely soft and focused on you. All of his attention, on you. The one thing in the world you hate, he gives to you and makes you feel as though you don’t hate it nearly as much as you did before meeting him.

“Hongjoong,” You whisper into the brisk air, bumping your leg against his as he tilts his chin up as if to let you know he’s listening to whatever you want to say. “This is our– what? Seventh date?”

He nods with a hum.

“First time at my place though, so we can still call it a first date.” He offers, reaching his arms out and feeling the stretch of his muscles relax him. His arms fall back to his side and his eyes fall back on you.

Never have you had this many first dates, nor has any man treated each date as such.

“Why do you do that?” You laugh, slouching back against the weathered wicker couch, the balcony offering both the most wonderful and shitty view of the city.

“Do what?” He asks, turning slightly towards you with a curious look.

“Like, I don’t know,” you trail off, for some reason unable to look him in the eye as you continue to spiral into the slow and fuzzy high that his weed offers to you. He looks insanely attractive tonight, especially in this lighting. The colors somehow glow against his skin, contrasting with the dark and plush sweater he has on. It’s weathered much like this wicker furniture, but you imagine he’s comfortable inside of that sweater, sitting on this furniture, breathing in the same air you’re breathing out. “You always call each date the first one, I’m wondering when it’ll be, like, something more than that?”

You can hear yourself talking and you can’t help but think you sound fucking stupid, but he chuckles in response.

“I probably sound lame saying it but, I like that I learn something new about you each time. It’s not my fault that it always feels like a first date with you.” He laughs, making a face towards you that makes you laugh a bit louder than expected.

“You act like I have something new and interesting to tell you every day,” He cuts you off as you try to speak.

“For instance, today I learned that you don’t even like the coffee I bring to you.” He’s snide when he says it, raising a brow at you.

“What? Yes, I do!” You defend, definitely lying as you feel your stomach hit the concrete floor of his balcony. You’ve always been a terrible liar.

“Is that why you always leave it in my cup holder pretending like you forgot it?”

You narrow your eyes at him but can’t keep up the act much longer as the smile creeps wider across your lips.

“You’re too observant of me,” You joke, not realizing how true it actually is. “You know I usually spend my days avoiding the idea of people noticing what I do, right?”

He nods towards you, face fond and droopy from his high.

“I think you’re cute when you notice that I notice,” he blinks away from you, watching the sun fall and the moon take its rightful spot in the sky. “Besides, if you don’t like it, you’d stop letting me take you out, right?”

He’s actually looking for confirmation this time, not looking at you, and mostly preparing for the make-it-or-break-it moment now that you’ve finally worked up the courage to stop going with his flow.

“I think I’m just confused over you wanting to spend time with me at all, actually.” You admit, knowing for a fact that you appear to be the most boring human alive, and not many people stick around to find the actual personality within you.

Hongjoong looks at you this time, genuinely shocked that you’d even say that or feel confused over why he chooses to spend time with you.

“Well, I can go down a list of reasons, if you want?”

You prop yourself up, fixing your posture and wiggling your brows.

“Please, do.” You say, feeling a permanent smile form on your face.

Hongjoong claps his hands on his thighs before lifting his legs and turning on the wicker couch to face you, tucking himself into the smallest version of himself as he huddles into his oversized sweater.

“Alright, for starters, you’re not as boring as you think you are. What person would have climbed that no-trespassing fence with me without asking a single question?”

He’s just gloating at you now. Most people would absolutely do that with him.

“Literally, anyone would have done that with you.”

He waves you off.

“You like the same anime I like and the same music. You even knew of the band I was in during my senior year of high school!”

You nod, he’s got a point there.

“You’re not loud or constantly demanding attention. I like that you just kind of exist. Sometimes I just need to exist too, but people always expect more, you know?”

Hongjoong’s eyes trail off, landing on the darkening sky and seeking out the moon.

“When we hang out, I feel like there’s nothing we actually need to do in order to call it a date. You’re the only person I’ve continuously taken out. You’ve made it clear that you expect nothing from me.”

You nod, but tilt your head in question as your own eyes follow his gaze to the moon.

“So, it makes me want to give you everything.”

Unsure of if it’s the weed talking through him or if he meant what he just said, you still find yourself melting a bit at his voice when he says it. The words feel like they hold a lot of weight for him, and you didn’t even know that weight existed until now.

“Do you always say these types of things when the moon is in the right position, and the weed is dank as hell?”

He snorts, tucking his chin into his chest as he laughs before reaching out and swatting you on the shoulder.

“What I’m trying to get at here, because I know by now that you’re not going to pick up on any hints is that I kind of want this to be the last first date.”

You find yourself panicking at that, unsure of what the fuck that’s supposed to mean. Hongjoong instantly regrets his awful attempt at wording that. “Unmatched wit” his ass, he can genuinely say the dumbest shit in the most important situations.

“Wait–” He pauses, mouth falling slack as he visibly searches his brain for the correct words. “Okay, let me rephrase that.”

You wait, feeling relieved at his panic and the slow recovery of what he just said to you.

“What I meant by last first date, is like, um–” It’s lost on him again as you watch his eyes squint into a smile instead, the sparkle of his eyes matching the glints from his various earrings. “I’m trying to ask you to be my girlfriend, fuck.”

This. This is another reason why he likes you this much. Though he saw your eyes fall, and though he said what he needed to say incorrectly at first, you didn’t question him. You didn’t put words in his mouth or react in a way that wouldn’t allow his own recovery. His ability to talk to women right now is highly reduced, but his ability to talk to you is forever comfortable even when he fucks up. You let him fuck that up, and now you’re smiling at him and he can’t help but let his heart swell three times its original size.

“So,” he coughs, looking back to the moon and then back at you. “I guess we can’t have any more first dates if every time we see each other, we are technically, like, dating, right?”

You snort at his inability to string together a coherent sentence, knowing full well that both of you have the ability to navigate everyday conversations high. Given the fact that the two of you have been in public before pretending like you didn’t just hotbox his car. It’s just that, this isn’t an everyday conversation and you’d like to think that you probably sound like an idiot too. You’re somehow right there with him even if you feel like you’re on two different pages of two different books.

“You have a point,” you say, managing to fit his words into a sentence that makes sense in your brain. “Delivery could have been better though.”

The lighting on his cheekbones says enough about his own permanent smile matching yours. If you believed in fairytales, you’d genuinely think that the two of you are in your own little world with nothing but the moon and expensive ass weed.

“You’re supposed to say yes, by the way.” Hongjoong urges you, both of you kind of entering into a giggle fit because of the warmth spreading throughout your bodies.

You nod, agreeing that, yes, you’ll definitely be his girlfriend.

The first kiss with Hongjoong may have been the warmest you’ve ever felt. It was smooth, a little peckish, and overall quite sweet. Even over the weeks he had been taking you out, he never once kissed you or did little more than be some of the best company you could find yourself with. The first kiss taking place after making things official was something you weren’t used to.

And so, that first kiss on his balcony became a second kiss, and then a third and fourth, until the two of you moved into his living room to escape the breeze that had by then made your fingers cold. Fifth, sixth, seventh– and then finally, the eight kiss was one that could have meshed all of the kisses in your life into one. The first heated kiss.

His couch became more comfortable than it was when you first came here, especially now with him beside you, cradling your face and leaving gentle kisses all along your jawline before trailing back to your lips. He’s your boyfriend now and for some reason, you don’t feel yourself doubting why that is. He is proving to you right now how much he likes you, and you try to do the same for him. Your hazy eyes are unable to stay open for too long under the pressure of his lips fluttering all over your face, and you feel loved for the first time in a long time.

It didn’t feel awkward to reach up with your eyes closed to try and put your fingers in his hair, even when you accidentally knocked him on the cheek instead. It didn’t feel like an alarm went off when he tugged at you to pull you over him, leaning himself back on the couch and reaching blindly for the tv remote to avoid the silence in the room save for lips smacking.

For the first time with another person, you felt safe and at home when his hands were roaming your body.

Both jackets were already off, and your cold fingers warmed up in his as he would eventually intertwine his fingers with yours as he kissed you. It didn’t feel rushed, and maybe it was just because you both were in a lazy state of peaked high, but you can almost feel every single touch be amplified. You’d be lying if you said your entire body wasn’t tingling. More silent than it has ever been between the two of you, it still feels like it’s where you should be.

Hongjoong’s fingers in yours, his lips on yours, his tongue licking against yours, all of it is good. The sensations swam throughout your body to the point that you barely even notice that you’re turned on.

Is it too much on the…what was it, seventh date? Is it too much on the first night of being his girlfriend after your first and eighth or thirteenth kiss? His lips are curled into this permanent little smile that tells you otherwise. He’s the one who pulled you on top of him, he’s the one who hasn’t pushed because he somehow knew you were enjoying the steamy make out session too much to let it end here.

There’s no end goal at this moment with Hongjoong, nothing is telling you that you need to get off or get him off despite your body already tingling for it. There’s no rush with the man under you, with his moon-like eyes and messy dyed hair. He’s just as telling as he always has been, and without a word, you know that at this moment, he would take anything you give him and be perfectly content.

“I can see you thinking, you know,” Hongjoong whispers, his fingers tightening their grip between your own. “We can just do this, I’m perfectly fine with just this.”

You shake your head at him, squeezing his fingers and looking at him for a brief moment. Seeing him now like this, with his kissed lips and his hair just as messy as always, it hits you again that he’s yours. Not in a way that’s possessive, but like, he wants to be yours, and he wants you to be his.

Your eyes glance down to his lap, with his length sitting firmly between your legs and it makes your heart swell. Typically, men in this position would push you, pull you, and move you around on their arousal to try and get some sort of release but, not Hongjoong. He’s containing himself, assuring you that you don’t have to do anything more. Regardless of you sitting on his thighs, dangerously close to being able to please him this way.

“Do you want more, though?” You ask him.

His eyes are half-lidded and looking up at you as you speak, glancing down to your lips again as if he already misses them. You can see his answer in the silence, his grip on your hand tightening as his brain malfunctions at the very idea of you being the one to ask. He wants more for the sake of having you, but he also wants more for the sake of pleasing you.

“Yeah?” You ask for confirmation of his silent answer, leaning down to kiss against the corner of his mouth before leaning back again.

He gives you a reassuring nod, his other hand snaking around your waist and pulling you closer to him, onto his hardened length with a soft mewl at you.

“I do,” he whispers against your ear, nuzzling his nose against your neck and trying to prevent his hips from bucking up as you sit on him. “I can give you more, too.”

The way he says it to you with a soft rasp makes your stomach do flips, almost as if he’s pleading for you to let him, it makes your entire body tingle. Never has a man made you feel this way when you’re being intimate. You suppose Hongjoong is right though, from what he said before, about how almost every date appears to be the first one with the number of new things you learn about each other.

You don’t need to respond to him though, because almost immediately after those words you turn your face slightly to kiss his temple, and he instantly releases your hand and puts it on the other side of your waist. Practically caging you against him as he holds you in place and dips back in to kiss you.

Within that kiss, you can hear his need. Throaty groans as he presses his length against you. Only the sound of fabric rubbing against fabric can be heard but it’s kind of a pretty sound. His weathered sweater feels warm when you tangle your fingers into the loosened fringe along his neck like, trying to work your hips to match his within this tight hug.

By the time he notices that you’re moving your hips on him, his grip loosens and he pulls back from the kiss, watching you pull yourself up and planting your arms on his shoulders to actually grind against him.

He runs his hands up and down your waist at this point, eyes watching the way you work yourself against him with a deep and burning fondness. He appears to be in awe, a crooked smirk appearing on his softened and kissed lips.

“You know,” Hongjoong chuckles softly, closing one eye and focusing on the feeling of the dry drag against him.. “It might just be because I’m high but I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good with denim practically rubbing me raw–”

Your hips stop, and you try to ignore the fact that on any other day, those words would have absolutely ruined the mood, but for some reason, it doesn’t. You let out a breathy laugh, falling forward and laughing against his neck. The moon must be in the right position or something tonight, because everything does feel insanely good. Then again, maybe it’s just that he’s in the right position, or maybe it’s just you.

“Why would you–” You cut yourself off as you laugh, breathing in the scent of him once more before leaning back and backing off of his lap slightly. The look he gives you is nothing but fond and it kind of makes you feel more dazed than you already do. “Let's take them off then?”

Hongjoong gives you a polite nod, his hands releasing you but still chasing your warmth as you pull yourself off of him and wait for him to remove his pants.

He’s quick with it, of course, and you take it another step further to take yours off too, not looking him in the eye as you do it. Almost to hope that he doesn’t see you do it, to hope that he won’t think about it, or smile at it, or make a comment on it.

Thankfully, he doesn’t and when you sit back on his lap, feeling his bare legs against yours and noting how fucking warm his skin is, all you can do is pretend like feeling someone else’s skin against yours is supposed to feel fleeting like this.

Your panties sit against his boxers now, and his warmth seeps through you so fast that you want to feel more. See more, touch more, kiss more, love more. You don’t hesitate to loop your fingers into a particularly big rip on his sweater and tug on it.

“This too?” He tilts his head, his own hand fiddling with the same rip that your fingers are intertwined with, and then looks away shyly..

All you can do is feel yourself spiraling further into the feeling of being with him. He’s got one strand of hair standing stiffly too, probably from the static of the couch rubbing against it, but it’s cute. It’s attractive, everything about him is attractive.

His eyes continue to avoid your eyes when he lifts his sweater off of him, shivering at the cool apartment air hitting his skin all over rather than just through those rips and tears. You take note, especially when he does look at you and pulls you down into a kiss again as quickly as he can. He’s not letting you see him like this, bare from the waist up and almost from the waist down.

The two of you must have been one soul at one point because you know what he’s doing and never have you had to be the one on the other side of this situation. Usually, you’re the one hiding when it feels overwhelming, you’re the one imagining that the person with you would be searching for imperfections. You pull back from his kiss, looking into his eyes before glancing down at his bare chest and stomach.

“You’re being shy,” You comment, leaning down to plant a kiss on his collarbone before looking back at him and tilting your head. “You’re never shy.”

You work up the confidence in yourself now, lifting your shirt off and doing your best not to immediately mimic what he’s already done. Meaning, you don’t hide your exposed skin and instead, you try to sit proudly on top of him.

Hongjoong just watches, his lips falling slack at your bareness with a relieved sigh.

“How can I not be shy right now?” he smiles, leaning himself up this time and kissing against the plush flesh of your breast.

You sigh at the feeling of his lips against your chest, fingers automatically finding their way into his hair as you focus on the feeling. The emotion of it all sends you into overdrive because really? Everything about Hongjoong is loud, and you’re making him shy?

The goosebumps continuously rise and fall as he works his lips across one breast to the other, up until his fingers are pushing the fabric of your bra to the side. He pulls back momentarily to look at them, eyes darting from one nipple to the other before looking up at your face.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.” Hongjoong admits, dipping in and flicking one of your nipples with his tongue.

“Oh?” You ask, officially grinding your hips again on his lap, feeling his cock twitch in his boxers. The drag feels lighter now that there’s not much fabric preventing the feeling. “For how long?”

“Third date,” he admits, trailing back to the other breast and sucking just next to your nipple, his other hand easily stimulating the one he just neglected. “Didn’t want to rush with you though, I’m always rushing.”

You hum at his words, feeling special. All he makes you feel is special. And when he finally releases your chest from his mouth and falls back against the couch, even the way he looks at you confirms that your feelings about this aren’t unfounded.

You put more effort into your hips now, your mind spinning by this point at the way his touches are gentle. His chest rises and falls with each perfect drag up his length, small mewls of pleasure spilling from his lips every few seconds. Still, he just looks at you.

There’s really no rush here and the scary part about it is that you’re already so worked up that you wouldn’t mind a bit of rushing by this point.

More and more you move your hips, and more and more Hongjoong appears to lose his composure. His hands gripping at you, his eyes unable to stay on one part of your body for too long, his teeth showing as he bites his lip just to compose himself from making the next step– and then–

There it is. There he is, lunging forward and grabbing you, pulling you so close to him that your core is now seated directly on the head of his leaking cock. He moans at the pressure, kissing against your lips with so much passion that you wonder if he know’s how hot that was.

He’s lost in the moment and you can’t help but love it. With the way one of his hands holds your cheek as he kisses you and the other finds itself against your ass to push and pull you on his lap. At this point, you wonder if he could get off this way. With the way he’s acting, you think he could. Easily.

“Hongjoong,” You manage to gasp during the short breath between his frantic kiss. “We can–”

You’re cut off by him kissing you again, his hand guiding you down and forward on his length in a way that tells you he’s listening. He’s imagining what you’re about to say.

“We can,” He groans in an answer to your unfinished question, taking in a deep breath when he pulls back from the kiss and looking down to see the head of his cock occasionally peeking from the waistband of his boxers. “Just tell me what you want.”

Words escape you in that moment, so you use your body instead. Scooting back and almost taking the boxers with you you see a glimpse of his length. Heavy, leaking, twitching at the loss of your weight against it. You stare, wanting to devour this man whole at that moment but you hold back. You can give him head another time, honestly. After spending so long making out, grinding, and him playing with your breasts? You’re kind of ready to rush. Even just for a moment.

He watches your hands as they lower the boxers further, pulling them down until you can tuck them under your thighs to hold them in place. There, you just look at his cock and he just looks at you.

After a few seconds, you glance at him with shy eyes, blinking in a way to try and hide your blatant lust for what’s between his legs. He might believe that seeing you look at him this way is the best thing he’s ever experienced. His cock twitches unintentionally when he notices your blown pupils, especially when his eyes trail down. Now that the seat of your panties isn’t grinding against him, he can see a glimpse of the darkened wet spot.

Now what to do? The two of you sitting here, horny out of your goddamn mind and the weed on top of it amplifying every touch, you can imagine that you both look like a pair of deer in headlights.

Hongjoong finishes what you started though, running his hand down your sides before grabbing himself and gently pumping once. You watch as he gathers the dripping pre-cum in his palm before smoothing it down his entire length while his eyes never leave the spot between your legs. Then he continues that, touching himself as you’re on him as if to tell you that he can finish himself off so you don’t have to.

Without really thinking, you find your own hand doing the same, sliding down your panties and the instant your fingers bump against your clit, you jolt and find yourself letting out a soft and pained moan at the sensitivity.

“That–” Hongjoong takes in a sharp breath at the sound, squeezing the base of his cock with his hand and closing his eyes. “sounded so fucking pretty.”

It wasn’t intentional and for a brief moment, you felt embarrassed by the sound. Once again though, Hongjoong pulls that confidence out of you like it’s what he was born to do. At this point though, your legs feel like jelly after being spread on top of him for so long and you think he can tell.

“Mm, let’s move,” He comments, releasing his cock and tapping you with the other hand to stand up. “Lay back, I'll do the rest.”

He gently instructs you, grabbing a pillow and placing it at the end of the couch for your head to lay against. You do so without question, both your legs and heart are weak at seeing him like this.

“There, better?” He asks after you lay back. He leans over your side after a short nod from you and leaves a gentle kiss against your lips before placing his hand against your thigh. “Can I take these off?”

You nod, feeling him slip your panties down your legs before you watch him shimmy off his own boxers.

There, there it is. Both of you are entirely vulnerable to each other for the first time and you don’t feel a hint of wanting to stop. Not a worry, doubt, or insecurity can or will stop you at this moment.

He doesn’t let his eyes linger for too long at your exposed core just yet and instead he opts to place himself between your legs before leaning down and kissing you much like before. He can’t get enough of your lips if he’s being honest though.

You can feel the weight of his cock resting between your thigh and pussy and it does nothing more than make you want it more. You want him so bad by this point that you can’t really question how dumb you could sound actually asking for it.

“Can you, like–” Your words are lost on you when he pulls back with a small smile and a curious look.

“Do you want to?” He asks, despite knowing this is where the situation was headed.

You give a shy nod, reaching your hand down between the two of you and gripping him yourself for the first time.

He lets out a shaky breath with a laugh, humping his hips forward and into your hand intentionally when he does it.

“Fuck,” He seethes out. “Yeah, okay.” He sighs this time, without shame still fucking himself into your hand and showing a desperate need for what you’re asking for.

You can’t help but get lost in it. Your hand guided his cock down and against your clit for a brief moment of sensitive relief before releasing a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding when you position him at your entrance.

He pushes in without holding back, but he’s slow with it. The head of his cock sank into the warm and clenched walls causing a pleasant stretch. Both of you let out a moan at this, feeling him push in slowly, continuously, until he’s bottomed out and nuzzling against your ear.

“Sound so pretty when you moan,” he babbles against your ear, leaving wet and warm condensation from his breath there. “You could drive me insane like this.”

You moan again, not entirely for his pleasure but simply because it feels so good. His cock pulsing inside of you when you clench around him, his soft voice in your ear. Sensory overload has never felt so fucking euphoric to you.

“Like that, yeah.” Hongjoong rasps out this time, pulling his head back in time with his hips. Almost emptying you entirely before pushing back in with that same languid drag of his hips. His eyes are on you now though, arms at either side of your head as he works up a lazy kind of rhythm. One that offers a deep thrust each time.

You can’t help the sounds that fall from your lips, and you can’t help that your pussy is throbbing around him, and certainly, you can’t help that the feeling of one of his hands moving to your chest before dipping his head down and sucking against it makes you moan out a bit louder.

With each moan, he almost mimics you with his own. He’s riding off of the pleasure he’s giving to you. Then again, he’s always been fond of pretty sounds. Music is his passion but hearing you make such delicate sounds for him makes his head spin in all sorts of directions.

His thrusts become more pointed after a few minutes, fucking into you at a pace that feels equally as deep but more powerful now. Your hands grip at anything you can get ahold of, meaning, you grip him. His arms, his back, and then finally you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down.

His hips stutter at that before he grabs one of your legs and hikes it up and around his waist. This allows him to position himself slightly differently, fucking into you at an angle as his lips immediately fall to yours with a breathy laugh.

You can’t kiss him back this time though, with the new angle he’s driving into you causing his cock to bump repeatedly against a soft spot inside of you. Your mouth is left slack, releasing empty moans against his attempts to kiss you.

He takes intense note of it, keeping up his pace and falling in love with the way you react to this angle. His hands find purchase above your head and he leans back to watch you as he fucks into you.

“God,” He says slightly out of breath, dipping in briefly to kiss you on the forehead. “I’m going to come in about five seconds if you keep doing this.”

Your eyes roll back slightly at his words and instantly you’re shoving your hand between the two of you to push yourself over the edge. He swats your hand away though, still fucking into you all while intertwining his fingers with yours and using his other hand to do the work for you.

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you,” He says, rubbing his fingers in harsh circles around your sensitive clit. “Let me take care of you,” he adds in a huff, his hips becoming more frantic each time he feels your pussy tense around him.

Just like that, you’re releasing in waves with trembling legs. To the point that you throw your other leg around his waist and essentially push him into you with such force that he can’t even thrust anymore. You hold him there, riding out your high and struggling to comprehend the fact that this man isn’t always attached to you like this.

He lays there, his head forced into the crook of your neck as he feels you come around him, clenching him so tightly that he can’t really help it either. Your warm and wet pussy is absolutely soaking him and all he can do is let it. All he can do is feel it, to the point that he’s driven over the edge too.

Even when you release your death grip hug, he stays in place, nuzzling further against your neck with choked moans and tight presses of his hips. He’s trying to drive his cock deeper than it can go as he releases it, the feeling too good for him to think straight. You run your fingers through his hair as he does it, trailing your fingernails down to his neck and across his back.

You can feel the goosebumps on his skin under your fingers, and when his body finally goes limp on top of you, all you can do is continue that motion. Scratching, rubbing, soothing him through both of your post-orgasm brain fog.

Becoming Hongjoong’s girlfriend was something that should have been expected if you’re being honest. It should be a normal relationship, with normal arguments, and normal sex. Except it’s not.

The relationship is anything but normal but you’d like to say you prefer it this way. With the late night dates to empty parking lots just to be outside of your own spaces, the gas station runs where the two of you need to buy every snack known to man to satiate your munchies. The repeat tv shows playing on his television because you never quite catch what happened in episode six despite watching in four times. To be fair, episode six always comes on when you’re almost entirely wrapped up with your boyfriend.

His hands are always stained with hair dye because he can’t be bothered to wear gloves, your hands are stained with hair dye too because you can’t not run your fingers through it when he’s between your legs. He’s always adding color to your life, be it literally or emotionally.

There’s something strange about the way he balances you. In public with him, all attention is on his ripped clothes and shining piercings and a quirk of the brow always comes when they see you holding his hand.

You kind of like the attention these days though.

#hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong smut #ateez smut

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trickphotography2 · 5 months

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Santa's North Island Delivery Service

Stuck at work, Bradley is missing his daughter's first Christmas Eve. But when the squadron decides to turn the hanger into Santa's Workshop, the pilot is able to sneak away to spend a little time with his girls. (Inspired by a true story; Rooster x Reader Christmas fluff)

Word count: 2.4K

Ao3 | Masterlist

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Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw was officially having the worst Christmas Eve. Not only was he stuck at work doing absolutely nothing, he was missing his daughter’s first Christmas Eve.

With his boots kicked onto his desk, he leaned back in his chair and scrolled through the photos you’d sent him throughout the night. At eight months old, Bennett was too young to really know what was going on, but it didn’t make it suck any less. He wanted to see her lying under the tree, colored lights reflecting in her eyes. (He’d already set that picture as his home screen.)

“Hey, Lieutenant?” A knock on his door drew his attention, and he looked up to see Petty Officer Second Class Wagner, one of the head mechanics, standing there.

“Yeah?” Rooster said, sitting up. Even though he outranked the enlisted man, Wagner was one of the most respected non-commissioned officers in the squadron. To cheer up the men stuck working the night shift, he’d organized a movie night after doing a Christmas movie bracket throughout the week - National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation had barely edged out Die Hard.

“You got anything at home that needs to be assembled before going under the tree?”

“Huh?”

“Any gifts for the kiddo that need to be put together? We’re getting a list of stops together for the trucks.” Rooster gave him a confused look, which made the man chuckle. “We’re bored, so we figured we’d set up some presents for everyone’s kids in the hangar. The first group of guys are heading out now to get stuff, and then we’ll swap.”

“Oh, uh… yeah, I think there’s a couple things. Let me check with my girlfriend.” With a nod, Wagner left, leaving Rooster to stare at his phone. After a moment, he called you.

“Hey, babe,” you said, answering on the third ring. He could hear babbling in the background.

“Hey. Have you started getting things together to go under the tree?”

“Not yet. We’re just finishing up bath time, and then we’re gonna get cookies out for Santa and go to bed, aren’t we, Benny girl?”

“Any chance you can hold off for about an hour?” Bradley asked, unable to keep from smiling at the sound of his daughter giggling.

“Are you getting off work early?” It was hard to miss the sound of hope and excitement in your voice, and he hated to dash it.

“No, but I’m gonna run home and pick up some stuff.” You hummed.

“Okay. I’ll try and keep her up. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Alright, love you.”

“Love you too.” Hanging up the call, Bradley dropped his head and tapped the phone against his forehead. It was only your second Christmas together and the first as parents, and he was already missing things. You’d assured him it was okay and that you understood that his job sometimes meant spending time apart, but he hated it.

“You’re a mean one, Benny Grinch,” you sang, gently bouncing your daughter as she howled. Letting your head fall back, you blew out a long breath. The crying fit couldn’t last forever.

Though overly tired, she was fighting against going to sleep. It was a nightly battle, but one that Bradley usually helped to fight. You’d learned early on that he had what you lovingly called the Sleeper Hold - the minute Benny was tucked into her father’s arms, her eyes would start to close. Shifting her onto your shoulder, you glanced at your watch and sighed. As much as you wanted to wait to finish the bedtime routine until Bradley got home, it was getting late. “Alright, sweetie,” you cooed, grabbing your water bottle and retreating to the nursery. “Let’s get settled in.”

With the white noise machine and night light on, you settled into the rocking chair and lifted your shirt. Benny rooted for a moment before latching onto your nipple, making you inhale sharply at the pinch. Digging your toes into the carpet, you gently rocked back and forth, holding your daughter’s gaze as she ate. “Merry Christmas, Bennett,” you whispered, stroking her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed as she grunted. You closed your eyes, comforted by the warm weight of your daughter in your arms and the tugging at your breast.

“Hey.” The soft, raspy voice roused you from the trance you’d fallen into, and you lifted your head to see Bradley standing in the doorway.

“Hey,” you replied sleepily. His long legs ate up the space between you until he was beside you, leaning down to press his lips to your forehead. The familiar scratch of his mustache had your eyes fluttering closed again.

“She done?” Bradley asked, a large hand coming down to cup your daughter’s head.

“Should be soon.” At his touch, Benny startled from her doze, suckling hard and squirming.

“You need anything?”

“The sleeper hold in a minute to finish her off.” In the dim lighting, you saw Bradley grin before he leaned down again to brush his lips against yours.

“I can do that.” As if on cue, Bennett released your breast, her breath a soft pant against your tender skin. Without a word, Bradley took her and settled her on his shoulder, patting her back. “Hey, Benny, were you good for mommy tonight?” He paced the nursery as you reached for one of the breast pads and cleaned up. When a loud burp sounded, you heard him chuckle. “That’s my girl.”

You took a moment to appreciate the sight before you - your boyfriend in his tight khaki uniform cooing to your daughter as she rubbed her face into his shoulder to fight sleep. “How long do you have before you have to head back?”

“I’ve got about thirty minutes,” Bradley replied, turning on his heel to face you while pacing the room. “Benny girl, the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner Santa comes.”

“I’m not sure she’s old enough for that bribery to work yet.” His grin blinded as he kissed the back of her head, lightly bouncing her.

“Gonna be fun when she is. We’ll track him with NORAD and everything.” Shaking your head, you stood and kissed both of their cheeks.

“You get her down, and I’ll start pulling out the gifts.”

“Put aside anything that needs to be put together or wrapped, and I’ll take it to the hanger. Apparently, that’s what we’re gonna do for the rest of the shift.” With a mocking salute, you left the nursery to the sound of him humming a lullaby.

Ten minutes later, Bradley crept out of the nursery with the baby monitor in hand and joined you in grabbing the presents stashed around the house. The Daggers had dropped off their gifts throughout the week, and your family had mailed theirs. The craftsman that you’d helped Bradley purchase when he moved to North Island didn’t have the best hiding spots - it wasn’t exactly something he needed when you’d been his real estate agent - but with Benny so little, it was a problem for the future. “I think we may have overdone it,” you sighed, setting an unwrapped toy on the couch. The floor by the tree was already covered with wrapped presents.

“Nope, just enough,” Bradley chuckled, opening his arms. With a scoff, you stepped into his embrace, smiling as he swayed you. A dark spot decorated his shoulder, and you gently wiped away your daughter’s drool. “Gotta spoil my girls.”

“I really hope you kept to our budget for each other.” When he stayed silent, you pulled away and cocked an eyebrow. “Bradley Bradshaw, you stayed within the budget, right?”

“I stayed within our Christmas budget,” he answered, his hands gliding down your back to cup your ass as his mustache tickled your throat. “Love you, baby.”

“I love you too. Now, help me get all of this stuff under the tree. Did you want to do her stocking?”

