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queenoftheworldisdead · 3 years

Note

Could you maybe write something with dark dark Steve who has a huge size kink and crying kink and loves to humiliate?

School Days

Note: sorry it took so long. been kinda down. also hope i did OK with humiliation.

Summary: Co-worker makes you feel uncomfortable.

Warning: 18+Only, short reader, size kink, crying kink, humiliation kink, non consent, forced fingering and cock warming i think

Dark Coach Steve x Short Teacher Reader

📚

You had always had a love of teaching. Growing up your friends would always groan when it was your turn to pick what to play, because you always chose to play school.

You knew exactly what you wanted to do when you got to college. You wanted to shape young minds. It was fascinating watching them grow and learn right before your very eyes.

Shelby elementary hired you two years after you received all of your certificates. Replacing their beloved Mrs.Pepper Potts after she moved out of town with her husband.

You taught first graders. You preferred teaching the lower grades. The higher grades were a bit difficult. Competing for attention when most of the students where dealing with raging hormones proved an exhausting endeavor. Your short stature became a reoccurring issue too. During your student teacher days you realized the taller they got the more they seemed to not take you seriously.

At least working with the lower grades you were less likely to be confused as a student. You had lost track of how many times you were stopped in the hall by a colleague. With the lower grades you towered over your class and commanded respect with little effort.

📚

You felt exhausted. Your first parent teacher meeting was over. It was endearing and encouraging that so many parents had so many concerns about the development of their little ones. But their critiques on your credentials didn't fail to strike a nerve, an issue new teachers faced all the time. You smiled through it as you normally did. Letting them have their back handed remarks as you answered and waited out the clock.

When it was all over you needed a drink. You cleared up the mess they left for you, a preview of what to expect from their spawn.

When everything was in its place you tackled the blackboard. Taking out your stool you stood on tip toes erasing. You had the bright idea of outlining your curriculum on the board for all the parents to view. It was hard getting it all on the massive board, but with your step stool you got as high as you could go.

"Hey! Whoa you know that's dangerous." A voice rushed to your side as your stool tilted.

"Are you OK little one?" he asked helping you down.

God he's tall. You barely came eye to eye with his chest. You tensed in his arms and when he realized his mistake he released you.

"Oh sorry" he rubbed the back of his head slightly embarrassed. "I'm Steve Rogers." He reached out a hand for you to shake. You took it and introduced yourself. His firm grip swallowed your hand, when he squeezed you held in the hurt from the pressure.

Steve's presence was intimidating despite the smile he wore. When he released your hand, you took as step back, but he stepped forward.

He is just a close talker. Don't over analyze.

"Sorry again with your clothes I just assumed you were..." He motioned at your clothing.

Taking inspiration from Ms Frizz, your favorite animated teacher, you always wore colorful puffy skirts that depicted various things related to education or fairy tails. The look kept the attention of the youngsters, but it certainly didn't look childish.

"It's OK, but I am afraid you are a bit late for the meeting."

Spinning away you move to the other side of your desk to give yourself more space. "If you wouldn't mind filling in your information, encase of emergencies or special needs. I know you probably filled it out for the front office, but I like to have my own copy." You explained as you handed him a pen and the piece of construction paper with the other parents info.

He took it and filled it out. "I just erased the curriculum, but I can email you a copy."

"Did you also used to teach at Camdien?" Steve inquired, bending over your desk as he wrote. While you waited you packed up your belongings.

"Um yes I was a student teacher there. Did you have a child there too?"

"I coached there actually. Well was." He rose and approached you. Slipping your purse straps on your shoulder, you tried to remember if you seen his face before. You didn't recognize it. As striking as he was you doubted you would forget it.

But the athletic department lived in a world separate from the teachers. Their multiple championships brought in funding that went to their brand new athletic facility. The highly coveted building allowed them to live above the peasant class of the faculty. You had even heard a nonsensical rumor that they even had a Starbucks and onsite masseuse.

When he handed it back you reached out, but Steve pulled the paper just out of reach. Hovering it over your head like a bully playing keep away. You huff and frown after two attempts. You were not a child and would not be treated as such. Pursing your lips you made a move to leave. You would just go through the admin office to get the information.

"Aw don't pout, but I must say you do look adorable when you do." He smiled down at you as he blocked your retreat. His wholesome grin did not match the darkness in his eyes. There was a disconnect somewhere. You felt like a mouse before a lion. Were the other teachers like this? You were so eager to get started working you did little research in the school that so swiftly hired you. "Here you go."

Snatching the paper away you say, "thank you." It sounded slightly annoyed, but you did your best to choke down the edge.

Unhooking the lip of your bag you placed it with the others as his shadow clouded you. Ignoring it you side step him.

"Yeah I remember. I used to see you at Camdien." Steve recalled, blocking you once more. You stopped just short of bumping into him as you closed your bag. "Cute little thing, roaming the halls." Steve informed you, stepping closer once more, making you take a step back. The alarm bells blared in your head at that comment.

"Boy wasn't I relieved I wasn't crossing the line with all the thoughts I had." He chuckled as your back hit the chalkboard. You had to strain your neck to look him in the eye this close.

The principal was making his rounds soon. He wouldn't try anything right?

"Mr. Rogers-"

"Coach" he interrupted. He didn't touch you but that fact gave you very little relief. You felt your nails dig into your palm as you gripped the thin strap of your bag. Your arm the only barrier between you two. "Just call me Coach."

"Rogers!" Your saving grace, Principal Barnes, exclaimed from the door. Steve's body blocked you from James. "There you are. Nice to see your getting to know your colleagues."

"Yeah, just sharing stories from Camdien" Steve stepped aside to greet Principal James. His hand landed on the top of your head, messing your hair as he patted you playfully like a dog. You swallowed the discomfort as he moved to talk to James. You gathered the rest of your things as they focused their attention on each other.

"Oh yeah I forgot you both came from their."

You took that opportunity to make your exit. Walking fast mumbling a 'goodnight,' you bolted toward the door. They replied back, but you ignored it, allowing their chatter to fade the further down the hall you got.

📚

The first week of school was hectic. Lost students, late students, little accidents here and there, it ran the gambit. But nothing worried you more than P.E. period.

Steve was listed as your classes gym teacher and made the drop-off a chore. It surprised you how increasingly inappropriate he was becoming. Always stretching out your name flirtatiously in front of the children causing them to taunt you with 'OOO's, and pepper you with questions about the nonexistent relationship until you departed.

They stayed in line as you approached the double doors that led to the gymnasium. He was there, dressed in his sweat pants, gym shirt and the whistle dangled from his lips.

As you ushered them inside he caught site of you as he wrangled another group and smirked. It was unnerving especially when your students egged him on by making kissy noises loudly when they noticed him too. On one occasion he sent a note with one of your students asking you out. You ignored it.

You should've reported him you know, but what would they say 'Oh he was just being friendly' or any number of things to justify his behavior. You'd been in enough situations to know without evidence that met their standards nothing would happen.

📚

In the teachers lounge Steve made his presence known. You stared at your custom coffee mug as it sat high on the edge of the third shelf. You had half a mind to take and break his, as it taunted you from the first. You were growing more and more tired of his antics. This wasn't the first time and you knew it wouldn't be the last.

Two arms planted themselves on either side of you as something rested on your head.

It was him you knew it. Who else would it be?

"Need some help little one?" He hummed.

"God damn it Steve get off me" you barked You elbowed him, but the mountain of a man didn't budge.

"No need to be nasty."

You felt him push you into the counter, crushing you against it as he reached for your cup on the high shelf.

"Here you go" he said placing it daintily in front of you.

Calm down don't blow your lid he is doing this to fuck with you.

"Shouldn't you be watching my class?" You asked as you waited for him to move out of your way.

"Student teacher got me covered. You remember what that's like? Give them the work while we teachers kick back and relax."

He backed away allowing you to get the coffee, but stayed glued to your side. You ignored him, pulling out your phone and flopped on the couch, waiting for gym time to end.

Steve of course sat next to you crowding you into the corner. He boldly placed a hand on your thigh, you brushed it off, cursing at him to 'go away'. If you got up he would only follow so you crossed your legs and leaned into the arm of the couch. Don't let him get to you.

Steve stretched out his arm on the back of the couch. Even sitting next to you he towered over you. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you in snugly. Your head resting against his tone chest. "God your so adorable."

"Steve!" you almost shriek at him as his other hand slyly crept under your skirt. "Jesus Christ what the hell is wrong with you."

You try to stand suddenly, but get jerked back down. Landing in the same awkward situation as before.

"Fuck you let me go" you hissed at him. He only chuckled as you tried to stop his hand from advancing up your skirt again. You became panicked the further he got.

Clamping your thighs tightly together as he wedged between your crossed legs. Your eyes shifted to the door before you, the couch sat across from the only entrance. If anyone came in they surely would be under the wrong assumptions.

His arm refused to budge as you attempted to pry him away. Steve was nothing but muscle, struggling was getting you no where, each shift pressed him hard against your sensitive area.

📚

"You know I've been nothing, but nice to you" Steve sounded disappointed.

"Stop please" you sounded panicked and desperate. Your nails dug into his arm as you tried to fight back an ache that taunted you as he teased.

"But you always give me attitude." He stated casually.

You slapped him. The sound loud in the empty room. Your eyes blurred with tears of frustration. Your hit did nothing, only leaving his cheek red, but from the smile on his face he liked it.

"And violent too. Hope you don't act that way around your class" he tsked while poking hard at the growing wet spot. You felt your spine curve and breath become heavier, your toes curled in your shoes as he increased his friction.

"Oh look at you. You like that don't you" he teased rubbing circles after noticing the tension in your legs relax. You cocked back to slap him again, but stopped when you felt his other hand at the back of your neck. It squeezed softly, but it was a warning nonetheless. You felt defeated. Not only was Steve bigger than you, he was stronger. Tears of frustration finally fell as you lowered your hand and let him do as he pleased.

"God your even cuter when you cry." He preened. "Tell you what. Since we don't have that much time....Kiss me and I will stop." You bristled as you felt him peel your panties to the side.

He didn't wait for your reply. Steve crashed his lips on to yours without warning. You flinched expecting pain, but it was soft. It was so tender that with anyone else they would given and close their eyes, accept it, but you couldn't.

"Stop..Steve.. Please" You panted over his lips, pushing at his chest as his fingers pushed into you. He didn't stop, the kiss only embolden him to go further. You whimpered and moaned as he took from you.

"Give me your panties" he asked pulling away from you, but his fingers still curled inside. "You promised you'd stop" you remind him, wiping away tears.

He wasn't going to relent, you could tell by the determination in his eyes. You felt exposed and embarrassed. Anyone could walk in at any moment and he knew it. He would probably get a slap on the wrist while you would need to find employment else where to escape the shame.

"I promise this time" he said lowly. "No tricks."

Swallowing your pride you lifted in your seat, he moved just enough to let the fabric pass. Rolling them down your knees quickly you hand them over. His hands slipped from you as you pass it. He held them up to the light and examined the wetness he created. Wiping away tears, you stood and bolted toward the door, but stopped when Steve whistled loudly.

"I think you forgot something."

You turned to find him pointing at your discarded mug.

"If you leave it, I leave this in it", he waved your shame in the air.

"Don't forget to wash it....don't want it to leave a stain" he ordered from the couch. You walked back on edge. Snatching the mug from the other side of the table. You rushed to the sink and rinsed your cup. More tears fell as you felt the wetness between your legs. The mirror mounted above the sink allowed you to examine yourself. Your mascara bled a bit and lipstick smeared, but nothing that couldn't be fixed with a dab of a napkin.

You swore to never step foot in the lounge ever again. If you needed to eat you would do it in your car or at your desk. This was supposed to be a magical time for you, but with Steve it had turned into a nightmare.

You sniffed as you blinked away the tears, forcing yourself to stop crying. Gym time was almost over and you needed to pull yourself together and collect your class.

"You know how often I wonder about you" Steve said rising from the couch, you watched him carefully from the mirror. You fumbled your mug, the water splashing back at you.

"Steve you promised" you said meekly, utterly defeated. He stared at you through the mirror, you felt his eyes watch your discomfort as you picked up the cup.

"What would the parents think if they knew their kids teacher walks around the class with no panties on" he tutted. You hung your head low and noticed your panties balled up in his hand as he rested it on the counter.

"I also wonder" He said pressing you into the sink. You felt his resolve through his sweat pants. "Do you fit?"

Fit?

Then it became clear. You felt his cock against your backside. You tried frantically to flea, but Steve caught you by the neck.

"I'm willing to bet you can't even fit half of me inside" he whispered in your ear as he bent you over the sink, crushing. "If I'm wrong I will let you go." Your eyes rounded as he hauled up your skirt. You whimpered as the cool air of the staff room tickled your exposed rear.

Steve was really going to fuck you in the staff room. These walls were paper thin and he knew it. Your head swirled in panic as you pleaded with him to stop. He only chuckled and shimmied down his sweat pants as you swatted back at him.

He angled and aligned himself as you sobbed. The tip slipped through your wet thighs, finding the target of its need.

You choked down a guttural moan as he breathed out 'good girl'. He watched your face as every inch stretched through your insides.

"Its is too much" you gasped out, trembling from the pressure, dancing on your tip toes as you adjusted around him.

"Its all inside" he praised the accomplishment. Forcing you to look at the mirror. "You fit me so good...see."

The mirror reflected your assault to your horror. "All cute holding me inside, taking everything I got" he said while stretching you.

Shooting pains radiated from your core as sharp breaths escaped you.

"Look at you" he taunted "coming apart just for me.... "

You heard the door to the room open and close quickly as you panted wildly. Steve didn't pull out, unabashed, letting whomever take in his pale ass as he continued to stuff you.

You didn't know who saw you, you only hoped his massive body hid you and your shame.