There was a whoop, and Bradley turned to see three guys crouched on the hanger floor cheering as they played with a racetrack. Another corner had been designated as the bike assembly space, an array of tools spread on the ground. One of the card tables had been dragged out from the break room, and it was covered with popcorn and an assortment of cookies.

Unsure of where to go, Bradley walked towards a few other officers standing in the corner. “Hey, Rooster,” Captain “Taco” Bell said as he neared. “We were just talking about ordering pizza for everyone. Would you throw in?”

“Yeah. Does anyone know if there’s a system here, or does it just go wherever?”

“Wagner’s in charge,” Payback shrugged, nodding towards the NCO helping assemble a kitchen playset. “You got stuff for Benny?”

“Just a few things. Brought some of the smaller stuff to wrap, too.” The two men quickly went to the Bronco to unload the gifts. Setting them in a pile with a couple of rolls of wrapping paper, they quickly assembled the play sets. A few other guys drifted by, helping to slot the plastic pieces together or offering to help wrap. Boxes piled up on one end of the hanger, and a sign-up sheet for folks who had larger gifts at the house that needed to be assembled was passed around. It looked like at least six families were getting swingsets or trampolines. Bradley idly wondered about setting up a swing in the backyard in the summer. In the meantime, he assembled the small slide that would be perfect for the living room.

The pizza arrived around 10:00PM, and there was a quick break. As they sat around the hangar, the Santa letter exchange happened. Wagner supplied blank papers with a printed Christmas border, and the parents swapped letters for others to write the replies. “This saved my ass one year,” Wagner shared. “My middle daughter was starting to question Santa, and boom - different handwriting. Got her for at least another year.”

Around midnight, the squadron split into three sections - one to stay back and clean up the hanger, and two to deliver gifts and set up the presents. Bradley packed up his gifts and put them into the back of the Bronco. He was joined by three guys to set up a trampoline. Aided by headlamps, they were able to get it done in about an hour with only a few pinched fingers in the process, which was worth it to test it out.

A trampoline was added to the Christmas list when Benny was a bit older.

After touching base with Wagner, they headed to the second house to set up another trampoline before returning to the hangar. The third team left to assemble a swingset while they settled in to watch Die Hard for their last two hours on shift.

Tucked away in his office, Bradley set about wrapping his last present.

“Benny girl, look here!” you cooed, trying to get your daughter to look as you snapped pictures. Sitting in her father’s lap, she slapped the present in front of her and shrieked. Bradley laughed, quickly shifting his hold to wipe the drool from his wrist onto his sweatpants before retrieving his cup of coffee. Even with just two hours of sleep, he wasn’t willing to push back Christmas morning. After taking a sip, he set the mug down and took Benny’s hand, sliding it under the paper seam. Her hand flew up, ripping the paper.

“Good girl!” he chuckled, helping her tear the rest away to reveal stacking cups. It took about an hour to get through the presents, trading off the baby to get pictures.

A small stack of presents surrounded you as Bradley opened his new electric razor. “Thanks, baby,” he said, crawling across the living room floor to kiss you. With one hand on Benny’s stomach to keep her upright in your lap, you cupped his cheek and ran your thumb along his scars.

“You’re welcome, babe. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” Pushing onto his feet, he quickly shoved the wrapping paper into the trash bag and ran a hand through his hair. “That looks like almost everything.”

“Unless Santa left something somewhere in the back of a closet, it looks like we got it all.”

“Hang on,” Bradley said, reaching around the back of the tree and retrieving a small box. “Looks like we missed one.” Holding it up, he glanced at the gift tag. “To Mommy, from Bennett.”

“What?” Grinning, he sat down across from you and offered you the box, holding out his arms for the baby. A quick glance confirmed it was Bradley’s handwriting on the tag. “What’d you get me, Benny?” you asked, smiling as your daughter laughed when her father tickled her. Lifting it to your ear, you shook it gently and heard it rattle. Tearing away the paper, you laughed at the kid’s jewelry box. The ballerina twirled when you opened it to reveal a bunch of plastic necklaces, rings, and bracelets. “Oooh, fancy! I know what I’m wearing today,” you laughed, quickly putting on a pair of clip-on earrings and a necklace.

“There’s a note,” Bradley said, leaning down to press his lips to Benny’s head. He looked a bit nervous.

And there was. Buried under the plastic was a folded-up piece of paper. Your mouth fell open when you read it.

I couldn’t get you jewelry this year, but Daddy could.

With wide eyes, you looked up to see Bradley grinning at you. “Open the drawer.”

Slowly, you pulled the handle to reveal a diamond ring. “Bradley?”

“Will you marry me?”

Later, when Bennett was asleep and the baby monitor was tossed onto the couch, Bradley watched the Christmas tree lights dance across your face as he took you apart slowly, savoring your taste. The ring sparkled on your finger when you pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle your moans as you shook apart under him, thighs bracketing his ears.

Kissing his way up your body, Bradley paused to suck on a tender nipple, groaning when your nails raked his scalp. The tree shook when he continued his ascent, knocking the lower branches as he tried to reach your lips. “Fuck.”

Laughing, you lifted your head to meet his gaze and wiped your thumb along his mustache, feeling your arousal coating the coarse hair. “Merry Christmas, Daddy.”

“Merry Christmas, Mama. Now get out from under the tree so I can unwrap my present in bed and fuck you properly.”

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Author's Note: This was inspired by my dad and his squadron when we were stationed in Japan. He had to work overnight Christmas Eve and they ended up making a run to everyone's house on base to pick up gifts that needed to be set up. I definitely believed in Santa for another year when I didn't recognize the handwriting on the letter the Christmas morning.

The jewelry box and note are also pulled from real life. Dad went remote for a year (he was over in Korea and we were stateside) to ensure that we got orders to Florida, and came back just in time for Christmas. My sisters and I got mom the fake jewelry (we were all in high school/college) while Dad got Mom a new necklace.

Thank you for reading my (late) self-indulgent Christmas fic! I hope you enjoyed it, and my first foray into writing Rooster. And a major thank you to @mamachasesmayhem for encouraging me to write this, even if she's just dipping her toes into Bradley and would have preferred it to be Jake 😂

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfiction

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absurdthirst · 5 months

Text

Unexpectedly Reunited {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: No Outbreak AU, cheating, infidelity, surprise reunions, flirting, mentions of loss of a child, seemingly unrequited love, past crushes, abandonment, fingering, vaginal sex, rougher sex, oral sex (female and male receiving), cum eating, feelings, miscommunication, angst, degrading comments

Comments: Running away to the Cape, you find someone you had never expected to see again. Joel Miller. The blast from the past manages to heal your broken heart and you learn where life has taken him to bring him here.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

"You motherfucker!" You yell at your boyfriend who is currently buried inside of the co-worker he told you to not worry about despite you discovering him in your bed after you decided to surprise him with lunch since he works at home. He scrambles, pulling out of Sienna and you shake your head, "it's over. Get your shit out of my apartment. Today." You shriek and he covers himself up with the blanket you got from your mom for your birthday.

"Baby please. Let me just-" He tries to explain but you cut him off.

"Today, Jason. Today!" You yell, spinning on your heel and you rush out of your apartment with tears in your eyes. You sob as you get into your car, the lunch abandoned in the kitchen and you're no longer hungry. You sit there for hours, watching from afar as Jason moves his stuff from your place and you call your mom to tell her what happened.

"I always told you he was a piece of shit, baby. He's an asshole. You're better off without him. Better to find this out now instead of later." She says softly. "Your aunt has that place on the Cape and she's in Italy for the next two weeks. Why don't you go there? Go relax and get out of town. Take time to get yourself together." She suggests.

The Cape, the idea has a certain appeal. Texas is currently hot, too hot, and you don’t want to be anywhere near your old group of friends and acquaintances. People that know Jason. People that might pity you, or secretly approve of him cheating on you. You imagine walking along the beach and letting the salty air seep into your skin. Maybe read a few books in a lounger and find some bar where you can just have a few drinks. Or, the house is nice, maybe you will just sit out on the deck and drink wine. “I guess. If I leave now, I could be there late tomorrow. Are you sure she won’t mind?”

Your mom snorts through the line and you can imagine her face. “Of course not. Get your bag packed and get on the road. The key is in a little box on the garage door. Combination to open it is 9-26-13.”

You sigh, watching as Jason closes the truck of the car with the last of his stuff. “Thanks mom, I’ll be on the road in twenty minutes. I don’t want to spend a night in that bed. I’m going to have to order another one.”

When you arrive at your aunt’s house; you are exhausted and waste no time showering and getting into bed. The emotional drain of the past 36 hours is too much and you take a nap. When you wake up, it’s late and you have some of the snacks you brought with you while on the road. You’ll go food shopping tomorrow. You eventually fall back asleep, eager to explore tomorrow which comes far too soon when you’re woken up by drilling. You startle awake, checking the clock to see it’s 7:30 am and you whine, rubbing your eyes as you shuffle out of the bed, ready to reprimand the asshole who is drilling next door.

“Goddamn header.” Joel grunts out a curse, taking his hand off the hammer drill he had been using to wipe the sweat that is rolling into his eyes. “Send me some fuckin’ lumber that’s straight and I’ll fix the goddamn thing.” High up on the scaffolding, he’s cursing everyone from the lumber distributor to himself for taking this job. It’s been a shit show and it doesn’t seem like anything is going to go his way today.

You wrap your robe around yourself and huff as you stomp outside, raising your hand to cover your eyes from the early morning sun as you look up at the scaffolding. “Excuse me!” You yell and Joel continues drilling. “Excuse me!” You yell again and the drilling continues. “Fuck me!” You scream and the drilling stops.

“That’s a mighty nice offer darlin’ but I barely know you.” Joel jokes as he removes his headset.

“Why the hell are you drilling at this time in the morning?” You yell at him and he sets the drill down so he can climb down the scaffolding to talk to you. You wait, tapping your foot impatiently.

“I was hired to do this job. I have a permit. I am starting early to avoid the rain this afternoon. Not that I have to explain myself to - wait…do I know you?” Joel asks, frowning as he removes his sunglasses to get a better look at you.

When it dawns on him who you are, his eyes widen and he murmurs your name. Never expecting to see you again. “Holy shit. What are you doing on the east coast?” He asks when he can speak again. The last time he had seen you was at his wedding. After that day, you had just….ghosted him, making him feel like your friendship had meant nothing.

As soon as he says your name you recognize him. “Joel? Joel Miller?” You gasp in shock. It’s been a while since you’ve seen the man that was your teenage crush. He was your next door neighbor and a lot older than you but you always had such a massive crush on him. You became friends after you got back from college to live with your parents again and that’s when you truly fell in love with him. Then he met Helen and you knew he would never feel the same way. Resigned to being his friend, you supported him but always secretly hoped he’d realize what was right in front of him. He didn’t and you ended up leaving town after watching him marry Helen on a beautiful summer day. He’s just as handsome. Shit, just as sexy. “I- this is my aunt’s house. You know the one who is a journalist.” You explain, “I- I came here to escape the Texas heat.” You lie, “what the hell are you doing here?” You ask, genuinely curious how a typical Texan like Joel is in the northeast.

Joel’s expression shutters, his eyes flattening slightly and he grunts. “Work.” He lies, having sensed you are lying too. You have puffy eyes, like you’ve been spending a lot of time crying, though you’re still just as beautiful as the last time he saw you. “Like I’m tryin’ to do now. But it’s a bitch and-“ he twists his neck towards the dark clouds rolling in from the west. “I want to get this sealed up before the rain starts.”

You nod, “I understand. Sorry for yelling. I just got in last night from Texas and I’m exhausted from driving nonstop. I didn’t expect the work to be done so early. I’m awake now, so carry on. I’m gonna get some coffee. Anywhere local you’d recommend?” You ask when his eyes meet yours once more and you are taken back by how handsome he is. Your memories did him no justice.

He feels bad for being rude, sighing slightly and wiping his forehead again. “Two blocks over there’s a dinner called The Fungus Among Us.” He tells you with a grin. “Vegan place, really into mushrooms, but they have great coffee. You just have to use their non-dairy creamers.”

The last person you expected to frequent a vegan cafe is Joel who used to enjoy platefuls of barbecue at the family cookouts back when you were younger and you chuckle, “you gone vegan on me?” You ask and he shakes his head, “no. Still love some ribs but I can appreciate good coffee.” You hum and he shrugs. “I’m gonna go get changed. You want me to bring you a coffee back?” You offer, wanting to make up for being rude.m

“I’m good.” He looks up towards the sky again. “Too fuckin’ hot for coffee up here.” He looks back down and smirks slightly. “Hurry up before you get wet. New England summer showers are no joke.”

You nod, “I’ll be fast. I, uh, I’ll see you around. It was great to see you again.” You wave awkwardly at him as he flips his sunglasses back down. You aren’t sure if he’s married or has kids or what his situation is so you don’t want to overstep by suggesting a reunion of some kind.

“See you around, sweetheart.” Joel says and you offer him a smile, “bye Joel.” You say as you head back into your aunts house to get ready.

He won’t deny that he watches you when you re-emerge from the large cottage next door, or as you walk down the street. His eyes follow you as he takes what he tells himself is a five minute break. He was rude to you. And the Joel you had known wouldn’t have done that. He sighs, twisting around and trying to pop his aching back before he glances at the cloud again. They are rolling in fast and he only has about twenty minutes to finish up for the day. “Shit, Miller, get to work.”

You return back with your coffee - a good recommendation from Joel - and you’re disappointed when you don’t see him working. You feel the droplets of rain and decide to have your coffee then go grocery shopping after the rain has come and gone.

****

The drilling happens a little later around 8:45am the next morning and you look out of the bathroom window to see Joel working on the house. He lifts his shirt up to wipe his face and you can’t deny that your jaw drops. He’s still as sexy as you ever thought he was but then you remind yourself that he’s married and you shake your head to clear your lust. You decide to walk to the coffee shop again and head outside just as Joel jumps from the last section of scaffolding. “Sure I can’t get you a coffee?” You ask him, “I’m gonna head over there now.”

“I think I owe you a drink, since I was kind of an ass yesterday.” Joel admits, shuffling slightly and wiping his hands on a work rag before tossing it down. “I’ve got a few minutes, can walk over there with you, if you want?” He leaves it up to you, knowing that you might not want to do anything more than be nice.

You offer him a smile, “I’d like that.” You say and he nods, grabbing his keys and he yells out to his partner to keep an eye on things. You walk along with him and you’re quiet for a minute or so before you ask “so how long have you lived here?”

It takes Joel a moment to think back and he sighs. “Fuck.” He snorts. “Nearly ten years? Hard to think about but I’ve not even seen you in nearly twenty-five.” He wants to ask why you just stopped talking to him and coming around after he had married Helen. He hadn’t even been able to tell you that she had been a few months pregnant because his wife had wanted to keep it silent until after the first trimester.

"Has it really been that long?" You shake your head, "I- wow. It feels like yesterday you were just getting married. Is Helen enjoying it here?" You ask, not noticing his lack of wedding band but you haven't really had a chance to look at his hands.

Joel snorts. “Helen left me when-” He breaks off and there’s that familiar ache in his chest at the thought of Sarah. “A year after we got married. Don’t know where she’s at, don’t really care, if I’m honest.” She had abandoned her child, something that he could never understand or accept. “What about you? Sure you’re married and happy, husband on a business trip and you decided to take a vacation?”

It’s your turn to snort, “no. No. I, uh, I haven’t been married. I - I walked in on my boyfriend fucking his coworker in my apartment so I told him to pack his shit and be gone by the time I get back. Decided to take a break to avoid the pity looks and whispers around town.” You confess, glancing down the street as you adjust your purse on your shoulder.

“Wow. You must have been with a real douche bag.” Joel scoffs. “I can’t believe anyone would be stupid enough to cheat on you. There’s no fucking way he’s right in the head.” He shakes his head and huffs. “Idiot. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear that. But that bastard didn’t deserve you.”

You offer him a self deprecating smile. “I appreciate you being pissed for me. I pretty much cried the entire way to the Cape. I- I thought he was gonna propose. I’m an idiot. I believed all his lies and I- I thought he was going to be the one.” You shake your head at your own stupidity. “Well, at least someone to spend the rest of my life with.”

“You’ll find someone better.” He predicts. “Someone who cheats on you isn’t worth your time. Or your tears.” Joel looks over at you and gives you a small smile. “Maybe you’ll find one of those romance story type guys here on the Cape.”

You chuckle, “who is already married or has more skeletons in his closet than a haunted house. I think I’ll accept the reality that I’m destined to be alone and I think I’m okay with that. It’s not too bad. Getting to do whatever you want without answering to anyone. Romance is - it’s just something they sell to give people hope.” You confess with a sigh, “I’ll stick to reading about it in novels.” You chuckle softly and turn into the coffee shop, about to open the door but Joel does a little jog to open it before you can. “Don’t lose hope. You never know who’s gonna appear.” He says and you bite your lip as you brush past him, knowing he’s the man you’ve always envisioned when you read those romance novels.

The inside of the cafe is trendy, quirky. It seems like a place where Joel would look completely out of place with his buttoned up shirt and jeans, heavy boots. No one has given him shit about it and been friendly, even though he stays away from a lot of their menu. “Have you tried the muffins? They are pretty good.”

You shake your head, “no. I had the chia pudding the other day.” You giggle when he wrinkles his nose. “The blueberry muffin sounds good.” You hum, crossing your arms, “and a latte. You seem like a black coffee kind of guy.”

“Only way to drink coffee.” Joel agrees with a smirk. He guides you to a table and pulls out a chair for you. “I know you probably like all those syrups and half pump venti shits.” He rolls his eyes, although he likes the way you sound when you snicker.

“I’m a vanilla girl.” You reveal and Joel raises his eyebrows playfully. “For my coffee order.” You clarify with a smirk and he walks over to the counter to order your drinks and he returns with a blueberry muffin for you. “You didn’t have to pay.” You shake your head and he shrugs, “to make up for the early morning wake up calls.” He explains and You offer him a soft smile, reaching out to touch his hand, “thank you. I- I’ve missed you, you know?”

“You missed me so much you just….disappeared?” Joel asks, wanting to know why. “I tried calling you a couple of times. Wanted you to come out with me and Helen to dinner. You just didn’t ever call me back.”

You sigh, withdrawing your hand. “I…it was complicated.” You glance around the coffee shop, feeling his eyes burn into you. “I couldn’t stay after you…I had to get out of town and figure out what I wanted. I’m sorry I disappeared but it was for the best. You had a new life…a wife. You didn’t need me hanging around.”

It’s not an answer that satisfies him, but from the set of your jaw, you won’t give him a proper explanation. “I- you missed a lot, obviously. I had wanted to tell you that Helen was pregnant. We weren’t announcing it before the ceremony.”

You swallow harshly, not realizing that he’s a father. “Did Helen…you have a - wow. That’s - I didn’t know. No one told me - my parents didn’t tell me anything. I asked them not to.” You finish with a murmur, shifting to sit back and look at Joel just as they call his name to get the coffees.

Joel stands up, happy to go get the drinks and muffins so he doesn’t have to show how that idea upsets him. Why does he care after twenty-five years? He shouldn’t. Bringing the tray over to the table, he sets it down and doles out the items quietly.

You bite your lip as you look at him, he’s broader than ever. He was gorgeous when he was younger and he’s still gorgeous with the grays scattered in his hair. “Is your kid in the Cape or elsewhere?” You ask him, wanting to change the subject.

Joel frowns slightly, looking down at his coffee. “No.” He tells you. “She- she died. Twelve years ago. It’s why I moved here. I couldn’t live in Texas anymore.”

Your brow furrows as you gasp softly. “Oh. Oh Joel. I’m so sorry. I- shit. Me and my big mouth. I’m so sorry. Oh God. That - that’s terrible.” You choke, squeezing the coffee cup in your hand as you see the devastation in his eyes.

“It was a long time ago.” The wound is still fresh and if it were anyone else, he wouldn’t even bring it up. But you had never met Sarah, you didn’t know how wonderful she was.

“I’m sorry Joel. I know that doesn’t mean shit when you endure that kind of pain but…I really am sorry.” You say and reach out to squeeze his hand again. “I understand why you left to come here.” You tell him and his dark eyes meet yours, clouded over with the pain of losing a child. “Do you…do you maybe want to come over for dinner sometime? Catch up properly? I meant what I said. I’ve missed you.”

His immediate response is to tell you no. That it wasn’t necessary, but he can’t get the words out. “Sure.” He figures it’s a nicety. That you are saying that and then you’ll politely avoid him.

You sip your coffee as he goes quiet. Joel was never one for small talk. “So have you got a wife or girlfriend here?” You ask after a few moments, wondering if that’s why he was hesitant to accept an offer to catch up over dinner.

“No, nothing like that.” He shakes his head, frowning slightly when he remembers Tess. He should have been better to her, but he ran out of time. “Not anymore,” he adds, looking back down at his cup. “So how long are you here?”

"Two weeks. Figured that was enough time for the dust to settle and for that asshole to get his shit out of my apartment." You sigh, looking down at the table before you flick your eyes up to meet his. "I really am sorry we lost touch. All I can say is it's complicated and too much time has passed to dig into it all again."

“Yeah.” Joel just shrugs. “It’s in the past.” He knows he’s changed a lot from the man you used to know. He’s harder, his heart is cold and most times people are wary of him. “People change, move on, whatever.”

You frown at his pessimism and you know he’s changed but he always used to be so playful and fun. Life has been hard for both of you, especially Joel. You finish your muffin and soon you’re walking back to your aunt’s house. “You wanna come for dinner tomorrow?” You offer, not wanting to end this interaction on a spur note.

“Sure.” He finds himself agreeing, not minding your company and he would love a meal he didn’t cook for himself. Or Ellie cooked. “Oh- uh, I should have told you. Can someone come with me?” He asks, not sure if you’d want a kid around.

You are surprised but don't ask who, wondering if he has a friend or something. "Uh, sure. Yeah. That's fine. Any allergies or things they don't like?" You ask, wanting to be sure before you plan what you want to cook.

“Nahhhh.” Joel snorts, shaking his head at the crazy things that Ellie has eaten. “She’ll eat anything. Nearly indestructible stomach, I swear.”

You are curious, barely able to swallow down the inquiries but you manage and offer him a smile, "sounds good. Wanna say seven?" You ask and he nods. You stand on your aunt's driveway and Joel rubs the back of his neck. "I'll see you tomorrow." He says and you rock on your heels, crossing your arms. "See you tomorrow, Joel." You smile and watch for a second as he spins on his heel and makes his way back to the neighbor's house.

****

“So whoooo are we having dinner with?” Joel rolls his eyes and ramps down the urge to bite back with something sarcastic. That would only make the girl more curious about who you are.

“She’s an old friend.” Joel explains, “she’s in town and I thought I might be good to not have to put up with your shit cooking for a night.” He reaches over and pulls on her ponytail, grinning when she scowls and slaps his hand away.

“Hey man, not my fault your cooking tastes like shit. You taught me.”

You wipe down your apron as you watch the water boil for the pasta. The doorbell rings and you take the apron off, making your way over to the door to open it to greet Joel and his mystery guest. You had purposefully avoided looking out of the windows this morning when Joel was working. You are shocked when you see a teenager with Joel, having convinced yourself it was another woman and he was trying to hint at it but you didn't pick it up.

“Woah. She’s a babe!” Ellie’s eyes widen and she sends Joel a smirk. “No wonder you didn’t talk about her. You gotta date, old man? Why the hell are you bringing me with you?”

Joel rolls his eyes and reaches up to smack the back of Ellie’s head. “Behave.” He warns her before apologizing to you. “Sorry. She’s feral. Not a goddamn manner in her body.”

You fluster at the girl's compliment and you look at Joel with a chuckle, "don't worry. I've had worse with my cousins and their kids." You promise and step aside so that he and the kid can enter. You tell her your name as she walks past you and she offers you a grin and tells you her name is Ellie. "Hope you like chicken parm." You hum as you shut the door behind you.

“I love anything that he didn’t cook.” She hooks her thumb over at Joel and smirks. “He thinks heating Chef Boy-r-dee is a good meal.” She tells you, knowing that Joel is shuffling in embarrassment and not caring a lick. She likes to bust his balls.

You chuckle, remembering how hopeless Joel was in the kitchen. He even called you up one night to ask you to rescue the meal he was trying to cook Helen for a date night. It had been hard to help but you would’ve done anything for him back then. Still would if you’re honest. You ask Ellie what she wants to drink when they enter the open plan kitchen. “Damnnn. This is a nice place you got here.” Ellie says and you shake your head, “it’s my aunt’s. I live in Texas.” You explain and Ellie glances at Joel.

“Texas, huh?” She says, raising her eyebrows and Joel ignores her.

“Yeah. Joel and I used to be neighbors.” You explain a little more.

“So you can tell me what he used to be like?” She asks conspiratorially. “Before he became so boring.”

You lean in conspiratorially towards Ellie. “He’s always been boring.” You whisper playfully and Joel rolls his eyes.

Ellie nods, “makes sense.” You chuckle and Joel huffs, biting his lip to smother his smirk.

“Joel has always been a good guy. Grumpy, but he has always done the right thing.” You say, “and he tries to let everyone think he’s a grumpy bastard but he’s actually got a good sense of humor.” You say and Ellie shakes her head, “he doesn’t laugh at my jokes!” She whines and you smirk, “oh he’s laughing. Just on the inside.”

“No, I’m not.” Joel grumps and huffs, trying to hide a smirk. He likes to bust on Ellie as much as she busts on him, just in different ways. If he tries to be too soft with the girl, she will shut down. “Hope it wasn’t too much trouble for dinner. We would have been good with pizza.”

You shake your head, “it’s nice to cook. I am usually so busy with work and my ex…he was a vegan which made it almost impossible to cook what I know but I love cooking. I’ve missed it. Hopefully it’s good.” You say and turn back to the stove to put the pasta on to cook. “You want a soda?” You ask Ellie, knowing Joel will want a beer. The teenager nods and you hand her a soda before handing Joel a bottle of beer. “Go sit at the table. Dinner will be right up.” You say as you set your glass of wine down.

“Ellie and I will clean up.” Joel offers. He might suck in the kitchen, but he knows how to clean up a mess and it wouldn’t be fair to expect you to wait on them. “Sound good?”

“You’re my guests.” You protest but Joel shakes his head, “we can do the dishes.” You sigh, knowing you’re best to not argue, and turn back to the stove. It doesn’t take long for you to set the serving dishes on the table. “Dig in.” You order and Ellie groans, “shit. That looks good.”

“Ellie.” Joel warns softly and you chuckle, “hopefully it tastes good.”

“I'm sure it’s great.” Joel tells you with a quick smile as he cuts into the chicken cutlet. “Thank you, it’s nice to have a good meal.” He admits. Often times it was something from a box or fast food for them. “And did you remember what beer I drink? Or was it a lucky guess?”

You bite your lip and fluster slightly, “I, uh, I remembered.” You confess, having remembered every detail about the man opposite you. Your heart is still thumping when his dark eyes meet yours.

Neither of you notice the way Ellie smirks as she cuts into her chicken. “This is fucking awesome. You’re a great cook. Right, Joel?” Ellie hints at her foster dad.

"Huh?" He's been trying not to make it obvious that he's having a moment with the chicken farm. Looking up, he sees that he's being asked a question. "Yeah, oh yeah, it's delicious." He praises. "I don't know if I've had chicken parm this good in forever." He promises.

Your stomach twists with their praise, pleased they are enjoying it and you dig in yourself, hungry after cooking for most of the afternoon. “So Ellie is your daughter?” You ask Joel and Ellie snorts, “he wishes. I’m just his foster kid. He and my mom were friends and when he found out I was in home after home, he took me in.” Ellie says and you smile, “always knew you were a softie.” You tease and Joel grunts his response.

The truth was more complicated and filled in infinitely more guilt. Joel had gone down a dark path after Sarah had died. He was Ellie's mother's dealer. Giving her the drugs even though she was using more and more and that it could kill her. He had told himself that it wasn't his problem until he had learned about Ellie. He had started avoiding the woman's calls until he learned she had died of an overdose. No other family other than Ellie, it had felt like it was his fault so he had done the work to become the kid's guardian.

You can sense there's more but you don't push. The three of you have small talk, Ellie mainly asking questions about what Joel was like when you knew him back in the day and you explain that you were good friends until he got married and you decided to leave town. "You left? And didn't keep in touch?" Ellie asks with a frown and you tap your fingers on the table, "it was complicated."

Joel snorts and doubts that, but he doesn't voice it. You keep saying it's complicated, but you won't even say more than that to him. Ellie rolls her eyes and sighs. "Just say you love him already. There. Done." She turns to Joel and pitches her voice up slightly. "Joel, I was in love with you so I couldn't stand to see you married." She says, pretending to be you before she looks back over at you with a shake of her head. "Now. Was that hard?"

Your jaw drops slightly as the teenager calls you out and reveals the reason you left within an hour of meeting you. "I, uh, it - um -" You stammer and Joel shakes his head.

"Ellie. Don't be rude." He reprimands her and she waves her hand towards you, "I'm right, aren't I?" She asks and you stand up, grabbing your plate.

"I have dessert. You like chocolate cake?" You ask and grab the teenager's plate.

“Stop being a little shit.” Joel hisses the moment you disappear out of sight. “She doesn’t love me. She’s just getting over a break up.” Ellie’s grin falls and she looks upset over her comments. “And you have to open your big mouth.”

You sigh as you cut into the cake you bought earlier and serve three plates. You carry them back over to the table on the tray and Ellie’s eyes widen as she takes it in. “Holy shit, that looks delicious.” She says and you chuckle, “I didn’t make this. I’m not a good baker.” You confess as you sit back down.

“I doubt that.” Joel tells you. “I’m sure you are a good baker, but Ellie never turns down cake.”

“I never do either.” You wink at Ellie, wanting to lighten the atmosphere and you dig into the cake. After the cake is eaten, Ellie tells you about her school and how she wants to learn to play the guitar. “Joel used to play guitar.” You reveal, remembering how you used to hear him practicing in his bedroom.

“You never told me that.” Ellie sounds downright offended that he had never told her about his musical proclivity.

“Haven’t told you a lot.” He grunts, smirking slightly when she pouts at him.

“But you can teach me, and then I won’t have to pay someone.”

He chuckles and raises a brow at his foster kid. “I’ll take payment in the form of chores being done on time and completely.”

You chuckle and realize that Joel is just as soft as you remember him but he’s covered by a hard exterior…like a piece of candy. Sweet but sour. “Deal.” Ellie says despite knowing she will slack a little bit she hopes Joel will at least teach her the basics. “So are you gonna be seeing Joel again?” Ellie probes and you shrug, “well, he’s working next door so I think it’s inevitable.”

Joel rolls his eyes at the scheming tone of the girl’s voice. “Maybe I should ask you when you are going to see Vanessa again.” He huffs with a small smirk. “You seemed to be really into hanging out with her.”

You lean in a little closer with a smile, “who’s Vanessa?” You ask and Ellie blushes, “she’s, uh, she’s this girl from math and she - she’s really pretty.” Ellie murmurs and you reach out to touch her arm, “then maybe you should tell her that.” You suggest and Ellie rears back and shakes her head. “Oh no. No. I, uh, I don’t know if she likes me.” Ellie confesses and you say, “well, you’ll never know unless you ask.” You suggest softly and Ellie bites her lip until her expression hardens a little, “I could say the same thing to you guys.” She says, looking between you and Joel.

You shake your head, “we are friends. Have always been friends.” You say and don’t notice Joel frown slightly. “Anyway, I, uh, I’m sure you have an early start. Do you want to take the rest of the cake home? I won’t eat all of that.”

“I know the kid will want it.” He won’t admit that he might go to the kitchen in the middle of the night to sneak a piece. “Come on.” He motions towards Ellie. “Let’s get in there and clean up. Show our appreciation for the good meal.”

Ellie, for once, doesn’t groan about doing dishes and you already have most of it in the dishwasher so it’s only the serving plates and plates you ate off of. “It’s okay.” You try to argue but Joel and Ellie already have a well rehearsed wash and dry system. You stand there with your glass of wine and admire Joel.

You had obviously washed as you cooked, so there weren’t as many dishes as when Joel decides he’s gonna actually cook. Once the last one is washed and handed off to Ellie to dry, Joel rinses the rag and starts to wipe down your counters. “Tell you what?” He jokes. “You feed us like that and we’ll do all the dishes every time. Might even do your laundry too.”

You chuckle and hold your hand out towards Joel, “that’s a deal, Miller.” You joke and he squeezes your hand, sending electricity up your arm at his touch and your heart thumps. You stare at him for a moment until Ellie clears her throat and looks between you with a shit eating grin until Joel lets go of your hand. They finish washing up and you hand them the box of cake to take with them when you escort them out of your house “it was great to meet you, Ellie.”

"It was pretty cool to meet you too." Ellie smirks. "I think I'll probably see a lot more of you too." She predicts before shooting out the door. "Thanks for the food!" She shouts as she waves the cake box over her head.

You chuckle when Joel rolls his eyes, “she’s a handful.” He says and you reach up to squeeze his shoulder, “she’s a good kid. And you’re a good man for taking her in.” You say and he leans in to softly kiss your cheek.

“Thanks for dinner, sweetheart. See you around.” He winks at you and you fluster, nodding before you shut the door. Your heart is fluttering, the ghost of his kiss on your cheek and you know that your love for him has never gone away, it’s just been concealed.

****

The next morning, you’re woken up by Joel and his crew again and you sigh, getting ready for the day. When you open the curtains, your jaw drops as you come face to face with Joel working , his shirt looped into his jeans. “Shit.” You hiss, your stomach twisting with arousal as you watch his shoulder muscles move.

Joel sees the curtains opening on the bedroom you are obviously using in your aunt’s house. He looks back down at the board he was nailing into place and smirks. It was hot as hell today and that might have prompted him to take his shirt off. All the while, telling himself that Ellie’s prodding about how much you two obviously liked each other was a bunch of BS. You had been friends. He’s sure he had taken his shirt off around you at some point, so why shouldn’t he be comfortable.

Your mouth is dry as you try to discreetly watch. You hadn’t seen Joel without his shirt off and the muscles moving has you wanting to get back into bed and imagine Joel in it with you. Instead, you force yourself to get ready for the day and brew some coffee. The doorbell rings around mid morning and you brush yourself down as you move to open the door. “Joel. What’s up?” You ask, his shirt still off, he’s covered in some kind of grease, and you swallow harshly. “I hate to ask this but do you think I could use your shower? I got grease all over me from trying to fix my tool. Can I - I’ll be quick.” He asks and you nod, “of course. It’s upstairs to the left.” You say, “I can run your stuff through the washer if you want?” You offer.

“Thanks.” He shoots you a grin. “I appreciate it. This job has been nothing but a pain in my ass, but at least the view is nice.” He tells you, aware that he’s flirting, but he can’t help himself. He’s been thinking about you all day. Wondering what you’ve been doing.

You bite your lip as he grins at you and you aren’t sure if he’s flirting or not. You watch him as he carefully makes his way upstairs after taking off his boots at the door and you try to busy yourself by making some iced tea for when he’s done showering. Logically, you know he doesn’t have a spare set of clothes yet you’re still surprised when he appears with a towel wrapped around his waist and you swear your heart stops. Fuck, he looks gorgeous. You want to lean in and lick the drops of water speeding down his chest and stomach to be absorbed by the towel.

Joel shuffles slightly. “Sorry. I didn’t think about the fact I had nothing to put on.” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I- I swiped some of your deodorant.” He chuckles awkwardly. “Probably the best I’ve smelled all day.”

“That - That’s okay.” You nod, torn between stepping forward to rip the towel from his body and running to your room to disappear. “I, uh, I made some iced tea if you want some.” Joel nods and you pour him a glass. “I’ll put your things in the washer.” You hold your arms out and take the dirty clothes, quick to walk into the laundry room to put his clothes on to wash.

He hadn’t missed the way your breaking hitched, and he reasons that Ellie was right. You want him. Instead of drinking the tea, he puts it down and quietly follows behind you. Crowding in behind you as you close the lid to start it and smirks when you gasp as you turn around. “Sorry, realized I forgot to give you everything.” He rasps out, reaching for his towel. “Can’t forget that.”

Your eyes widen and you bite your lip to stop the whimper escaping. Joel is naked. In your aunt’s laundry room. You spin around and place the towel in the washer before pressing the button to start it. His hands find your waist and he pushes up against you, “Joel.” You whimper, “I- oh God.” You gasp when he kisses your neck.

“I want you.” He confesses, “you want me, darlin’?” He asks and your knees would buckle if he didn’t have you pressed up against the washer.

“I need you. I’ve wanted you since I met you.” You confess breathlessly.

His hardening cock twitches against your ass and he groans. “That is why you left.” He huffs. “Fuck, I wish I had known.” He squeezes your hips and then slides his hands around so he can unbutton your jeans. “I would have taken you to bed before I met Helen. Always thought you were a pretty thing. Never seemed like you wanted more with me, so I didn’t push.”

You turn your head to kiss his jaw. “I thought you thought of me as the dumb kid next door. Never saw me as the woman I became. I thought you just saw me as a friend. When you told me you were engaged to Helen - I - I couldn’t stick around and watch you be a family.” You confess as he pulls the zipper down and you gasp when he shoves your jeans down your thighs, his hand quickly pushing into your panties to rub your clit. “Joel.” You moan, reaching up to turn his head so you can press your lips against his.

He knows that this will change everything but he’s tired of being alone. Tired of the regrets he has and you have always been one of them. His work rough fingers press and rub your clit while his other hand slides under your shirt and pushes your bra up so he can fondle your tits. “Never thought you were a girl. You aren’t that much younger than me. Hated how much I wanted you. How much I thought about you.”

You gasp when he rubs your clit just right and you grind your hips back against his aching cock. “God. I- I thought about you all the time.” You confess and reach behind you to grip his cock in your hand. “I want you, Joel.” You whimper, needing to feel him inside of you after so many years of wondering what he would feel like.

“Then you’ll get me.” Joel promises. “Right after you cum on my fingers.” He twists his wrist so he can push two thick fingers inside you and rub your clit with his thumb. Groaning and twitching in your hand when your walls squeeze his fingers tight. “I’ll fuck your little pussy right. Make you forget all about that douche bag in Texas. Show you how a man should be treating you.”

His words send a whine up your throat and you squeeze his cock in your grip as his fingers stretch you out. “Oh God. Jo- Joel.” You gasp when his thumb presses harder against your clit. It’s more than you’ve felt in years while having sex and you are grateful for his hand squeezing your breast to keep you upright and pressed against the washer. “Shit. That - it’s so good.” You pant, knowing that Jason never made you feel like this. He never used to finger you until you came, just until you were wet. You’re a little embarrassed when you look back on it later to say that you came astonishingly quick, clamping down on his digits with a moan of his name.

“Good girl.” Joel moans when he feels your body tense and shake. “Fuck, your such a good girl for me. Bet you taste delicious, don’t cha?” He groans, the slickness coating his fingers makes it easier to work you through your orgasm until he feels your knees buckle and you collapse against the washing machine. “Fuck. You needed that, didn’t you. Still want me to fuck you or do you need a cigarette?” He jokes. He’s throbbing in your hand, but if you don’t want to go any farther, he won’t push. He doesn’t want you to regret it or feel like he’s taking advantage of your broken heart.

You squeeze his cock again, "don't you dare stop, Miller. I- I've wanted you for forever. I need you inside of me." You plead breathlessly, pussy still fluttering around his fingers, "please." You add pathetically, needing this even if it's one time.

“I’m so fuckin’ glad you said that.” Joel confesses as he pulls his soaked fingers out of you. “Otherwise I was gonna need to jerk off right now.” He kisses your neck and pushes your feet apart with his own to spread you out. “It’s gonna be quick.” He warns. “Been a long fuckin’ time for me.”

"I don't care. You can cum inside of me." You promise, bracing yourself on the vibrating washer as he positions himself at your entrance and starts to push inside of you. You whine when his cock slips inside of you, already stretching you out. "Fuck. You are so big." You moan, knowing that you've never had anyone this thick inside of you.

Joel groans your name roughly, rolling his hips until they are pressed against your ass and both hands are filled with your tits. “So goddamn tight.” He rasps in your ear, twitching when you clench around him. “Better than my dreams, better than I could have ever imagined. So tight around my dick.”

You reach behind you to tangle your fingers in his damp hair. He starts to move inside of you, a whine escaping your lips as the friction is delicious, and you rest your cheek on the washer. “Soooo gooood.” Your voice vibrates too and Joel chuckles darkly, making you clench around him again.

He moves his hands down to grip your waist, holding tight to you as he braces his legs. Starting to rock into you faster and harder to make your body slam against the machine you are leaning against. “Fuck baby, you’re goddamn perfect.” He grunts out, gritting his teeth. “Touch your pretty little clit while I fuck the shit out of you.”

You cry out in pleasure, your hand shaking as you push it between you and the machine to rub your clit. “Fuck Joel. Joel. Oh shit.” You practically sob and his fingers dig into your flesh, likely leaving bruises you’ll cherish. “Harder.” You demand, wanting to feel him for days after he leaves you.

He growls, deep in his chest and his pace increases. Slamming into you harsh enough that he rocks the machine. Loving how you take him and beg for more, how tight your cunt gets when you spasm around him. “Gonna cum.” He warns, feeling his body starting to tense. “Need you to cum, sweet girl.”

You rub your clit a little faster, wanting to cum before he does and his grunts echo in the laundry room, getting deeper and faster along with his thrusts until you fall apart. A cry rips from your mouth as you clamp down on him, practically shaking against the vibrating machine as you climax around the man you’ve wanted for so long.

As soon as you clench down around him, Joel is lost. The strangled groan pushes out of his throat as he buries his cock just as deep as he can. Painting your walls with hot spurts of his seed while he grinds into you and whimpers your name. Overwhelmed by how perfect you feel around him.

You pant, resting against the washer as Joel twitches inside of you, his lips kissing along the back of your neck. You are speechless. No one has ever fucked you like that. Your legs feel like jello and you know you'd collapse if it wasn't for him keeping you pressed against the machine.

Panting, Joel presses against your back, kissing along your neck as he tries to catch his breath. He’s out of practice, but the way your legs still shake makes him think he did it right. “Fuck.” He chuckles. “We shoulda done that years ago.”

You chuckle softly, "yes but you were married." You snort and Joel caresses your side. "I think I'm gonna need a nap after that." You confess and he smirks against your skin, reluctantly pulling out of you.

“Well, I can’t go back to work with no clothes on.” He reminds you with another chuckle. “Why don’t we take that nap?” He’s already told his crew what to do and he doesn’t want to leave you right now. Caressing your back, he watches his cum start to well up at your little hole, trying to push out.

You smile, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra after he steps back from you and you finally feel like you can stand up. You toss your bra and shirt into the laundry basket along with the rest of your clothes after using your panties to wipe his cum from between your legs. “I need to pee and then we can nap.” You say, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “You wanna head upstairs while I pee?” You ask.

“Yeah.” Joel smirks slightly when you wobble as you walk to the hall bathroom and he strides into the kitchen to grab you a bottle of water before heading upstairs to the bedroom you are using. Feeling great and hoping that you enjoyed yourself, he’s gonna have to ask you when you come up.

You struggle to get upstairs but you do it, finding Joel sitting on the edge of the bed, still naked and you admire him for a second. The sun coming through the curtains highlights the gray in his locks and you find yourself falling for him all over again. You shift to lay down on the bed, closing your eyes, “you’ve worn me out, Miller.” You joke playfully.

“You’re worn out?” It’s fucking ridiculous how he wants to touch you again, even though he knows it will be at least half an hour, maybe more before he could get it up again. “And here I was thinking about eating your pussy.” He flips back on the bed beside you. “Guess that’s out.”

You open one eye, “now I didn’t say I was that worn out.” You tease, shifting onto your side and opening both eyes to look at him. “I would happily cum on your tongue if you want to do that.” You murmur, reaching out to caress his chest.

“Figure I owe you that much.” He grunts. “Fucked you over a washing machine. Not exactly the classiest first time.” He shoots you a grin. “Shoulda been in the bed of my truck.” He leans in and presses his lips to your as he rolls you onto your back and covers you with his body. “Wanna find out how you taste. Used to think about it when I had my dick in my hand.”

You reach up to caress his shoulders and back, “the bed of your truck. The stars above while the radio plays. That might’ve been something I dreamed about a lot.” You confess as he kisses along your neck. “I want to suck your cock too. Imagined it so many times. How you’d look, how you’d sound.”

“Fuck.” He groans, imagining it. “You’d look so fucking pretty like that.” He agrees. “But right now, there’s no way I’m gonna get hard, baby. I’m old.”

You scoff, “you’re not old. You just need some time.” You murmur, caressing his back as he slides his hand down your side. “We have time.” You promise softly despite knowing you are on borrowed time in your aunt’s house. “Now…you mentioned something about eating me out?”

He laughs as his tongue slides between your breasts, looking up at you with a grin that makes him feel younger, lighter. “I was telling you that you were going to scream my name.” He boasts, kissing across your belly as he shuffles down the bed to move between your thighs.

You grin as you watch him until he kisses your inner thigh and your mouth falls open with a moan. “Joel.” You sigh when he kisses along the sensitive skin until you are moaning his name as his tongue slides through your folds. “Fuck.” You tilt your head back, sitting up on your elbows.

He hums, knowing you are watching him but his eyes are closed as he tastes you. Enjoying the musky, tangy taste, even mixed with his own cum. Using his hands to push your thighs apart more, he flicks his tongue over your clit before sliding down and pushing his tongue inside you.

You gasp in delight as his tongue curls deep and you shift your weight onto one elbow so you can reach out and tangle your fingers in his hair. "So good baby. So good." You coo, rocking your hips up slightly to push his tongue deeper.

Joel groans into your cunt as he tongue fucks you enthusiastically. Loving your responsiveness and how you moan his name. His fingers dig into your hips, dragging you closer as he feasts voraciously without even wanting to pull away to swallow, his spit and your juices sliding down to soak the bed under you.

"Oh God." You pant, chest heaving and you let go of his hair to squeeze your breast, pinching the nipple while his nose presses against your clit. "That - ohhh just like that." You cry as his tongue curls just right with his nose pressed against your bundle of nerves.

He hums, rubbing his broad nose against your clit to give you more. Desperate to hear you cum again and to feel you soak his face. He feels so fucking alive right now between your thighs.

"Shit. I'm - you're gonna make me cum, Joel." You pant, thighs clamping around his face as he sends you over the edge. "Fuck!" You squeal as you soak his face, almost suffocating him with your thighs as your stomach clenches with your orgasm.

Joel groans, his softening cock starting to twitch and harden. Loving how wet you are getting and how much you are soaking him. Working you through it, his eyes are fixed on your face while you moan and cry out for him.

You collapse back onto the bed, gasping to catch your breath and you swear your heart has stopped from how hard you came. It’s more than anything you felt with Jason. It’s all consuming. “So good.” You finally murmur, loosening your grip on his face as your legs come down to lay flat on the bed when he rests his chin on your mound.

He smirks, looking at your blissed out face. “Good to know that it was good.” He strokes your thigh and your hip with his hands. “Now we can nap.” He teases, winking playfully.

You shift onto your side after he snakes from between your legs to flop down on the bed beside you. “You don’t want me to-?” You ask, noticing his semi.

“Nap first then maybe you can ride me.” He says, closing his eyes and you nod, shifting to curl into his side, watching him for several moments until you eventually drift off to sleep.

****

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been asleep but you wake up to Joel snoring. You chuckle softly, knowing he would never admit to snoring, and you watch him for a moment, unable to believe you’re here with him. Your gaze slides down his body to his hard cock resting on his belly and you grin, carefully shifting to be able to kneel over his body. You gently grip his cock and lean down to take the head into your mouth, wanting to surprise him when he wakes up.

Joel grunts, the wet heat and suction around his cock pulling him out of the nap he had been enjoying. Confused for a moment before the last few hours come rushing back to him and he groans out your name. Reaching down to cup the back of your head as his eyes open. Seeing you looking up at him with a smirk in your eyes.

You take him deeper, gripping the base of his cock as you widen your jaw and choke for a second. You haven’t sucked a cock like Joel’s before and it takes you a few tries to get him down your throat without gagging.

“Good girl, fuck, watch you take that.” He marvels. Reaching around to caress your jaw and feeling the way that your jaw unhinges. “Couldn’t wait, so eager for it that you had to wake me up?” He teases.

You moan around his cock, closing your eyes as you take him deeper, your saliva dripping down his length and you pull back after a moment, working his cock with your hand. You twist your wrist and dribble some more spit onto his cock. “I couldn’t resist.” You confess, pumping him as you lean in to suck on the head, pressing your tongue against his frenulum.

“Shit.” Joel hisses, his toes curling in pleasure and his thighs tensing as his body responds to your tongue. “Cock hungry.” He grunts. “You gonna swallow? Or are you gonna tease me and not let me cum in your mouth?”

You pull back again, pumping him a little faster. “You wanna cum down my throat or do you want me to ride you? Your choice, handsome.” You coo, “I can do whatever you want. Just want you to feel good.” You promise, taking him back into your mouth.

“Fuck.” It’s such a tantalizing choice but he knows he lasts longer the second time around and then he’ll be done. It would make your jaw ache and he doesn’t want that. “Ride me, baby.” He groans. “Want to see you bounce on my cock.”

You don't argue despite wanting to watch him as he cums down your throat. You let his cock drop from your mouth and you shift to straddle his thighs, shuffling closer until you can wrap your fingers around his slick cock and position him. You sink down onto him with your eyes fixed on his, that dark gaze sends a shiver down your spine as he stretches you out. "God, Joel." You whine softly, placing your palms on his chest.

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” Joel goans out, his fingers digging into the soft flesh at your hips while you clench down around him. You’re even tighter in this position and he has the bonus of being able to look into your eyes. See your face. “Does that feel good, baby?”

"Joel. It's...shit. It's so good." You confess breathlessly and your nails dig into his chest a little as you start to rock your hips. "Shit. How does it feel so good? Never been like this before." You confess as your eyes meet his and your heart pounds in your chest, silently giving you the answer to your question.

Bracing his feet on the bed, he rocks his hips up to meet you when you lift off of him. Making both of you groan at how good it feels. “You look so good on my dick.” He groans. “Your ex is a fucking moron.” He doesn’t want you to think about that asshole, but he wants you to know that it wasn’t you. One hand slides up to cup your breast, squeezing gently. “Never wanna leave this pussy.”

His words make you clench around him and you whimper, falling forward to press your chest against his so you can kiss him. Your lips pressing against his and you tangle your fingers in his hair as he thrusts up into you. His arms wrap around you and you kiss his jaw when you pull back to take a breath. "Never want you to stop fucking me."

Joel grunts, shifting to take control. “Good-“ he pants. “Good thing I last the second time.” He starts rocking his hips up, pinning you to him as he fucks you. “It’s why I wanted you to ride me. Probably take me an hour to cum.”

You are surprised by that. Most men you've been with tend to leave you unsatisfied after finding their own orgasm. "Fuck, really?" You gasp and he chuckles, thrusting a little harder. "Yes. Gonna make you cum over and over again." You cry out when he hits deep, nudging your cervix, but you love it. "Yessss." You hiss, "do that again baby."

Joel groans and does as you demand, snapping his hips up sharply so he can push against that spot again. He might be getting older, slower, fall asleep after dinner in his chair, but he’s not going to disappoint you. Not when he has this time with you like this. Trying to give you the same performance if he had fucked you years ago. “That?” He teases. “I’ll do that as much as you want.”

The sound you let out is between a wail and a moan as he hits that spot again. “Oh shitttt.” You hiss, lost in the sensations. “Again. That- again.” You beg and he does it, making you shake above him. “Joel. Oh shit. Baby. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me - fuuuu-” The word fading into a choke as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him as you shake above his body, your fingers tugging on his hair.

This time he slows down, rocking you through the pleasure slowly and finally stopping when you slump down into his chest. He’s still hard, buried inside you, and he hums softly as he lets you catch your breath. “That’s good, baby?” He asks quietly. “You want another one?”

You lean back to look into his face. Fingers coming up to trace the lines that have been etched onto his skin over the years you’ve not seen each other. He’s still just as devastatingly handsome though. Every line is a story you don’t know about. “Yes.” You murmur, pressing your lips to his and you shift to sit up, wanting to ride him again. Your hips rock as you reach for his hands, joining them with yours to give yourself something to hold onto as you rock on his cock.

This time, you ride him. Truly ride him. You roll your hips and circle them around and make him groan. He squeezes your hands, but he doesn’t urge you to go faster. Knowing you will cum again before he does. He doesn’t want to hurt you or wear you out, so he’s just along for the ride. Aware that the sounds from next door have stopped and the guys have gone home.

You tilt your head back as you rock your hips. It’s slower, not as frantic, and you love the way he groans when you grind down onto him. “So good Joel. God, I- I can’t believe it’s so good.” You confess, squeezing his hands before you let go of him and lean back to place your hands on his thighs, grinding forward onto his cock.

He chuckles and watches you with a sense of wonder. “It’s because you’ve not had good sex in a long time.” He downplays his prowess because all that matters is that you enjoy yourself. “God, your pussy is fucking magic.” He moans quietly, twitching violently in the warmth of your walls.

You whimper, loving how he looks beneath you, and you moan his name again, “can you-?” You reach for his hand to bring it to your stomach, sliding it down to rub your clit and you moan when he rubs it just right. “That’s it baby. Shit.” You pant, rocking a little faster and you are soon clamping down on him again, head tilted back as a choked cry escapes your lips.

Joel watches you through heavy lidded eyes as you come apart again. Enjoying the pleasure you take as much as you do, although your body is the one shaking. He rocks his hips up slightly when your pace falters to work you through it. Groaning out your name and humming as you collapse against his chest to kiss you.

You caress his cheek, “I need a second.” You admit, chest heaving as your heart pounds in your chest and you pull off of his cock. Shifting to lay beside him and you reach down to grip his length, starting to pump him slowly while you lean in to kiss him. “Can’t believe you’re in my bed.” You murmur against his lips.

“Hard to believe since we haven’t seen each other in so long.” Joel agrees. “But it is pretty damn good, I think.” He reaches up and cups your cheek. “I know you deserve the fucking moon.”

You grin, turning your head to kiss his palm. “So do you. Always thought you were too hard on yourself.” You murmur, continuing to pump his cock. “I want you on top of me.” You request, letting go of his cock.

“Ready for more?” His brow shoots up and he huffs. “It’s a good damn thing that I didn’t cum.” He teases you, already moving to his knees so his could climb on top of you.

You giggle, reaching up to caress his shoulders and down to his chest, reaching for his cock to position him at your entrance. “I want you to cum. Fill me up again.” You promise, “and I’ll always want more.” You reassure him and he looks at you for a moment until he swallows harshly.

“Yeah?” He asks gruffly, not waiting for you to give him an answer, just lunging forward to fill you up again while he kisses you. Swallowing your cry when he pushes deep and immediately starts to rock into you.

You moan into his mouth, tongue tangling with his as he starts to rock his hips. It’s intoxicating and you are certain that you’ve never been fucked this well before. He kisses along your neck, biting your collarbone and you pant, closing your eyes. “So good baby. So good.” You whimper as he lifts your hip higher to sink deeper inside of you.

“Glad you like my fucking.” He huffs, chuckling breathlessly. He hasn’t worked this hard to fuck a pussy in years and he’s not regretting it. You both deserve this. He actually feels like he deserves this, surprisingly. You make him feel like he does.

“Oh God.” You can’t stop rambling about how good he feels, your heart pounding in your chest and you cross your ankles behind his back, your hands caressing his shoulders, strong from his years in construction. He lowers his hips and you swear you’re gonna cum again when the hair at the base of his cock brushes your clit.

“That’s it.” Joel grunts. The position has you perfectly positioned. Loving how tight you feel and how good it feels to be cradled between your thighs, he knows he’s gonna cum this time. “One more.” He begs. “Give me one more and I’ll fill you up again.”

You pant when he pushes deeper and drops his hips again and you swear you almost black out from the extent of pleasure he’s given you and you swear you are going to gush as he hits just right and you clamp down on his cock. “Joel. Joel. Joellll.” You squeal as you cum, soaking him and your ankles pushing against his ass.

Joel groans, unable to stop himself from pushing deep and letting go. His body draws up taunt like a guitar string. “That’s it baby, gonna cum.” He moans, feeling his cock pulse as he spills ropes of cum into your perfect cunt. Emptying himself as he holds his breath, feeling like his heart is about to beat out of his chest.

You sigh, closing your eyes and tilting your head back against the pillows as he paints your walls with his cum. You feel exhausted and yet feel like you could conquer the world. Alive and vibrating with pleasure from the man above you. The words would be so easy to say. The words you’ve wanted to say for so many years but you swallow them down.

Joel groans and pulls out of you slowly, flopping onto his back with a sigh. “Now I need another nap.” He huffs, closing his eyes even as he opens his arms if you want to snuggle to him again. “Wore me out, woman.”

You shift to curl into his side, throwing your leg over his thighs and not caring about his cum dripping out of you. You sigh and kiss his chest. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had.” You confess, closing your eyes as you cuddle into him.

“Good.” Joel hums sleepily. “Best damn sex I’ve had too.” His hand curls around your body and closes his eyes again, exhausted and for once, the nightmares don’t come.

****

You smile as Ellie sets the blankets up in the back of Joel’s truck. You watch Joel as he comes back to the truck with an armful of popcorn. “Fuck yeah.” Ellie says and you chuckle, taking the popcorn from Joel. “You’re excited to watch Dawn of the Dead?” You ask her with amusement and she nods, “duh. It’s the original. The remake is good but it has nothing on this one.” She says and you watch Joel snort. “Come on, let’s get in the truck, it’s about to start.” He says and you climb in after he does, taking his hand.

Joel can’t believe that you wanted to spend time with Ellie, but it makes him smile as she settles down and you sit beside her. Leaning him to squeeze in on the outside. “It’s always nice when they run these.” Joel admits. “Been a long time since we’ve been, but I always loved it as a kid. Remember all those times we would hang out at the drive in? Damn thing was the only movie theater for twenty miles.”

You shift to snuggle into Joel's side after the movie begins. Ellie chomps away on the popcorn and you inhale the smoky scent of Joel as he shifts to get comfortable with the pillows behind you. The past week has been incredible, spending most days with Joel after he finishes working on the house next door and you've had dinners at your place with and without Ellie. You've wanted Ellie to feel included, that you aren't taking Joel away from her all the time, and the teenager says she's happy she doesn't have to see the miserable old bastard all the time. That made you chuckle and Joel grumble, causing Ellie to go "see? My point." You flinch during the movie, on edge despite seeing this classic before, and Joel rubs your shoulder.

He ignores the way that Ellie eyes the two of you and snickers under her breath. Pulling you against him to where you roll to your side, hooking a leg over his. He tucks his other arm behind his head. “Maybe we can do that thing downtown next week.” He mentions casually, keeping his voice low. “Kid wants to go. Could be fun.” The little town loves to hold festivals and events, especially during the summer.

You hum, looking up at him. “I would love that.” You have been having dinners with Ellie and she’s a great kid. Feisty and her manners could use some work but she’s a good girl really. She’s gonna be a ball buster when she grows up. You and Joel have grown closer and he told you about Sarah. How he asked her to pick up milk on the way home from school because he was too busy with work to pick her up himself so she said she’d walk home and she ended up involved in an armed robbery of the grocery store. She made one wrong move to try and help a pregnant woman and ended up shot. You held Joel after he told you what happened, both of you crying for the little girl who would never grow up. Since then, you’ve spent as much time as possible together, even spending the night at Joel’s house. You never want to go home. You want to stay right here forever. You kiss Joel’s jaw when it tenses and he turns his head to softly kiss you, making your heart flutter.

Joel hums into the kiss, keeping it soft and light since the kid is sitting right next to you. He’s already planning on having you spend the night. Getting used to the feeling of your body next to his and when he’s holding you, he doesn’t dream of Sarah. He doesn’t hear her last breaths as he sleeps. He nuzzles your cheek with his nose when he pulls away. “Enjoying yourself, baby?”

“Always with you.” You whisper softly while Ellie chomps on popcorn and laughs when someone new gets bitten. It’s the most at peace you’ve been in so long. You want to tell Joel how you feel but you don’t want to ruin this between you. When you arrive back at Joel’s, you bid goodnight to Ellie and Joel is dragging you to his room. “Someone’s eager.” You giggle and he shuts the door behind you.

“Always with you.” He uses your words from earlier, but it’s true. He’s always eager to touch you, to taste you. Feeling your skin against his is unlike anything else and he’s addicted to it. He quickly pulls off your shirt and unclips your bra as he kisses along your neck, moving down to take a nipple in his mouth.

You gasp, body still on fire as much as the first time whenever he touches you. You reach for his jeans, unbuckling them and reaching in to grip his cock, loving how hard he is for you. “Joel.” You whine when he bites down on your nipple, groaning into your skin.

He loves how you whine, how you beg for him. Switching to your other breast, he shows it the same attention, squeezing your ass and then hastily unbuttoning your shorts. Needing to feel how wet you are for him.

You let go of his cock so he can shove your shorts down and he groans when his hand dives into your panties and he finds you soaking wet. You’ve never been so turned on by a man, wet from just a few kisses from Joel. Even looking at him. You whimper when his calloused fingers find your clit. “Yesss baby.” You hiss softly, reaching back to squeeze his cock.

“Fuck.” He groans against your tit. His fingers rub your clit and then he slides them deep inside you and curls up. “Want you to cum for me, then I want to fuck you.” He growls.

You can’t deny him when he wants you to cum for him. His thumb pressing against your clit and you’re so close already. “Joel. Baby. Shit.” You hiss as you clamp down on his digits, soaking them and your grip on his cock tightens.

It seems like he’s learned your body perfectly over the last week. Groaning happily when your cunt gushes around his fingers and makes it squelch when he continues to finger you. “So good baby, so good.” He praises. “You’re so good for me.”