📚

#dark steve x reader #dark steve x black reader #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve x black!reader #black writer

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cantalouupe · 3 years

Text

full

nsfw!!! diluc x gn!reader

a lot of cum, semi public sex, humiliation, degrading, mean diluc

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Diluc often fucks you in the back of The Angels Share. A spare room was something like an “employees only” space that you could find the entrance to right around the corner of the bar side. Mainly used for storage so it was rarely entered, which made if a perfect place for Diluc to take you when he needs to let out pent up stress from the day.

It seems to be his favorite spot and you aren’t sure exactly why, but you have a lingering suspicion it has to do with the fact that there are a bunch of people right in the other room. He carries that fact into his words, muttering things like “if you don’t keep it down, they’ll know you’re getting fucked in here” that makes you feel like you’re burning up.

Currently you two are in that room, bent over a spare table and stuffed full of his cock. Unbeknownst to everyone out in the tavern, you’d been in here for upwards of an hour, with Diluc behind you, slamming his hips into yours.

He seems to be on a mission because he’s now on his fifth orgasm, pushing to the hilt so he releases it all inside of you - as he’s done with the past four orgasms. Unfortunately for you, it doesn’t seem like you’ll be coming at all tonight, the red head making that clear when he said “Don’t fucking cum” in between thrusts.

Every time you get too loud or too close, he stops and his hand comes down into your ass, hard. He has to do it especially often because you won’t keep quiet - can’t keep quiet - not when he makes you hold back for so long. After a particularly loud moan he tells you that he wishes he could be fucking your mouth at the same time as your hole so he could shut you up which makes you squeeze tightly around him.

That clench pushed him over once again, filling you for the seventh time in a row. You shake with the feeling of him pulling out to scoop any dripping cum onto his cock head push it back inside you.

“It must feel so full inside,” he punctuates his words with deep hits of his cock. “You take my load so well.”

His praise makes you tense, right on the edge of letting go, eyes screwing shut and for a moment you actually think he’s going to let you. The moment dies quickly when he slips back out, hand cracking down on your already sore ass cheek, successfully cutting off your orgasm again.

More smacks are given for extra measure, showing his disapproval before he even started speaking.

“Didn’t I tell you not to come? You’re terrible at following directions.” You whimper against the wooden table under you - you didn’t want to be bad, but it felt so good, how were you supposed to hold on? He was dangling your release right in front of you, it was so difficult not to reach out for it.

You wanted to cry in frustration and fuck back onto his cock, impale yourself on his length so that you could finally come. He’d be even more mad at you though, so you don’t, instead choosing to give a small wiggle of your hips.

Hands go to pry your cheeks slightly apart, giving him a good look at your slick and fucked out hole. Your face feels hot while he looks and you clench around nothing, which accidentally pushes a glob of his cum out.

He tuts, using his fingers this time to scoop it up and shove it back inside. “Good cum sluts keep it all inside,” you hear the suck of his mouth on his dirtied fingers, before he speaks again. “You’re good, aren’t you? My personal cum toy?”

You nod, embarrassed but eager to please.

“Tell me.”

God, your voice is so shaky when you respond, “I’m your good cum slut.”

It’s good enough for him, though, and he doesn’t make you say it again. Focusing back to your used hole, it grows silent and you feel tense again in anticipation.

“You can still take one more,” His low voice decides from behind you, and you feel the push of his head. There’s no resistance and his whole cock slips in without a hitch because of how sopping wet it is.

You would protest against it but he’s already scolded you once, the pain blooming on the skin of your ass as a reminder. The pressure of holding on for so long, being pushed and pulled from the edge repeatedly has tears welling in your eyes and you do nothing to stop them.

“One more,” He tells you in warning, rubbing comfortingly along your skin while he fucks you for the last round.

You repeat that like a mantra inside your head, focusing on holding out just for a few minutes, just until he comes for the last time. You’ll be rewarded at the end, you’re sure of it.

Waiting for the supposed reward you though you would get was waiting for something that would never happen. Once he finishes for the eighth and final time, he makes no move to clean you up or begin any sort of aftercare. He instead helps you stand up straight, pulling your clothes back on you.

You blink at him, confused. “....what about-“

“I told you already,” he replies smoothly, cleaning himself off. “You have to keep it inside. Now come on, I’ve got work to attend to.”

Gaping at him and rooting your feet to the ground, you shake your head. “Theres no way i can.” You could already feel it, the slick leaking out of you - it would come out, surely, with nothing keeping it in.

“You can. Now let’s go.” A hand rests on the lower part of your back to guide you out and into the main part of the tavern. Luckily no one payed any mind to you, either too drunk or too busy chatting away to even notice you.

If you had been standing in that spot for a long time you wouldn’t be surprised. Moving made the cum leave your hole faster than it did just standing still. But, when a table of people from the adventure’s guild call you over with happy grins you’re forced to walk to them.

One of them questions if you’re okay, noting that you look a little flushed, but you deny it, sputtering out some sort of excuse while praying that you don’t get a wet stain from the slickness leaving you, feeling dirty. Diluc was right when he said you were his slut.

From across the room and behind the bar, a dark pair of eyes watch you shakily sit and speak with the others there - acting normal even though you were filled to the brim.

It made him feel restless for the remainder of the night, and by the end of it you were back in that restricted room, getting fucked until you were coming all over yourself.

#genshin impact diluc #genshin impact smut #diluc smut #genshin impact x reader #drabble

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

One Night🌙11

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, angry Andy, hormones, awkward dinner, y’all know what it be.

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: One night changes your entire life.

for @kittykatlow‘s 200 Follower Celebration

Note: Okay, here’s an update.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You wore a black dress, barely loose enough to fit over your bump as the hem floated high in the front. Your forehead beaded with sweat as you took out the heavy glass pan from the oven and puffed. You set it down and removed the lid as steam clouded out. You heard your father’s voice from the living room and Andy’s baritone response.

The night was smooth so far. Your father was particularly impressed by the autographed baseballs on the mantle but never outspoken, the conversation didn’t stray much from sports or cars. Your mother’s posture and expression betrayed her discomfort but she masked it with a cordial tone. You were thankful for it as you didn’t need to deal with her attitude and Andy’s at once. You were too hormonal and tired for that.

You began to take down plates from the cupboard and your mother’s voice sounded from behind you. She neared and reached up next to you as she grabbed the next plate before you could. She stacked the four of them neatly and grasped them in her knobby hands.

“You’re too pregnant for that,” she said, “you grab the silverware.”

You gave a small smile and turned to open the drawer as she left you. You took out the utensils and followed her into the dining room. You set the table and she returned to the kitchen. You came after her and she used a dishcloth to lift the hot pan.

“Get the door, will ya?” she said as she angled around carefully.

She passed you as you held open the swinging door and she set the pan down on the mat in the middle of the table. She inhaled deeply and glanced over at you.

“Stuffed peppers?” she asked.

“Your recipe,” you said, “I’ve been craving them.”

“Next time, let me make them,” she smiled, “you still don’t know the special ingredient.”

“I’ll figure it out one day,” you rubbed your lower back.

“Sit,” she pulled out a chair, “I’ll go get the men.”

You neared her and leaned on the back of the chair, “mom,” you said quietly.

“I’m trying,” she said grimly, “I’m just… not happy yet.”

You nodded and hung your head, “yeah, you don’t have to be, but thank you.”

“I don’t like that man,” she hissed, “a wife in the hospital and he’s knocking up a stranger--”

“Mom,” you warned her, “please.”

“I know, I know,” she shook her head, “but you’re my daughter and he’s… I don’t know, who knows what really happened to the wife.”

You gave her a look and she pursed her lips. She retreated and you sat down heavily and cupped your cheeks. All you had to do was get through dinner. Then you could say you were tired and hide in your room.

You heard her voice in the next room and the impending footsteps before they appeared in the doorway. Your mother and father sat across from you and Andy took the seat to your right. You waited awkwardly and he cleared his throat.

“Well, sweetheart, aren’t you going to serve the guests?” he intoned.

“I can do it,” your mother offered, “don’t make her work any harder than she needs to. Not in her condition.”

You were slightly taken aback by her effort but you didn’t miss how the corner of her lip twitched as she eyed Andy. She didn’t like and didn’t trust him. You couldn’t say you did either and almost for the first time in your life, you felt a kindred connection to your mother.

She stood and scooped a pepper carefully onto each plate with a generous spoonful of sauce from the bottom of the dish. She set them back carefully before each diner and returned to her chair and sat. She smiled, a forced smile, and shifted her chair closer.

“So, you have some time but… once the baby’s here, I’m sure you’ll be back to work,” you mother began, your father always content to hide in his food, “me and your dad talked, we could watch the kid once and a while--”

“She’s not going back to work,” Andy interjected, “especially not at the diner.”

“Oh,” your mother’s lips pressed together in a firm line, “she isn’t?”

“Maybe after a year?” you began as you glance at Andy, “once I get the hand of things--”

“No,” Andy said, “you’re staying home with her.”

“I guess we haven’t decided,” you offered calmly, embarrassed by Andy’s attitude, “as you said, we still have time and we’re figuring stuff out.”

“Once the kiddo’s in school, you’ll have the time to get a job,” your dad offered, “that’s what your ma did. She kept on a few hours here and there when you were real small but once you hit kindergarten, she was back to full shifts.”

“We’ll talk,” Andy threw a hand up and grabbed his fork with his other, “it’s really not your business. It’s ours.”

“Andy,” you chided, “they’re just curious--”

“And where were they for the last couple months?” he snarled, “they weren’t so curious then.”

“Alright, calm down,” you hissed, “sorry, mom, dad--”

“Don’t apologise for me,” he snipped, “they should be apologising to you. That’s why I welcomed them into my home.”

“What?” you gulped, “Andy, they don’t need to--”

“No, no, my child is gonna have at least one set of grandparents and if it’s going to be them, they’re going to respect you and me,” Andy insisted, “so they can apologise or they can leave without dessert.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you uttered.

“Don’t you tell me how to act,” he cut into the pepper, “so…” he looked across the table at your parents, “she made this delicious meal and I think she deserves at least a little appreciation from the two of you.”

You dad looked angry for once in his life as your mother’s lips curled in mortification. You gave them both a shameful look and shook your head just slightly. You mouthed an apology as Andy huffed and tapped impatiently on the table.

“We’re sorry, honey,” your mother began, “we overreacted. Just like I said earlier, I was surprised.”

“Sorry,” your dad forced out as he glared at Andy, “you know I always love and support you, no matter what.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, “now,” you touched Andy’s arm gently, “we can move on. It’s all good.”

“Mhmm,” he grumbled as he leaned forward to take a bike, “we can… but this doesn’t happen again.”

You wanted to shrink down and hide under the table. The tension that rose was palpable and threatened to choke you. You had false hope in the beginning that this might feel normal, that you might end the night with a new standing between you and your mother.

You knew then that Andy’s goal had never been to bring you back together, it was only to gain another degree of control. He made it clear that no one could help you, not even your own parents.

🌙

You were almost thankful for the sink full of dishes. It kept you distracted and gave you a reason not to sit and stew with Andy. Your parents left shortly after you cut the cherry pie and you cleaned up as they bid their farewells. You were completely humiliated by Andy’s hubristic demands but you didn’t dare argue with him. Especially not in front of guests.

You scrubbed the dishes as your stomach pressed to the wet counter and placed each in the drying rack. Andy came in as you pulled the drain and you took the dish cloth from its hook.

“Here, I’ll dry,” he offered.

You stared at him and wiped the water from your hands and gave him the cloth. He went to the rack and opened a cupboard. You took out a container and began to pack up the leftovers from the pan and wrapped the top of the pie. The silence made every clink and clank louder as you moved around the kitchen.

You shut the fridge and sensed him behind you. You flinched as his hands settled on your hip and you gripped pressed your palm against the cool metal. He pulled you back against him and slid his hands around your bump as he hummed.

“Did I tell you this dress looks wonderful?” his fingers brushed the dishwater along the front.

“Andy,” you grasped his wrists, “what are you doing?”

He rocked you as one hand grazed beneath your bump and his fingers dangled over your vee. He bent and inhaled the scent of your scalp. You went rigid as he wiggled against your back, his arousal twitching tellingly.

“Andy, please--”

“Can’t knock you up a second time,” he purred.

“I… no, please, I’m tired--”

“Come on, honey, that night… wasn’t that amazing?” He turned you to face the island and you caught yourself against the edge, “that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“It was a mistake, alright? Look at us now--”

“Look at us, hmmm?” he pushed his hand down and cupped your cunt through your dress. You gasped and squeezed his wrist, “I lay in my bed thinking of you all night… and you’re just across the hall. Why are we playing this game still?”

“Get off of me, please,” you begged, “Andy--”

He pressed his fingers to your pants and pushed the cotton against your folds. You bit your lip as he found your clit and the chafing formed a pressure beneath his touch. You shook your head and leaned back into him, trying to shove him away.

“Let me go…” you breathed.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” he urged, “I can feel you getting wet already. You’re lying to yourself.” He pulled your panties aside and dipped two fingers between your lips, “why do you gotta be so damn stubborn?”

You sucked in air and tensed as he played with your bud so that your thighs quivered. You tucked your chin in and bit down as you tried not to let out a moan. Your nails sank into sleeve but he kept on. You felt how powerful he truly was, his chest pressed against you as his arm remained immoveable.

He bent you slightly as he snaked his hand further and poked a finger inside of you. You squeaked and he added another, curling them as he began to rock his hand. He buried his face into your neck and his hot breath permeated your skin.

“Mmm, isn’t that nice, honey? I just wanna help you relax?” his teeth grazed your neck, “I can be nice, you see?”

Those words turned your blood to ice. You closed your eyes as you returned to those hours ago when his fist crashed into the wall. When his voice was rigid and unloving, when you were certain he would do worse than just yell. Now he was all over you, coaxing you as if it never happened, as if there hadn’t been months of this precarious tug-of-war.