You whimper, “yes. Yes. All yours. I- shit. Need you inside of me.” You plead, letting go of his cock to reach for his shirt. You want to pull it over his head so you can touch his skin.

It’s a frantic rush to get both of you undressed. Acting like teenagers again. He chuckles when he nearly trips over his boxers as he moves you towards the bed. “So damn eager. All the time.” He grunts, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes you down onto the bed.

You giggle, looking up at him as he shifts to kneel between your legs. You stop giggling when he looks at you and you reach up to caress his cheeks. “It’s because it’s you.” You murmur, your heart pounding in your chest and you know you can’t say those words and ruin this so you surge forward to press your lips against gis.

Joel closes his eyes and moans into your mouth. Gripping his cock and guiding himself towards your dripping entrance while your tongues tangle together. Flattening his hands on either side of your head as he starts to push inside you.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, lifting your thighs up to rest on his hips so he can sink deeper inside of you. “Joel baby. Shit. Always so thick. Stretching me out. Would’ve - would’ve let you fuck me in your truck during the movie if Ellie wasn’t there.” You reveal when he leans back to kiss along your jaw.

He hums quietly. "Could you have kept quiet?" He asks, sliding a hand up and covering your mouth. "Or would I have had to fuck you like this? Keep those pretty sounds for myself while I fuck you?"

Your moan is muffled by his palm and you whimper when he starts to move inside of you. Your cunt clenches around him, making him chuckle darkly, and you swear that alone could make you cum. His hand slides down to your neck, holding you there but not squeezing. “I would’ve tried. The - the horror screams might’ve covered mine up.”

He hums, smirking as he watches you squirm underneath him. "Maybe." He tells you doubtfully. Your screams are too loud when he's really fucking you. Although you normally save that for when he's fucking you at your aunt's house.

You slap his chest playfully and he grabs your hand, pressing it into the mattress above your head. “I could’ve kept quiet.” You huff and he thrusts particularly hard into you, making you moan a little louder than you shoulder. His eyebrow raises as you open your eyes and you roll your eyes, “okay, you made your point. Now, you gonna fuck me, Miller?” You tease, leaning up to nip his jaw.

“I’m fuckin’ you, aren’t I?” He grumbles even though he’s smirking again. He’s been doing a lot of that around you lately. Reaching back, he grabs your hand and lifts it up over your head while he slams into you again. “Addicted to it. To you.”

Your mouth falls open, all joking gone as he hits so deep inside of you. “Fuck.” You gasp, closing your eyes as he rolls his hips on the next thrust. “Shit. Me too. Addicted. To all of you.” You promise, having seen some of his darker moments when he’d wake up in the middle of the night and momentarily forget he lost Sarah. You’d held him while he settled down and neither of you spoke about it the next morning. It’s his decision to talk or not talk.

With your confession, his pace falters for a moment before he starts rocking into you faster. Snapping his hips as harshly as he can to slam into you roughly. Knocking your breath and his own out of you as he fucks you.

You lift your hips higher, sending him impossibly deeper inside of you, and you can barely breathe with the way he’s pushing deep inside of you. “Fuck baby. That’s it. God. Feels so good. So good.” You moan, squeezing his hands in yours.

“You’re so good.” He’s done everything he fucking could to show you how sexy you are. How desirable. That your ex is a dumbass. He squeezes your hand and despite the rough pace, his lips are tender on yours.

His hips grind against yours and you are close when he rubs your clit just right. “Shit. Jo-Joel. Fuck. I’m gonna - I’m gonna - Shitttttt.” You hiss as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him and your lips hover against his as he works you through it.

It’s always so surprising how quickly you cum. Making him groan as your walls squeeze hum like a vice, begging him to fill you up. He kisses you again, keeping his cock working in and out of you as he chases his own high. Thinking about you and how sexy you are, different times he’s fucked you. Wanting to cum and snuggle with you while he can. “Fuck, fuck, baby.” He pants. “So fucking good for me. Soaking my cock. Moaning my name. You’re mine, ain’t cha?”

You nod, “yes. Yes. Yours. Always been yours. You just didn’t know it.” You confess and he groans, pushing deep inside of you with a hiss as he starts to cum. “That’s it baby. Cum for me. Yes. Yes. God, that’s it.” You squeeze his hands as he scrunches his face up while he paints your walls.

“You should stay.” Joel groans out as he collapses on top of you and buries his face into your neck. Panting breathlessly and trying to find the words he needs, even though he’s never been good at them. He needs you. Much like he needed Ellie, just in a different kind of way. He doesn’t want you to leave and he knows you’ve only got a few days left.

You want to stay. More than anything. You often daydream about a life spent with Joel but you have a life back in Texas that you need to sort out. You want to stay, forget everything in Texas but you have an apartment. “I can’t. Not yet.” You murmur and caress his back, “I have stuff to figure out in Texas.” You wish you could stay with him but you have to get everything sorted.

Joel doesn’t say anything. He knows it was a long shot. He kisses you softly and pulls out of you with a groan and rolls onto his back. Quiet and suddenly wondering is you are going to go back to that asshole now that you’ve fucked someone else.

You shift into his side, kissing his chest, and you know it’s hard to explain to Joel who sees the world in absolutes. You know he isn’t happy with your answer and you’ll try to explain it better in the daylight. He is soon snoring in your ear and you murmur to him, “I love you.” You will call your parents tomorrow and see if they can help you out.

****

Joel looks at you as you finish making the sandwiches for lunch. “You nearly finished with the house next door?” You ask him as you set the iced tea down in front of him as he shifts to sit at your kitchen counter.

“Nearly.” He says and he’s been quiet since last night when you told him you weren’t staying.

You set the plate in front of him just as the doorbell rings. He looks at you and you shake your head, “I didn’t order anything.” You say and make your way over to the front door. You open it and gasp, “Jason?”

His heart sinks as he hears your gasps but his first instinct is anger. Lurching out of his seat, Joel rushes to the door and pushes you out of the way so he can grab the asshole who hurt you. "What the fuck are you doing here?" He growls, satisfied that the man nearly squeals and flinches when Joel draws his fist back to punch him.

Jason winces and you reach up to touch Joel’s arm. “Don’t. He’s not worth it.” You say and Joel glances at you, confused that you don’t want him to beat this guy’s ass and you say no. “What do you want, Jason?” You huff and Jason adjusts his shirt after Joel lowers his arm.

“I want you back. I made a mistake. I'm sorry baby. Please. I miss you.” You ignore that to ask him how he found you. “Your phone…still has the location shared with me.”

You hiss at your stupidity. “I don’t - I don’t love you Jason. You hurt me. So much. Just go.” You plead and he shakes his head, trying to push into the house but Joel puffs his chest and Jason backs away.

“Fine. Whatever. Clearly you’ve moved on. Good luck, man. She’s batshit crazy.” Jason growls, “and she needs to do some fucking kegels.”

Joel hisses and surges forward to grab Jasón but he manages to dodge Joel and runs down the path. “Motherfucker.” Joel hisses and tries to catch him but you place your hand on his chest, “leave it baby. It’s not worth it.” You remind him and Joel shouts out, “you worthless piece of shit!” You sigh and shut the door, feeling a little shaken by Jason’s random appearance.

Joel’s angry. Pissed off that you apparently still have feelings for that fucking loser. Enough that you wouldn’t let him beat the shit out of him and teach him some fucking manners. “Charming asshole.” He grunts, not even hungry anymore. “See why you want to go back to him.” You just said you didn’t love him, but why else would you give up on everything the two of you have if not to go back to that worthless piece of shit.

Your eyes widen, “go- what the hell are you talking about, Joel? Go back to him? That’s the last thing I’d ever do. I didn’t think he’d track my fucking phone to come and find me.” You shake your head, “I don’t want him. I want you. I only want you.” You want to tell him how much but you don’t want to risk your heart again.

“Except you aren’t staying with me, are you?” He demands. “You’re gonna fuck off back to Texas and maybe tell your friends that you rebounded with some dumb construction worker who knew you from back in the day.” His own fears ride to the surface and he lashes out at you. “Poor son of a bitch actually thought he had a chance and asked you to stay.”

You shake your head, “Joel. No. I- I have to go home because I have an apartment. A job. I can’t just up and leave everything. I want to stay. More than anything in the world but we aren’t kids, we have responsibilities and I have to handle it all before I come back here. I want to stay. More than anything in the world.” You assure him, noticing how tense he is and you feel guilty for not explaining yourself before.

“Whatever.” He’s angry and irrational. A little embarrassed about how he just flung his heart out there. “I’m- I’ve got to get back to work.” He picks up his tool belt off the back of the chair and turns towards the door. Hating how vulnerable you’ve made him feel and how easily you can hurt him.

You want to run after him, scream at him that you love him, that you've always been in love with him. No one has ever made you feel like he does. Instead, you stare at the kitchen counter. You told him you'd come back but he pushed it aside. Maybe it's best that you go home before you destroy the last of your relationship with Joel. You work on packing your things, booking a flight home, and you text Ellie to tell her you are heading home first thing. She tries to call you but you ignore it, wanting to have a glass of wine or two to smother the way your heart aches at leaving Joel again. You never discussed why you left. You never told him and now you doubt you will. You organize your aunt's house, leaving it how you found it and get into bed without Joel.

“You’re a fucking dumbass.” Joel ignores the jab coming from the teenager as he stirs the pan as if it was a mission to whip the water and milk mixture the boxed dinner called for. “Joel? Joel? She’s leaving.” She stresses again. “You know, not being here anymore?”

Slamming the spoon down, Joel turns around to glare at Ellie. “I fucking know. What do you want me to do about it?” He demands. “She’s a fucking adult. She can go where she wants.”

The girl’s eyebrows arch up to her forehead and she rears back at the anger in Joel’s tone. “Man, you got it baaaaaaad.” She huffs. “You need to tell her how you feel.”

Joel snorts. “I have.” He admits, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter, stay out of it.”

Ellie harumps at him and crosses her arms. “Go talk to her.” She demands, staring him down and he knows she won’t let this go.

“Fine.” He grumbles, slapping his hands on his hips to search for his keys. “Won’t do any good, but I’ll go talk to her.”

The doorbell rings and you frown, getting out of bed to see who it is. Hoping it's not Jason coming back. When you see Joel through the peephole, you sigh and open the door. "Hey." You say weakly as you stand there in your pajamas in the doorway.

“Can we talk?” Joel asks, shuffling slightly on the steps and wondering if you would tell him to fuck off. He had overreacted and fucked things up. “Please?”

You nod, stepping aside so he can walk in and you shut the door behind him. “Ellie told you I booked a flight home?” You ask and he nods, pushing his hands into his jeans. “Yeah.” He clears his throat and you bite your lip, taking a moment. “I don’t think you understand me, Joel. I- I don’t want to leave. Ever. If I could stay here forever, I would. But I can’t. Not because I don’t want to. I want to. I have a life back home. A home. A job. I can't abandon that stuff. I have to sort it out and then…I was planning to come back.”

His shoulders round, knowing that he hadn’t heard you say that when he was busy being upset. “I- I’m sorry.” He murmurs quietly, hating being wrong and feeling like he’s fucked things up. “I shouldn’t have- I didn’t hear you say that. I’m- no excuse.” He tells the kid to own up to her mistakes all the time and he should do the same.

You aren’t angry with him, just upset. “I- I never told you the reason why I left when you got married…did I?” You ask and he shakes his head, his hand coming up to run it through his hair. You fiddle with your fingers and lick your lips, giving yourself a moment. “I left because I couldn’t stand to see the man I love be in love with another woman, marry another woman. It tore me apart and I thought it was easier to leave than to watch you live your life without me being the woman you chose to be with. I was so in love with you and you didn’t see it. I had to go.”

“Oh baby.” Joel closes his eyes, pulling his hands out of his pockets so he can pull you close. “I wish you had told me.” It wouldn’t have changed things, he had married her, but maybe he could have kept you as a friend. “We didn’t last a year. She wasn’t the one for me. Not really, and we both knew it.”

You know he wouldn’t change a thing because he had Sarah because he married Helen but you hug him, breathing him in. “You had Sarah so life happens for a reason and you’re here now and I - I still love you. I’m still so damn in love with you, Miller.” You confess as you pull back to look at him.

“I love you.” He murmurs softly. “I - I was going to offer to come to Texas.” He’s not stepped foot in the state since his daughter died and he really didn’t want to go back, but he would for you. “To visit you. It would be hard to move Ellie.”

You caress his cheek, “I won’t be long.” You promise, “I can work remotely so I just gotta head home to pack up and find somewhere here to buy.” You tell him, “I won’t be gone long enough for you to need to visit me. I know you can’t move because of Ellie so I’ll come here. I don’t want to run anymore. I want you.” You promise, leaning in to nudge your nose with his.

“You don’t have to buy anything.” Joel murmurs quietly. “You can move in with me and Ellie.” He knows you might not want to move in with him after your ex cheated on you in your home, but he wants to offer. “No need to waste the money when you’re gonna be in bed with me.”

You smile, pleased that he’s ready to jump all in. “You want me in your bed?” You ask and he nods, “every damn night.” You giggle softly and kiss his lower lip. “As soon as I’m back, I’ll never leave your bed.” You promise, “I’m yours. Forever. If you’ll have me.”

“Baby, I want you.” Joel wraps his arm around you and pulls you close. “I promise you, I want you. Forever. Your asshole ex threw away the greatest thing he ever had and I’m not stupid enough to do the same.”

#pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel tlou #no outbreak!joel miller

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pink-sparkly-witch · 6 months

Text

Take Care of You

Summary: Y/N is run ragged. Her employer keeps throwing more work at her, and she’s too nice to say no. She’s also been keeping Jensen’s businesses afloat while trying to keep an eye on their families with him away filming. She’s overwhelmed, stressed and hasn’t been sleeping well. When Jensen comes home after finishing his movie, he notices his girl’s not doing great and plans a weekend filled with “her” time.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Established Relationship for @jacklesversebingo

Warnings: tw: mentions of cancer, tw: mentions of cancer treatments, tw: dementia, domestic fluff, massage, smut, oral sex (f rec), p in v.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is a very self-indulgent story that I wasn’t sure would ever be shared. This has been my life for the past few years, and when I sat down to write something, this is what word vomited onto the page, and I couldn’t stop it.

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

Consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite or leaving a comment. It really does fuel a creative’s muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

“Honey, I’m home!” Jensen declared as he opened the front door, quickly closing and locking it behind him. The lamp in the hallway was on, your purse and laptop bag were sitting on the sideboard, and by the text you’d sent him two hours ago asking if he wanted anything special for dinner tonight, he knew you were home. Why then, he frowned, was the whole house silent?

Dropping his bag next to the sideboard, Jensen moved further into the quickly darkening house. “Y/N? Babe?” he called out again, still being met with silence. Walking into the living room, he huffed an annoyed breath, shaking his head in disbelief at the state he’d found you.

You were still in your work clothes: pinstripe pencil skirt, black button-up blouse and tan stilettos. Your hair was still in a tight, professional bun, and your glasses were pushed up on your head. From the look of things, you got home, put your bags down and immediately fell asleep on the couch.

That damn job was going to be the death of you. They took and took and took, giving nothing in return. You were eager to learn, take on more responsibility and help everyone around you. They took advantage of that and turned your kindness and willingness to be a team player into an expectation. Not only was it expected, it was now frowned upon if you said no. So you didn’t, and God help you if you told someone else in your team that they had to be the one to stay late because heaven forbid, you did actually have a life outside of the office.

Jensen sighed as he looked over your beautiful face, blemished by dark circles around your eyes that makeup could no longer cover. How long had this been going on? He’d been away filming for a month and, with other commitments, hadn’t been home. He was contractually obliged to attend conventions on two of the weekends. Another was his own doing; he was exhausted and couldn’t be bothered packing and travelling to spend only thirty-six hours at home. So, instead, he promised he’d come home next time and went to play golf with a buddy. The only problem with that plan was that he couldn’t come home that weekend either as you’d caught Covid. The guilt he’d played golf instead of coming home to you still ate at him.

You both knew you didn’t need to work. Jensen made enough to support you and allow you to live comfortably, but you wanted to work; you needed to. And when he was away for work, you got lonely and threw yourself into work. Jensen had tried several times to convince you to travel with him and spend your free time doing what you loved most: writing. He thought he’d made a fool-proof argument for his case, but you outsmarted him with a flaw in his master plan; you had responsibilities to your family. And to his. Someone needed to help care for your elderly grandparents. God, both your parents were now at an age that even they were considered elderly, and you felt it was your responsibility to do all the heavy lifting for the generations that came before you.

So many aspects of your dad’s health deteriorated since he battled stage four prostate cancer a few years ago. The chemotherapy weakened his immune system, and he never fully recovered from its poison. The treatment exacerbated his arthritis, and his joints were now in constant pain. But it was his memory that was now concerning you. He was forgetful during his treatment, which was understandable because it was one of the side effects. That, and his mind probably ran through a million different scenarios about his mortality. It was just that it wasn’t getting better. It was getting worse. He’d told you the same story twice in the hour you’d visited last week, and now there were changes in his behaviour that doubled your worry.

Jensen hadn’t meant to worry you when he’d asked you after Christmas dinner with your family if your dad was doing alright. He’d told Jensen the same story several times while you were there, and he thought he was helping you out by mentioning it. He’d been upset when you admitted you’d been concerned for a while and hadn’t told him. When Jensen asked why you hadn’t talked to him about it, guilt flooded him when you said work was keeping him busy enough and that he didn’t need to be stressing about anything else just now.

You’d told him back then that you’d been trying to convince your mom to talk to him and seek help, but they were as stubborn as each other. When the woman wouldn’t even stop smoking after having a partial lobectomy because of lung cancer and radiation treatment for throat cancer, you knew you were fighting a losing battle.

A light had been switched on, though, when at your mom’s birthday dinner, there were just too many things that couldn’t be ignored, including your dad calling you his recently deceased sister’s name and acting completely inappropriately for a restaurant. Your five-year-old niece had behaved better than him. Finally, you managed to convince your dad to see a doctor. Eight months and various appointments and tests later, a diagnosis of frontotemporal dementia, one of the rarest kinds of the disease, was confirmed. Two days before your birthday, no less.

As he watched your sleeping form, he knew something had to give before you became ill, and his plans for a weekend filled with couples excursions and dates quickly changed. It was now your weekend. You had a family barbecue up in Dallas that you couldn’t miss on Sunday, but until then, he’d take care of you and everything else that needed doing in the house. He’d force you to relax all weekend if it was the last thing he did. And it started with making your favourite comfort food: mac and cheese.

Jensen lit some candles around the living room to give a dim light rather than switch on the brighter lamps and wake you. Heading to the kitchen, he put a pan of water on the stove to boil before pulling his phone from his pocket and calling his mom.

“Hi, sweetie! How are you?” Donna greeted cheerfully.

“Yeah, I’m good, ma. How’re you doing?” he replied as he opened the cupboard and pulled down the box of fake cheesy goodness.

“We’re fine, son. How’s Y/N?” his mom asked, and he smiled softly at the affection in his mom’s voice. His whole family adored her, welcoming her into their family with arms and hearts wide open, taking her in as one of their own without hesitation.

“Uhm, let’s just say I’m glad I’m home for a few weeks. My girl needs a little looking after,” Jensen chuckled dryly.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. I don’t think she’ll ever change. She always puts others before herself. Is there anything we can do to help? You know if you need to miss Sunday, you can. We won’t be upset,” Donna sympathised.

“We’ll be there on Sunday. I think it’ll do her good, you know? Relaxing by the pool and seeing family. But I wanted to ask you something,” he said.

“Anything, son,” she said instantly, and Jensen chuckled at his mom’s worried tone.

“You know that lavender bath stuff from the place in Dallas you got her obsessed with?” Jensen asked, grinning at his mom’s relieved laugh.

“I just sent her some. It arrived the other day. There are bath salts, bath bombs, bubbles, and some candles. And the pillow spray. Oh, and the essential oil! You could give her a little massage!” There was a grin in her voice, and he shook his head with a chuckle.

“Alright, I get it!” Jensen chuckled. “I was going to ask if you could pick some up for us coming up there, but if she’s got some, that’s even better! I just need to know how to use it.”

“Okay, so you want to start with lighting the candles...”

You could feel something soft and warm caress your cheek, and you start to wake. Your eyes flutter open, taking a minute to focus through the dimly lit room, and finally, find the forest-green eyes of the love of your life, and you smile at him with a contented hum. Jensen smiled softly back as he continued to stroke your cheek gently. “Hey, sleepy head,” he whispered.

“Jay, you’re home!” you grinned, voice husky from sleep. “I missed you, baby.”

“I missed you too, darlin’. It looks like someone came home and crashed out,” Jensen chuckled softly.

“What time is it?” you ask, rubbing at your gritty eyes and yawning. You had to admit that although it wasn’t your intention to indulge in a nap, you did feel much better.

“A little after nine,” Jensen answered and laughed at your gasp.

“Nine!? I’ve been asleep for three hours?” you groaned in annoyance.

Jensen smiled and gently gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Yeah, and by the look of this, you need much more,” he gently runs his fingers under your eyes. “Those dark circles would make a panda claim you as one of their own, and that was before you rubbed at your eyes and messed up your mascara!”

“Oh, God!” you groaned.

“Hey,” Jensen said, “you’re still beautiful, baby,” he smiled. “I made you mac and cheese. Eat. I’ll grab a quick shower to get the plane smell off me, then I’ll run you a bath,” he held his hand out to silence your protests. “And if you’re a good girl and let me take care of you, you can have a massage when you get out,” he grinned boyishly, knowing he had you where he wanted you.

“A massage or a full body massage?” you giggled as you watched him search for the right response.

“I’ll tell you what. Eat, bathe, and pamper yourself in the tub with a glass of wine and a face mask, and after, I’ll give you a normal, completely innocent massage. If, and only if you still want that,” Jensen licked his lips and smirked, “full body massage to help relieve any deep-rooted tension, then darlin’, I am at your service,” he rasped in his ‘Dean’ voice, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s been a month. The only way to get rid of that kind of tension is for those talented fingers to work it out of me,” you lowered your voice seductively. “And I think it’s gonna take a few… releases,” you smirked at his darkening eyes, “to get rid of it completely.”

“Fuck!” Jensen groaned, and you grinned mischievously.

“Oh, and if you need to relieve some tension, my hands and mouth are at your service. Although,” you teased further, “I can think of somewhere else that’ll appreciate it a lot more, and I guarantee you won’t regret using it to your advantage,” you winked.

“You’re gonna kill me one of these days, baby girl,” Jensen grumbled as he headed upstairs to shower and prepare your bath.

You cleared up the mess Jensen had left in the kitchen, rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. He’d be mad at you for doing it, but you didn’t care. He was also tired and deserved not to worry about a messy house.

Opening the cupboard, you pulled out two glasses. A crystal tumbler for Jensen’s whiskey and a wine glass for you. Filling the ice bucket, you pulled one of his good bottles of Scotch from the cabinet, put it in the bucket, added a bottle of wine, and went upstairs.

The scent of lavender filled the hallway, getting stronger the closer you came to the master bedroom. Smiling, you stopped inside the door and leaned against the wooden frame. You watched with a soft smile as Jensen moved around the room and lit candles. Most were unscented pillar candles, but you noticed the little glass votives on each bedside table and knew they were somewhat responsible for the soothing fragrance permeating the room.

“Found my secret stash, huh?” you spoke, grinning at Jensen’s damp, hedgehog hair and guilty look. “Hey, I’m not mad, baby. Thank you for doing this,” you gestured to the candles and the soft acoustic music playing lowly.

“Anything for m’girl,” Jensen walked over to you and pecked your lips. He took the ice bucket and glasses and placed them on the dresser. “I put your robe over the heated rail so it’ll be nice and cosy when you get out,” he glanced at you with a soft smile, opened the wine bottle and poured you a large glass.

“Thank you,” you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. He chuckled and pulled you closer, arms around your shoulders and tucking your head under his chin. You sighed and melted into his body.

“What’s this for?” he asked, kissing your hair.

You shrugged, “I just need a hug.”

Jensen kissed your hair again and pulled away slightly, looking down at you with pure adoration. “Well, you can have all the hugs you want for the next three weeks.”

“Promise?” you grinned into his chest.

Jensen chuckled and pulled you in tighter, “I promise. Now, let’s get you in that tub, huh?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “It smells amazing in there!”

Jensen let go of you, filled the wine glass and handed it to you. “Go on in and enjoy. I’ll be here when you get out,” he kissed your forehead and gently pushed you towards the ensuite bathroom.

You gasped at what Jensen had done in there. It was lit only by candlelight, and the steam billowing from the tub filled with bubbles and the lavender scent surrounding you immediately made you relax.

You sighed as you walked to the double sink and stepped out of your heels, kicking them under it. Grabbing a brush and a hair tie, you pulled your hair free of its constraints and brushed it out. Replacing the tight, professional bun with a much more comfortable, messy one, you opened the drawer, grabbed your face cleanser and began to remove the day’s dirt, grime, and makeup, frowning at the dark circles under your eyes.

Finally, you stripped your clothes off, leaving them in a pile on top of your shoes, intending to put them in the laundry basket later. You looked through the sheet masks you kept in a little basket on the counter, settling on one with chamomile and aloe vera, keeping the relaxed vibe in the bathroom.

Sinking into the tub, you sighed loudly as the hot water encompassed your tired body, enveloping you in a warm hug. You placed the mask over your face, rested your head on the bath pillow, and sighed again, letting the water soothe your body, and the lavender soothe your soul.

Relaxed, warm and sleepy, you walk into the bedroom with your fluffy robe wrapped around your body.

“There she is!” Jensen smiled when he saw you. You already looked more relaxed, making him feel lighter than when he first saw you.

“Come on, lie down,” Jensen said, placing a towel over the bedding to protect it from oil. You walked towards the bed, untying the robe. Despite seeing you naked thousands of times, Jensen turned his head to give you privacy. Once ready, you crawled up the bed and lay comfortably on your stomach.

“Comfy, baby girl?” Jensen’s voice is quiet, and you feel the bed dip with his weight. You hummed in response and shivered as his warm hand ghosted down your spine. Jensen poured the lavender aromatherapy oil on his hands and rubbed them together, warming the liquid between his palms.

Straddling your thighs, but careful not to put too much weight on them, he rubbed your lower back, sweeping his hands over your skin, covering it with the slick oil. Moving to your shoulders, he tuts and shakes his head.

“Poor baby, all knotted and tight up here,” he murmured as he increased his pressure.

“Hmm,” you moaned. “Feels good, Jay.”

“Yeah?” Jensen asked, working his thumbs into the knots along your shoulder blades.

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” you purred. You hardly ever took time out for self-care, but when you did, it was something you enjoyed, and you wondered why it was something you didn’t make more time for.

Jensen’s hands continued to work out the knots, and he smiled softly with every moan and hum that left you unchecked. Feeling you relax under his touch and sink further into the mattress made him relax, too.

“How do you feel?” Jensen whispered, not wanting to startle you or ruin your tranquil state as he sat back on the bed.

“I feel good, baby,” your voice was soft – lazy almost, as you turned over to lay on your back, biting your bottom lip when Jensen’s eyes went straight to your naked breasts. “See something you like?” you teased, giggling at his smirk.

“I do,” Jensen’s voice was deep with arousal, “so, can I interest you in a full body massage, or would you like a rain check?” Jensen was always a gentleman; you could see in his eyes (and sweatpants!) that he wanted you, but he knew you were exhausted and would never push you to go further.

“I think,” you smirked, “I want that full body.” It had been a month for both of you, but the excitement on his features made you laugh. “You’d think we never have sex with that look on your face!”

“Can’t a man miss his wife?” Jensen chuckled. “Miss her body because his hand just won’t cut it after a while?” he bit his lip and placed his hands on your chest, rubbing and caressing your breasts and down your torso. He hooked his fingers in the fabric of your simple cotton panties and pulled them down your legs.

Dropping them on the floor, he kneeled between your legs, gently pushing them up before pulling them apart, placing them on either side of his body and opening you up to him.

“Hmm,” he hummed, licking his lips at your glistening folds. “A month is far too long, baby girl. Never going that long without you or this pretty little pussy again,” Jensen murmured and lowered himself to your core, licking a long line up your slit.

You had missed this. Jensen’s tongue was unbelievably talented, never failing to make you come multiple times over hours when he was in the mood. Still, you knew tonight wouldn’t be one of those nights. Tonight, you’d fall apart embarrassingly quickly on his tongue, and then he’d be too desperate to tease you more.

Jensen slid a hand up your body, cupping your breast and grinned into your folds as he felt your body arch further into his touch. Your hand covered his and squeezed, forcing him to grip your breast harder. Taking the hint, he slid his other hand up your chest and began to play with both.

That was all that it took for you to fall over the edge. You grabbed Jensen’s hands from your chest and linked your fingers with his, moaning incoherent curses as your body convulsed through its climax.

“That’s m’girl,” Jensen murmured as he placed one last kiss to your centre before dragging his lips up the rest of your body, nipping and sucking along the way. His warm hands skimmed your body, and he hummed lowly at the softness of your skin, making you putty in his hands.

Jensen’s kisses finally reached your lips, and the combination of his soft lips and your taste on his tongue sent another wave of arousal shooting through your body. Your hands grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged at it viciously until he got the message and pulled it off.

His eyes rolled as your nails gently raked over his lower back and around his stomach. You dipped your hand into his sweats, finding his erection and clasping your hand around it. The groan that rumbled from him was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard, making his desperation for you clear as day. He dipped his head and placed his lips to yours once more, the kiss slow and sweet at first, but as you began to pump your hand up and down his length, he pushed his tongue into your mouth and deepened it.

Jensen’s hand moved from your hip and skimmed up your torso. He gripped your breast and squeezed before trailing his fingers back down and settling between your legs. Running his thumb down your folds, he coated his thumb with your slick before expertly finding your clit and flicking the tiny bud.

“Good girl,” he mumbled, breaking the kiss as your legs automatically opened wider for him.

Jensen focused his lips and tongue on your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a contented hum. You moaned loudly as your body arched up, forcing yourself into him further, the movement causing his thumb to press into your clit just a little bit harder and pushing you just a little bit closer to the edge.

Wanting more, you started to grind your hips into him, increasing the pressure of his thumb against the tiny bundle of nerves. “That’s it, baby, take what you need,” Jensen growled as he trailed kisses up your chest, “tonight is all about you.”

You continued to grind against his hand, tumbling straight into another climax the second his lips attached to your throat. Jensen held you closer, slowing the flick of his thumb and prolonging your high just a little without overstimulating you.

You shivered, suddenly feeling cold, as you returned to yourself and whined when you noticed Jensen standing at the edge of the bed. Chuckling, he pulled his sweatpants off and crawled back up your body.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he smiled, kissing the tip of your nose. “Are you ready?” he whispered while rutting himself through your folds, coating himself in your arousal.

“For you, always,” you smiled, but as he pushed his hips forward and entered you, your head fell back, and a low moan tore from your throat. With a growled string of curses, Jensen filled you to the brim and stilled.

“Fuck, Jensen!” you gasped.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, stroking your cheek, his brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m good. I missed this. I missed you,” you whimpered and wrapped your arms around Jensen’s neck, pulling him towards you and pecking at his lips. Slowly, Jensen pulled his hips back and thrust forward slowly and gently.

The lazy way that you made love was everything you needed and more. As you both succumbed to your climaxes, you knew that you’d always be safe in his arms and that he’d always take care of you the way you took care of everyone else.

Tags: @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

#jacklesversebingo #take care of you #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen x reader #jensen ackles rpf #jensen ackles fluff

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 6 days

Note

I saw your hc post with Nathan with a feminine s/o and the part where he liked listening to her talk and that got me thinking about this. He would love it if his s/o played piano. Like, he puts a piano in places like the living room and his office just so when he's there he can listen to them play. Sh maybe you could make a small hc post based on that idea

Ahh, I love this! Sorry it took me so long to post!

Nathan Bateman GN!Reader • Rating: T•Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

Warnings: Soft!Nathan , swearing, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 455

Oh my gosh, literally pianos everywhere. You have to tell him to calm the fuck down.

“Do you want a new piano?” “No, you bought me five already.” “Do you need one in a different colour?” “No.” “What about another grand piano for the-” “Nathan.”

Doesn’t pester you to play for him, but is very happy whenever you play. Even if you’re trying out a new piece and feel like you're constantly messing up, he’s just 100% heart eyes at all times.

Will, however, act like he isn’t if you call him on it.

If you’re playing and it isn’t within his earshot you’re gonna get a series of, ‘why aren’t you playing near me so I can listen?’ type messages.

You end up just practising near him so he doesn’t complain.

You call him a baby (affectionate) about it.

He says he isn’t and sulks for 3 hours.

When you find him you show him a little song you’ve written for him.

He gets a little over emotional that you made something for him. And tries to hide it. (He does a bad job.)

Asks you to teach him how to play.

He understands the theory really well, but gets annoyed when he can’t play perfectly after 30 seconds.

“You’re really good Nathan!”

“I’m shit.”

“You can’t expect to play it perfectly the first time.”

“Why?”

You roll your eyes. “Because you have to learn the muscle memory, you couldn’t box amazingly the first time you tried could you?”

“I could.”

“Fuck off.”

You give him little lessons every day, which he adores. He progresses well, he’s obviously trying really hard, but after a couple of weeks, you realise he’s doing it more to spend time with you and to share in something you enjoy than to become a master at it. (Which surprises you.)

He likes calling you ‘bossy’ when you tell him to practise or play something. This morphs a little and sticks into a nickname, ‘boss’.

Whenever he’s on a conference call and someone asks him to do something he doesn’t want to, instead of saying a flat ‘no.’ he just starts shrugging and saying ‘you better ask the boss.’

He does not explain this to anyone, causing a lot of confusion (which he loves).

No one has any idea that you’re ‘the boss’ until a rare in-person event when Nathan isn’t being his hermit self and he refers to you by the nickname in front of a couple of staff.

What you expect to be the end of the joke turns into people asking and emailing you for permission and sign offs. (And to get Nathan to do things.)

Nathan finds this all hilarious and will not correct the situation.

Thank you for reading!

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If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#nathan bateman #ex machina #nathan bateman x reader #x reader #nathan bateman x you #x you #nathan bateman x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #nathan bateman x gn!reader #x gn!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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lincolndjarin · 10 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter five : lunar interlude : just a man (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.0k

summary : a look into din's point of view

warnings, etc. : language, sexual fantasy, masturbation

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Absurd.

It’s absurd how much the job pays. Din’s not even sure he should take it at this point because it’s too good to be true. But they promised monthly payments up front and he needed a new ship, and with what this gig pays, within the year he could buy a fleet. He could do this for a few years and be set for life.

So he catches a ship to Naboo.

And he meets with a rather obnoxious prince who loves the novelty of having a Mandalorian working for him. It’s a good thing the job’s seemingly so easy because Prince Harand is off putting enough to make him reconsider. It’s simple, act as a personal guard to his wife. In exchange he’ll receive more credits than he’ll know what to do with and a private place to reside in. All he has to do is keep her from harm and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble.

“Is she prone to getting into trouble?” Din doesn’t try to hide the distaste in his voice at how high-and-mighty the man is acting.

“You expect me to know that?”

Pig.

After he accepts he’s given direct permission to disregard any of her orders that would prevent him from doing his job.

He declines the invitation to attend the wedding, to say he’s indifferent to the whole affair would be an understatement. He isn’t in any hurry to meet the woman who agreed to marry that. So Prince Harand gives him a note, he doesn’t bother reading it, he just tosses it on the vanity and he waits alone in what he is told are your chambers.

Weddings take a while.

So he can’t help but be curious, after all did his employer expect him to just stand in the same spot all day? So he snoops, he’s allowed to be nosy, it might help him do a better job if he can get a grasp on who you are. He spends the next two hours inspecting the room from top to bottom and much to his annoyance he learns nothing. There isn’t a single personal item here. All the clothes are seemingly unworn, there’s no clutter, nothing. If anything he feels like he knows even less about you. Shit, does he even know your name? Had the prince mentioned it? Maker, did the prince even know the name of the woman he was marrying? What a clown. Whatever, it doesn’t matter, she’s royalty and he’s the help, she probably won’t even address him. So he waits for several hours. He just stands there, eventually he considers just leaving and reporting for duty tomorrow but he can hear voices in the hall now so he stands up a bit straighter, then the door creaks open and Kodo drunkenly peers in before slamming it shut again.

Idiot.

Is that laughter?

He doesn’t get any time to wonder what that was about because a Twi’lek opens the door and then you walk in. And he’s frozen in place. Your eyes are on him and the room is suddenly dreadfully hot. It’s like you're under some sort of spell that pulls you towards him and he can’t breathe. Why would they put such garish makeup on such a beautiful face?

He should say something. He needs to say something. Introduce yourself you dimwit.

He opens his mouth but before he can utter a sound you touch him. It feels like his heart has stopped. He can see you speaking but he doesn’t hear a thing, captivated by the way your mouth moves when you talk, your tongue poking out slightly to wet your lips as you graze his chest plate with your fingertips.

It’s enough to make a man want to abandon his creed and take you right there.

This must be some kind of punishment for all of the terrible things he’s done. The gods are punishing him with this paragon of a woman that he is doomed to spend his days with but he can never have. The ringing in his ears finally clears up and he hears the first words he can actually get a grasp on that come through your perfect mouth.

“Is this some sort of weird fetish of his?”

Well. The ringing is back in his ears. He thinks he might just have to die in this position at this point cause it’s definitely too late to speak up, he waited too long, what the hell is the matter with him? He’s a fucking bounty hunter for gods sake, he’s fought beasts of all shapes and sizes and suddenly he’s been conquered by some woman he doesn’t even know?

Your small hand grabs the edge of the helmet and he’s finally able to snap out of it when you go to remove it. On instinct he manages to catch both your wrists in one hand.

“Don’t.” Thank the gods the modulator covers up the way his voice cracks. You’re scolding him, you’ve poked a finger into his chest plate but he’s having a hard time paying attention because he can’t seem to take his eyes off of the way your face flushes red, and then your neck, and then your chest.

How low does the crimson tint go?

For Makers sake snap out of it man, you’re one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy not a school boy with a crush.

You’re staring at the Twi’lek, scowling. He has to silence his helmet to hide the laughter that bursts out as you actually manage to get him to leave just by eyeballing him.

He manages to get through the conversation with you without tearing your clothes off, although there is a close call when you hike up your skirt to remove an anklet and like some sort of repressed Victorian woman, he sees just a glimpse of your ankle and can feel blood rushing south.

For god’s sake. At that point he just closes his eyes because this situation cannot get any worse, and then he can hear your dress hit the floor and he has never had to work so hard to keep his eyes shut.

“...I want to hear it from you.”

“My job is to make sure you are not harmed.” Can you hear the strain in his voice as he wills himself not to get hard? Gods he hopes not. He needs to get out of this situation fast, he’s getting ready to dismiss himself and find Kodo and tell him to take the money back, that he can’t do this but you say something that stops him dead in his tracks.

“Actually I’m good.”

He can’t stop the exasperation in his voice.

“Excuse me?”

“Can you not hear through the helmet? I’m good. I’ve already got an ensemble of people trailing me. I don’t need another.”

You can’t be serious.

“You’re dismissed.”

You are.

People don’t typically talk to him like that. They’re always too afraid. But you aren’t, you don’t seem to be frightened by him in the slightest. He was going to leave, he wanted to leave, but it’s been a long time since someone challenged him like this.

“You don’t have the authority to dismiss me.” He snaps back.

He likes arguing with you. He doesn’t get to argue with people. Who wants to argue with a Mandalorian? Most people don’t want to get shot by a trained killer.

You don’t appear to be most people.

He wants to rile you up, wants to see the fire in your eyes, he’d do just about anything to be the target of your anger.

So he teases you, until he leaves, making sure to get the last word in. He sets up a few imperceptible motion sensors just under your door knob so he can make sure he’s alerted if you decide to make a run for it.

And then he’s alone. So he goes to where he was told his lodging would be, it’s about a twenty minute walk but he doesn’t mind, it’s secluded, cozy. The cabin reminds him a bit of the crest, just big enough to be comfortable.

He takes a cold shower and tries not to think about his boss's wife.

✩

The next few weeks aren’t any easier.

You seemingly can’t stand him and he decides it’s for the best. You should hate him, he deserves it since your husband is paying him outrageous amounts of money to follow you around all day and fantasize about all the ways he could make you hate him a little less.

It’s hell.

Having to watch you day in and day out. Watch you wander around aimlessly, like a bird trapped in a cage. His least favorite days are when he has to attend dinners with you and your husband. The man is an ogre. And that’s why he can’t seem to leave. He thinks about it, often. Just packing up and catching the next ship off planet. But if he leaves, who's going to protect you from this creep? So he stays.

Eventually, he watches you less like it’s his job and more like it’s his religion.

Things only get worse when one night he wakes up with a start, sitting up in bed as he hears the beeping from his gauntlet that signifies your door being opened. It’s the middle of the night. What if somebody got in? There’s no way, you have a state of the art locking system that only he and a few staff can get into, unless they have a code. What if it was just your husband? Why does that make him don his armor faster? He has no right to barge in there if it’s simply your spouse coming in to fulfill his marital duty, yet he’s in a dead sprint towards the castle the moment he’s dressed. He had fallen asleep in his flight suit with his helmet on anyway, it didn’t take him long and when he gets to your room he’s tense the moment he sees that the door is closed. Ever so slightly adjusting the audio on his helmet he discerns that the room is empty so he switches his vision so he can trail you and sure enough a set of footprints is going off in the familiar direction of the library.

It was a relief. To know that no one had gotten in and you had simply left on your own accord but why would you be sneaking out to the library? You go to the library everyday, you should be sick of it. So he silently walks until he sees the faint light of a glowrod illuminating your face, a stack of books clutched in your arms. And he’s about to say something, you’re only a few feet ahead of him but when you turn you’re wearing such a thin nightgown, and the robe is hardly doing anything to cover you. Before he can react you’re rushing forward slamming into him.

And now he’s facing the worst torture yet.

Your robe fell off one of your shoulders as you dropped and now you’re sprawled out on the floor below him, your hair is down, messy from sleep, your slip of a nightgown riding up your thighs as you look up into the darkness at him. And then you fucking groaned. And all he can think about is how easy it would be to turn that fabric into confetti.

Help her up jackass.

He reaches down and of course you swat his hands away. You should hate him.

He helps you back to your room and the moment he knows you aren’t going to try anything he rushes back in the direction of the library. He knows you're fuming, the least he can do is go get your books. But then he’s picking them up and looking at the titles he can’t believe how warm it is in the castle suddenly. He’s used to the heat. Wearing this many layers you build up a tolerance.

But now he’s looking at the stack of smutty romance novels you’d wanted so badly you’d snuck out to get them and he’s sweating.

He makes it back to the cabin in half the time it usually takes him. He was in such a hurry he had completely forgotten about returning your books to you. He tosses them to the side and in an instant he’s practically throwing his armor to the ground, he only manages to get half of it off before he sprawls out on his bed, discarding his gloves haphazardly as he frees his cock from his trousers. His helmet bumping against the wall as he leans back and starts stroking himself, his palms are so clammy he doesn’t even bother spitting in his hand.

It’s shameful how close he already is just at the sight of you on the floor like that. His hips stutter upwards into his fist as he imagines you on top of him, your thighs wrapped around his waist, hair disheveled, wearing that pretty little negligee. Maker, your skin always looks so soft, you’d feel so much better than his calloused hands. Were you gonna read those dirty books and touch yourself with those delicate little fingers of yours?

It doesn’t take long after that before he reaches his hasty climax, cumming with a filthy groan of your name, shooting ropes up onto his stomach.

He definitely deserves to have you hate him.

He tries to not even look at you after that. Until one day when you’re in the library once again and it’s obvious to him that you’re pretending to read your book, your eyes dart up to glare at him every few seconds.

You’re looking at him like bounties look at him once they’ve been caught and are plotting to attempt an escape, purely out of habit he chides you.

“Don’t”

And that’s all it takes. He actually manages to talk to you. Of course it’s easier once he imagines you as a particularly unruly bounty, to snap back at you. If you were a real bounty he’d have a hard time turning you in.

You’d look nice in the cuffs.

Don’t. Keep it in your pants you moron.

He even offers to take you to the gardens, you deserve that at the very least, a few hours outside of this sweltering castle.

Then he takes you back to your quarters and you look at him with those heart eyes and he feels like he’s going to pass out when you so eagerly make him promise to show you the gardens.

It’s selfish. But he has to get in one last dig, he has to see that bloom of color on your skin one last time as he tells you that your book had been upside down.

It all becomes so manageable. For a moment he thinks that the two of you might be able to handle this little antagonistic relationship that you’re beginning to build. It would be nice, to have you keeping him in check, to have reminders that you dislike him.

But he had to go and ruin it all.

It all went wrong so fast it made his head spin.

It all started when you were in that damned dress. You’d been the most stunning woman he’d ever seen even in the campy, over the top makeup, and the flashy unattractive dresses. But now here you were in that yellow gown and it was like he was seeing you clearly for the first time. There weren’t any flashy accessories to distract him from your face. That flawless face.

So he was already a little off his game at that point.

And then he slipped up. He couldn’t help it, not when you were standing next to him, dressed like that. He called you little flower. That had been something just for him and like the blundering fool that he was in your presence he blurted it out without thinking. He could feel that familiar paralysis, he hated the effect you had on him. Thank the gods he had done it in Mando’a.

But you’re you so of course you don’t drop it. And then you make it worse because you touch him.

And then he makes things worse because he lashes out.

Then he thinks you’re hurt and he makes an ass of himself.

And lashes out again. He’s not even that mad about the droid comment he’s just overwhelmed, he’s never been this overwhelmed and this stupid fucking planet is so hot.

It keeps getting worse, he can’t shut the fuck up and finally you tell him to leave and he can’t because he wants to stay, he wants to stay and scream at you because he can’t stand how much he needs you it makes him physically ill how you haunt him day and night.

So he says no.

And the look on your face is enough to make him want to swear a new creed to make sure you never look so betrayed ever again.

After that you should hate him. He’s glad you hate him. He’s glad you’re giving him the silent treatment, he deserves much worse.

The first day all he can think about is apologizing. You sit in that little nook, back in your blue dresses, looking furious. He just doesn’t know what to say that won’t make this worse.

The second day all he can think about is how he could make it up to you. He’s got a couple of ideas of things that might wipe that frown off your face. He’s obviously not going to just abandon his creed but you definitely don’t make it easy, there’s a million different things that he wants to do to you that would be rather difficult if he can’t use his mouth.

He doesn’t make any real progress on day two either and later that night ends up with his face buried in his pillow, fucking his fist.

The third day he’s actually kind of pissed. If you two have something in common it’s how stubborn you can be and suddenly he’s mad at you, for no real reason, he supposes he’s just sick of feeling sorry.

And then there’s that dinner.

He wants to kill that ignorant, snooty, little man more than he’s ever wanted to kill a person. He wants to make it last, it’s been a long time since he’s killed something, he would enjoy killing Kodo.

But all that rage goes away when he catches a glimpse of your expression and it’s replaced with fear. He’s never seen you look so small and suddenly he’s terrified that you’ve lost that fire. He’ll go back and massacre Kodo right now if he truly did extinguish your flame.

So he breaks the silence. And asks if you're okay.

And he’s relieved when you ramble on, even though he wishes so desperately he could wipe your tears away. Of course you’d be harder than that to put out. His light is okay, and that's all that matters.

So he leaves you your book.

He had gotten bored and read one of them. The Smitten Paladin. It was racy but it’s what she had gone to get in the first place so why not. But that isn’t enough. Not after what you just went through, so he opens the cover and leaves his favorite color, green, written inside, it’s the least he can do.

✩

He goes into the next day with the intention of apologizing. Not entirely sure what for.

Sorry your husband is a scumbag. You should leave him for me.

Doesn’t exactly have a ring to it.

Before he can think of what to say you come out of your room and he’s thankful for the helmet because his jaw would be on the floor.

Maker, did you wear that just for him?

The green dress clings to the outline of your torso and it feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Actually, he’s been punched in the gut plenty of times and this is worse because your hair is down and it’s all he can do to not tangle his fingers in it and drag you back into your room. What kind of game are you trying to play with him? Dressing in that color, making yourself irresistible, what the hell is your angle? He’s cautious and slow when he greets you. He remains on edge all the way to the library.

And then you take out the fucking book.

You can’t be serious.

This can’t be happening.

You can’t just do this.

You can’t just sit there in that dress. With your hair falling so exquisitely across your face, begging to be brushed behind your ear, reading porn directly in front of him.

If you’re trying to punish him it’s working. This is torture. If you used this method to interrogate him for information he would have folded immediately. He sits there for hours, sweating his ass off as you perch in that little nook of yours, it would be so easy for him to just bend you over it and lift up the skirt of that lovely little gown. Is that what you want? He’s getting dizzy. Why else would you do this and then read a fucking erotic novel in front of him? Is this some kind of test?

Then you look at him. It’s easy to forget since he’s always wearing a helmet that you don’t know when he’s staring right at you. You glance up at him through your eyelashes and you don’t look away. He’s so hard he’s pretty sure he’s about to burst through the front of his pants. What is your goal here? Your face is turning that delicious shade of red and you haven’t so much as looked at the pages in front of you for minutes at this point.

If this is some game of chicken he isn’t going to lose. No matter how badly he wants it, he won’t lay a hand on you unless you ask him for it. Did you just squeeze your thighs together?

For god's sake, ask for it. Ask for anything he’ll fucking do it.

He can’t take it anymore. So he speaks, teases you. It’s innocent enough.

Keep it innocent.

So you go back and forth and it’s safe. For a moment. He manages to adjust himself in the chair so it hopefully isn’t too obvious that he’s pitching a tent severe enough to camp under. And then he can’t stop himself from asking how the book is and before he knows it you’re asking if he had to take a vow of celibacy.

This isn’t okay.

And then you ask if he can take the armor off.

For Makers sake you’re married.

He needs to ask about something else. Anything else.

“The book, what’s it about?”

Yeah, let's talk about the porn again. Dumbass.

And then you say the words that make him want to just abandon his post and quit. Get as far away from this planet as possible.

“I wasn’t really stuck on anything… I suppose I was just trying to figure out how he fits it all in there?”

Fuck. Does she know? Is she trying to be coy?

You can’t know. He hadn’t seen your eyes dart between his legs. This can’t be happening, this is so bad. Kodo would have him killed for this. So he plays his last card, that he read the book. And thankfully it actually works, you’re so distracted by the fact that he read your book that he manages to get you out of the library and back to your chambers.

He can’t get back to his cabin fast enough.

Cold shower. Bed. That’s the order of events. Nothing else.

But he can’t get away from you. It’s worse when he sleeps because in his dreams you are so much less confusing.

In his dreams you join him in that cold shower and you warm him up in several different ways (and several different positions) and he can take off his helmet and look at you unfiltered. You're the leading lady of all of his dreams, since the day he met you he has never had a break from you.

That isn’t always a good thing because he wakes up from those dreams he has to go see the real you. The one that hates him. As you should.

✩

It was already a rough morning, there is nothing as humbling as waking up to find you’ve cum in your pants like some pent up teenager.

The morning only gets rougher when he goes to retrieve you and you aren’t there.

Fuck.

What’s the protocol for this sort of thing? He doesn’t even bother trying to figure that out because his hand is already on his blaster and he’s throwing doors open. This isn’t the time to panic, he needs to pull himself together.

And then he throws open the right door and you’re sitting there in the tub with your hand shoved between your legs, your head tilted back ever so slightly with your eyes shut tight. You’re his dream come to life and simultaneously his worst nightmare. He wants to look away. He needs to look away but he’s a goner the moment he sees your soapy chest.

This has to be a record breakingly bad morning.

And yet by some miracle he fixes it. Or rather, the garden fixes it. You couldn’t pay him to look away from your face. He wants you to look like this all the time, beaming, curious, truly happy. And he can’t help himself, he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s greedy and he wants to know more about you, wants to hear your voice. So he suggests the game and Maker, you play it.

Gods, he’s weak. Why do you make him so weak?

The moment you ask for a question if you win he knows what you’ll ask. He hadn’t planned on letting you win, but you looked so content, he could just tell you but he passes on the last question. He wants you to know what it means.

It’s selfish to ask for anything else, he shouldn’t be rewarded for this kind of behavior, but he does it anyway, and he asks for more. He asks for more days, just the two of you, and you say yes.

And when you ask what sarad'ika means he’s sure this is where he gets what he deserves, this is where you’ll spit in his face, call him a creep, and tell him to leave. But you don’t. Instead you politely say good night to him.

This can’t be real. There’s just no way. But there you are, each morning, in your much simpler gowns that suit you so perfectly, and you ask him to read because you don’t want him to be bored and how could he possibly say no to you. You could ask him for the moons and he’d find a way to give them to you.

But it has to end eventually.

And it does on the fifth cycle as reality crashes in and he has to escort you to dinner with your husband.

She’s married.

✩

It keeps getting worse. He’s asked to leave. He can’t. He can’t just leave you in a room full of drunk men, especially these drunk men. Especially that drunk man. His mind is racing at light speed but he can’t think of a single argument for why he should stay.

And then you look at him with those pleading eyes and his heart starts pounding out of his chest.

Maybe he could take on six battle droids.

But he doesn’t, of course. Because what if you got caught in the crossfire. You hadn’t produced an heir, you were still expendable to Prince Harand. And he has to leave you alone with him.

It’s the longest two hours of his life.

He wants to tune it out, to turn off any exterior sound on the helmet but he can’t because what if something happened to you? So he listens to every word.

He’s never felt so small.

It’s a pitiful feeling. To go through your entire life being used to doing things a certain way to protect the ones you care for. And then when it comes down to the person that means the most to you you can’t do a thing.

For a man who has solved nearly all of his problems in life with a blaster, to suddenly be unable to do so? It’s pathetic.

They could punish her if I intervene.

They could kill her.

They could kill me.

Lock me up.

Who would protect her then?

Maker, he hasn’t felt this crushing sensation in his chest since he had to say goodbye to the kid. He can’t breathe.

He’s supposed to be the strong one.

Yet he has been conquered by a fucking door.

He doesn’t even realize you're out. Or that you’ve kicked him. Or that you’re suddenly sitting between his legs. He’s too far gone. It isn’t until he feels his helmet adjust that he snaps out of it.

Because you’re real. And you’re okay.

No thanks to him.

And he can’t stop the words that pour out of his mouth. Never in his life has he been reduced to this, afraid like this. You should be disgusted. That the Mandalorian sworn to protect you had been diminished to this. Just a man.

But you aren’t. You’re warm, and gentle, and soft, and real.

He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you.

So he stands. And he helps you up.

He needs you to hate him again. It’s the only thing that keeps him grounded.

So he escorts you to your chambers, and you turn to him and say those five damning words.

“Do you wanna come in?”

He’s weak. And he’s selfish. Don’t do this Mando.

But he isn’t a Mandalorian right now. He’s just a man.

With you he's just Din.

So he nods.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #RE UPLOAD

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chahnniesroom · 8 months

Text

tenderness | chapter 9: a time to learn

[noun] /ˈtendərnəs/

1. the quality of being gentle, kind, or loving

2. the feeling of pain, aching, or soreness

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in a world where soulmates are rare and precious, you don’t know why the universe has decided to give you one. you never could have imagined that they would be an idol, and one that you worked with at that, or the challenges that would arise from your bond.

chapter word count: 6.8k

chapter warnings: injury recovery, lots of emotions happening

a/n: no words can describe how difficult this chapter was to write haha i apologise for some of the transitions between scenes and also for the fact that i did not proofread more than a cursory skim.

i am not a doctor and i did minimal research on anything medical related

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter | read it on ao3

Chan’s not a doctor and he’s never wanted to be one. But the longer that he spends in the hospital, the more he wishes there was something he could do to help. He knows that in a way, his presence is helping. The doctor tells him that for injuries, a soulmate bond is actually beneficial because sufficient Charge can increase healing times.

The doctor also explains that the more serious injury is the initial stab wound. The blade had damaged Y/n’s liver, which had required surgery and now demands constant monitoring. It was the main reason that Y/n would have to stay in the hospital for an extended period of time. While the second wound was larger and required more stitches, it was fairly shallow and was expected to heal without any issues.

As expected, there’s various bruises from the fall, but what surprises Chan is that he’s told Y/n is suffering from a mild concussion. When he had watched the footage that he had saved from social media, he could see that Y/n may have hit her head, but it hadn’t seemed that hard.

It means that Chan hasn’t left the hospital yet. It doesn’t really help that Y/n was specifically brought to the hospital that her father owns and that she’s situated in one of the nicest rooms available. With a large private bathroom, a separate room that has a few couches and low tables to entertain guests, and a large bed that’s almost more comfortable than the one Chan has at home, there’s no reason to leave. Yonghwan has been going back to the dorms to collect clothes and other personal items, like Chan’s laptop and some equipment. After a few days, the boys are allowed to visit too, although only in small groups and for short periods of time.

Chan kind of hates the medications that Y/n is put on. He knows that she needs them to deal with the pain, to protect her from infection, it's just difficult to witness how they make her woozy and extremely tired, drifting in and out of consciousness. When she is awake, her thoughts are scattered, she can’t concentrate for long periods of time, and she spends most of the time watching Chan as he works or dozing.

It's a relief when she's finally weaned off of the ones that have the worst side effects.

Although she gets her phone back pretty soon after waking, Y/n doesn’t really touch it until her doctor lets her know that her concussion has healed and she’s been cleared to look at screens without any limitations. Chan has helped her with messaging some of her friends and family, but she seems pleased to have full access to her phone again. Chan leaves her to catch up on everything, taking out his laptop and opening up a track that he’s been trying half-heartedly to finish a first draft of.

He gets pulled away from his work a couple hours later when Y/n calls his name. She’s biting at her lip and staring with a furrowed brow at something on her phone. He immediately sets aside his laptop and turns to face her, trying not to worry.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Did you- I saw-” Y/n takes a second to gather herself and then flips her phone to show him what she’s looking at. It’s a Twitter fanpage, dedicated to Chan’s Bubble subscription. The last tweets are the updates to his profile picture, background photo, name, and status.

He did it in a fit of anger, knowing it was about as much as he could do without getting in trouble with the company. He wouldn’t dare send any messages about the incident, especially ones that could be twisted the wrong way and end up hurting Y/n, but he couldn’t just sit and pretend everything was okay.

So he deleted it all. Or, rather as much as he could. Replacing the pictures with solid black, leaving the status line empty. He didn’t have as much freedom with his name, but left it as “찬“ and nothing more. He hadn’t sent anything since then, either.

The other members hadn’t changed anything on their profile, but they too had been subdued in their messaging. The first couple of days, they did nothing. After that, Changbin, Jisung, and Felix joined Chan in the continued radio silence. Hyunjin had sent pictures of the sunset, when it was Y/n’s favourite time of the day and the clouds were painted pink against the blue background of the sky. Minho, Seungmin, and Jeongin had messaged only a couple times since then, reminders for Stays to eat well, get lots of rest, and stay safe.

There hadn’t been an official statement released by the company, but news of the incident had spread like wildfire.

“And yesterday was Sunday,” Y/n says slowly. “You were here the whole time, what about Channie’s Room?”

“What about it?”

“You didn’t do it?” When Chan just shrugs in response, Y/n’s brow creases like she’s trying to figure out some sort of puzzle. “What? But you… You always do it. Did the company tell you that you can't?”

“No, they didn't have to. I already let them know I wasn't going to."

"Then why?"

“I didn’t want to. I don’t want to,” Chan says sullenly, even though the explanation makes him feel like a toddler who doesn’t want to share their toys.

“What do you mean? It’s- You promised Stays! Here you can go now, just go to your studio and do a short live. If this is some sort of roundabout punishment for what happened-”

“I don’t want to,” Chan repeats. “All they’re going to do is spam the chat with questions about what happened. I don’t want to deal with that and honestly I don’t know if I can go through that without blowing up on them.”

"But-"

"Is it really so hard to believe that I have had other priorities the past few days? That I don't want to have to pretend that everything is okay?"

Y/n seems to soften at that. Chan reaches out and he catches her hand in his, mindful of the tape and IV that’s attached to it. The Charge warms between them.

“No, no, I’m sorry. It’s-” she hesitates for a moment. “I’m glad that you’re taking a break. Sorry if it felt like I was pressuring you.”

“You weren’t. Everything that I’m doing, it’s my decision. I know everything has been pretty overwhelming lately, but you’re-”

Before he can finish, the door to their room slides open and a nurse steps in to serve them dinner.

“What were you going to say?” Y/n asks once they’re alone again.

“I don’t remember anymore,” Chan lies. “So it probably wasn’t that important. Let’s eat.”

Chan’s almost glad for the interruption. The moment is gone now and Chan’s just now realising that he has no idea how Y/n would react if he had said what he wanted. That she was his biggest priority right now. That he cares about her. That he would do anything for her.

He’ll do that later, when they’re at home. When everything has calmed down.

—

Chan wakes to the loud smack of someone’s hand against a table. His face is burrowed into the soft fabric covering Y/n’s shoulder, his arm is wrapped around her waist, and the whole length of his body relaxed by the warm thrum of the Charge. He cracks open one eye and, after seeing that neither Y/n nor Eunsung, who was the source of the noise, have seemed to notice, quickly closes it to feign sleep.

When Eunsung speaks, his tone is exasperated, like he’s had this conversation multiple times before.

“Are you even listening to yourself? You can’t keep doing this. You have to talk to him about it,” he insists. “The doctor said you have acute fatigue and the only reason it’s getting better is because the two of you are practically glued together right now. The second that he starts going back to schedules, it’s going to be the same as it was before.”

“I was doing fine before,” Y/n defends herself. “Things just got so busy with all the concerts, I forgot to eat enough. As long as I make sure that I’m getting enough calories, it makes up for the Charge. I promise, I'll make sure to take better care of myself."

Chan has no clue what they’re talking about. Acute fatigue? Y/n not eating enough? Chan hasn’t heard anything on these before.