“Andy, really, I’m tired,” you pleaded, “that night… I told you--”

Your voice caught in your throat as he thrust his fingers deeper and moved his hand faster. The pressure throbbed inside of you, pulsing through your veins and you kept your hand tight on the counter as you gripped his arm with the other. Your ankles threatened to bend as you shuddered and came in a sudden rush.

“Tired?” he mocked as he led you through your climax, “I’ll do all the work, honey.”

You shook your head and whined through your teeth. He kept on until you were weak and clinging to his hand. He slowly drew his fingers out of you and slid his arm out from around you. You slumped against the counter as he let you go, the subtle tinkle of his belt gleaned in your ear.

You turned to him as his belt hung open and he caught you by surprise. He wrapped one arm around your back, his other hand across your ass as he lifted you with a grunt. You threw your hands back to keep from falling across the island as he put you down on the marble. You tried to slide forward as his hands grasped your hips and held you in place.

His blue eyes burned and dilated. He reached under your skirt and pulled your panties down. You whimpered as he tugged them down. He quickly pushed your legs apart and moved between them, your knees wide around his thighs. He grabbed your chin and tilted your head back, his lips covering yours hungrily.

You clawed at the front of his shirt as his other hand danced along your pelvis. His fingers crawled down your thigh and she shifted as he fumbled blindly with the front of his pants. You pushed against his shoulders as the panic erupted from your stomach and swelled in your throat.

He brought you closer to the edge and pulled his hand back to grip himself. You opened one eye as you tried to peek down but couldn’t see beneath your bump. He leaned on you until you fell over the marble and bent over you as he slipped his tip along your cunt. His lips strayed to your cheek and down to your throat.

“Andy,” you begged one last time as he pressed against your entrance.

He purred against your neck as his hand slid past your shoulder and stretched over your tit. He pushed into you slowly and you gulped as tears pricked in your eyes. You bent your legs so your heels pressed to the side of the counter and gritted your teeth as he got deeper.

As he bottomed out, he rasped against your skin. He stood up straight and dragged your ass over the edge of the counter. He puffed his chest as he thrust into you and his eyes rolled back. He growled as he did it again and your walls clenched around him. Your reached down and pressed on his open pants with your fingertips, trying to push him away pathetically.

“Andy,” you whimpered as he hooked his arm around your thigh, “Andy--”

His other hand flipped up your skirt and he stretched his hand over your round stomach as he rocked into you. You shook your head and covered your face with one hand as you gripped the edge of the marble with your other. Your breaths grew shallow as you fought your own body and the pleasure blooming around his intrusion.

He sped up as the wet noise filled the kitchen and you bit the heel of your hand to keep from crying out. Another orgasm flowed over you and knotted your muscles around him. His groans and grunts grew louder as his flesh slapped against yours, his fingers drawing circles on your stomach.

“Oh fuck,” Andy hissed and jerked his hips harshly.

He sank into you as deep as he could go and wiggled his hips as he flooded you. He twitched as he leaned his head back and sighed, his fingers tight on your thighs as they painfully poked your tender flesh. You moaned and trembled as you felt his release hot inside of you.

He stilled and let your legs splay around him. You stared at the ceiling in shock as he shuddered. You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked between your legs as his cum dripped out around him. You pulled off of him and shoved him away. He seemed to awaken from a trance as you did and his lashes fluttered.

You dropped down carefully to your feet and stormed away. He called your name but the vomit was already halfway up your esophagus. You weren’t going to make it upstairs. You closed yourself in the half-bath under the stairs and wretched into the sink. You held yourself up weakly until the violent ripples quelled. You looked at yourself in the mirror and winced.

One night cost you the rest of your life. One night meant your body, your soul, your days were his. One night would be countless nights, your fate decided in a single careless act.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #series #dark fic #dark!fic #one night #defending jacob

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beigehearts · 3 years

Text

I actually really like this idea and have been thinking about it but was wondering if it was too- sensitive? But now that I know others want it I will write it. Please please please do not read this is you are sensitive to the subject.

TRIGGER WARNING CONTENT WARNING attempted s uicide, mentions of s uicide

Yandere Adult Trio when you try to commit s uicide drabbles

Hisoka

You were desperate to escape this sadistic and cruel kidnapper. He took you from your home, and into somewhere unknown. It took you a while to realize why he wanted you at all... The reason shook your entire being- he claimed that you were meant to be his. That no one else could have you because you belong to him, he is the only person capable of loving you. He has drilled this into your brain but you never let it stick.

Nothing has worked, you tried attacking him, pretending to be sick, escape attempts: it all ends up with you in pain. How can someone who claims to love you, and holds you so closely, hurt you in the ways he has. It’s hard to admit but he had to put a splint on your wrist, after breaking it when you tried to run.

There’s only one option left. You can’t make it out of here alive, so you won’t. the place he has you is very confusing, the door is locked, and you can only assume there is a hallway outside of it. But when you look out of the window, you can barely see the ground because of how high up you are. That’s your escape.

It’s a large window that you will have to pry open. Hisoka does leave you alone occasionally but also leaves no room for escape. Though you don’t think he’s factored in self sabotage.

You have no idea where he is, but the moment he left you ran to the window. You grip the edge with your fingers and pull as hard as you can. Your hands begin to go white against the pressure, until you here a tiny “click”. You go flying back when the window shoots open in front of you. This is your chance. And on the off chance you survive- you’ll figure something out.

The wind is blowing, and is quite chilly. When you step out on the slight edge of the outside wall, your heart begins to pound. It’s time.

Wind whistles in your ears and your heart is pounding so hard you wonder why it hasn’t popped out of your chest. For a moment it feels like you’re flying- and you feel peace at last. This was never how you expected to go out, but it will have to do. You close your eyes and accept your fate, falling so fastly that you look like a blur.

‘Glump’. You bounce upwards and all the air in your body is knocked out of you. You’re left hanging outside of the building, still unable to see the ground despite how long you had been falling. It feels as if someone is holding your leg, the rest of your body dangling upside down. Just barely you manage to crane your head upwards- you’re floating?

You take a closer look, at the window which you fell from, is Hisoka waving down at you as if you didn’t just jump off the building. There is no escape... There is no escape from this nightmare. You’re pulled upwards until Hisoka grabs your body with his hands and pulls you back through the window.

You’re gasping for air, shock setting into your body and leaving you shaking. He smiles down at you, and sets you down on the shared bed. “I didn’t think you would go that far my pet.”

His gaze is burning holes through your head, but you’re more worried about not hyperventilating. He sits down next to you, a smile still on his face. Before you know it, there is no chance of catching your breath. His hand is wrapped tightly around your throat and you let out a weak excuse for a gasp.

“Oh my sweet pet. Please don’t do that again. I might have to punish you, but I’ll let you off this once since you look so cute this way.”

Illumi (fem!reader)

You just can’t take it anymore. The torture that he calls training. The extreme punishments that have left you with scars. The promise that you will be the mother of his child. And if not, you are useless. Your back is covered in scars, all from whips and chains that he has used as ‘discipline’ even if you were doing as you were told. Eventually he said, “I love you. My wife to be. The future mother of my children. It is only natural that I try to make you be better.”

If his version of making you better is torture then that’s not happening. At this point you would rather die than endure what he has put you through. He is thorough in keeping the room you are in “baby proofed”. There’s not a single sharp corner, no sharp objects, and no weapons of any kind. The lights are implanted in the ceiling so it’s not like you could use a lamp for anything.

The thought of attacking him is out of the question. You must find something for yourself. Eventually you find something that might work. He brings in plastic plates for you to eat off of. You’re sure if you attacked him with a plate he would make you eat off of the floor. You already have to eat with your hands.

You take the plate and bend it until it cracks, and splits in half. You continue to break it up into small pieces until you have something resembling a triangle with two soft edges and one sharp. Luckily he gives you hard plastic plates and not styrofoam ones, he has some class it seems.

Might as well get comfortable. You put some pillows and blankets down on the soft carpet and make a small bed to lay on. You sit up and find that you’re shaking. Your hands are shaking- but that’s to be expected. You put the piece of plastic against your wrist, it’s cold.

Does this mean you’ll be reborn? Or is there nothing after this? Either way, it must be better than this. You imagine a beautiful field where the grass is as soft as pillows and the sun shines just enough for you to feel warmth. There’s nothing for miles except for grass and you. The grass is cushioning you, making it comfortable to lay. You close your eyes and begin to move your hand downwards. Get it over with.

You pull your arm up so you can make a quick motion downwards but before you can... A hand grabs your wrist holding the plastic so tightly that you hear it crack, and are forced to drop the plastic.

You open your eyes and look up at the man above you. His face continues to show no emotion, but the grip on your wrist does. He is very angry. He lifts you up by your wrist and you hear another loud crack and squeal out in pain. You’re face to face, he’s holding you above the ground so your feet don’t touch, but all the strain is on your one wrist. If it’s not dislocated and broken by now, it would be a miracle.

In his usual commanding but monotone voice he says, “I cannot allow anyone to hurt the future mother of my kids.” He drops you on the ground and your knees take all of the force. “Even if it is the mother herself.”

He huffs and pulls a needle from his shoulder, “I suppose I must control you until you are stable. Or until you can bare my child.”

Chrollo

Honestly it could be worst. Though being held against your will does take a large toll on you. You’re fed everyday and can bathe and can read whenever and whatever. It’s like free living, though prison is also rent free. He is always so soothing and kind, offering to do things for you, get things for you, make things for you. It really seems like he wants to make you happy.

He has been very honest and open with you. He claims he loves you and that he couldn’t let anyone else have a moment in the presence of your beauty. He seems normal until you realize you’ve been kidnapped. You wonder if you would have every suspected him to be crazy if you met him on the street. Truthfully, probably not.

There are probably people in the world who would be grateful for what you have even if it is completely and utterly against your will. But that’s not the full picture. He’s so kind and says such nice things to you. Until you upset him. He never hurts you, and he never touches you aggressively. His threats are what destroy you, his threats that are not empty.

One day you had pushed him away and told him to ‘fuck off’. He became very angry but continued to smile. He walked up to you real slowly and said in a calm voice “I’ll kill your ex and leave their corpse here.” He was not lying. The very next day when you woke up, there was the corpse of your ex. Laying on the floor, staining it with blood and what remains of their organs.

After setting that example he became more subtle. If you could even call it subtle. Whenever you upset or pissed him off, you might find a finger in a bowl, with a ring that you gave your friend on it. You had seen many dismembered body parts- but that’s when you learned to keep your silence and obey lest everyone you love die.

There’s one way out of here and it’s not by escaping. You ripped up some towels and tied them into a noose. Somehow it seemed like it would work.

You stand on the wooden chair, taking long deep breaths, accepting your fate. The makeshift rope hangs from the ceiling, you grab onto it and get ready to put your head through it. Right as you go to reach your head through, the chair underneath you buckles and you fall to the ground with a loud thud.

You feel strong arms wrap around you. How did he get here? When did he get here? He pulls you onto his lap and begins rocking you.

“Oh it looks like you’ve split the back of your head open.” He touches the back of your head and shows his bloodied hand to you as proof. “I had no idea you were feeling like this. You could have told me.”

He kisses your forehead gently but you already know that these actions will accompany something else.

“Unless you were trying to escape me.” He chuckles and holds you firmly against his chest. “Then we would have a problem, wouldn’t we?”

#chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #illumi #illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #yandere illumi #hisoka #hisoka morrow #hisoka x reader #yandere hisoka #adult trio #adult trio x reader #yandere adult trio #hxh #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe

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nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

felt the lightning under my skin

word count: 13.7k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, little bit of asshole joel, alcohol consumption, slight innuendo, moderate depiction of injury, needles

recommended listening: under the spell | springtime carnivore

a/n: i know figure skater/hockey player romances are terribly cliche but i couldn’t help myself. as an ex-skater hopefully i can make it a little less cringe. there’s probably an obscene amount of technical jargon in here and i sincerely apologize. the injury mentioned actually happened to me and let me tell you, it was not fun lmao. enjoy!

Joel swears he’s going to kill whoever’s in charge of renting out the practice facility.

Realistically, he knows it’s impossible. The rink can be rented by anyone when the Flyers aren’t using it and he typically thinks it’s a great way to promote ice sports in the community. Joel just wishes the facilities manager didn’t rent it out to figure skaters. They kick the shit out of the ice with their toe picks and leave the ice in terrible quality. It frustrates Joel because while community engagement is important, his career and the team take precedence.

No one else seems to be bothered by the recent decline in ice conditions. Most of his teammates are used to poor ice, growing up playing pond hockey and at rinks that also housed figure skating clubs. While Joel had those experiences as well, he clearly never developed the same nonchalance as everyone else. He complains in the dressing room after every practice until Kevin finally says something.

“Christ Beezer, relax. It’s only for another month or so until renovations at the other rink finish.”

Others chime in, telling him to not take it so seriously, with a couple of them defending the right of the other athletes to use the ice as they so please. The grief Joel catches is enough to shut him up, but he still stews privately over the fact figure skaters are destroying his happy place.

☼☼☼☼

You want nothing more than to return to your home rink. The Flyers Skate Zone has been nice, the staff are incredibly accommodating, but something feels off. You’re having a harder time landing jumps and skating clean programs. The change in routine is enough to knock you off your game, which is something you absolutely can’t have. You’re coming off a breakthrough season, finishing on the podium at nationals and landing a spot on your first world championships roster. People are expecting you to replicate your success and you want to do that and more.

US Figure Skating had taken a chance placing you on the national team for the current season. Though it was expected, they could have easily chosen the fourth place skater instead. She’s much younger than you, barely fifteen, and is yet to have a serious injury. At twenty you’re barely an adult, but this could be the last time you get an opportunity like this. The sport keeps getting younger and you’re going to get left behind if you don’t prove yourself. The grand prix circuit has been kind to you, allowing you to earn medals at some of the smaller competitions and hold your own against the big dogs in the majors like NHK Trophy.

☼☼☼☼

“Try the triple flip again,” Brenda, your coach, instructs. “You could be more solid on the landing.”

“It’s this fucking ice! I can do one at home that would get me a high GOE,” you complain.

She rolls her eyes and thinks about telling you off, but decides against it. No matter how many times she tells you it’s a mental block you need to get over, you find a way to blame the training facility. “Just give me five solid ones and we’ll call it quits.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you peel away from the boards anyways. Some juniors are mingling in a corner and you warn them to watch out as you skate by gaining speed. The first attempt feels natural, and though you could have been a little stronger on the exit it’s a significant improvement from what you were doing earlier in the session. Jumps two and three also go well, but things go wrong on the fourth try. You catch a bad edge just before takeoff and aren’t able to correct your center of gravity while in the air. Two and a half rotations happen before you slam into the ground. The entire right side of your body feels like it’s been run over by a bus.

“Fuck!” you scream in frustration as you pick yourself up off the ice. Circling back to examine just how bad the edge was you notice your pick created much too large a hole, something you’d get points deducted for in competition. Brenda signals you over to her, and you hang your head as you skate over.

“You’re done,” she sighs. You can tell it pains her to see your progress plateau, but you’re doing everything you can to get out of this rut. Before you can protest, try to convince her to let you stay on, she’s speaking again. “Our ice time is up anyways. Go cool down and meet me in the conference room when you’re done.”

There’s nothing for you to do but sulk off the ice. The other skaters clear out of your way, not wanting to be on the receiving end of your anger. You direct it at the dressing room door, kicking it open so harshly it flies back on the hinges. It makes you feel a bit better but you’re still in a sour mood as you untie your skates. It’s frustrating not being able to perform at the level you know you can, even in practice. If you could just get out of this rink and back into the one you’re most comfortable at.

After a much longer stretching routine than normal, you pack up your bag and head upstairs for what will no doubt be one of those meetings where you sit silently and take the heat. You realize that your behaviour today was childish, but you couldn’t help but let your emotions overcome you. The next group is well into their ice time when you pass by, and you realize it’s the Flyers. Most of them don’t acknowledge you and keep running drills, but one who looks about your age is sending you daggers. You have no idea why.

The meeting goes much better than you thought it would. Brenda takes your anger in stride and lets you apologize for your outburst before shifting the conversation to altering your training plan. She suggests you take a few days off from the rink, working strictly off-ice, and you begrudgingly agree. There isn’t anything you can do or say to change her mind so you take the updated workout plans with a fake smile. She also tells you that your appointment with your sports psychologist has been moved up a couple of days, which you’re grateful for. Things then move to talking strategy and watching tape of competitors to see what to expect at this year’s nationals. The event is just over a month out, and you have the goal of landing on the podium once again, hopefully with the gold medal dangling around your neck.

A couple of hours pass with you holed up in the conference room, and it’s dark when you gather your stuff and head for home. The complex is deserted and you assume no one but the staff are still here. It turns out someone else was there, and they follow you out, their own gear bag slung over their shoulder. You don’t really pay them any mind, holding the door open out of habit, and fail to recognize the person as the boy who glared while you walked by hours prior. He notices you, however, and makes a point to voice his distaste.

“Hey!” he calls out, “Next time you eat shit don’t put such a big hole in the ice. Other people need it too.”

“Get fucked,” you yell back. You really don’t have the time or energy to be accosted by a hockey player. He continues to talk, but you don’t hear it because you slam your car door shut and drive off into the darkness.

☼☼☼☼

Joel doesn’t feel like he was in the wrong until Claude suggests he apologize a few days later. In his mind, he has every right to be upset about you damaging the ice because it directly affected him. The hole you caused couldn’t be fully repaired, and he tripped at a really key moment during the scrimmage. His bad day was your fault.

“You can’t blame a tough practice on her man,” Claude says as the two of them skate a few warm-up laps. “She didn’t mean to fall. Hell, she didn’t want to do it.”

“I get it, or whatever, but it’s still her fault. We’re professional athletes G, we need to be at the top of our games.”

Claude swats Joel upside the head. “So is she! Did you know that she’s favoured to win both the national and world championships? And that things look good for her to be on the Olympic team next year?”

Joel didn’t know, and guilt twinges his stomach. The next time he runs into you at the rink he’s going to apologize.

☼☼☼☼

You spend your time away from the rink conditioning and regaining focus. The first couple of days are tough, but then you settle into a routine you believe will ultimately make you a better athlete and competitor. Your cardio and weights are upped, and you’re anxious to see how the increase improves your performance. At the suggestion of your psychologist you take a few more days off than originally planned, but it’s the best thing you could have done. You return to the rink ready to nail the final few weeks of training before nationals.

Any other coach would have detested you for taking a week off this close to a major competition, but not Brenda. She understands that you needed time to refocus and that you’ll work harder than anyone else in the time until you leave for Salt Lake City. Your first practice is fantastic – every element is clean when isolated and within your programs. The timing is off a bit during your free skate on the first run-through but your jitters settle quickly and the next one is spot on. It feels good to be back in control of things.

“I think you’re over that mental block kid,” Brenda laughs when you stop along the boards to get some water. “You’re skating better here than at home.”

You can’t help but agree. “You know, I don’t hate it here as much as I used to. Think we should move here permanently?” The comment earns you a slightly aggressive hair ruffling, but it’s worth it. You spend the last hour of ice time alone, running through both of your programs in a mock competition setting.

It’s nearly silent in the complex when Joel sneaks through the doors. The only thing he can hear is the faint sounds of your music from inside the pad. He had been worried that you were never going to reappear at the rink but learned you were just taking a break when he cornered your coach in the parking lot. The middle-aged lady had told him when you’d be returning and Joel immediately put it in his calendar so he wouldn’t forget. Now, as he stands against the glass watching you, he’s nervous. What if you don’t accept his apology?

Joel knew you were a good skater. Well, he was pretty sure you were. He spent the short three-day road trip to Florida watching as many videos of you competing on YouTube as he could find. Though he’s murky on the specifics of what makes a good figure skater, Joel knows you put heart and soul into every performance and that your elements are strong technically. Your scores reflect that. Regardless, Joel is blown away at how talented you are when he watches you skate in person.

You’re looser than in the videos he’s seen, probably because there isn’t any pressure, but you don’t give it any less than your all. The music drives you forward in a way Joel’s never seen before – you’re an extension of it, and it of you. As you round a corner to pick up speed he holds his breath. From watching footage of this program from earlier in the season, he knows you’re about to attempt your hardest element. The quadruple salchow is one of the hardest jumps female skaters are attempting at the moment, according to his research, and it’s been your most inconsistent element this season. You’re completing the jump before Joel realizes you’ve taken off the ground, but you don’t fall. He exhales and watches the rest of the program in awe.

When the music stops and you take in your surroundings, you notice the applause. Thinking it’s just from Brenda, you shrug it off, but when you turn around she isn’t clapping. It’s coming from someone else – the boy who was a douchebag the last day before your break. The chances are he’s here to make another stupid comment, but Brenda insists you should talk to him. You wave him over to a section near the benches that dosen’t have glass so you can hear him better.

“What do you want?” you ask bluntly, taking a sip of water.

Joel’s taken aback by your abrasiveness but recovers quickly. He deserves it. “I, uh, wanted to apologize for what I said last week. That wasn’t cool. I was having a bad day and took out on you, I’m sorry,” he rambles. “And you’re like really good.”

“It wasn’t fucking cool,” you agree, “But we’re fine. I had just been kicked off the ice when you caught me, so I’m sorry too. For snapping.” There’s nothing more for either of you to say, and Brenda is calling your name, so you skate away from him. Over your shoulder you call out, “Thanks for the compliment unnamed Flyers player!”

“It’s Joel!” he responds. “Joel Farabee.”

☼☼☼☼

A sort of truce befalls you and Joel. More of your ice time overlaps, but neither you acknowledge each other more than the occasional nod in each other’s direction. It doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Preparing for nationals is the only that matters currently, and trying to navigate a possible friendship would be too much of a distraction. Joel is a little put off you don’t try to extend pleasantries, but when it’s explained to him that you’re entering a period that is similar to the lead-up to playoffs he understands.

However, he finds himself making up excuses to stay at the rink to watch you practice. He blows off dinner with Kevin and drinks with Morgan when you have the slot after practice, and when you skate before him he’s at the rink hours early. His schoolboy crush becomes the topic of locker room gossip. Though Joel swears up and down that he just likes to watch you skate, none of the guys believe him. They don’t go as far as to embarrass him in your presence, but Travis certainly tries. What Joel doesn’t know is that you’re developing the same sort of fascination with him. You find yourself turning on every Flyers game you can fit into your schedule, watching him intently, and keeping an eye on his stats.

“That boy sure has a lot of interest in you,” Brenda muses one day while you’re talking strategy on how to increase the points total on your short program.

“I don’t know why,” you sigh. “So I was thinking, if I raise my arms during the triple lutz it should give me at least three more points.”

She looks at you like you’ve gained two extra heads. “Are you insane? You’ve never raised your arms during a triple.”

Your smile turns into a wicked smirk. “It can’t be that hard.”

It’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. Though you’ve added the extra step to jumps in the past, it’s been on single and doubles to rack up points and GOE scores. Jumping has never been your strong suit, and trying to navigate the change in your centre of gravity is difficult. You spend the rest of your ice time popping, under-rotating, or slamming into the ground. A couple of juniors snicker at your failed attempts, but when you remind them they’re stuck on a double loop they stop laughing. It was a little mean, and you remember how hard it was to prove yourself as a junior, but you can’t find it in you to care. There’s no need to laugh at someone trying to improve their skating.

Bruises start to form on your sides from falling the exact same way so many times, and you trace them lightly through the thin material of your compression top. They’re going to look nasty in a few hours if you don’t ice them soon. A knock on the door stops your actions, and you invite the person on the other side in. To your surprise it’s Joel, and he’s holding an ice pack.

“I thought you might need one of these,” he says, extending it to you.

You thank him and hiss slightly when the cold hits your skin. There’s a beat of awkward silence before Joel speaks again. “Can I ask why you’re trying to change that jump?”

“You noticed that?” you know it isn’t a response to his question, but you’re shocked.

Joel smiles and nods. You explain how changing the position of your arms increases the difficulty of the jump and therefore raises the amount of points it can receive. “So you’re doing it to get more points?”

“Pretty much. It’s a gamble this close to competition, but I’m confident it’ll work out.”

“You’re afraid your program won’t gain enough points to put you in a good position for the free skate,” he notes, “Or you wouldn’t be doing this.”

Once again, you’re floored by Joel’s understanding of your sport. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” you say as confidently as you can. “But maybe I just want the challenge.” If Joel notices the shake in your voice and the worried look in your eye he doesn’t say anything.

You go through your cool-down routine but are surprised Joel doesn’t leave. In fact, he stays at the rink until you’re finished and follows you to the parking lot. His car is parked a few spots over from you, so you have to raise your voice a little to get him to hear you. “Hey Joel,” you call, “Do you not have practice?”

“Day off,” he yells back. He’s grinning like an idiot, which prompts you to ask him why. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.” The smile on his face doesn’t go away, and you try to settle the butterflies in your stomach as you drive home.

☼☼☼☼

Something shifts between you and Joel after that day. It’s subtle, but you’re well on your way to becoming friends. Phone numbers are exchanged, with him insisting his contact name be ‘King Beezer’, and the two of you chat regularly outside of the rink. He still watches as many training sessions as he can, and you start making appearances at his practices. It’s far more awkward for you but you push through it if for no other reason than wanting to be a good sport. Once Joel’s teammates catch wind of your budding friendship, they’re pestering you to go to a game. You politely decline each time, explaining that your training schedule is rather rigid and you can’t change it so close to nationals. The competition is just over a week out, and you’re catching a flight to Utah in three days.

Joel doesn’t let you know he’s a little upset you won’t shift your schedule for him. Instead, he brings you lunch on days where you’re at the rink for eight hours and does his individual workouts alongside you. The two of you fall into the easy routine of enjoying each other’s company and everyone else is beginning to take notice.

“So,” you say with a mouth full of the pita Joel brought you, “What are your plans for the All-Star break?”

Joel has been toying with an idea for a few weeks now, but he’s keeping it a secret. “I’m just gonna spend it at home with my family,” he shrugs.

“You’re fucking joking. Joel, you could be someplace warm enjoying the beach!”

“I don’t want to go to the beach,” Joel retorts.

You open your mouth to argue with him, because you’re of the opinion that everyone should love the beach, but you’re cut off by Brenda calling you to return to the ice. “This conversation isn’t over Beezer,” you say sternly, poking him in the chest to prove your point. He rolls his eyes.

“I’ve gotta be at Wells Fargo in an hour for a team meeting, so I can’t watch this session,” he tells you. You’re a little deflated but understand he can’t play hookie from his job to watch you do yours. Brenda is banging a skate guard on the boards to get your attention, so you wave goodbye and jog over to her. “Y/N,” Joel yells loud enough that you’ll hear him over the chatter on the ice, “Keep your core tight!”

Your coaching team is perplexed at the comment because it’s second nature to you at this point, but you think it’s sweet. Some of the other girls poke fun at your ‘boyfriend’ and it makes you irritable. Brenda tells them off and suggests they get back to work which makes you feel better. You keep Joel’s advice in the back of your mind for the rest of your practice, and land every jump almost flawlessly.

The day before you board your flight you have a terrible practice. Brenda chalks it up to nerves, but you that’s not it. You feel good about the competition and are confident it will go well. Something is off – you just can’t put a finger on it. Frustration eventually boils over and practice is called early. Everyone stays out of your way, letting you cool off, and you huff out a goodbye after promising to meet Brenda at the airport in the morning. Before you’re even out the door you’ve got your phone pressed to your ear, waiting for Joel to pick up. The Flyers got to start their break a day early due to a scheduling conflict and you hope he doesn’t fly home tonight.