"I don't think you understand. It's not about you doing things to take better care of yourself, it's about him not letting you take care of yourself. If you Charged for at least 6 hours a day then you wouldn't have to worry about eating more than you used to. You shouldn't have to be making up for anything," Eunsung argues.

"Listen, Eunsung-oppa," she says. "I know you're saying this because you're concerned, but I know what I'm doing. This is… This is bigger than just Chan-ssi and I. He's not just my soulmate, he's the leader of Stray Kids, a producer for 3RACHA. It's- The work that he does- What I see on Twitter, the comments on Youtube, the posts on community. He has the power to reach so many people and make lives better. And he does. He’s such a good person. How can I do anything but support him in any way I can? Even if that means letting him push himself without stepping in, then I'll do it. I trust that he knows his own limits."

“And if that means him ignoring your limits?”

“Eunsung-oppa-” Y/n protests.

"You've talked to him about it," Eunsung interrupts her, clearly able to read something in her tone of voice.

"Yeah, I- I understand how you feel, being on that side of it. I thought that I could convince him, but it turns out that he convinced me instead."

"But the conversation you were having, it was about him taking care of himself instead of you prioritising your needs, wasn't it?" he presses. Y/n confirms, but it sounds reluctant.

“He didn’t want to hear it. He was… I don’t know. I don’t want to say what he said to me.”

“And he never brought it up again?”

“He did, kind of. He said sorry the next day. And I know he’s sorry. I know some of the things that he said were just in the heat of the moment. I get it, I really do. He was stressed, tired, we probably weren’t getting enough Charge, even then. But… It hurt. What he said,” Y/n says, her voice small. “What he really meant. It still hurts a little, every time I think about it. Every time I see him.”

"Sometimes you two are too similar. You’re both just pretending you’re fine, but you’re not. I know Chan, maybe not as well as you, but in a different way. He’s not the type to just let this type of thing slide. As much as I hate him right now for making you hurt, if he doesn’t know that you’re hurting, then there’s no way that things will be fixed. I think you need to talk again, if he cares about you at all then he wouldn't just let this go."

"I think you're overestimating our relationship a bit."

"What? Even after the past few months, you guys aren't close?"

“I’m not delusional, I never had fantasies of us immediately falling in love like in the movies or shows, I just,” she shrugs with the shoulder the Chan wasn’t curled up against. “I don’t know, I just thought that we could be friends or something.”

“You wouldn't even consider yourself to be friends?” Eunsung says in a low voice.

“Actually, at one point I did think we were friends… or maybe more,” Y/n admits with a hollow laugh. “I was wrong. His attitude keeps changing, I can’t keep track of it. One second he’s annoyed at me for nagging him and the next he’s carrying me to bed because I fell asleep on the couch. But wherever we’re arguing, it feels like it’s always my fault. And I know, I know that I’m hard to be around. It’s just hard. The moments of… care, they were an illusion. It was all fake, like kids playing house. He can tolerate me of course, but in the end, I'm just someone he works with.”

"You don't think that if he were to hear what you're saying, he would be sad?" Eunsung asks. Y/n stays silent for a while.

“I don't know. What he said to me. I thought a lot about it. I- I want to make his life better, but I think… I think I make it worse. I don’t understand why we’re soulmates, I can think of a million people who would be better for him than me,” she finally confesses, voice sounding wet.

Eunsung shifts forward, but before he can speak, a nurse knocks on the door and lets herself in. It’s enough noise that Chan takes it as an opportunity to pretend to wake up. When Y/n notices, she looks back towards the nurse and quickly sits up straighter so that Chan's arm naturally falls away from where it’s wrapped around her.

“I think you should go to the company, Chan-ssi,” Y/n suggests after the nurse has finished redressing her wound and has left. Her voice is back to normal, upbeat even, and if Chan hadn't been awake then he wouldn't have been able to tell she had just been in a heavy conversation. It’s scary how easily she can mask her emotions. “I don’t want you to fall behind because of all the time you’ve been spending here. Eunsung is already heading there, he can give you a ride.”

“What am I, a chauffeur?” Eunsung mutters, but he stands up and gathers his things without waiting for an answer. “Come on, let’s go.”

Normally, Chan would protest being ordered around, but at this point he’s just grateful to have some space to process what he just heard. He knows that Minho and Jisung were planning to visit soon and that Felix would be dropping by shortly after, so at least he feels somewhat comfortable leaving Y/n alone. He feels lightheaded and… bad in a way that he can’t describe. It's different than when he first found out that Y/n was hurt. Now it's almost like he’s dissociating, but worse because having an out-of-body experience would be better than the heavy press of emotions that he feels now. It’s clogging up his airways and all he can do is focus on following Eunsung out of the room.

Chan hasn’t had many opportunities to interact with Eunsung, but he knows for sure that they were never as tense as they are right now. It’s understandable though, after what he just heard. When Chan starts toward the lane where he usually gets picked up and dropped off, Eunsung instead steers him toward the parkade.

“This way, superstar. Unlike you, I actually have the freedom to drive myself.” Chan barely notices the thinly veiled jab, he’s still reeling from the conversation. He can’t think of a comeback and really, doesn’t feel like he deserves to give a rebuttal.

When they finally stop in front of a car, Chan catches himself right before reaching for the back car door instead of the one to sit shotgun.

The pair sit in silence for the first half of the ride, until Eunsung finally speaks up.

“You know, you don’t deserve her,” Eunsung says, eyes trained on the road ahead.

“And you do?” Chan fires back, thinking of all the rumours he’s heard from the rest of the staff, the giggles he hears whenever Eunsung interacts with Y/n. Although his guilt is creeping up and clouding his thoughts, his first instincts are to feel defensive.

Y/n is his soulmate, not Eunsung’s.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, I’ve seen how close the two of you are.” He tries hard to not sound too accusatory, but instead his words come out as overly bitter.

"Yeah, we're friends."

"And is that all you want to be?"

In response, Eunsung just laughs incredulously. “What? Even you thought- You think that I like Y/n? I’m-” He can’t even finish his thoughts before he starts to laugh again. “Of course I like her, but she’s like a sister to me.”

“Of course you would say that-”

“I’m married, Chan."

"What?" Chan exclaims. "But, but everyone was saying you- I thought- Who are you married to?"

"Saerom. I've definitely mentioned her before, I know for sure that Y/n has too."

“Oh,” he says dumbly, “I thought- I thought Saerom was the name of your dog.”

"What?!" Eunsung turns to gape at Chan.

“How was I supposed to know? You said you have to take her on walks otherwise she gets too restless, you talk about buying her treats! You said she doesn’t like it when you’re travelling for too long, it sounds like how Berry gets when the family goes on vacation. Just because she has a human name doesn't mean she is a human. I've never seen a picture of her either."

“Oh, I cannot wait to tell Y/n about this.” Eunsung continues to laugh while Chan hides his face in his hands. His cheeks feel like they’re on fire. He’s relieved that Eunsung isn’t secretly in love with Y/n but also mortified that he thought his wife was a dog. At this point, opening the car door and flinging himself out doesn’t sound like a bad idea to get himself out of this conversation.

“You don’t wear a ring,” he says, probably digging himself further into the hole he’s currently in.

In response, Eunsung hooks a finger under the collar of his shirt and pulls out a chain, a ring dangling on the end of it. They turn into the company parking lot and Eunsung kills the engine, turning to face Chan directly.

“Chan-ssi,” he says seriously. “I know that there are rumours about a relationship between Y/n and I. She knows about them too. I’m not deaf to the chatter or the way they react when we’re together. Just, is it really so bad if people suspect that the two of us are soulmates? And I’m not saying this because I enjoy all the rumours. It’s because I know that they mask any sort of interactions that you have with her. If any other staff finds out that you’ve been visiting her in the hospital, they wouldn’t think anything of it other than you being concerned because she’s a manager and you were right there when it happened.”

Even though Chan doesn’t like the idea, he knows that Eunsung is right. It’s safer this way. He just has to get used to swallowing the possessive part of him that wants to publicly declare his soulmate bond. He can do this if it means protecting Y/n.

“You’re right,” Chan says quietly.

“I know all of this must be hard for you and even harder if you didn’t know about Saerom. Just know, we’d never do anything outside of being friends, I promise. If you don’t trust me, then at least trust Y/n. And,” he hesitates for a moment. “I know you heard our conversation earlier.”

“What?”

“I saw when you woke up. You’re not as good of an actor as you think you are, but luckily for you, I don’t think Y/n noticed.”

“I- I really messed things up, didn’t I?” Chan says, feeling defeated.

“I’ll be honest, it’s going to be difficult, fixing your relationship. Y/n is very independent. It’s definitely one of her strengths, but it’s also a big weakness. She doesn’t ask for help, even if she needs it and she’s very hard on herself. You know her family, she’s used to doing things on her own. She’s trying her best with this whole soulmate situation and she was really opening up. She trusted you.”

The past tense in his sentence shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

“You hurt her,” Eunsung continues. “But I know Y/n will forgive you. She cares about you, a lot. If it wasn’t obvious by… everything that has happened so far. You just have to talk to her.”

“I- Thank you, Eunsung,” Chan finally says. “Thank you for being there for her, for helping with all of… this. I’m sorry.”

“You’re a good person, Chan-ssi. I want things to work out between the two of you.” Abruptly, Eunsung’s tone hardens. “But if you make a habit of hurting her, just know that sasaengs will be the least of your worries.”

—

Chan forces himself to try and be productive for at least an hour in his studio before resigning himself to the reality that he wouldn’t be able to get anything done with how distracted he is. He spends the whole time wishing that he was back at the hospital.

Right as he’s about to call it a day, Jisung- who has just arrived after visiting Y/n and assures him that she’s still doing okay- and Changbin join him. They’ve actually been getting work done in the past few days and quickly run through the progress that they’ve made. Even with their presence, Chan’s attention span is practically non-existent. Everything seems to remind him of Y/n.

He ends up staying until the sun starts to set. When Changbin and Jisung start to discuss dinner options, he takes the opportunity to pack up his things.

“Hyung, are you not joining us?” Changbin asks.

“Sorry-” Chan starts saying.

“Hyung just wants to go and see Y/n again. He doesn’t care about us anymore,” Jisung whines playfully.

“That’s not true!” Chan says indignantly.

“You don’t have to lie, just make it up to us.”

“Anything,” Chan agrees.

“Have dinner back at the dorms with us tomorrow,” Jisung says instantly. “You need to bring new clothes to the hospital anyway, you can save Yonghwan-hyung a trip this way.”

Chan realises this was his plan all along and reluctantly agrees. Logically, he knows that nothing will happen to Y/n while he’s away, he just feels better being able to see it with his own eyes.

—

When he gets back to the hospital, he’s surprised to find Y/n just staring blankly at the wall in front of her. She doesn’t react to the sound of the door opening or Chan’s greeting while he had closed it again. He approaches her cautiously, afraid of startling her, but still manages to make her jump when he gets into her field of vision.

“Oh!” she says breathlessly, putting a hand to her chest. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were back.” She automatically smiles at him.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, just had a weird day,” she says in that same strange voice she had back in Japan. Chan is starting to realise it means that she’s hiding something.

“Y/n-”

“Maybe it’s just because you were gone. Not to be clingy or anything, I’m glad that you were finally able to go to the company and get some real work done, but I’ve gotten used to having you attached to my side,” she jokes. It’d be convincing if her voice was more steady, if her smile reached her eyes.

“Uhm,” Chan says, not quite sure if he should pursue the topic further or go along with Y/n’s attempt to gloss over it. “I’m sorry, I promised that I’d go back for dinner tomorrow.”

Y/n rolls her eyes at that. “You don’t have to apologise for that! I’m glad that you’re finally getting to see them after being cooped up here. They're your family, you have to spend time with them.”

“I wasn’t forced to stay here though! I want to be here, I want to be with you. You're my family too,” Chan says earnestly.

Y/n's lips press tightly together at that and she breaks eye contact.

“How about this, Eunsung-oppa was planning to come by tomorrow sometime anyway. He said that he’d bring me some non-hospital food and I couldn’t say no,” she says instead of responding to Chan’s comment. “Felix wanted to come by again too, so you can go home at the same time as him. I’ll tell Eunsung-oppa to come by around dinnertime so you don’t feel like you’re leaving me behind, is that okay?”

“Okay, but promise me that if anything happens then just call me and I’ll come back.”

“I promise.”

—

Dinner with the members is rowdy as usual, maybe even moreso. Chan doesn’t think much of it, happy to have a distraction from his thoughts, until he takes a second too long to respond to someone and catches a couple of concerned glances. He realises that the boys are being overly rambunctious to keep him present. It warms his heart and makes him feel guilty at the same time.

After eating, Jisung slumps onto the couch, stretching out so that his feet hang over the side. Chan joins him, smothering him in affection before he leaves for the night. He knows that Jisung has been more anxious than usual these past few days and although he wishes he could do more to help him, his biggest priority at the moment is Y/n.

“Minho-hyung and I met Y/n’s family yesterday,” Jisung says, voice muffled from being pressed against Chan.

Chan bolts upright, accidentally elbowing Jisung in the process, forcing a groan out of him.

“What? When?” he demands. His mind is racing, finally able to sort out Y/n’s strange behaviour when he had last seen her.

“I forgot to mention it at the studio, but when I was visiting, they also showed up. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but they seemed alright.”

“Just alright?” Chan prompts him, trying to calm his heart rate which has spiked.

“Uhm, I mean her parents were very… polite. They spoke to Y/n privately so I just met them briefly.”

“Where did you go?”

“Her brother, Siwon, I forgot he’s a doctor too. He took me to a private lounge they had, there weren’t any people around which was good. He seemed nice, concerned about Y/n.”

“Well not that concerned,” Chan mutters darkly, “since he didn’t even bother to visit until yesterday.”

Jisung stares at him, clearly shocked by the sudden vitriol.

“Sorry,” Chan says, running a hand through his hair and making it stick up wildly. “It’s just been a lot these days, my emotions are everywhere.”

“It’s okay, hyung,” Jisung says cautiously. “It’s been a lot for all of us, but mostly you and Y/n.”

Chan hums in agreement, but still feels bad.

“You can go back now if you want,” Jisung prompts him.

“What? No, I-”

“I can tell you’re distracted,” he says. “Go, we’ll still be here when she’s better.”

Chan goes.

—

The route to the hospital and through the back entrance is becoming more familiar by now. Chan accidentally startles Y/n when he opens the door to her room, but her expression quickly settles to one of relief upon seeing him. Now that he’s looking closely, he can recognize the same, strained smile that he first saw at Chuseok.

She shuffles to the side of the bed and lifts the blankets so that Chan can sit beside her. He wraps an arm around her and pulls her closer.

“The boys all missed you,” he says in greeting. “Dinner wasn’t the same with just the eight of us.”

“Oh come on-”

“You’re part of us, now. I told you before. And-” Chan hesitates for a moment. “I heard that your parents visited.” Y/n stiffens for a second, before relaxing again.

“Ah, Jisungie, the little snitch,” she says, the fondness in her voice opposing her words. “Yes, they dropped by while you were away.”

“And?”

“Well, my eomoni was telling me that it was a sign that I should quit my job, get out of the industry, said I was stupid for getting between the sasaeng on you, the usual. But I got my abeoji to look over my files, when I asked he said that I can be released tomorrow!” she says excitedly, smiling so much that her eyes curve into crescents. “I get to go home!”

It’s clear that things with her parents didn’t go as well as Y/n is projecting, but Chan is too much of a coward to push more. Somehow that righteous anger that had filled him when he had talked to Jisung has been replaced with uncertainty. He doesn’t want to get into yet another disagreement with Y/n now that he knows what she truly thinks of him. Or rather, what she thinks that he thinks of her. He needs to focus on bringing them together instead of allowing them to drift further apart. He vows to bring this topic up another time, when things are better between them.

“That’s great!” he replies, but even as he says it, he can’t help the nervousness that starts to form in his stomach at the thought. He is happy that she’s been healing well and will definitely be reassured to have her back home, but until now, the hospital has served as a sort of protective bubble for Y/n, shielding her from the outside world. He has the irrational sense that keeping her here longer is the same as keeping her safe for longer.

—

“Bang Chan-nim?” The doctor that has been in charge of Y/n’s care steps into the room and glances at Y/n, who is busy packing away her things. All morning she’s been in a good mood, enthusiastically talking about what she plans to do once she’s back at the dorms. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course!” he replies. He tells himself that everything is alright, but can't stop himself from running his hands through his mess of hair, palms prickling with nerves.

The doctor leads Chan to his office and smiles at him gently, like he’s about to break some bad news and needs to make sure that Chan doesn’t also break. It makes things worse, Chan’s stomach starts to churn, his mind racing.

“This might be a difficult conversation, but you may already be aware.” The doctor starts slowly. “Y/n-nim works with idols, right? In the entertainment industry?”

“Yes,” Chan agrees, but he’s confused. Did someone leak the news of Y/n’s injuries? Is there a sasaeng that’s been visiting the hospital? He wants to pull out his phone and immediately call the company and force them to do more damage control, but the doctor continues.

“These days, there is a lot of pressure for young women, especially those who work with or follow idols, to fit into certain beauty standards.” Chan nods. He’s seen countless people destroy their bodies to try and lose more and more weight and knows how devastating it is, but he still doesn’t understand the point of this conversation.

“I’m concerned about Y/n-nim”-the doctor interrupts Chan’s thoughts-“When she came to the hospital, we were focused only on her injuries, but throughout her treatment, we have noticed that she is underweight. The testing that we’ve done tells us she has not been getting enough of what her body needs. Not getting enough food, not enough charge, and not enough rest. She's showing signs that she was becoming malnourished.

“It’s not uncommon to see those with soulmates, especially young women, take advantage of the bond, reducing charging time and saying that they will eat more instead. They often eat a normal amount so that it doesn’t concern anyone, but it’s not nearly enough to make up for the missing charge. Both of you have probably been more sensitive lately. It wouldn’t surprise me if you’ve also noticed yourself being irritable or having rapid mood changes these past few days."

Chan can't do anything but stare as the doctor pulls out a small packet of paper. His pulse roars in his ears and all he can feel is guilt, pooling in his stomach and creeping towards his extremities. He feels nauseous. This is his fault.

He thinks back to all the nights where he stayed in the studio, just a little bit longer to finish a track, sliding into bed to charge for only a few hours before they had to wake up. Of the extra meals, protein drinks, snacks he had consumed that he thought nothing of, too used to the varying diets of the rest of the members depending on their schedules and the ups and downs of bulking up or cutting calories. He’s used to the heaviness of his eyelids, the pounding headaches, and occasional dizziness that were the result of sleepless nights.

All these things he had taken in stride, forgetting that Y/n had been dealing with too. He had the luxury of being an idol, during schedules and tour, there was always breaks for food. But he had seen the way the managers and coordis had to run around, only eating when they had a couple minutes to spare.

He knows that he’s snapped at Y/n more than a few times, patience worn thin enough that at the end of the day he doesn’t have it in him for niceties. Of course, he had felt bad about it after the fact, but Y/n hadn’t seemed very phased by it and he had forgotten about it until the next time. It wouldn’t be the first time that stress made him more easily annoyed and ill-tempered, but now he realises why he seemed quicker to get caught up in his emotions.

The doctor continues talking, but Chan feels like he's underwater, the sound is muffled. This is his fault.

"Bang Chan-nim!" The doctor clasps one of Chan's hands in his and finally pulls his attention away from his self-loathing thoughts. "Are you okay? I know it can be a shock to find out, but don't feel bad. It's very common to be surprised, people are good at hiding things like this, even if you're close to them and I know that your bond is still relatively new. Luckily there are a lot of strategies we have to help your soulmate get more Charge, even if you both have busy schedules. Okay?"

"Okay," Chan replies weakly, he can barely focus on what’s being said, all he can think of is that he's the reason his soulmate is malnourished. And he didn't notice. That they think Y/n has an eating disorder, when it's him that has dictated the amount of charge that she gets. The doctor flips open the packet of papers and starts to highlight it.

"The most important thing right now is increasing Charging time. With Y/n-nim's injuries, her bedrest and all the time you two have spent charging have already been helping a lot. Take this recovery period as a time to build new habits and establish a routine that involves more skinship. I understand you two are busy, but I expect you try for at least 6 or 7 hours of sleep while charging, but more if possible. If you're both doing work on the computer, watching a show or movie, or eating, then sitting close enough to touch will help recharge without taking away from your regular activities. As you may already know, for the most efficient charging more skin-to-skin contact is recommended." He flips the front page back over and places the packet onto another, larger, stack of papers. "More details can be found here and this is the rest of Y/n-ssi's care instructions, prescriptions, and other information on soulmate bonds."

"Thank you so much," Chan says, automatically reaching out to accept all the papers.

"You're welcome. This must be very overwhelming, but Y/n-nim is healing quickly. Your bond is helping her recover much faster. We caught her malnutrition fairly early and expect that she'll be at normal energy levels within a few weeks. Don't feel guilty and try not to worry too much, Bang Chan-nim. Your bond is a good thing, not a bad one." The doctor smiles warmly, checking his watch and standing up. "Y/n-nim should be ready to be discharged now, let's go back to the room so that we don’t keep her waiting."

Chan follows the doctor back in a daze. Y/n is sitting on one of the chairs in her room, scrolling on her phone when they arrive. She brightens when they enter.

“Can we leave now?” she asks eagerly. Chan beelines to her side, reaching to hold her hand.

“Yes, everything has been sorted out now and Bang Chan-nim has all your care instructions. Please give us a call or come to visit if you have any questions or concerns at all,” the doctor says.

“Of course.”

“Looks like everything is ready to go. It was very nice to meet you both, although I wish it could have been under better circumstances. I hope that the rest of your recovery goes well, Y/n-nim, and please do not hesitate to contact us for anything.” With that, the doctor bows and leaves the room.

At the same moment, a nurse knocks on the doorframe as a greeting, pushing a wheelchair through the open door. Y/n’s smile fades when she sees it.

“Oh, no,” she says quickly. “I can walk, there’s no need for one of those.”

She turns to look at Chan for support, but he just shrugs helplessly. Secretly, he would feel better if she used it. After only a week in the hospital, she isn’t close to being fully recovered, even if she hides it well. He’s seen the slight grimaces when Y/n tries to shift positions and the way her face is lined with pain when she walks or has to stand straight for longer than a few minutes. If she pushes herself too much now, it’ll just extend the overall healing process.

“Really, I don’t need it,” she insists. “What was the point in all the walking practise? Besides, Chan-ssi and Yonghwan-ssi will be beside me, they won't let anything happen to me.”

The nurse looks sceptical, but agrees. Before they leave the room, Y/n twists her hand trying to break Chan’s grip.

“It’s too public,” she murmurs when he tightens his hold instead. “Just in case, I don’t want anyone to see anything that can be misinterpreted.”

Unable to think up an argument against that, Chan reluctantly lets go. Y/n hooks her arm with Yonghwan’s instead and they make their way out, Chan hovering behind them anxiously. They’re all wearing masks and hats and the car that’s going to pick them up is waiting at a private exit, but there’s a shared urgency in their movement. By now, the media has turned their attention to other stories, but with the radio silence from Stray Kids since the incident, fans have had nothing to do except theorise and wonder what’s happening behind the scenes.

He knows that it’s making him paranoid. He finds that he’s constantly looking over his shoulder when he’s in the hallways of the hospital. He’s never been more careful trying to cover up his appearance and avoid anybody who looks like they might recognise him.

They can’t risk the chance of a sighting of Y/n, especially now that her face was captured and shared on social media by fans before JYPE’s legal team was able to step in, and pictures of Chan with Y/n would make things much worse. There have already been rumours about how close Y/n is with all the members and who she is, using pictures from other schedules and events, somehow identifying her in blurred out clips from vlogs that have been posted, and even old footage from when she worked with Xdinary Heroes as evidence.

It scares Chan. Scares him so much that he can’t talk about it to anybody.

Although Y/n’s time in the hospital was fairly short, all things considered, Chan feels like he’s the one that has changed during this stay. Everything he has learned has made him feel like his chest has been opened up and his insides have been scooped out, leaving him hollowed out and unsteady.

When they finally get home safely, it feels like Chan can breathe easily for the first time in days.

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wheneclipsefalls · 8 months

Note

heyy , could you maybe write a Loak x male reader Drabble or sth where he acts like very dominant and bratty but his alpha knows what an submissive omega he truly his and puts him in his place ?

Masterlist I AO3

Pairing: aged up Omega Lo'ak x Alpha male oc

Synopsis: Lo'ak may have been born an omega but that doesn't mean he wants to act like one.

Warnings: omegaverse, explicit (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), anal, power imbalance. alpha/omega dynamics, punishment, dom/sub undertones, bondage, public sexual acts, swearing, etc.

A/N: Anon, sorry I didn't make it male reader simply because I am not very good at writing that perspective but feel free to insert yourself as the male oc. I hope you enjoy! Thanks for being patient <3

Taking the back route towards the village is longer, almost half a mile out of his way. For Lo’ak, however, his priorities today lie in not being seen. With today’s fiasco and now the awaiting wrath of his father, Lo’ak decides it is well worth the extra steps. He knows he was meant to join the other omegas for the special retreat, but there were better things that Lo’ak had found to occupy his time with than getting brainwashed into submission.

He could imagine it now, all the eager and young omega gathering in a circle to fill the air with gossip and bashful talk of their alphas or potential mates. They most likely swooned and sighed while discussing the joys of being an omega. Surely passing around family recipes for healing ointments and weaving tricks followed. The thought alone makes Lo’ak’s stomach flip in adamant disgust.

It’s not that he finds anything wrong with being omega. That is, for others. Omega nature plays an important role in their clan and families, balancing out beta and alpha qualities until there is a harmonious blend of strengths and weaknesses, just as Eywa had intended.

And that is great…for others.

Lo’ak is not meant to be the submissive type. He has a wild streak and rebellious nature that has kept his parents and older brother running after him since the day he learned to walk.

So that is how he knows that joining the omega retreat today would not only have been a waste of time but furthermore humiliated him as his incompatible personality would clash with that of docile omegas.

That being said, he knows how important his participation in this retreat is to his father. Jake had pulled some special strings to get the event to occur months earlier than planned, a joint effort that his mate was sure to be in on. And it’s the thought of Ezar’s knowledge of his disobedience that has Lo’ak’s stomach twisting into knots. His patient, but strict, alpha who has put up with more mischievous antics and woos from an omega than perhaps every other alpha combined. There’s no telling what sort of lecture and punishment awaits him at home, so Lo’ak takes the most reasonable course of action.

He hides.

Although, he doesn’t prefer to call it hiding. It’s simply…spending some quality alone time.

However, now it has been over five hours since he has eaten anything but wild berries, a problem that wouldn’t exist had he attended the retreat and partaken in the great feast there, so Lo’ak is driven back to the village by the sizzling scent of roasting meat. He’s strategic with his path, knowing better than to nonchalantly trot back for dinner and assume that his absence has not been reported. From this trail he is hoping to reach the outskirts of the communal fire, hidden by the growing shadows of eclipse and therefore able to snatch a piece of meat before cowering to safety once more.

When he reaches the outskirts of the gathering, a cocky smile spreads across his face in triumph. His family can be seen on the other side of the fire, messing with Tuk’s tangled braids as she whines incessantly. There isn’t enough attention left for him, a fact that used to make Lo’ak angry but now has come to show endless benefits.

It's when he braces himself forward to sneakily drag a piece of meat on a leaf plate back that Lo’ak feels the warmth of a hand gripped around the back of his neck. His airway isn’t cut off in the slightest but it’s firm just enough to set his omega instincts alight. A thumb swiping over his bonding bite gives the stranger away immediately. He is brought back to his feet slowly until he can feel the solid toned chest pressed against his upper back.

“There you are.” Lo’ak tries to hold back the thrilled shiver that rackets through his body, the luring deep voice rattling his bones. A cloud of heated breath tickles at his prickled skin. “I just had a very interesting chat with your brother.”

Neteyam.

Lo’ak has to admit that his older brother’s efficiency in tattling on him mere hours after his disappearance is impressive. A greater diligence than he would’ve expected, even from the golden boy himself. He glares an imaginary hole into the back of Neteyam’s head where his brother sits obliviously across the fire, rebraiding Tuk’s hair.

“Well I know how much you two enjoy your Lo’ak gossip sessions.” He grits out between clenched teeth even though Ezar’s darkening makes his knee threaten to buckle.

“Lo’ak.” His name is spoken as a hissed reprimand, enough to momentarily have Lo’ak biting his tongue regretfully.

“You didn’t even bother to show up.” Ezar’s sigh sends goosebumps racing across his skin. Irritably Lo’ak swings the grip off his neck and turns to stomp away from the communal fire. He’s not surprised to hear thudding footsteps practically nipping at his heels. Ezar’s own shadow stretches over Lo’ak’s along the forest floor, spreading a wave of anxiety as his headstrong will and submissive nature clash.

“If you didn’t want to go, then you should’ve talked to me.” Ezar snatches his arm, forcing the boy to spin on his heel.

It’s true. Lo’ak mentally scolds himself for not reaching out to his alpha earlier about the issue, but somehow that realization only spurs on his rebellious spark to burn brighter. He has no desire to admit his own wrongdoings, stubborn pride prompting him to glare up at the alpha. There is a spark of challenge alight in his eyes as he feigns a nonchalant confidence and squares his shoulders assertively. It takes every fiber of his being to not heed the small voice in the back of his head urging him to shrink beneath that alpha’s intense glare.

“I don’t have to report every detail of my life to you. I can go and do as I please.” Lo’ak’s chin tilts up in counterfeit confidence, ignoring the way Ezar’s head tilts jarringly slow.

“Is that so?” Ezar’s voice is as level and smooth as fine silk, a natural aura of ease radiating off of him tangibly. Lo’ak is surprised to see how quickly such a simple question sends warning bells ringing through his head. His throat physically strains in an effort to not visibly gulp as the older male prowls forward with fluid steps.

They’ve played this game before. Somehow it always ends with Lo’ak backed up against a tree, trapped by his mate’s impressive physique till atoning words flow from Lo’ak’s lips. His heels twitch slightly with the natural instinct to step back with every progression of Ezar’s path. This time, however, he stops himself. He plants them forcibly in the muddy soil and imagines that they are held by the same concrete seen at Hell’s Gate.

I am unmovable, Lo’ak mentally chants.

“I don’t need an alpha babysitting me.” The omega is proud of how stern and steady his voice comes out despite his nerves twisting together into a tight ball. For a moment he lets himself imagine what an alpha would do, what his father does, what Ezar does, and he uses this knowledge to his advantage. His chest puffs out and hands naturally settle themselves along the dips of his hips, stance wide and rigid.

Ezar laughs.

That asshole laughs.

Not the usual carefree laughter that shakes the male’s chest after one of Lo’ak’s well played jokes. This sound comes out with an arrogant timber and amused smile that makes Lo’ak’s nails dig into his palm. He is caught between apprehension and anger as he stands there and purses his lips into an unintended pout.

“Is that what I do, yawne? Babysit you?” Ezar drawls, trapping Lo’ak’s chin between pinched fingers. The alpha’s head tilts to the side and Lo’ak’s spots the glimmer of sharp incisors poking between the male’s tempting lips. It feels like a trap, one that the alpha is just waiting for Lo’ak to stumble into. Still, it’s too late to back down now.