“What’s up?” Joel says casually. Judging by the background noise he’s playing video games, no doubt some dumb first-person shooter game he seems to play constantly. The sound of his voice is enough to send you into tears and you can’t get out a reply. His tone changes instantly and the noise stops – the game paused and forgotten about. “Hey,” he soothes, “What’s wrong?”

“Practice was bad,” you choke out, “Like really bad. Joel, I don’t think I can do this.” Now across the parking lot and at your car, you throw your bag in the trunk and crumble into the driver’s seat.

“Of course you can. Want me to bring dinner over and we can do whatever?” You agree, not wanting to be alone, and hang up only after insisting you’re okay to drive the twenty minutes to your apartment.

Joel must have drove well above the speed limit because he pulls into the parking lot at the same time as you. His engine is turned off jarringly fast, and he’s popping your trunk to grab your bag before your gears have settled in park. Though you put up some rather weak protests about carrying your own stuff, Joel ignores them. When you insist on holding something he tosses you the bag of food he brought with him. Opening it up, you realize Joel had stopped at your favourite sushi restaurant even though he doesn’t like the food. A smile creeps onto your face, possibly the first one all day, and you lean into Joel slightly when he wraps an arm around your shoulder.

The two of you eat in silence, but it’s far from awkward. Joel’s waiting for you to open up, knows you will eventually, and you’re trying to find the words. However, they’re yet to appear, so you let Joel lead you to the couch and put on an episode of some crime show he’s currently watching.

“Thanks for coming over,” you say as the credits roll on the second episode.

Joel sends a smile your way, which you do your best to reciprocate. “Don’t worry about it. This is what friends do.”

Slowly, you open up about practice, venting about how you skated sloppily and couldn’t nail any element no matter how simple it was. You tell him about how tense your muscles are and how scared you are that your fifteen minutes of fame are over, that you’ll never get another chance to represent America on the world stage. Joel listens attentively, letting you speak for as long as you need. At some point you start crying again and he tucks you into his side. Your tears soak through his sweatshirt but he could care less. When you’ve laid all your emotions out on the table he speaks gently, dispelling your doubts and letting you know that you can do it and he believes in you. Joel’s words make it easier to believe in yourself.

The two of you spend the night on the couch, and you’re disheartened when your alarm goes off. You can’t stay in the little bubble Joel created for the two of you – the world and its responsibilities taking precedence over your fantasy. He drives you to the airport, rationalizing it by telling you it’ll be safer to keep your car at home. Realistically there isn’t a difference, but you thank him anyways. Parking is just one last thing you have to worry about. When you reach the airport entrance, Joel pulls into the idling lane and steps out of the car. You follow him, dragging your feet a bit because though you’re excited for nationals you don’t want to leave Joel. This will be the longest time the two of you have been apart since becoming friends.

“Make sure you don’t forget about me when you win and get all famous,” Joel jokes, handing you your suitcase.

You swat his shoulder playfully. “Like you’d let that happen.”

“Of course I wouldn’t. Come here.”

He takes you in his arms. You’ve hugged Joel a couple of times before, but they didn’t feel as serious as this. This time he’s holding you for a purpose and you’re gripping the back of his jacket tightly because you want him to let go. It’s longer than people who are just friends are meant to hug for, so you begrudgingly pull away. Besides, Brenda and some of your teammates are waiting.

“Have a good time at home,” you mumble.

Joel wraps a single arm around you for one more squeeze. “You have a good time,” he says seriously. “Remember to enjoy the moment. I’ll be watching on T.V.”

With your goodbyes said you wander into the airport. Joel says parked in his spot until he sees you embrace Brenda before driving off. The boarding process is painless, and once on the plane you take your seat beside a junior and put your headphones on. Downloaded to your Spotify is one of Joel’s hip-hop playlists, and though it’s the farthest thing from the music you enjoy you listen to it the whole flight.

☼☼☼☼

Utah’s nice, but you can’t help feeling like something’s missing – Joel’s missing. You’ve become so accustomed to him watching you train, clapping like an idiot every time you land a jump, that the silence is unnerving. Everyone notices the shift in your performance, and eventually Brenda crumbles and uses your phone to facetime him while you practice. It’s a decent enough substitute – Joel watches your pixelated figure zip around the ice and though he doesn’t always make comments, just know he’s with you in some capacity is enough to let your mind focus on the task at hand. You do the best you can at pushing away the butterflies that appear every time you think about how he’s giving up his freedom to make sure you succeed.

When you aren’t training or doing press you’re talking to Joel. You call him constantly, narrating what you see on walks around town to settle your nerves and eating at the same time to make it feel like you’re together. The only person to support you in Salt Lake City is Brenda, so talking to Joel frequently makes you feel far less alone. You wish he could be here with you, but understand he needs time to recharge and can’t just follow you around the country no matter how much you’d like him to.

“What time do you skate tomorrow?” Joel asks, mouth full of the pizza he’s enjoying. The features behind are different, so you assume he’s settled into his childhood home.

“Um, I think 11:35? I’m not entirely sure,” you respond. Due to the way the event is seeded you’re skating second last, which both settles your nerves and makes you more anxious. There isn’t the pressure of closing out the event, but there’s hope that you’ll score high enough to win the short program and skate last in the free skate.

Joel hums pensively. “I’ll check the website.” Conversation shifts away from skating, which you’re grateful for. It’s the last thing you currently want to think about. You listen with interest as Joel recounts stories of the pond hockey matches he’s played since getting home. The two of you are on the phone until nearly ten, when you have to say goodnight and head to bed. Tomorrow marks the start of the biggest week of your year.

You follow your pre-competition routine to the letter. At other events this season you’ve been more relaxed, but your professional skating career depends on your performance at nationals so you aren’t taking chances. Five-thirty comes faster than you thought it would, but you’re out of bed and eating your first breakfast quickly. A quick two mile run follows, and then you’re having a shower and grabbing a second breakfast to eat at the rink. You meet Brenda in the hotel lobby before ubering to the rink. A solid practice follows, and you manage to keep your imposter syndrome on a leash in the presence of the other skaters.

“It’s Joel,” Brenda says as she tosses you your phone.

“Hey,” you say, squeezing the device between your ear and shoulder. “I don’t have much time to talk. My warm up call is soon.”

Joel laughs and you find yourself cracking a smile at the sound. “I know. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling.”

“Honestly? I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous for a competition.”

His response is cut off by a loud noise. “Where are you?” you ask.

“Just at home,” he says quickly. “My sister has some friends over and they’re being loud.”

The line is compelling enough that you don’t question how hastily it was delivered. Joel stays on the phone until you have to go, keeping your mind off the jittery feeling in your stomach. The TV cameras catch you talking but you give them a cheery wave and continue telling Joel about how good the soap at your hotel smells. You hang up when they call your flight to take to the ice for warmup and give your phone back to Brenda for safe keeping.

☼☼☼☼

Joel tries hard not to feel too out of place while he takes his seat. For someone who practically lives in arenas he feels like it’s his first time within fifty yards of one. Everyone around him is dressed nicely, and he’s acutely aware of the fact there is a neon orange pom-pom attached to the top of his hat.

As much as he feels like a baby deer trying to stand, Joel’s beyond excited to be here. It’s been a while since he’s gone somewhere that wasn’t hockey related and getting to support you while he does it is the best scenario ever. There are some potential looks of recognition from those around him, but thankfully no one approaches.

Skaters begin to take the ice and he scans vigilantly for you. You’re doing the best you can to stay warm, jacket zipped all the way up and gloves on your hands. Joel notices you seem to be the loosest of the girls below him but isn’t sure if that’s a good thing. You skate a few quick laps before warming up some jumps. Everything goes well, though he can tell you under-rotated a few of them and didn’t attempt the one quad in your program. The warm up is over as quickly as it began and you’re herded off the ice. Joel sinks a little further in his seat as gets ready to watch your competitors.

☼☼☼☼

There’s just over five minutes until you take to the ice. You keep your body moving, walking up and down the corridor, and blast your pre-competition playlist so loud you’ll probably have hearing damage when you’re older. Only one other girl in the hall with you but it feels too small. Brenda comes to grab you and the pair of you walk to the side of the boards. You don’t watch who’s currently skating, choosing instead to focus on adjusting your feet slightly in your skates.

“Go out there and put on a show,” Brenda says. “Fuck the judges.”

You laugh at her remark. “Okay Bren, when I lose points for flipping them off I’m blaming you.”

“Fine by me. I have a bone to pick with Mark Johnson anyways.”

The scores for the previous girl are being announced, so you peel your jacket from your frame and do a couple more laps. Right before your name is announced you press your forehead to Brenda’s. It’s a ritual you started back when you were barely as tall as the boards and you’ve done it every single competition since. You feel grounded looking in her eyes, and you break with a fist bump. It’s go time.

Every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire. You didn’t come to play, and leave everything on the ice. The skate isn’t completely clean, you stumbled on the landing of a triple axel, but you’re happy with it. Despite your fears, both the triple lutz and quad salchow go smoothly. Audience engagement was at an all time high and you finished to deafening applause. Brenda wraps you in a tight hug when you step off the ice before leading you over to the kiss and cry. You chat idly with her and your choreographer, trying to catch your breath, while you wait for your score.

The announcer’s booming voice crackles over the PA as he reads the judges’ decision. “The scores for Y/N Y/L/N please.” You don’t pay attention to the individual numbers, just the final total. “For a total score of 74.83.”

It’s lower than you had hoped for. Not by much, just two or three points, but it could mean all the difference in tomorrow’s skate. Brenda pats your leg sympathetically and whispers in your, “It’s alright. You skated well.”

You head back to the dressing room to watch the final skater on the small T.V in the corner while you get undressed. She’s phenomenal, and you end the day falling to third place. Joel’s hip-hop playlist blasts through your headphones as you do your cool down routine. The average tempo is upbeat and helps to take your mind off the fact you’re not where you want to be. Just as you’re about to exit the room and find Brenda to talk strategy there’s a knock on the door.

“Yeah?” you say dejectedly, the word coming out as more of a sigh than you had intended.

The door is cracked open, and the head of your best friend peaks out from around it. “Hey there rockstar,” Joel says softly, stepping further into the room. Once you comprehend that he’s really here you’re sprinting in his direction, jumping into his embrace. Joel’s laugh reverberates in his chest, and you feel it as you settle further into him.

“Why are you here?” you whisper. Though you’re elated Joel is here, you’re confused as to why he would want to spend his break in Utah.

He lets you down gently and shrugs. “I had to see if you’d land the quad.” Joel’s smile matches yours as you shake your head.

“You’re fucking insane,” you quip, but there’s no malice in your voice.

Before you can pester Joel into answering all your questions you’re whisked away to a press conference. Talking to the media is something you don’t particularly enjoy, and it’s even more difficult to stay present when you know you could be spending time with your best friend. Most of the questions are directed towards the girls who placed higher than you which you’re thankful for. It’s easier for you to zone out, and you root through your mind of places around the city to take Joel.

“Y/N, how tough will it be for you to better your scores in tomorrow’s free skate?”

The question is one that you expected, luckily, and you’re able to recite the response you worked out with Brenda without really engaging with the reporter. “I mean I obviously didn’t aim to be in third place heading into tomorrow,” you joke, “But I’m fairly happy with where I ended up. The other girls had fantastic skates and deserve to be above me. My plan for tomorrow is to leave everything on the ice, skate cleanly, and be proud of myself regardless of what happens.”

Pens scribble furiously by those that don’t have recording devices to get your words down on paper. There’s some chatter, questions for the other girls, before a young reporter fresh out of journalism school is allowed to speak. He identifies himself as Theo Rateliff before jumping in. “Y/N,” he says, “How excited are you to get back to training on home ice when you get back to Jersey?”

“Um, I didn’t know the renovations were finished,” you stammer. “As far as I know, I’ll be at Flyers SkateZone until the end of the season.”

Theo shakes his head. “My partner was informed this morning that the rink will be good to go by the time you get back.”

You turn to the side to look at Brenda, who just shrugs. “Well, to be quite honest I’ll miss being in Voorhees. I had fun skating there and feel like the rink prepared me well for this competition.”

“Obviously not well enough,” Theo retorts, not missing a beat. “Your odds of winning dropped by seventy-seven percent.”

“Thank you for the reminder Theo,” you snap. “Are we done here?”

The press-coordinator shakes their head in confirmation, and you rip the microphone off your jacket before stomping off. People clear a path for you, not wanting to get caught in your storm. You run right to Joel who lets you direct him out of the arena and into the uber he called while you were wrapping up.

It’s a silent ride, Joel knowing you aren’t in the mood for light conversation. He lets you take a ridiculously long shower and orders take out that arrives just as you step out of the bathroom.

“Where are you staying?” you ask as you detangle your hair.

“Nowhere yet,” Joel says, “I got in early this morning and went straight to the rink.”

You think carefully about your next words before you speak. Your competition routines can be excessive and annoying, and you don’t want to inconvenience him. “You could just stay here. The room is massive and there’s more than enough space for both of us in the bed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, voice taking a soft lilt. “I’d really like it if you stayed.”

Joel smiles wider than you’ve ever seen him do before. The two of you sit comfortably in bed, eating the burritos Joel got and going down a conspiracy theory youtube wormhole. He asks how you feel about him coming to watch your evening training session you have to leave for in twenty minutes. You tell him you’d be angry if he didn’t stand beside your coach and clap every time you landed a jump.

It’s chilly but the sun is shining bright so you decide to bundle up and walk to the rink. Joel pokes fun at you beanie and you swat him in the chest, shutting him up for the time being after his giggles subside. The view is gorgeous, mountains framing the setting sun. You squeeze Joel’s bicep to get his attention and relish the feeling of his muscle in your grip.