So Lo’ak does what he does best.

He digs in his heels.

“Second only to your favorite pastime of bossing me around.”

Lo’ak can practically feel the alpha’s hairless brow raise as they are nose to nose. Warm saliva pools along his tongue, sharp teeth aching to bite his bottom lip. Ezar’s even fall and rise of his chest presses the defined muscles against the omega’s own chest. Lo’ak prays to Eywa that Ezar is too distracted to notice the essence of his arousal whisper in the air.

“And what alternative do you propose, omega?” Their lips brush together with every word coming from Ezar’s mouth. “You feel it better if I let you be in charge?”

The alpha’s head shakes to give a fleeting eskimo kiss before dipping down to trace the curve of Lo’ak’s neck. The Sully boy struggles to lift his eyelids as a long kiss is placed directly over his mating mark. Ezar knows how sensitive the area is, how directly linked the physical depiction of their connection is to Lo’ak’s submission. Still, the omega bites his tongue and forces himself to look over his head, straight at the nearest tree.

It becomes increasingly more difficult to decipher Ezar’s mood in these situations, something that alpha has used to his advantage. Lo’ak is under no illusion that he will wiggle out of retribution after the stunt he pulled today, but he craves to keep this charade going longer. He needs to see how far he can assert his own dominance. He is convinced that it is an effort made to prove something to himself, but deep down he knows it’s to challenge his alpha.

To see the real evidence that this man is worthy of his submission and trust. That no matter how hard Lo’ak fights and bites and drives the male to the edge, he will always put in the effort necessary to bring him into that tranquil state of abiding his natural instincts. To demonstrate that he will never be abandoned or forgotten.

So with that in mind, Lo’ak clears his throat and manages to clearly say, “As I said, I don’t need someone else telling me what to do.”

“Oh I see.” Lo’ak can feel the pull of a vicious smile etched along his alpha’s face as it trails upwards till they are cheek to cheek. Calloused fingers dance with a feather-like fragility over the omega’s hips and sides. “You poor thing,” comes the husky whisper against his right ear.

“Being looked after,” The seductive touches drip lower. “Taken care of,” Lo’ak barely holds in a gasp as curved knuckles slowly trace the bulge in his loincloth. Heat like molten gold settles in his belly, fire steaming to reaching anywhere from his toes to fingertips. “All that coddling must be so infuriating for someone as independent as you, hm?”

Lo’ak’s posture falls to shambles with that large hand slipping past the waistband to wrap around his base. His hips buck involuntarily into Ezar’s grip.

“Someone who would rather take care of things themselves.” The smooth glide of Ezar’s grip accompanies the words. The pad of his thumb drags over the head and Lo’ak finally gives into the urge to bite his bottom lip harshly. The omega’s cock is easily nestled in Ezar’s hand, being a considerable number of inches shorter than the alpha’s own. “No need to have some alpha take care of this pretty little cock, no?”

Lo’ak panics slightly when he feels the male’s hand retreat, only to then be confused by his wrist being grabbed and pushed down the front of his own loincloth.

“So then take care of it.” Ezar encourages. Forcefully wrapping Lo’ak’s hand around his small shaft before recoiling entirely.

As Lo’ak silently sputters, frozen in place, he mourns the loss of his mate’s heat and touch, who now stands several feet away with his hands on his hips. Upon recovery, he gathers every tendril of fervent anger together to glower up at his lover.

“Go on.” Ezar simply states with a wave of his hand.

Lo’ak can feel the fever of his blushing cheeks spreading over to the tint the very tips of his ears, but he tenaciously keeps his brows furrowed and tempestuous filled eyes pinpointed on the smirking male. He is caught between getting himself off desperately and storming away to pout. His decision hinges on which one will express his indignation to his mate in the most profound fashion. Completely mortified, he finds his cock twitching in his palm, apparently unruffled by the predicament.

Swirling between the two options, it seems that there is no legitimate strategy to getting what he wants while also maintaining his pride.

So he lets the volcano of emotion erupt.

“Fuck you!” He spits, yanking his hand out and rushing past the looming alpha.

A sharp shriek departs his lips as the root of his kuru is trapped and tugged harshly. He stumbles to find footing, only to fall back against his mate’s warm chest. Strained by the hold on his kuru and arm caging his waist, Lo’ak finally feels the reality of this trap lock into place.

“How many?”

Lo’ak’s ears immediately droop, unhappy to know exactly what the alpha is asking.

“Five, sir.” He grumbles between barely parted lips. Hoping to work on Lo’ak’s overuse of foul language, Ezar had been rewarding every dirty word with five spanks. Some days it’s left Lo’ak with a red ass perceivable to the common eye, hiking up his attitude and embarrassment to new heights.

“Good boy.” It’s the first sample of praise to leave Ezar’s lips that day and Lo’ak tries not to acknowledge the radiating relief he feels blooming in his chest. His jaw locks together and he refuses to show any hint of enjoyment at being praised, like some perfect little obedient omega.

He’s toppled over one of Ezar’s propped knee in a flash before a quick succession of five hard spanks are laid down on his vulnerable behind. It’s impossible to keep his shrill cry in. Ezar’s upper body strength is greater than many Na’vi that Lo’ak knows. The alpha’s muscular biceps has Lo’ak drooling one day and begging for mercy the next. He wonders if he had been better at keeping a poker face during the first spanking he had ever received, if the alpha would still use it as the go to effective retribution.

Swiftly Lo’ak is pulled back to standing in the alpha’s arm, face hiding against his chest as the omega tries to recover his composure. Ezar gently pats his head and Lo’ak frowns at how incredible the nonchalant touch feels.

“Now, let’s go yawne.”

“Home’s the other way.” Lo’ak protests as Ezar starts guiding them back the direction they came. Large hands squeezing his plush hips to steer him properly, the omega’s cheeks clench to keep the dribble of slick from coating his inner thighs.

“I know. We aren’t going home.”

Lo’ak’s feets slide against the slippery mud when he realizes they are returning back to the dining area. He’s sure at this point that there is at least a faint blush left upon his bare cheeks and even if it is not so, he has lost all appetite. Or rather, all desire to be around others, especially his father who is yet to chew him out for disappearing.

“I’m not hungry.” He twists to turn the other way but all that accomplishes him is being picked up with one arm around his waist and carried further towards their destination.

“Funny, I don’t remember asking.” Ezar adjusts the omega in his arms till Lo’ak’s feet are kicking in the air. “Besides, it’s where you were headed in the first place. And since you’re in charge now, it seems only fair to return you to where you were found.”

Lo’ak knows the fight is over. Every scrap of energy he had left to bait his mate has melted into a puddle of scorching desire spreading into every crevice of his body.

Being forced to sit on his alpha’s lap was surprising, usually Lo’ak was at least afforded the choice of where he wanted to sit. Still, it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Or at least that is what he thought until he was shifted to have his ass lined up perfectly over Ezar’s growing bulge. The friction was almost non-existent but that didn’t seem to matter when it came to his omega hindbrain, especially after going all day without his mate’s presence or affection.

It seemed all of this played perfectly into Ezar’s hand as his touch began to gently travel further and further up Lo’ak’s inner thighs. His own cock strained against the restrictive fabric of his loincloth, all too aware of the pleasure that was almost his minutes earlier. Ezar's affectionate touching was occasionally ramped higher with random kisses left on Lo’ak’s cheek, neck, mating mark, and shoulders. He didn’t plow ahead with brutal force to mold the omega back into a docile headspace, the alpha was too patient for that. He knew Lo’ak too well.

So once ten minutes had passed with these torturous comforting and seductive touches mixed together, Lo’ak couldn’t handle the constant clenching of his hole and hunger for real intimacy therefore leading him to quietly beg for what his hindbrain had been purring for since Ezar first grabbed his neck.

Naturally, Ezar complied…that is, technically.

Lo’ak shifted once more, trying to angle his mate's massive length against his prostate but failing miserably. The rough texture of his mate’s hands smoothed over his plush thighs leisurely before pushing the omega’s hips back into place. Lo’ak recognizes the coppery taste of blood leaking from his inner lip, clamping down in effort to keep in his wanton moans. Time has warped into a frenzy of confusion, his thoughts only focused on the wicked desires thrumming through him.

Sitting on the very outskirts of the gathering, the orange glow from the fire barely has a hold on the pair and it’s this thought that give Lo’ak solace. He’s tiptoeing the edge of humiliation, surrounded by his family and friends while Ezar is balls deep inside of him, casually lifting pieces of food to the boy’s lips. If only they knew the state he is held in, the true obedience that lies beneath his facade of teeth and obstinance.

His nerves and arousal, however, weave together sinfully till the omega is confused about whether or not he would enjoy such a truth being revealed. It’s wrong and it’s risky, yet somehow it fuels the flames of his desire and therefore the ache of this torture as he is forced to stay in place.

This is not what he envisioned upon begging for his mate’s cock sweetly.

“Open.'' Another scrap of meat is held up to Lo’ak’s lips but he simply groans and throws his head back against Ezar’s shoulder instead. “Come on, you’re being so good for me. Why stop now? Don’t you want to make me happy?” Ezar coos against Lo’ak’s lolled head.

Lo’ak’s not sure why that works, and he has no interest in investigating it further, but it does. His lips part slowly and he soaks in the whispered praise as he chews the meat with weakened stamina.The pattern continues with every bite reluctantly being pushed past his ips until his alpha has decided it’s been a sufficient meal.

Still, he makes no motion to move.

“Look at you,” The alpha’s voice resounds deeply into a purr. “Warming my cock like a good boy. I knew you had it in you, baby.” His toes curl into the dry dirt and he looks around to make sure no eavesdropping ear has caught the whispered praise. However, his diligence in masking their crude acts is quickly slipping, being replaced by the inherit need to be properly fucked by his alpha.

Despite the throbbing of Ezar’s cock inside the warm channel of his hole, the alpha appears to be in no rush. He pacifies every hushed whimper with fond pets and kisses, enticing the omega’s body to completely fall back against him. After being repositioned for the fifth time, Lo’ak feels as if he is about to cry on the spot. Drafting pheromones betray his temperament, but instead of giving the boy what he really wants, Ezar softly guides Lo’ak’s face to nuzzle against his neck.

He can still hold on to the last bit of resolve it takes to not let physical tears fall from his golden orbs, but it’s shakable and wavering. Pressed against the part where his alph’s scent is the strongest, Lo’ak becomes intoxicated with the sensation. His body finally goes limp, apart from the occasional shuffling, and he allows himself to melt against his alpha. It’s been a long day and now the only thing that he is convinced will make him feel better is being filled with his alpha’s seed.

It’s something Lo’ak would never dream of admitting out loud. On most days it takes considerable encouragement and patience on Ezar’s behalf to pry those words from Lo’ak’s lips in private. Sitting here, however, split open and on the brink of ecstasy after a long day, he’s having a hard time holding himself back from begging in front of everybody.

“Such a pretty boy.” Ezar murmurs against Lo’ak’s temple, the omega’s signature front beaded braids rolling between them. The flat of his hand travels across Lo’ak’s chest, rolling over the boy’s nipples, bringing forth another muted whine and wiggling of hips.

“Not fair.” Lo’ak gripes against his pulse. The painstakingly slow petting along his chest feels as if it is lighting his skin on fire, effectively causing a burning to ignite from the inside out. It’s the drag of Ezar’s hips moving for the first time that has the omega clamping down on the soft flesh above his mate’s collarbone.

“What’s not fair, baby?” The silky braids twist around Ezar’s fingers as he lazily plays with them. “You said you should be in charge and I’m letting you. We ate dinner like you wanted.” Another kiss to his forehead, the skin warm against Ezar’s lips. “You wanted my cock and I gave you that.” The tone drops to a lower octave but Lo’ak no longer cares enough to check the safety of their private conversation.

“That’s not what I meant.” He whines and turns further into the alpha but that only causes a new angle to be hit and another wave of pleasure to shake through him.

“Then tell me exactly what you want.” Ezar’s pelvis rolls forward, and like a hunter knows every inch of their weapon, his alpha knows exactly how to find his little bundle of nerves perfectly. Lo’ak’s mouth pries open in a silent scream, mind going blank for a prolonged moment. It’s only Ezar’s hand coming up to gently close his jaw that keep him from looking like a fucked out omega and ultimately blowing their cover.

He shakes his head stubbornly, eyes clenched shut as he tries to regain some sort of mental clarity. There is no way he will be begging for his alpha publicly twice in one night. Knowing the explicit detail his mate will require, Lo’ak is hell bent to suffer in silence rather than risk humiliating himself.

Or at least that is what he thinks, but as the pressure on his bundle of nerves increases and his alpha waits stubbornly for a response, he starts to wonder how much more of this torture he can endure. Were it any other night he would have already been fucked to half an inch of his life and snuggling close to his mate in their hut while sharing stories from their day. Some nights Ezar is kind enough to rub away the tension that gets lodged in his shoulders, a massage that to his credit is never put as a bargaining chip for anything in return. All of that sounds like a dream now. A dream he is desperately starting to consider sacrificing everything for.

Everything to finally feel him move.

To finally be taken and broken down to his natural state, mask torn away and bare before his lover with nothing but the truth. To give in to his second gender and allow himself the luxury of being coddled and loved and sometimes being railed till he can’t walk.

It’s difficult to remember why that was such a bad thing to want in the first place.

“Come on, love. How am I supposed to let you lead if you won’t give instructions?”

A pained laugh leaves his lips without warning as small tears gather at the corners of his eyes. Ezar quickly shushes the boy and smooths his braids away from his glimmering face. Luckily the sounds are swallowed by boisterous laughter and chatter rippling across the clearing.

“D-don’t-” He sucks in a sharp breath as the mushroom tips readjust against that special spot inside of him. “D-don’t want to say.”

Ezar softly coos away the stream of whimpers that build within Lo’ak’s chest. The soothing caress of his mate and slight rocking motion he provides is enough to have the omega finally closing his eyes and letting the tears fall fully.

“I know you don’t want to, baby.” The heavily accented drawl sings like a lullaby in the night, coaxing Lo’ak closer to the headspace that leaves him floaty and pliant. “Do you know how I know?”

Shaking his head seems like an exhausting effort, but he manages.

“Because I know you, Lo’ak.” Ezar circles his palm around the front of the omega’s neck, reveling in the spike of arousal that follows instantly. “I know what lies beneath that stubborn tough act of yours.” The alpha grins when he senses the familiar feeling of a slim tail curling itself around his calf.

“Deep down you know what’s there too.” He shuffles his hips once more, acting as if it’s to reposition the omega’s weight on his lap. “You know that only I can touch you in the way you crave. That only your alpha can satisfy that yearning in the back of your head.”

His thumb runs over the apparent mating mark and the loss of tension in Lo’ak’s body is tangible, almost visible in the dim light of eclipse.

“There’s my sweet omega.”

Lo’ak’s hips begin to rut back against the thick cock inside of him, brain too fuzzy to worry about the consequences both social and those from disobeying his mate. Luckily, Ezar takes that as their cue to leave. With careful planning he is able to subtly slip himself out of the boy when it appears that all other heads are turned. It takes a hand over his mouth to keep Lo’ak quiet enough, another arm to manhandle him as the omega tries to rut back against him as if he could somehow capture his length again.

The crowd continues on in friendly conversation without a hitch. While carefully lifting the boy over his shoulder it appears that the rest of the Sully family has finally caught sight of them. Jake Sully gives him a respectful nod, and Ezar is quick to return it, their way of confirming that Lo’ak is in good hands.

If there is one thing he has learned from his time being mated to Ezar it’s that the sight of durable leather cords means he isn’t going to get what he wants.

Far past caring about the humiliation, Lo’ak tries to form an adorable pout and pretty words of apology as the alpha ties his wrists to the intruding tree branch in the hut, but the only answer he receives is a little coo and pat to the cheek. Now, laying here naked with his arms over his head dramatically and small cock twitching on display, he tries using the last bit of mental lucidity to find a way to flip the situation to his favor.

His thought process however seems to be tangling into an inconceivable web as the alpha runs his tongue along his lower abs and hips. Each swipe ends with another sweet kiss placed slowly. In random patterns, these kisses are intercepted with a sudden pain that then blooms into a bite mark or purple hickey. Ezar has always been very intentional and particular about his placement of marks along his body. While some alphas have a hay day, driven by heated lust to cover their mate’s body till there is no doubt in anyone’s mind who they belong to, Ezar prefers a more tactical approach.

From the moment they mated, he has diligently scouted and mapped out every inch of the boy’s beautiful slim body. He takes note of the shifts in body language and noises at each point he has reached with teeth, tongue or hands. It’s in those special spots, the areas where Lo’ak’s eyes blow out and whimpers becomes a hushed whine, that the alpha choses to leave his mark. The benefits that profess from that decision always makes it pay off. During those random encounters in the days to follow with him brushing past those small marks, innocent to the common Na’vi eyes, but Lo’ak knows what it means. Another silent reminder of the alpha’s hold on his pleasure, and promises of more to come.

Lo’ak doubts he will ever admit how many times he has had to find a secluded place to get off after these small interactions.

Currently the victim of his mate’s aggressive teeth and tongue is the spot right above his upper thigh, mere inches away from his straining cock. It’s enough to have him bucking and kicking his feet and since the alpha does not appreciate efforts of throwing him off from his carefully chosen spot, the behavior is quickly nipped into a bud. Strong hands harshly pushing hips down and he repositions himself to capturing the boy’s legs with his flexed thighs on either side.

Although the leather is soft, Lo’ak can already feel the imprints along his wrist from tugging relentlessly against the bonds. His skin is an inferno, heated to the touch. This condition is one that Lo’ak has only ever seen in himself during harsh heats and that revelation makes him realize what pathetic of a state his mate has truly put him in.

Matters only worsen, when Ezar scales down his body and finally rises back to stand on his feet. Within a few fluid swipes of his hands, the male flicks his loincloth to the side, revealing himself fully to Lo’ak’s ogling gaze.

“Just for a minute!” Lo’ak pleads, hands yanking at the bonds in hysterical fashion.

“No, Lo’ak. You’ve lost the privilege to touch tonight.”

And just like that Lo’ak is condemned to watch his naked mate with a God-like body loom over him seductively without the slightest ability to enjoy the toned muscles he is so fond of.

Lo’ak knows he has been careless in laying his cards out on the table. From the moment they started courtship and then mating, he has underestimated Ezar’s knack for observation. It didn’t take the alpha long to realize how much Lo’ak enjoys gliding his hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, even leaving his own hickies in trails adjacent to the toned muscle of his thighs. It’s one of the first things that the omega springs for when they are alone, and therefore the first privilege he loses after misbehavior.

As much as Ezar yearns to see and feel his little mate worship his body, he is resigned to teach the omega a lesson. Besides, he finds that the stream of whimpers and glazed over glimmer in his poor boy’s eyes is almost as enjoyable as feeling his small fangs against his stomach.

With his alpha prowling over him completely bare and taking his sweet time teasing his inner thighs once more, Lo’ak throws caution to the wind and yanks on his binds with all of his strength, sore wrists be damned. He needs to feel the smooth toned skin. He needs to sink his teeth into something. Or at least have his mate sink into him. Either would be accepted at this point. However, there is another danger to being tied up, and that is the twisted pleasure and hazy mindset that inevitably follows.

Perhaps this makes him a masochist, but the tight capture and smooth leather against his wrists has always brought a rush. However, more than that it has provided an escape from his own mind. Submitting willingly is difficult for Lo’ak, his intrusive thoughts constantly second guessing whether or not it is pathetic of him to yield to an alpha so easily. The binds, however, eliminate this fear and self loathing. After all, he can’t hate himself for a situation that is not entirely his fault. He sinks into that feeling freely. Level by level he’s falling down into that swirling abyss where thoughts are muddled and worries drift away with the wind.

Ezar grins like a Cheshire cat upon detecting the shift in demeanor, his sweet omega finally letting himself enjoy the pleasure of submission. The boy’s hands fall limp against the soft leather, and those beautiful golden eyes peek up at him through slitted lids.

“That’s it, pretty boy.” Ezar is quick to reward the behavior with tender kisses peppered along his neck and cheeks till finally reaching his lips. Lo’ak’s mouth is warm and wet as his lips move lazily against the alpha’s own. The omega’s tongue sluggishly yields to whatever direction his own manipulates it into and when his teeth sink into the boy’s plump bottom lip, a wanton moan slips free.

So delicate and soft beneath his touch, Ezar savors the feel of his mate preening close and shifting in whatever way he pleases. He’s putty beneath his hands, glassy eyes musing up at him with the smallest smile. Reaching down between his thighs, a rumbled growl vibrates his chest upon finding the area already dripping with slick. He rolls the sticky substance between his fingers and without bending down to put them close, he is able to fully breathe in the mouth watering scent of undisturbed desire.

It’s moments like these that Ezar has to reel himself in, take a second to clear his thoughts and keep that primal beast inside of him at bay. In some ways it is easier to do so when Lo’ak isn’t fighting his every other word. Open rebellion has a tendency to stir his instincts into proving his claim once more, even if it is to his own omega. There are times for that, however, times where the alpha is smart enough to recognize that Lo’ak himself is the one to instigate it.

For now, however, he is focused on slipping his pretty omega deep into subspace for as long as possible, showing him the true ecstasy that comes from being obedient for him. He prays to Eywa that tonight will be enough to keep the boy in line for at least a few days. If not, Lo’ak is sure to just egg him on for another rough railing that leaves them both satisfied and delirious.

His eyes never leave his mate’s face as he situates the boy’s legs around his waist and trails a finger along his puckered hole. With the little strength left, Lo’ak’s legs cinch around him and try to bully his ass against Ezar’s heavy hanging cock. The alpha rolls his eyes fondly. Leave it to his little spitfire to find subtle ways to try topping from the bottom.

Still wanting to draw this out to make a point, he uses one hand to skate his mushroom tips back and forth his mate’s plump cheeks and clenching hole. Their aroused scents are already coalescing in the air to create a beautiful essence of complimenting passions. The cold air chills the inside of his nose upon flaring his nostrils to greedily inhale more of that delicious aroma. It’s a perfume that the alpha has quickly become addicted to, possessive and delighting in the fact that he will be the only one to ever enjoy it in its full bloom.

“Please! Pleasepleasepleaseplease!” Lo’ak sobs. It is then that he notices the tears sparkling along the omega’s dark skin, running fast enough to reach his collarbone.

Ezar almost hates himself for acknowledging it, but his cock always strains and twitches at the beautiful sight of those tears. The way they flush against his reddened cheeks and create a dazzling glow over dazed eyes. His pretty little mate sobbing and on the brink of breaking, but only broken for him. Only him. This masterpiece to behold belongs to him alone.

Lo’ak’s face is captured together in a firm grip, plush cheeks squishing beneath his fingertips, before he is being pulled slowly into a deep kiss. And then finally, finally, he feels the thick mushroom tip prod at his entrance, starting the path inside his gummy walls.

It’s fascinating to Ezar how after so many times being filled and stretched, those slick walls still clamp around him like a vice, tight enough to require real force to get anywhere past the tip. A pained groan is released into his mate’s mouth and his tail coils and flickers rapidly. Lo’ak’s random babbling and sobbing only serve as sensuous music to his euphoric pleasure.

“God!” Lo’ak shrieks when he manages to make it an inch past the tip. The word still sounds foreign to the alpha, but he has picked up enough of the Sky Demon lingo to understand the heated emotion behind.

“Had you sitting on my cock less than twenty minutes ago and your little hole has still managed to tighten up.” He breathes heavily into the omega’s neck. Lo’ak’s elbow almost hits his head while resuming his efforts to yank on the bonds. He contemplates scolding the boy for creating more unnecessary injury to his wrists but then the omega is clamping around him and Ezar has to use all of his control to not tip over the edge right then and there.

Breath stuttering in his lungs, Ezar cools his zeal and slowly continues to glide forwards. Lo’ak on the other hand is fed up and tired of waiting.

“Want it all! Please alpha please! Faster!” He cries uncontrollably and the alpha decides that his patience has run out too.

“Bossy little thing you are.” Snapping hips bring the tip racking against that sweet spot without stop or gentile. He wishes he had a camera to capture the absolute mess of sensations that flashes across Lo’ak’s face, almost as if he is buffering for a moment in time. Swollen parted lips, pink cheeks, blown out pupils, and those persistent two braids that Ezar is so fond of splayed across his sweaty forehead.

He keeps his grip on his mate’s cheeks, forcing him to remain facing the alpha for his own viewing pleasure.

Ezar pulls out to the very tip before slamming back inside and if that concoction of whimpers and dizzied expression that comes from his mate is not the most beautiful display to witness, he doesn’t know what is. He creates a sprinting pace, maliciously hitting that sweet spot over and over until Lo’ak is screeching with every assault. It takes considerable effort to keep himself from following his mate in getting lost through the haze of pleasure and lust. He allows himself the luxury of pounding away without a stop in zeal but only with a careful eye on Lo’ak’s reaction to every movement.

This is meant to drive a point home, make Lo’ak realize what he is getting himself into with this disobedient behavior, but even Ezar knows that deep down this is what the boy wants. What they both want.

So with that in mind, Ezar drives all of his energy into massaging that bundle of nerves with every thrust and pull possible. Lo’ak shakes and cries out in a ramble of incoherent nonsense. When the omega’s back arches upwards from the woven floor, those perky little nipples catch Ezar’s eye. Still relishing in the sensation of smooth velvety walls squeezing him for dear life, the alpha begins to lick a path upward from Lo’ak’s squirming pelvis.

Their eyes connect for a moment, or at least the thin sliver of Lo’ak’s golden eyes that peek from weighted eyelids catch his own darkened stare. Lo’ak’s scent seems to grip him as hard as his rosebud clamps around his cock when he flicks his textured tongue out at the first nipple. The string of saliva shines on the boy’s skin from the swirling of his tongue around that already hardened point but it is only when he hears the sweet words “please alpha” fall from those plush lips that Ezar cinches his own around Lo’ak’s nipple.

The thrust and pull of hips begin an electrifying rhythm with the suckling. Pull out, suck, slam back in, finish with a brief nip to the swollen area. It stirs Lo’ak’s hazy mind into a whirlpool of oversensitivity. He no longer recognizes what is his voice filling the air versus his alpha’s. Each ripple of pleasure along his nerves pulls him deeper and deeper into this mindless state while simultaneously bring him closer to completion.

Grinning against the left nipple now, Ezar is pleased to note his omega’s pretty little cock poking at his stomach. He nestled the mushroom tip of length to press instantly at that special spot inside, resting there heavily without reprieve before languidly stroking the soft tanhi freckled length of Lo’ak’s member.

The boy comes undone with a cry that is sure to be heard back at the communal fire. He shakes and whimpers continuously as euphoria overtakes him and the sticky white fluid is painted between them. It takes the alpha’s pelvis pressing against the omega’s own to keep him in place during the orgasm and another hand at his wrists to prevent inflicting more red outlines.

He tsks lowly, hand coming up to show the mess his little mate has made all over him. A hint of clarity finally ripples across Lo’ak’s face as he realizes his own mistakes.

“C-can I cum, alpha?”

Ezar laughs fondly, sharp teeth nipping at the boy once more to see him squirm. For a moment Lo’ak thinks he is off the hook, his mate having found humor in the slip up, but then he feels the length stretching him full begin to slide out at a sinfully slow pace. Their eyes connect once more and the Sully boy tries to give a wary little smile, he likes to think of himself as charming enough in the most difficult of conundrums.

“A little late for that, don’t you think, little one?”

And then they are starting again, the alpha railing him with uncontrolled ferver. Lo’ak is mortified to find his own cock already springing to life. Every tickle of his nerves feels like a zap of electricity in his overstimulated state. He goes to plea and beg, for mercy or more he is not sure, but soon his mouth is occupied with his mate’s long sticky covered digits. He suckles and groans around the fingers obediently.

“Don’t worry, baby. We just won’t count that one.”

Lo’ak’s heart rams against his rib cage at the thought of reaching an orgasm again so quickly. His muscles and energy are completely spent, having been bound up for hours and releasing all in one moment. He’s not sure if there is enough left in him to go again. That doesn’t seem to matter however. If there is one thing Ezar is, it’s relentless. It takes this level of determination to chase after his little omega day in and day out. A heavy hand to bring him back into line while also reassuring him that there is always comfort to be found in his arms.

Struggling only causes him to gag and slobber over the digits while furthermore draining his energy, so Lo’ak finally gives in to the onslaught of sensations. Whispered words of approval along his ear cover him like a warm blanket, tucking his own reservations away easily.

Ezar beams with pride down at his little mate. So docile and soft beneath him. Taking everything that is given to him with only muffled whimpers and hooded eyes. The sight alone has his balls tightening in anticipation. He’s held off for so long, longer than he would’ve imagined but this time he is determined to tip Lo’ak over the edge again first. Wouldn’t want the boy to get away with too much, Eywa knows he already gets too many mischievous ideas of getting away unscathed daily.

“Still want to be in charge, baby?”

It’s a rhetorical question but Lo’ak gurgles around his fingers in efforts to respond. Chaste kisses are peppered over the omega’s face to shush him, two digits pressing down firmly on his tongue now.

In the dim light of their candlelight hut, their shadows dance and stretch across the floor as the sound of primal grunts and slapping skin fills the air. Lo’ak can barely tell up from down let alone keep track of the time that passes, completely enraptured by his dominant mate pulling him closer to the point of ecstasy once more.

That coils in his lower abdomen tightens at an alarming pace. His legs kick out and muffled words in search of permission slip past his filled mouth. Luckily Ezar requires no further clarification. He can feel the omega cinching around him, another key sign he has learned means the boy is almost past the point of no return.

“It’s ok baby. Be a good boy and cum for me.”

As expected that is all it takes to get him spasming beneath him in a wave of pleasure. In the midst of it Lo’ak feels a bloom of warmth erupt in his core. The familiar sensation of being filled to the brim spurs on his orgasm to prolong and erupt in an unfathomable amount of pleasure. Ezar groans out spewed words of praise and sensuous promises into the crook of his neck as he tries to keep his full body weight off of the boy.

Fingers slip from his mouth slowly, tethered by a string of saliva, and Lo’ak gasps for air. The world blurs around him, making it feel close to an out of body experience as he floats in the post orgasmic haze. He barely registers the bonds being cut and drags of a wet cloth clean him up before his body is tucked against the alpha. The warmth of his skin is luring and his hindbrain is quickly obeyed upon releasing its desire to nuzzle close, to get drunk off of the heavy essence securing him safely in place.

Ezar knows better than to try and speak sense into the omega at this point. Instead, he lets times pass leisurely as he admires his little mate close to passed out on top of him.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long for Lo’ak’s brain to come back online and with that comes the omega’s worries. Unsurprisingly, the first concern pressing at the forefront of his mind is his father’s reaction to the events of the day. Ezar, however, sternly quiets those concerns with promises of talking to Jake Sully in the morning.

“Sleep now, my omega.”

And Ezar is ecstatic to find him obeying immediately.