“Look! An owl!”

Sure enough, a barn owl is flying over top of you, in the middle of downtown Salt Lake City. “That’s my good luck charm. Means I’ll skate well tomorrow.”

Joel pokes your cheek lightly. “I thought I was your good luck charm,” he gasps.

You roll your eyes. “I guess you can be my secondary one.” Joel doesn’t seem to mind the fact your arms are still wrapped around his, so you stay that way until for the rest of the journey.

☼☼☼☼

The night goes according to plan. You skate well in practice and feel comfortable for tomorrow’s event. Joel executes his role perfectly, cheering when you do things well and squirting water at you to make you squeal in laughter when things get a little too serious. Once back at the hotel you collapse into bed almost immediately. You’re so exhausted you can’t even be bothered to climb under the covers, and wait until Joel pulls them back for himself to crawl in. There’s no awkwardness at sharing a bed with Joel, and you sigh contently as he pulls you into his side. Sleep comes easily then for the both of you.

You wake before both your alarm and Joel. It takes you a second to get your bearing and realize you’re pinned against his body, though you don’t mind. There’s worse places to be stuck. You lay curled into Joel for as long as you can, but eventually you have to shake him awake.

“Beezer,” you whisper, ruffling his hair, “You’ve gotta let me out.”

He groans something unintelligible but instead of heeding your words pulls you closer. “Joel come on,” you try again, “I’ve really gotta get up. Need to shower before I get to the rink.”

Joel listens this time, but only lets you go after squeezing you tight for a second. You go about your routine with him still passed out in bed and giggle at the way his hair curls around his ears when you pass by. As you’re leaving to get to your practice ice slot Joel wakes up, lumbering into the bathroom. He reappears a minute or two later to say goodbye.

“Will I see you after practice?” he asks, voice still gruff with sleep.

“Probably not,” you reply, leaning down to tie your shoes. “I won’t be coming back here until after everything is done.”

Joel nods and wraps you in a warm hug. “You’re going to do great,” he says as he pulls away. “I’ll be there, cheering so fucking loud.”

“I expect you to throw a teddy bear on the ice after I finish.”

The walk to the arena is lonely without Joel, but you push the thought out of your mind. You need to stay focused on putting on the skate of your life in a few hours and not on how lately you’ve been having more-than-friendly thoughts about your best friend. Brenda is there when you arrive, making conversation about what you did last night with Joel before explaining how you’re going to run your practice.

Your hour of semi-private ice passes in the blink of an eye. The other girls in your flight are just as tense as you, popping jumps and doing a lot of stroking to loosen up. A lot is riding on today’s event and you’d be lying if you weren’t feeling the pressure. When you get back to the dressing room and check your phone, you notice there’s a text from Joel.

Don’t want to disrupt your pre-comp routine, but I thought I’d share a playlist. It’s songs that remind me of you.

Included is a link to a spotify playlist entitled ‘my golden girl’. You open it with a smile, noticing that it starts with some of your favourite songs even though they aren’t the kind of thing Joel regularly listens to before turning into things you’ve never heard before.

Thanks <3, you respond, going to listen to it during my off-ice.

That’s exactly what you do. It filters through your headphones for hours as you stretch, do a quick interview for those watching on television, and get dressed. Though it’s a break from your typical routine, it’s welcome. Knowing Joel thought about you enough to make you a playlist and send it to you helps calm your nerves.

“Hey kiddo,” Brenda says as she walks to where you’ve taken up root on the floor. Your left hamstring is tight, and you’re trying desperately to fix it before you have to go on the ice. “Go out there and absolutely kill it. This is your best program, and I haven’t seen anyone skate better than what you can do today.”

“Gee thanks for the confidence booster Bren,” you chuckle before hoisting yourself onto the bench to tie your skates.

She doesn’t laugh. “I mean it Y/N. You can still win this thing.”

You’re left alone to finish getting ready and then join the other girls in the tunnel. No one talks, which you’re grateful for. When you were younger and coming up through the ranks the other competitors liked to gossip while they waited and it was your least favourite part of an entire competition. A camera man waits at the end of the walkway, filming your arrival to the ice pad, and you wave cheerily as you pass by. It can never hurt to endear yourself to those watching at home – maybe they’ll be nicer to you on the internet.

Joel is standing at the edge of the boards during your warmup, watching and cheering intently. In a moment of insane confidence you blow him a kiss as you skate past, and giggle hysterically when he catches it and holds it close to his chest. You’re called off the ice then and spend the time really getting into the zone.

It’s considered bad luck to watch the performances before your own, so you face the wall as you do jog lightly to keep your body temperature up and the adrenaline flowing. Much sooner than you’d like it’s your turn to take your guards and jacket off. Brenda holds your skating hands as she whispers last minute words of encouragement, and you stumble through the traditional handshake before presenting yourself to the crowd.

Once the music starts your brain checks out and instinct takes over. You learned when you were younger that your best skates happened when you just allowed yourself to feel, and you desperately need the skate of a lifetime. Going into the first jumping pass you can feel yourself tense up so you think about Joel’s smile while you guys sat by the lake last night. It works to loosen you up, and you spend the rest of the program thinking of your favourite moments with Joel. As you strike your final pose the music fades out and the roars of applause cascade in. You know you had a flawless performance, beaming as you fist pump the air in the same manner you chirp Joel for doing while he celebrates goals.

You bow to the crowd in all directions, waving and laughing as flowers and teddy bears fall onto the ice in front of you. An orange blob of fur catches your eye, and you skate to pick it up before one of the volunteers could put it in the bag that will join your garment bag in the dressing room. You know Joel is the one who threw the Gritty toy – no one else really knows of your affiliations with the team. As you sit in the kiss and cry awaiting your results, you examine the stuffed animal. Instead of the regular Gritty jersey Joel replaced it with his own, the number flashing vividly at you and pulling a smile from your nervous features.

Brenda keeps her hand clasped tightly in yours as the PA system crackles to life. “And the scores for Y/N Y/L/N are,” the announcer begins, and your knee begins bouncing rapidly. “The free skate score is 155.79, for a total score of 230.62.”

You jump up in amazement. Despite your slow start to the competition you managed to get a season’s best. You’re also five points ahead of the second place skater, guaranteeing you a place on the podium and depending on the final results, a spot at worlds. A volunteer ushers you out of the kiss and cry and you skip all the way down the tunnel. To get out some of the adrenaline you jog the corridor a few times before returning to Brenda.

“Come on,” she laughs, “Joel’s waiting at the edge of the public area. We can watch the final skate together.”

At the mention of Joel you’re jogging again, wanting to see him as fast as possible. “Beezer!” you shriek as you approach, launching into the elaborate handshake the two of you have perfected at this point.

“Hey golden girl,” he chuckles, returning your actions with just as much enthusiasm. “You looked fucking great out there. I see you got my gift.”

The Gritty doll is still in your hands but there’s no shame. Instead, you tuck it under your arm and rest your head against Joel’s shoulder to watch the final skater. The girl after you had fallen a number of times, dropping her total significantly and landing her in fifth place. Victory is so close you can almost taste it.

It’s the longest six minutes of your life. Watching her skate increases your anxiety – she’s good, has almost as great a skate as you, but she under-rotated a jump and rushed through her program so there was extra music at the end. The clock above your head rings throughout the silent corridor as everyone awaits the scores with baited breath. In under a minute you’ll know whether you’re returning to New Jersey with a gold or silver medal in your suitcase.

You don’t hear anything as they announce her score – just see the numbers flash of the small T.V screen and calculate that it’s not enough for her to beat you. After years of blood, sweat, and an immeasurable amount of tears you’ve crossed another goal off your list. Those around you are jumping and screaming, Brenda letting a few tears escape. All you can think about is Joel, who’s celebrating like he just scored the game winning goal in the Stanley Cup finals, and how much you love him.

Without thinking, you smash your lips against Joel’s. It’s adrenaline filled and mostly teeth until he wraps one hand around your waist and the places the other along your jaw. Then it becomes purposeful, both of you moving in tandem and never wanting it to stop. When Joel pulls away and rests his forehead against yours you can’t stop smiling. The kiss might have happened in the heat of the moment, but you know it’s the culmination of feelings building inside of you for months.

“You’re a national champion,” Joel says, pulling you flush against his chest in the biggest hug you’ve ever received.

“I’m your national champion,” you whisper.

He pulls back and grins, kissing you again. “You’re my national champion. My golden girl.”

The rest of your stay in Salt Lake City is a blur. You’re swept up in the numerous press events, galas, and enjoying your blossoming relationship with Joel. When you finally got back to the hotel after what seemed like hours of people complimenting your comeback, the two of you sat down and talked about the kiss and what you wanted to happen next. It was scary, being so vulnerable, but it needed to happen – you’re both adults and communication is important. So, you’re returning home with a gold medal and boyfriend, two things you’re ecstatic about.

☼☼☼☼

“J, it’s not straight,” you giggle. Joel’s trying, and failing miserably, to hang the shadow box with your nationals medal in it above your couch. It’s been almost a month since you returned home but you’ve been so busy that decorating the apartment you barely spend time in has been at the bottom of your to-do list.

He grunts out a response. “Fuck. Do I have to go left or right?”

“Left.” The picture shifts in the opposite direction. “The other left Joel!”

A few minutes later the decoration is sitting perfectly in place. Your child of a boyfriend insists on getting rewarded for his achievement, so the two of you bundle up and get dinner. It’s nothing fancy – just sandwiches from the deli down the street from your apartment, but spending time with him is nice. Joel’s been on a string of short road trips and you’ve been training anxiously, waiting for the organization to announce who they’re sending to the world championship.

“How’s practice been lately?” Joel asks, mouth full with a bite of his BLT. “I miss being able to watch you skate whenever I want.”

After returning from Utah you were shuttled immediately into the freshly renovated rink of your skating club. It’s a little farther into Jersey and certainly not as convenient for him to get to, especially now that the NHL season is picking up and the Flyers are clinging desperately to the final playoff spot. “It’s been interesting,” you shrug, “I’m skating well, and physically I feel great. There’s a mental block or something though because everything feels a little bit off.”

The smile that graces Joel’s face can only be described as shit-eating. “Duh, I’m not there.”

“Fuck off.” Though you try to make the words come out in a serious tone, there’s no malice in them.

Conversation flips to some ridiculous story Travis told at practice that morning, and you giggle as Joel recounts it with failing arms. You tell a few stories of your own, that leave him in stitches, and as you walk home hand in hand he asks you again to come to a game. With your schedule a little more flexible as you wait for a decision about the upcoming competition stint it will be much easier to see Joel play. You say yes with a shy smile and don’t miss the way the boy beside you blushes under the streetlights.

Joel stays over, and the next two nights after that. It’s nice, falling into a relationship with your best friend, because there’s no awkwardness. You know what kind of cereal to keep in your pantry and he knows you don’t eat meat on Mondays. Everything is easy. There are a fews in the road, as can be expected with any budding relationship, but for the most part your lives fit seamlessly together.

After some meticulous planning, you found a home game on the Flyers schedule that will coincide with yours. It’s a Friday night near the end of February, and it’s actually the last day US Figure Skating can announce their assignments for worlds. You figure watching your boyfriend is the perfect way to distract yourself from the decision, whether or not you make the team. Joel’s ecstatic about your attendance, wanting you to be immersed in as many aspects of his life as possible. The entire day he’s bouncing around your apartment, beyond ready for puck drop.

“It’s literally three in the afternoon,” you grumble as Joel corrals you into the hall to put your shoes on. “You never leave this early! Why do we have to do it today?” In an attempt to save gas and lower your carbon footprint you’re carpooling with Joel.

“Because being in this house is making you more anxious,” he points out. “I’ve caught you staring into the distance one too many times today. Besides, this way you can meet up with some of the other girls and relax before the game.”

Joel’s right, as he so often is. Your agent hasn’t called to let you know if you made the team or not, nor has US Figure Skating made an announcement on social media. So you’ve spent the entire day pacing back and forth around your living room and fretting that perhaps the best performance of your season wasn’t good enough. He twirls his car keys around his index finger in an attempt to speed you along and you roll your eyes at his impatience.

After ensuring your home is safely secured you hit the road. The drive into Philadelphia is easy, with little traffic, and you spend it laughing at Joel’s ridiculous freestyle raps. It doesn’t surprise you that the staff lot at the Wells Fargo Centre is sparsely populated – most of the guys don’t show up until around five, Joel included. However, a group of women are standing near the entrance. While this isn’t the first time you’ve met significant others of your boyfriend’s teammates, it’s the first time Joel won’t be around.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispers as the car settles into park. You offer a small smile that mustn't have been convincing because Joel lifts the hand that’s intertwined with his to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to the knuckles. The smile becomes genuine and you tease him the entire walk to the door.

Joel greets the other girls before setting his bag down on the concrete and wrapping you in a hug. “Have fun,” you say softly against his lips, landing a short kiss. He winks and opens the door, disappearing inside and leaving you in a fit of giggles.

There was no reason for you to be nervous – everyone is incredibly kind. You seem to be the youngest in the group, but the other girls pay no mind and treat you as one of their own. There’s a small amount of confusion when your phone chimes with a notification, a few glances of possible distaste, but as soon you explain you’re waiting on a very important call they understand. Dinner is wonderful, filled with sincere questions about your skating career and how you got together with Joel. By the time you get back to the arena for the game it feels as though you’ve been a part of the group for years.

You spend the game in the family and friends box, sipping a glass of wine and following Joel around the ice. Practice is early in the morning and you want to be productive, so you’re relaxed in your alcohol consumption compared to some of the others. One of the older girls, though you can’t remember what player is her significant other, recently got engaged and is celebrating with as many drinks as those around her will allow. It’s fun to experience a hockey game in this way, but you’re a little on edge. You haven’t anything about worlds assignments all day and the organization doesn’t typically leave the announcement to this late in the evening. There’s seven minutes left in the game when your phone rings. You quickly excuse yourself from the group and step into the hall.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” the chipper voice of your agent Megan says, “How are you?”

A nervous laughter tumbles from your lips. “I think that depends on what you’re about to tell me.”

“I imagined you’d say something along those lines,” she responds. “You’ve always been quite witty.” Before you ask her to just get to the point of the phone call, Megan speaks. “I have some good news and some bad news for you. You’re going to the World Championships, but you aren’t leading the team like we hoped.”

It’s not as bad as she made it sound. A breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes, and you try your best to remain professional in the hallway of the arena. “Honestly,” you sigh, “I think that’s better. There’s going to be a lot less pressure for me to bring home three Olympic spots. Thanks for letting me know Meg.” She hangs up then, no doubt having to tell another girl she didn’t make the cut.

When you slip back through the door, you find all eyes on you. “What was that about?”

“I made the roster for worlds.”

Earth-shattering applause erupts from everyone in the room, and no one pays attention to what happens on the ice for the remainder of the game. The congratulations continue until you’re waiting outside the dressing room for Joel to exit. He had a good game, featuring two assists and a blocked shot, and smiles lazily when he sees you leaning against the brick wall.

“This is something I could get used to,” he chuckles, pulling you into him by the belt loops of your jeans. The two of you kiss for a moment, letting it stay chaste in fear of getting chirped by teammates.

“Well,” you sigh dramatically, drawing out the suspense of what you’re about to say, “You’re going to have to wait a bit longer for it to become a regular occurrence. My training schedule just increased exponentially.”

Joel sits on your words for a moment before it registers. “No fucking way!” he shouts, picking you up by the waist as the two you are a pairs team. “You got the spot?”

Having Joel be so excited about the accomplishment makes it seem that much more real. Tears well in your eyes and you shake your head up and down to signal he’s correct. Joel presses his lips to yours once again, this time not caring about any insults his friends could throw at him. The kiss makes you feel loved, fully and completely, and you hope you’re conveying the same amount of emotion he is.

“That’s my girl.”

☼☼☼☼

“Oh my fucking god,” you grumble, picking yourself off the ice for what feels like the hundredth time in the past five minutes. There’s two weeks until you leave for Milan and it looks like you’ve never skated before. Jumps are being under-rotated, spins aren’t being entered properly, and your footwork sequence is abysmal. Nothing about the way you’re performing would let a newcomer know you’re a world class athlete.

Brenda gives you a sympathetic smile. “Just try again kiddo.”

You do try again – fifteen more times to be exact. Each attempt at a triple axel getting farther and farther from what it should be. Before you get even more frustrated you abandon the element altogether, hoping to avoid a complete meltdown. No one questions it when you shift disciplines completely and move about the ice completing a simple foxtrot pattern. Ice dance has always been a great de-stresser for you, and after a few passes you feel your heart rate return to normal. At some point during your break Joel had entered the rink and is now standing beside your coach, making pleasant conversation. You smile as you skate towards them, ecstatic that the two most important parts of your life blend seamlessly.

“Farabee!” you shout when you get close enough for him to hear you. At the sound of your voice Joel smiles, turning to pick up your water bottle and toss it in your direction.

“I’m wounded babe,” he feigns pain as you take a drink, “I really thought that we were on at least a first name basis.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics and playfully squirt water at him. “I’ll call you whatever I want. What brings you this far into Jersey?”

“Thought I’d see if you wanted to grab lunch after you were done. We’ve got a late practice today,” he explains. “Whatever you want, eh? Does that mean I say whatever I want? Because I think you’re looking particularly good in those leggings.tum” You don’t miss the suggestive tone to his voice, but choose to ignore it.

Joel watches the rest of your practice from his spot at the boards and lays himself across the dressing room bench as you complete a quick cool down routine. You have a meeting with your massage therapist in the afternoon, so you follow Joel to the restaurant he chose. It’s a small vegan place that you sometimes stop at on your way home from the rink. They have the best burrito bowls you’ve ever tasted and since you’ve gotten together Joel has become rather fond of them as well.

The two of you sit outside on the curb. New Jersey is uncharacteristically warm for March and you want to enjoy the sunshine as much as possible. The rest of the day will be spent in dark rooms receiving physical therapy and trying to ease your tired muscles. There isn’t much conversation, but you’re more than content just to be with Joel. Life moves incredibly fast and your schedules don’t always line up nicely. It’s difficult to spend time with him, especially when you’re weeks out from a major competition, but small moments like this keep you from missing your boyfriend too much.

“Have I asked you to take me to the airport yet? I can’t remember,” you admit as you finish the last bite of your meal.

Joel laughs at your lapse in memory, knowing he gets the same way when high stakes games roll around. “No, but you would like me to?”

“Do you mind?” you ask, “That way I don’t have to leave my car at the airport for a week and a half. But if you can't, don't worry about it, I’ll grab an uber.”

“Babe, the uber will be like fifty bucks. I’ll take you. What time do you have to be there?”

You give him a much too detailed itinerary of your departure plans and listen to him talk about the drills they’re going to run at practice. Time passes much quicker than you would have liked, and soon you’re kissing him goodbye and watching him wave from your rearview mirror.

It’s almost a week later when you see Joel again, showing up at a Flyers practice for the first time since training moved back to your home rink. You’ve been instructed to have a rest day, the team wanting to push you too hard before taking off. The arena attendants know you well at this point, and chat with you as you sit on a bench away from the media. You know better than you alert them of your presence – some of them no doubt wanting a comment from you about worlds. Joel has no idea you’re even there until long after practice, when he sees you leaning casually against the driver’s side door of your car, conveniently parked next to his.

“Hey all-star,” you say as casually as possible, twirling your keys around your index finger.

He leans down to kiss you sweetly, and though you probably shouldn’t in a parking lot, you push your body closer to his in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Joel obliges you, tongue gently slipping into your mouth, staying there until you both hear the shouts of his teammates.

“Fuck off,” he yells at Kevin, who’s hollering so loud people can probably hear him all the way back in Philadelphia. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a day off,” you smile, and I thought I’d come see if I could hitch a ride to your place.” You had originally planned to attend the game in person, but a rough day of training yesterday had you too sore to do much other than lie on the couch.

“The chariot awaits m’lady,” he says in a terrible British accent, bowing for good measure as he opens the door. Your car will be fine in the parking lot overnight, so you slip in and enjoy the journey into the city.

Joel’s pre-game routine changes only slightly with you in his apartment – instead of napping alone, you curl into his chest and snore softly, lulling him into one of the most peaceful sleeps he’s ever had. You tie his tie for him and riffle his hair before kissing him good luck. Being alone in Joel’s apartment isn’t as strange as you thought it would be, and you familiarize yourself with his kitchen while you make dinner. The pre-game show plays quietly in the background, and when they mention how well Joel is playing you can’t help but smile.

It’s much more comfortable to watch the game in your boyfriend’s hoodie and pyjama pants on the couch than it would be to sit in the stiff arena seats. Time passes at a pretty leisurely pace, with nothing too exciting going on within the game, and sometime in the third period you fall asleep. The rest of the game and all the media appearances pass you by. Joel figures you must be sleeping when he doesn’t get a congratulatory text when Claude pulls off a buzzer beater to win. His suspensions are confirmed when he slips through his front door to see you drooling slightly on the throw pillow his mom bought him as a housewarming gift.

You don’t remember climbing into bed, but you wake up with Joel’s socked feet pressed against your calves. He stirs behind you and mummers something unintelligible.

“What was that sleepyhead?” you giggle, turning around to run a hand through his hair. It’s rather unruly at the moment and you find it adorable.

“Good morning,” he repeats.

“That’s what that was?”

“Leave me alone.”

The two of you lay in bed for a few more minutes before starting the day. You navigate around Joel flawlessly – like you’re there every morning. Breakfast is quick and you’re out the door before you have a chance to cherish the domesticity of it all. You have a pretty intense day of training and Joel has to be at the airport in two hours for a trip to Toronto. He drops you off in Voorhees, kissing you gently before making his way back into the city. You hate to see him go, wishing you could spend more time together before you head to worlds, but you know you’re both adults with real-world responsibilities.

For the first time in the final push you have a practice that is up to standard. Things click into place and you feel good. Really good. Each time you skate a program it’s clean, and the elements don’t feel weak when completed individually. Maybe you’ll actually be able to pull this off.

☼☼☼☼

Italy is beautiful, but you don’t get much time to enjoy it. A scheduling mishap has team USA leaving two days later than you were supposed to and now you’re all scrambling to find a groove. Every moment is being spent preparing for the competition – off ice training, multiple practices a day, press conferences. When you get a moment to spare you call Joel, but oftentimes he’s at practice or fulfilling other obligations. The time difference is brutal and souring your mood. You feel alone, and just wish Joel could be by your side like he was at nationals.

As soon as you step on the ice something feels wrong. You run through a mental checklist and assure that nothing is – your skates feel they way they should and you didn’t forget any gear. It must be nerves. The competition officially starts tomorrow and you’re eager to cheer on the pairs teams America has brought. You do your best to skate it out, and by the time you’re allowed to have the ice to yourself you can almost convince yourself everything will be fine.

The music starts and you snap into character. Your short program music is punchy and so are you – all sass and sharp angles as you navigate the opening step sequence. A lump forms in your throat as you set up the first first jumping pass, but you push it down. You’ve done a thousand triple lutz-triple toe-loop combinations and could execute it flawlessly in your sleep.

Everything happens so fast. One second you’re rotating through the air and the next you’re sprawled across the ice. Nothing feels off until you try to pick yourself up. When you can’t move your left leg you look to see what the issue is and find your kneecap where it most certainly should not be. It’s rotated nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, now residing in the back instead of the front.

“Help me!” you scream, mostly out of shock. There’s no pain which surprises you, but you know it definitely should hurt. Everyone around the ice surface is frozen in place, not knowing what happened or what to do, and you continue to sob helplessly.

Someone sprints to get the onsite emergency responders and Brenda runs to you as fast as her dress shoes will allow. “Don’t look at it honey,” she soothes. “It’s just going to make things worse.”

“It should hurt,” you croak out through the tears, “Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“You’ve got so much adrenaline pumping through your veins you can’t feel anything,” the EMT explains in flawless English. “Can we take your skates off?”

You nod, and the right skate comes off breezily. Brenda unlaces your left skate and the medical team works to pry the boot from your foot. A sharp pain shoots up your leg and you wail in agony. “Shh, it’s okay,” your coach coos, “The skate is going to stay on until we get to the hospital.”

The ride to the hospital feels like time is moving through sludge. The paramedics keep an eye on your blood pressure and do their best to keep you calm. Brenda is typing furiously on her phone, and you ask what she’s doing as the vehicle pulls into the ambulance bay.

“The ISU rep told me to keep him updated,” she explains. “And I’m trying to vote on which alternate is going to take your place.”

You knew that was going to happen, you couldn’t possibly skate, but it makes you unbelievably sad. All your hard work is going to amount to nothing. No one cares about national champions who don’t place at worlds, and the injury is going to sideline you in next year’s olympic race. The emergency room has a bed ready for you, and the doctor arrives as you’re being transferred into it.

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m Dr. Morelli. We’re going to put your patella back into place. It’s going to be incredibly painful, so we’re to sedate you. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you say as strongly as you can, though it comes out feeble and hoarse.

A nurse inserts an IV into your arm and smiles at you. They have you count backwards from ten, and by the time you get to eight you’re asleep. There’s a brief moment of panic when you wake up as you forgot where you are. “You’re awake,” Brenda speaks softly from the bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you admit. “It hurts so fucking bad.”

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “I know. They’re going to come get you for x-rays in a few minutes and then we’ll go back to the hotel.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp. “I’ve gotta call Joel. Bren, give me your phone.”

Laughter comes from the device’s speakers, and you realize she’s one step ahead of you.

“There’s my girl,” Joel whispers, eyes landing on yours as the phone lands in your hands. “Are you okay?”

The question makes you laugh. “You’re quite the comedian Mr. Farabee. Of course I’m not okay. My leg is currently being held together by a brace and my dreams are ruined.” You soften when you realize how upset Joel looks. “I’ll be fine J, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“There’s nothing you could have done. It was a freak accident. You can pick me up from the airport.”

He agrees in a heartbeat and tells you about his day to distract you from the pain. You’ll have to ask the nurses for some pain meds before you leave. A nurse comes to take you to the radiology department, and you hang up after reassuring him for the hundredth time that he doesn’t need to fly to Italy to bring you home himself.

Brenda holds you as the adrenaline wears off and your legs twitches rapidly as a trauma response. She helps you navigate around the small room and makes sure you’re able to use the bathroom. Luckily none of her other skaters are competing, and she’s able to travel back to Philadelphia with you once the doctor clears you. It’s a rough flight – there’s a fair amount of turbulence and each bump makes your leg throb. You don’t get a wink of sleep and are grumpy by the time you touch down in Philly. Joel’s waiting at arrivals with a giant sign and a sweet smile. You wheel yourself over to him as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his arms.

“Welcome home baby,” he whispers, leaning down to catch your lips in an airport appropriate kiss. The reason you’re home so early isn’t brought up which you're incredibly grateful for. Your untimely withdrawal is still a very sore spot.

“I wasn’t gone long,” you laugh, trying to poke fun at the situation before reality gets you too down.

“Long enough for me to miss you a tremendous amount.”

The three of you exit the airport, and Joel drops Brenda off at her house before taking you back to his place. Chuck and the rest of the management team were allowing him to miss a few games until you become more mobile and can’t exist on your own for a few hours. Joel’s bed is calling out to you, but he insists you’ll feel better after a shower and you know he’s right. Showering isn’t something you can do yourself, so Joel keeps your leg straight and elevated as you sit on the stool he bought while waiting for you to return. The grime of travelling is washed away and you feel lighter when you swing into bed, stubbornly refusing Joel’s help.