As always, I aboslutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback<3

taglist: @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @taintedlovesworld @yawnekore @faintfill @neteyamstiyawn @thehoneymushroomhealer @young5643-blog @theunfortunateplace @sweetdayme4427 @neteyamssyulang @kayjaydee17

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undertheorangetree · 9 months

Text

Under the God's Eye

Chapter Five- The Dinner

Summary- A family dinner results in an unexpected rendezvous.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Titty sucking. Handjob. Vaginal fingering. Cunnilingus. Smut. Alcohol consumption. Allusions to drug abuse. Severe daddy issues. My bitter and intense hatred for Viserys Targaryen coming through in my writing. Discussions of bad childhood/neglectful parenting.

Author's Note- okay I’m done teasing now. Shout out to modern AUs for letting me use modern terms in smut without it sounding weird to me. Find the rest of this filth on AO3 link below!

Series masterlist

divider by firefly-graphics

She watches mildly distraught as Alicent flutters around the kitchen, murmuring to herself as she sets pots and pans on the stovetop, pulling out an absurd amounts of ingredients from the fridge.

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" she asks for what she thinks is the fourth time, hand fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

Alicent looks up at her, blowing a wayward strand of hair out of her face with a tired smile. "I'm sure, sweetheart. Don't worry, Rhaenyra should be here within the hour to help me. You're on vacation, go and do something fun. I can handle it."

"I don't mind helping, really. Even if it's only until Rhaenyra gets here."

That earns her nothing but another thankful smile and a shake of her head before Alicent is ignoring her completely, mumbling about where she has left her biggest bowl. A part of her is worried that she's annoying Alicent but she still can't stop herself from asking. She looks frazzled, so much so that it is clear that she is not used to working in the kitchen like this. With her hair tangled in a messy red bun on the top of her head, she has a hard time imagining the Targaryen-Hightower household as a place known for nuclear family dinners. Not with the way Alicent seems absolutely wrought with anxiety.

"Oh, my love," Alicent calls out suddenly and she turns to find Helaena pausing on her way to the stairwell, an expensive looking Russian Blue cradled in her arms. Dreamfyre, she had learned the cat's name was, though she has only ever seen her in pictures on Helaena's phone. She is a reclusive little thing, spending most of her days basking in the sunlight in quieter rooms. Alicent waves Helaena over before jerking her head in her direction. "Take our dear friend here and tell her to enjoy being a guest. She's trying to be too helpful for a holiday."

Helaena huffs a laugh, adjusting her grip on her cat before holding her hand out to her, fingers grabbing at air like a child. "Come on then."

She's pulled out of the kitchen unceremoniously, obediently following behind Helaena, though she can't help but look back at Alicent once more, still feeling guilty.

"I don't know why she doesn't just bring some of the staff with her," Helaena laments as they begin climbing the stairs, still hand in hand. "She insists that she doesn't need them on holiday, but then she plans some big dinner like this and all it does is stress her out."

Out of all of Alicent's children, Helaena is the one she can most see herself befriending. The sweetest, the most down to earth, less obvious when it comes to her family's massive wealth. But it is moments like this where the blatant difference between them is abundantly clear. Her home had never had so much as a maid, much less a whole host of staff. She can do nothing but nod dumbly, agreeing with her as they make their way to the second floor.

"You lost this," Helaena says as she opens Aemond's door, smiling at them both and looking incredibly pleased with her own joke.

"You're so funny," Aemond says, voice completely deadpan, not so much as looking up from the book he has open on his desk. She doesn't have to look at the cover to know it's a textbook as her own copy is still sitting on her bedside table in her apartment.

She grins. "I know."

Helaena leaves and she has no choice but to make herself comfortable on their now shared bed, propping the pillows up against the headboard and sitting back against them. Aemond continues reading and she takes the opportunity to really look at him, uninterrupted by his own piercing gaze. The long sharp planes of his face, the strong jut of his nose, the line of his cheekbones. The ever present tilt of his lips, as if there is some secret or joke he’s struggling to hide. Even from here, she can see the way his eyelashes curl against his eyelids, the light blonde of them near translucent. His hair is the same almost silver blond and, fleetingly, she wonders how much effort he truly puts into it. She has heard the sound of the hairdryer when he locks himself in the bathroom but has never seen any of the products he may or may not be using. Nor has she ever been permitted to enter, the door locked tight since their post shower run in.

But it's his eye that truly catches her attention. She's sat on his sighted side and she can see the brilliant blue of his real eye even from there, admiring the way it catches the afternoon light. Only the dilation of his pupil sets it apart from the prosthetic and she realizes now how pretty they are when he’s not glaring at her or attempting to stare her into submission.

She nearly jumps when he speaks, pulling her harshly out of her thoughts. "You'll meet my father tonight. And Daemon."

Read the rest here

Taglist- @backyardfolklore @docmartinis @watercolorskyy @barbieaemond @bellaisasleep @yentroucnagol @aemondsbabygirl @randomdragonfires @at-a-rax-ia @violetletovi @launotfound @helaenaluvr @solisarium

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #aemond smut #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen smut

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sloanesallow · 4 months

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give you my wild

Nearly a decade into their marriage, Sebastian and Sloane lead a peaceful, idyllic life in a coastal cottage with their toddler-aged son, Antony. As their anniversary approaches and they have the opportunity to spend some much-needed alone time together, Sebastian wonders if it is time for their family to grow. ✨Sebastian Sallow x F!MC Tags: NSFW! MDNI! Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), body worship, overstimulation, dirty talk, and Sebastian's fanon breeding kink. Also domestic bliss, sharing a bath, tooth-rotting fluff and Dad!Seb. [Read on Ao3] | [Read on Wattpad]

The Sallow homestead is a quaint, modest cottage on the English coast, surrounded by rolling hills and sprawling fields as far as the eye can see. It is paradise for Sebastian and his wife, their own little slice of heaven away from the hustle and bustle of the wizarding and muggle worlds.

Wife—Sebastian’s lips turn up in a lopsided grin at the word as he thinks about how lucky he is to have Siobhan—Sloane—as his bride. Ten years now he’s known her, and for ten years they have been inseparable, blossoming from friends to lovers to soulmates to parents. Every day is a blessing, the peace hard-earned and well-deserved after the turmoil of their younger years.

The decision to settle down came only after the birth of their son, Antony. His arrival was not necessarily planned, but welcomed nonetheless, allowing the married couple to retire very early from their Ministry positions. Instead of traveling the world as a curse-breaking-healer duo, the two focus on research while raising their young tot. To Sebastian’s everlasting surprise, fatherhood comes naturally to him, and he thrives, wondering why he ever cared about notoriety when life’s greatest treasure is family—home.

Despite the isolation, their location is in close enough proximity to Nottingham, where Sloane’s father resides. A few hours by muggle means, Mr. Sloane—Grandpa Sloane—is always ready to lend a helping hand. He is the type of parental figure Sebastian always dreamed of after losing his parents, forever grateful for the older man’s patience and guidance. That, and Mr. Sloane’s willingness to care for his grandson.

Even though Antony is a quiet and well-behaved child, he gets into his fair share of messes if left alone for even a second. At nearly three, he is an avid explorer, constantly covered in dirt from the garden, running in and out of the house to show off whatever bug or amphibian he’d dug up. His interests would not be an issue if Antony wasn’t also obsessed with sticking anything and everything in his tiny mouth, as if to learn more by taste.

Maintaining intimacy while nurturing such a curious child is not an easy task, especially when Sebastian and Sloane are still so enamored with one another, even after all these years. The so-called honeymoon period has endured, a bliss neither seem interested in losing. More times than not they are interrupted by the pitter-patter of feet in the hallway, and even when they do manage to copulate, it is usually with hushed whispers and rushed movements to avoid waking their son.

There’s been even more of a dry spell as of late, between Sebastian’s research and Sloane’s travels to Hogwarts and Beauxbatons to lecture students on advancements in Herbology. Antony has been rather clingy too, insisting on sleeping between his mummy and duddy every evening.

Suffice it to say, Sebastian is eager to spend some time alone with his beloved wife. Very eager. With their wedding anniversary on the horizon, it is the perfect opportunity for Antony to stay with Grandpa Sloane in Nottingham for the weekend. His son barely mumbles a goodbye, too distracted by the barn cats and the promise of a sweet treat to notice his father apparating away.

The sun is setting by the time Sebastian returns to the seaside cottage, the chilly salt air tousling his dark hair as he makes his way up the stone pathway. Smoke billows from the chimney and he can smell the Shepard’s pie Sloane is cooking as he approaches the front door.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!”

Sloane doesn’t seem to register his return, continuing her idle humming in the kitchen. Sebastian quickly shucks his boots, hanging his cap and coat on the nearby rack before moving closer to where she’s standing in front of the largest counter, diligently kneading a large mass of dough. He watches her as he rolls up his sleeves, a content smile on his face as he wonders for the millionth time what luck or divine intervention led her to him, made her stay. There’s a nervous flutter in his gut when she peeks over her shoulder and greets him with a bright smile.

“Welcome home, dear.”

Is it possible to fall more in love every day? They’ve grown up together, matured from the fire of youthful love to the deep, abiding connection of a shared life. Well, mostly matured. That passion is still present, a burning flame ignited each time their eyes meet. Sebastian struggles to tamper it down as he closes the distance, resting his hands on her hips, leaning over her shoulder to kiss her cheek.

“How was the trip?” she asks. He can feel the muscles in her back and shoulders flexing as she continues working the dough. “Is Ant alright?”

“He’s fine,” Sebastian murmurs, already distracted by his racing thoughts and the anticipation of what the evening might bring. “I think Ant loves his Daideo more than us.”

“I think Ant loves ice cream,” Sloane suggests, plopping the rolled dough into a large baking dish and setting it aside. She dusts the countertop with more flour, white specks sticking to her fingers and apron. “That’s at the top of every toddler’s hierarchy.”

Sebastian hums in response, unable to resist the urge to kiss her exposed neck. He smirks when she sucks in a sharp breath, the subtle tilt of her head inviting him to continue. Still, she squirms when he wraps his arms snug around her waist, pressing himself close and trapping her between his body and the countertop.

“Seb!” she playfully scolds as he nips the soft skin, kissing a trail up to the shell of her ear. “You can’t wait a few more hours?” she asks. “Aren’t you hungry?”

He slides one of his hands up to fondle a clothed breast. “Starved.”

“Sebastian!”

“Can you blame me?” he softly chuckles, not-so-subtly rolling his hips so she can feel how impatient he really is. “How long has it been since we’ve had the house to ourselves, hmm?”

Sloane sighs, melting under his touch. Too easy. “At least let me wash up, first. I smell like…mashed potatoes, hardly an aphrodisiac.”

“You don’t know that,” he jokes, barely pausing in his lavishing of her neck. He undoes the first few buttons on the back of her blouse so he can kiss her shoulder, too. “Sweetheart, you could be covered in troll guts, and I’d still devour you.”

Sloane’s laugh melts into a delighted moan as Sebastian continues, bunching the fabric of her skirt up until he can snake an eager hand beneath. He strokes her thigh before squeezing the flesh of her bottom, grinning at the silky feel of her underwear.

“These are new,” he comments, appreciatively.

“From my last trip to Paris,” she explains with bated breath.

“Bénis soient les français.”

He slides his fingers between her clenched thighs and groans at the warm slick he finds, the thin fabric saturated with her arousal. Slipping past the barrier, he rubs two fingers through her folds and up to circle her clit with a featherlight touch, one that makes her buck against his palm. Sloane’s head lulls even more to the side as she whimpers and rocks her hips, seeking friction.

“That,” he whispers against her ear as he slowly sinks his fingers inside her heat. She clenches around him and moans as he drags his digits back before plunging back in. “That is my favorite sound in the world, love. The sound of you falling apart under my touch.”

“I’ve been dreaming about tonight, Sloane, of having you all to myself,” Sebastian is reminded of just how long it’s been since they had the freedom to be loud, how long it’s been since she’s screamed his name in ecstasy. “Do you still want to wait?” he teases, darkly chuckling when she quickly shakes her head.

He crooks his fingers, expertly finding the sweet spot that makes her gasp and knees tremble. Sloane grips the edge of the counter as if it is the only thing anchoring her to the earth, and Sebastian presses his weight against her to keep her upright.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coaxes, lips trailing down the slope of her shoulder. “Be a good girl and come on my fingers. I want you drenched before I take you properly.”

Sloane’s core is a vice as she unravels, the back of her head resting against his shoulder as her mouth falls open in a silent scream. A surge of possessive pride courses through him—he is the only man who can gift her this pleasure, he is the only man with the honor of seeing such vulnerability. She is still shaking when he retracts his fingers, bringing them to his lips to taste her sweet nectar.

She slumps forward a little, breathless. “Jesus—”

Sebastian knows he’s done a good job when she gets sacrilegious. He doesn’t offer much of a respite before spinning her around, swallowing her surprised shriek of laughter with a hungry kiss that is all teeth and tongue. He effortlessly lifts her by the waist, perching her on the edge of the flour-dusted countertop. Sloane senses the urgency, humming against his lips as her hands drift from his messy hair down to the clasps of his trousers. He leans away for a gulp of air and to watch as she tugs at the fabric, bunching up his shirt and pushing his pants down just enough to expose his cock.

“Fuck,” he hisses as soon as her delicate fingers wrap around him, the softness of her palm threatening to make him come right then. He blinks hard—he won’t last, but they have all evening, all weekend, to be slow. Right now, he’s desperate, needy for the feel of her cunt around his throbbing shaft. Her name comes out as a deep grumble, “Sloane.”

When he snaps his eyes open, her stormy gaze is already locked with his, pupils blown and expression just as wild as his. Sebastian doesn’t mean to be so rough when he yanks her hips to the edge of the counter, but her breathy laughter and sound of approval as she falls back is enough encouragement to spur him on. He bunches her dress up again, scooping her legs up so her ankles rest on the width of his shoulders.

With one hand he grips himself, pumping his length with a few strokes as he presses against the crux of her thighs. He pulls the soiled band of her panties to the side and drags the swollen tip of his cock against her entrance. If it were any other time, Sebastian might tease her more, edge both of their pleasure until it is too much to bear. But he is already hanging by a thread, the friction of silk and the tight, velvet heat of her encompassing him, welcoming him home.

He grips her thighs tight, pulling her closer as he slides halfway before snapping his hips forward to fill her completely. Sloane’s sharp gasp morphs into a deep moan and he repeats the motion over and over again. The recoil of his frenzied pace rattles through her body and she grips the edge of the counter, knuckles white as the flour that dusts the air and their bodies.

The kitchen is filled with the sounds of their labored breathing and slapping flesh, names murmured between pleading whimpers and desperate moans. Sebastian is unyielding, transfixed by the sight of his wife spread out beneath him, so beautifully undone as the pleasure he gives pushes her ever closer towards another release. As glorious as the image is, he can’t wait to shed their clothes and have his way with her more thoroughly, to worship every inch of her skin with his tongue and hands until she’s a writhing mess, begging for more.

He can feel the tight coil of his own release winding in his gut, his movements erratic as he pushes them both over the edge. With one hand braced on the countertop, he leans forward, almost folding her petite body in half as he loses the tempo and ruts against her like the uncaged animal he is. Sloane grips his forearm, nails biting into his flesh as her inner walls flutter and her body seizes. She cries out in blissful agony, and Sebastian echoes the mind-blowing sentiment, collapsing against her after spilling himself deep.

When there’s enough energy for their eyes to meet, they share a knowing grin—the night has only just begun.

After taking some time to satisfy their more practical hunger, the two eventually make their way to the bath, leaving the kitchen a mess to be cleaned up in the morning…or perhaps the morning after that. If Sebastian has it his way, they aren’t going to be leaving the bedroom any time soon.

For now, however, the two lay comfortably in the large, claw-footed bathtub of their ensuite, the heated water relaxing their aching muscles and washing the day away. Sebastian rests his head back against the porcelain rim, eyes closed as the steam soothes his body and soul. Sloane is settled against him, her back flush with his chest, their arms resting across her waist beneath the bubbly surface.

Silence used to be unnerving until he met her, learning that two people could simply exist. Sloane is the only person who understands him without the need for words, interpreting his moods and emotions with a simple glance or touch. To think only ten years have passed when it already feels like a lifetime—he hopes the love between them lasts for an eternity.

She lets out a contented sigh, her pinned up hair tickling his chin as she adjusts. He peeks open an eye, letting out his own cozy hum. His words are heavy and mumbled against her temple, “dun wunna get out.”

“Me either,” she whispers with a breathy chuckle. “Are we losing our youthful energy?”

“I certainly hope not,” Sebastian huffs, tightening his hold around her. He and Sloane have always had a very active sex life—fervent, wild passion, unable to keep their hands off one another. “The day I can’t pleasure you with my body is the day you take me to St. Mungos to be put out of my misery.”

“So, in ten years?”

Sebastian pinches her thigh in response to her tease, causing her to yelp and squirm with laughter. “At least we’ll have more privacy by then, to experience embarrassing sex injuries without traumatizing our son.”

“Ant will be off to Hogwarts, and we’ll have an empty house.”

He smiles at the shared assumption Antony will inherit magic. It’s not always a forgone conclusion with wizarding parents, but he doubts their inquisitive son is a squib. Another thought crosses his mind, and he shifts to sit up a little, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Would we really be on our own?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” Sloane is momentarily puzzled. “Oh, well…I suppose father will still visit, though as he gets older it’ll be best if we go to him—”

Sebastian traces his fingers across her abdomen until his palm is flush against her skin. “I’m not talking about Daideo.”

Judging by her soft inhale, she realizes her husband’s meaning. The thought of growing their little family has been tickling at the edges of his mind, the idea of Sloane growing round with another child and glowing with maternal beauty—it is a vision that makes his heart swell and his loins ache with excitement.

“You know…” he drawls out his words, carefully pressing his lips against her damp skin. “I always thought we’d have more. A whole brood to envy the Weasley’s. Mornings filled with the patter of tiny footsteps and laughter…a house full of so much love.”

She doesn’t respond at first, her body somewhat tense beneath his touch. He glances up at her profile to see a hesitation in her expression he didn’t expect. As long as he knew Sloane, he thought she wanted the same—a large family to call their own. Had something changed?

“You don’t—”

“I do,” she quickly affirms, turning sideways in his embrace to look at him. “Perhaps I’ve been selfish in wanting to keep things the way they are. We’ve been so blessed with Ant…a part of me is…a little scared of changing that.”

Sebastian’s gaze softens and he dips his face closer to kiss her mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” he whispers, smiling against her lips. “I’m scared too. What if…our baby is a dark wizard, or worse, a Gryffindor?”

“Be serious!” she chides through her snickering, playfully smacking his chest.

“I am!” Sebastian is equally amused, snatching her hand to lace their fingers together. She studies him, as if trying to determine how sincere he is about expanding their family. He brings her hand up to kiss her knuckles, the cold metal of her wedding band against his lips. “I want another child, Siobhan.”

The silver flecks in her storm-colored eyes shimmer as Sloane realizes immediately this isn’t some flippant suggestion, but a genuine choice, a heartfelt desire for their future. He studies her face, watching as she thickly swallows and slowly exhales, processing his words. The corner of her lip twitches as her cheeks flush with a brighter shade of pink, and not from the steam.

Sebastian takes that as a good sign.

“Even if I were to agree,” she eventually replies, not quite conceding to the idea, even as she bites back a smile. “It wouldn’t happen as soon as you say. I’d have to stop taking my contraceptives, not to mention the herbal tea you think smells like feet.”

“Because it does smell like feet,” he mutters, leaning forward to pick up the slow trail of kisses along her neck and collarbone. “Doesn’t mean we can’t…practice in the meantime.”

His grin widens into something wicked as he thinks to himself; “aren’t those the same precautionary potions you were taking when you fell pregnant with Antony?”

“That’s…beside the point.”

“Is it?” he hums. “That just means…well, I managed to beat the odds before, so who says I can’t do it again?”

Before Sloane can respond, Sebastian is lifting her from the tub as he stands, the soapy water splashing over the edge and onto the oakwood floor. She clings to him, a surprised shriek quickly turning into laughter as he carries her from the bathroom to their marital bed. He places her carefully across the fluffy duvet, her blonde hair spreading out across the pillows like a golden halo.

He covers her body with his own, hips slotted between her legs as he kisses her, their breaths hitching as his arousal presses against her belly. The levity fades as Sebastian’s hands smooth over her body, slow caresses pulling little sighs from her lips. It’s a struggle to hold back from ravishing her like he did before, his movements measured as he places kisses across her chest, balancing his weight on one arm so he can cup a breast in his hand.

Sloane arches into the sensation, her craned back as his lips wrap around a nipple, sucking it into a pebbled peak. He repeats the action with her other breast, spurred on by her labored breath and tiny moans. Her skin is still rosy from the heat of the bath, flecked with droplets of water that he laps up on his slow descent to the apex of her thighs. Sebastian spreads her a little wider, fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs as he settles before her bared sex.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, hot breath fanning across her sensitive skin. He glances up to lock onto her gaze. “The mother of our child—our children.”

Sloane’s only response is a strangled moan as he drags his tongue along the seam of her folds, licking up from her entrance to her clit. He wraps his lips around the bud, alternating between gentle sucks and flicks of his tongue. Her hips twitch up against Sebastian as he expertly coaxes out her pleasure, quickly bringing her to the edge of ecstasy.

Her breath hitches again as he moves one hand to assist, spreading her arousal with his tongue before plunging two fingers past her slick petals. Her core clenches and flutters around his invading fingers, a sharp whimper escaping her throat with each thrust and curl within her core.

“Right—right there,” she rasps, her words dissolving into another shaky moan as he strokes deep, fingertips rubbing against the spongy spot within her that sparks a tidal wave. Sloane trembles, hands snapping to clasp at Sebastian’s hair as her body tenses. “Ahh—Seb—Sebastian!”

He lets out an appreciative groan against her, lapping up her sweet release like a man starved. He’s consumed, rocking his hips against the sheets to give his aching cock some temporary relief. The exquisite sight of Sloane writing under his touch is something he’ll never tire of. Sebastian keeps his fingers wedged inside of her, gently coaxing her through the sensations as her walls flutter with the aftershocks of her climax.

“Mmm…” Sloane sighs as he gradually pulls away, giving her sensitive folds one last pass with his tongue before kissing her quivering thighs. He eventually pushes himself so he’s kneeling before her, one hand caressing her leg while he strokes his length with the other.

“Sloane,” her name comes out as a husky sound, a plea and a question all in one. He lowers himself, teasing the tip of cock against her, ready to plunge into her depths. “I need you to say it. Tell me you want—” he darts his tongue out to lick his lips, prodding against her entrance. “Tell me you want another child with me.”

“Yes,” she pants, eyes wide as she stares up at him. Sloane reaches for him and begins to loop her legs up around his waist, guiding him to her heat. She manages a reply between gulping gasps. “Sebastian, yes. I want—I need you to—” a moan interrupts her train of thought, and she presses her hips up, needy as ever for him to take her. “Mmm…please, please—f—fuck—a baby into me…”

Not expecting such filthy words from his wife’s mouth, something wild takes a hold of Sebastian’s mind. He lets out a gruff sound, something between a deep growl and rumbling moan.

“Roll over,” he grunts, not bothering to wait before leaning back on his knees to help flip her onto her stomach. Sloane lets out a surprised squeak as he yanks her up by the waist so she’s on her hands and knees.

He traces over each knob of her spine with his thumbs, squeezing the flesh of her arse as he widens his stance behind her, spreading her legs further apart with his own. She pushes back against him, seeking his touch where she needs it most.

“Please,” she whimpers, looking over her shoulder at him with a half-lidded gaze.

Sebastian struggles to maintain his composure, steadying himself as unfiltered desire spills from her lips. Her plea, laced with the promise of creating new life, stokes the fire within him into a blazing inferno. With a less than gentle grip on her hips, he positions himself once more, pushing the crown of him just past her entrance before pulling her back to fill her in one powerful stroke.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, the hot stretch of her around his girth wiping his brain of any coherent thought. All that is left is the primal need to claim what is already his, mark Sloane from the inside and plant his seed deep within her fertile ground. It’s an overwhelming feeling, all encompassing, and one that surges through him with every thrust.

At first his movements are slow and deliberate, eyes locked on the lewd sight of his cock pulling out of her before driving back in. But it doesn’t take long before Sebastian picks up the pace, his pelvis slapping against her thighs as she rocks back to meet him. Every sound that escapes Sloane’s mouth is pure sin—sweet, high-pitched cries intermixed with the most ragged moans he’s ever heard.

He can feel the tension of her body as it responds to his unrelenting force, his rhythm faltering as her core clenches tightly around him. Sloane’s orgasm shakes through her entire body, her limbs spasming as she cries out, her back a beautiful arch. Sebastian control frays at the edges and he spirals, falling over the edge after her with one last surge of his hips. With a loud, guttural roar, he comes, the intensity of his release blurring his vison.

Sloane’s arms wobble until her front half collapses onto the mattress. Sebastian keeps her propped up as he gasps for breath, clutching her waist and hips as his cock continues to twitch inside her. The overstimulation causes her to shiver, and she whines into the pillow as he lets out a litany of curses and incoherent praise.

When he finally, painstakingly pulls away, his eyes snap down to the pearlescent evidence of his release trickling out of her and staining her thighs. By some miracle, Sebastian is able to stay upright, swaying a little as he rests on his heels and tries to blink the haze from his vision. Sloane slumps and he catches her boneless form, easing her down against the sheets where she practically melts with a sated sigh.

As soon as she is splayed out on her back again, Sebastian collapses across her petite form, barely keeping his weight from suffocating her as he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the aroma of her sweat-slick skin. Her arms lazily encircle his neck, and he grins as a raspy laugh falls from her lips.

“Oh my God,” she softly exclaims, her hands smoothing across his shoulders, one threading through the hair at the back of his neck. “What was that?”

“Dunno,” is all he can say with equally breathless amusement.

Perhaps of his own volition, or because he’s still burning with a longing to see her fat with his child, he lowers his groin down to drag against her mons. They both hiss at the contact, Sloane’s nails biting into his skin. Sebastian lifts himself up just enough so he can glance down between their bodies.

“Is it too much?” he whispers, wondering if he’d even be able to stop if she says it is.

But Sloane shakes her head and arches against him, silently pleading for more, as if she is also being driven by some unseen force. He shifts his balance, lifting one of her legs to slip around his waist before guiding himself back to her awaiting centre. It might be his imagination, but he can almost feel his cock pushing his come back into the depths of her channel. Sebastian bites down on his bottom lip until the taste of copper hits his tongue.

He stays close, their chests pressed against each other as he rolls his hips, keeping a languid pace for both their sakes. Sloane sighs, hitching her other leg up to ensure he strokes deep, and rests her head against his as he pants against her shoulder.

“I love you,” she declares, and it doesn’t matter that it’s the thousandth time she’s said it, the words encompass Sebastian in a warmth he never wants to leave.

He finds the strength to lift his head so their lips can crash together, matching the fervor below. He reaches to grab one of her arms, interlocking their fingers before pressing her hand into the mattress near her their heads. “I love you.”

Sebastian slips his other hand under her and lifts her hips, supporting her lower back as he grinds down, straining to keep himself balanced so he doesn’t crush her. It’s a gradual build this time, but the lingering sensitivity brings about their shared climax much sooner. Sloane’s breath hitches and her thighs tighten around his waist, her barely audible whimper preceding more whispered declarations of love. He spills again with a strained grunt and remains nestled against her as they gradually float down from a kind of bliss they write stories about.

Sebastian could drown in the storm of her eyes and the way she looks at him with all the affection in the world. He slides his hand across her waist to splay his fingers across her belly, the two sharing a quiet, knowing look. Realistically, he knew it was unlikely anything would come from their union—unions—this anniversary weekend. But that didn’t mean Sebastian couldn’t hope or pray that he and Sloane would be blessed with a child once again.

Little does he know.

Five years later

“Pancakes!”

“Oatmeal!”

“PANCAKES!”

“OATMEAL!”

Sebastian flicks his gaze from one child to the next, feeling a little more than frazzled as his twin boys argued, Cailean and Finlay debating as fiercely as any four-year-olds can. Their shouting turns into menacing glares, prompting Sebastian to glance at his eldest who was sitting at the table watching his siblings with an annoyed expression.

“What do you want, Ant?”

“To be excused,” the eight-year-old mumbles in reply.

Sebastian frowns, still unsure of how to deal with Antony’s sullen mood-swings. He looks at his youngest, Ewan, who was sitting in the highchair with a cheeky, toothless grin. At least he hasn't started talking in complete sentences—yet.

“PANCAKES!”

“OATMEAL!”

Cailean and Finlay start shouting again, this time chasing one another around the kitchen, prompting Ewan to erupt into a fit of giggles. Antony rolls his eyes and shakes his head, letting out an exasperated sigh that sounds well beyond his young years.

Sebastian never thought in a million years that at the age of thirty he would have four sons, his genetics wreaking havoc on his peaceful life and blessing him with nearly identical copies of himself. With the exception of the twin’s blonde locks and Ewan’s grey eyes, most days it feels like he is surrounded by children under the guise of Polyjuice. And they don't just look like him, either. They all have some aspect of his wild personality, making him mumble apologies to the afterlife—was he this much of a handful for his mother and father?

Maintaining his patience, Sebastian manages to stop the toddlers in their tracks, trying not to laugh at their scrunched-up faces when they attempt to protest.

“Hey now, remember we’re supposed to be quiet so mummy can sleep,” he explains in a gentle tone, thinking of his wife who has been plagued with a cold for the last few days. “Why don’t you all go outside and play—”

“NO!” the twins shout simultaneously, and Sebastian really considers he’s been cursed, the universe delivering him his karma in the form of two rambunctious offspring.

Cailean and Finlay wiggle out of their father’s grasp and attempt to run out of the kitchen, only to skid to a halt when they see their mother standing in the archway. She’s a little bleary from a restless sleep, but as beautiful as ever. The two flash sweet smiles, folding their hands behind their backs.

“Now you’ve done it,” Antony mutters, scooting his chair up to stand. He plucks Ewan from the highchair, the babe reaching out to squish his older brother’s cheeks. They exit through the nearby door to the garden.

Sloane tilts her head as she observes the remaining two, who are trying their best to appear innocent. She tuts, shaking her head. “You heard your father.”

They are out of the house as if they’ve apparated, dashing through the kitchen door. “Yes, mother!”

With all four children outside, Sebastian sighs, welcoming Sloane’s embrace as she comes to stand next to him. He greets her with a soft peck, “sorry if we woke you.”

“It’s alright,” she says softly, plucking a stuck piece of parchment from his back that reads, dummy. Sloane stifles her laughter as Sebastian groans. “I’m saving this for later.”

He smirks, wrapping his arms around her waist as he rests his chin on her shoulder, the two glancing out the kitchen window to watch their children play. Antony is sitting in the grass with Ewan in his lap, chatting to his babbling baby brother about the plants and flowers that surround them as Cailean and Finlay run themselves ragged, screaming incoherent, toddler obscenities.

As hectic as the days are, Sebastian enjoys his life as a busy father and husband, finding comfort in the chaos. He kisses Sloane’s cheek, smiling against her skin. “I love you.”

She tilts her head back to look up at him and he raises a curious eyebrow at her devious expression. He nervously chuckles, “what is it?”

Sloane grins.

“I’m pregnant.”

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