You convince him to let you watch the broadcast of the event you were supposed to be skating in. It’s probably not the best thing for your mental health, but you want to see how everyone does. Joel sits besides you, arm wrapped around your shoulder, and listens to you explain the rationale behind every element’s score. When your replacement takes the ice you go silent. It’s too much to see her skating in your place so you bury your face into Joel’s neck. There’s no jealousy like you thought there would be, just an infinite amount of sadness that you’re not able to be there.

“You’ll be able to get back there,” Joel reassures you when he feels a tear soak through his sweater.

“That’s not guaranteed,” you sniffle. “I might not ever skate again, let alone compete at any level.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, leading you to quirk a brow. “I know you. You’re going to do it. It won’t be easy, but you’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. People bounce back after major injuries all the time. I’ll be by your side the entire time, helping you through.”

“I love you,” you blurt out. The gravity of your words sinks in and you gasp. You haven’t said those words to each other yet, but they feel right.

“I love you too,” Joel smiles, kissing the tip of your nose. “Now pay attention to the TV, that girl you beat at Skate Canada is up next.”

☼☼☼☼

Recovery hasn’t been easy. There have been so many days where all you want to do is throw in the towel and cry, but Joel keeps you going. He insists you to your physical therapy exercises with him so you aren’t alone, and he comes to as many doctor’s appointments as he possibly can. After the Flyers get eliminated from the playoffs he doesn’t return home for the summer, choosing to stay in the Philly area with you. Having him there is a massive help, and you power through the pain.

The Flyers are hosting a family skate before training camp, and it will be your first time on skates in nearly six months. Your doctors have cleared it as long as you take it slow and basically let Joel pull you around the rink but you don’t care. It gives you hope that one day you’ll be back to full strength.

“Ready to do this thing?” Joel asks, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers.

You nod enthusiastically and let him pull you from the bench to the tunnel and down to the boards. Joel steps on the ice first, keeping his hands up in case you need them for support. A few of the significant others notice what’s happening and they erupt in applause once both your feet are planted on the surface. Joel joins them, his eyes watering when he sees how happy you are to be skating again.

“I do believe you promised me a few laps lover boy,” you wink.

“Yes ma’am,” Joel giggles as he mock salutes. He places his hands in yours and guides you gently, careful not to go too fast or get too close to other groups. The two of you giggle and stop to kiss frequently but no one says anything. You’ve worked incredibly hard to get here and they’re perfectly content letting you have your moment. Standing at centre ice you feel complete, and you know it’s all thanks to Joel.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @samsteel @kiedhara @tortito @boqvistsbabe @iwantahockeyhimbo @himbos-on-ice if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

#this right here is my baby #joel farabee imagine #joel farabee x reader #joel farabee fic #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites

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here4theheartbreak · 3 years

Text

Happy Ending (JJK)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationship: Jungkook x Male Reader

Genre: smut, pwp | Rating: Explicit | Word Count: ~2.5k

Summary: Jungkook had a bad day. It’s up to you to make sure he relaxes.

Tags: smut, PWP, squirting, dirty talk, bareback, tentacles, male reader, tentacle monster!reader, transgender Jungkook, transmale Jungkook, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, multiple penetration, multiple orgasms, rough sex

A/N: This fic was written for @ditttiii in response to the request for Jungkook x Male Reader, “Stop sniffing me” request for my 2k followers - enjoy!

The main door opened and slammed shut hard enough to rattle the pictures on the wall. You leaned over, peeking through the entryway into the living room. “You okay?” You asked. Jungkook threw his bag to the floor and slammed his keys on the side table. “No!” He snapped.

You scowled. It was bizarre for Jungkook to come home in such a nasty mood. You wandered into the living room, tentacles twitching lightly as they sensed the shift in emotional hormones.

“Jungkook.”

He huffed, slamming his hand on the wall. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“What’s wrong?”

Jungkook gritted his teeth. He rested his forehead on the wall, and you knew by the shaking of his tense shoulders that he was trying to regain a sense of calm and control. You two had been dating for many years, and he knew how sensitive you were to emotional shifts; the benefit – and downfall – of being the species you were.

He sighed heavily. “Just a rough day at work.”

“Wanna talk to me about it?”

Jungkook shook his head. “Not really. I just kind of want to forget about it, if I’m being entirely honest.”

“Let me help you relax.” You reached out and pulled him close, nuzzling his neck and kissing over it gently. Jungkook sighed contentedly.

“Tease.”

“Never. Go lie in bed. I’ll turn off the stove then go give you a nice massage.”

Jungkook nodded. “First…” He held you close, inhaling deeply.

“God you smell good…”

“You are so weird,” you laughed. “Stop sniffing me.”

“Never,” he mumbled against your neck. “It’s soothing.”

He pulled back reluctantly and kicked off his shoes before padding up the stairs to the bedroom. You flicked off the stove, setting the pan of water aside. You could order tonight anyways, no big deal. Right now, Jungkook needed your attention. You hurried up the stairs, smiling softly when you reached the bedroom. Jungkook was on his stomach on the bed, head buried under the pillow. You could feel the tension rolling off him in waves – deep and uncomfortable. Whatever had happened at work had truly upset him.

Eager to help, you crawled over him, sliding two tentacles slowly under his shirt. The suckers moved along his skin, suctioning just hard enough to make him feel it. Jungkook shuddered and sighed, sinking a little further into the bed. You took the pillow off his head with your hand.

“Take off your clothes.”

“All of them?” Jungkook asked, his voice muffled.

“Yes, please.”

“Are yours coming off too?” Despite his tension, there was a teasing playfulness to his tone that had you smiling.

“I’m giving you a massage.”

“And maybe there’ll be a happy ending,” he joked, stripping out of his clothing. He laid back onto the bed on his stomach in just his boxers, crossing his legs at the ankle.

You straddled his thighs, using both your hands and tentacles to begin working the knotted muscles in his back loose.

Jungkook moaned softly as you worked, sighing happily and shifting around under your grip. You moved down to his lower back with your hands, tentacles still working at his upper back.

Jungkook was positively drooling when you finished rubbing over his muscles. He was entirely relaxed, as melted into the bed as a human could be.

Unable to resist longer, you reached down and grabbed his boxers, yanking them off. Jungkook rolled onto his back and grinned widely.

“Someone’s eager,” he teased. He spread his legs wide, exposing his holes. His little cock was stiff above the natural little gape you’d trained his body to have after all this time. When you’d first used his human frame, he was so tight, you could barely slide your cock in, let alone your tentacles. Now he took you like a pro.

“Relax,” you purred, stroking his cheek with a tentacle.

Jungkook grabbed it, stroking it gently. He inhaled deeply, pressing kisses along the sucker pads. “Fuck me with this one,” he whispered.

“You sure? It’s bigger than the ones you normally take. And the suckers...”

“I wanna feel them. And...” Jungkook drifted off. He bit his lip. You could hear his heart rate increase, and smell his arousal growing, his hole getting wetter at whatever he was imagining.

“Talk to me,” you whispered, reaching down to rub your thumb over his hardened nub.

“I want you to put your dick up my ass while you do it.”

“Jungkook, are you sure? Double penetration is a lot...”

“I know you’ve wanted to do it for a while. I’m ready.” He shifted, taking the tip of your tentacle in his mouth. His tongue was so smooth and small against your suckers, catching lightly on them and making him giggle. He nuzzled it once more. “If I’m really moaning... I bet one of your smaller ones could even go up my ass with your cock. Like this one..”

Jungkook reached out and grabbed a smaller, slick tentacle, just about half an inch across. “And my mouth...”

It seemed as if every tentacle in your body awoke at that. He was giving himself fully to you.

“Are you sure?” You panted.

Jungkook nodded.

Your tentacles shot out, lifting Jungkook from the bed by his waist and arms. He moaned, his legs hanging open. You could see wetness dribbling out of his hole, onto his ass. You laid on the bed and flipped him over so he was dangling about three feet above you. He grinned, open mouthed, and nodded his consent once more.

You reached a tentacle up, letting Jungkook grab it and nuzzle it, inhaling deeply. His body tensed a second, a few drops of his natural wetness dripped onto your belly.

“So responsive to scent,” you teased. You flicked one tentacle up and down his sopping slit. It was a thinner one, but one naturally slick and smooth. When Jungkook moaned against the tentacle near his face, you slid it into his relaxed hole. It went in smoothly, his body used to this size. Each deep inhale of your scent and he clenched around you, milking your tentacle with his inner muscles. You added a second tentacle of the same size, then a third a little smaller, moaning when his eyes rolled back and he squeezed almost painfully tight. The tentacles around his hips and torso tightened.

“Take them, Jungkook,” you whispered. “Show me you can take them like a good boy and I’ll give you what you want.”

“Please—“

You began to shift your tentacles, using them to lift his body off and drive it back onto the three tentacles. At the same time you thrust them forward, impaling him hard each time. Jungkook moaned brokenly, his body tensing and relaxing. He took the tip of the tentacle in his hands into his mouth, sucking eagerly as he moaned around it.

Your tentacles sent shocks of pleasure through your body, your cock beginning to ache with need. The best form of edging, drawing you so close, letting you watch Jungkook’s body be violated, used; but never quite letting you get there. Not until you sank your cock into one of his needy holes.

You began to flick a thinner tentacle over his asshole, teasing it open as you fucked his other hole and let him suck your tentacle so desperately.

His body clenched hard suddenly. He pulled off the one in his mouth and screamed happily. You yanked your tentacles from his sopping hole and lifted him upright. You forced his legs open, as if he were sitting spread legged on air.

“Please!” He sobbed, reaching for his dripping hole. Tentacles around his wrists stopped that. Instead, you watched his hole flutter and clench around nothing, weak dribbles of slick forced out. He sobbed brokenly.

“Please—“ He begged again. You tsked, slapping his hole with a slick tentacle.

“Did I ruin it?” You teased. Jungkook sobbed, slumping down in the grip of your tentacles.

“That’s okay, baby. I’ll make it up to you.”

You jammed the three back into him, and let the thin one slide a few inches into his asshole. Jungkook met your gaze, his eyes wet with desperation already. You began to raise and drop him, forcing your tentacles deep into his holes.

Jungkook moaned, his head falling back. You slid a tentacle up his torso and over his chin, finding his mouth gaped open. Taking advantage, you pushed it until it bumped the back of his throat, chuckling when he gagged. He righted his head, immediately sucking and lapping along the smooth, silky surface.

“Such a good boy,” you cooed, meeting his already unfocused gaze.

Ah, here it was - the ultimate edge. The tentacle in his ass swelled and began to come. Your balls drew up, feeling heavy and achey with the need for release. You could feel the pleasure - but it was cut off. Your eyes rolled back nonetheless, a quiet sigh slipping from your lips as the tentacle filled Jungkook’s tight ass. You couldn’t wait to slide into his slick hole.

The next tentacle began to spill, pouring into his other hole. And a third, making you gasp desperately. You began to pump the third that was buried deep inside him, chasing its release.

Jungkook moaned, muffled and wet as the one in his mouth gagged him. A squeeze, tight and needy, began to build in Jungkook. You fucked into him harder, come pouring down your tentacles. His body began to shudder, muscles flexing in your grip. You could almost count it down. Three, two, one...

You yanked the tentacles free of his hole.

Jungkook screamed, gagging and coughing around the one in his mouth. The come splashed onto your stomach as it drained from his used body. His release sprayed out, splashing your stomach and up nearly to your chest as he squirted for you. The final tentacle that had been penetrating him reached its own release, splashing over his hole and groin.

“Yes,” you encouraged, reaching up and thumbing his throbbing cock. “Squirting so good for me. You’re ready.”

You lined up your thick, suckered tentacle to his gaping hole, and drove in as deep as you dared. He immediately clenched and gushed around you, his head falling forward. You pulled the tentacle free of his mouth so it wouldn’t choke him, and let it release hot ropes over his face and chest.

Jungkook gasped, his mouth hanging open. You began to fuck into his body, the slick sounds of your release and his own filling the room.

Two more tentacles slid forward, prodding Jungkook’s ass as the relieved one slid free. Jungkook nodded without being asked, and they pushed in.

It was just around eight of your tentacles that sought release each time you two had sex. Jungkook had become quite accustomed to helping each of them.

The final bumped against his open mouth. Jungkook moved almost automatically, beginning to suck it. It pumped in rhythm to the other tentacles penetrating Jungkook’s body.

You laid back, closing your eyes. The sensations were intense; as if every single nerve ending was awake, being pleasured. Jungkook continued to come from the tentacle in his hole, his squirt dribbling down it as the suckers stimulated his sensitive inner walls. The ones in his ass were fucking him hard, working open his ass for your cock. They squirted first, driving as deep as possible to release into him. Even with their depth, the moment they pulled out, his relaxed ass let some dribble onto your lap. It was very clearly time.

You used your tentacles to maneuver him down and line him up. Though unnecessary, you eased his loosened ass down onto your cock. You groaned as his body took you, warm and wet. Another gush of his slick dribbled out, wetting your lap further.

Jungkook gurgled wetly as the tentacle down his throat began to spill its release. You pulled it free, splashing a few more ropes onto Jungkook’s face.

“There we go,” you purred. “You’re all tuckered out, huh?”

Jungkook’s eyes were even more unfocused, soft whimpers slipping from his open mouth. His body continued to come, very clearly overstimulated by the thick tentacle fucking him.

“Baby,” you cooed, stroking his sweat soaked hair back. You slid another tentacle up, smiling when he leaned into it, inhaling deeply.

“One more load, okay? Can you take one more load for me?”

Jungkook nodded.

You began to fuck up into him, feeling his ass squeeze weakly around your cock. Your balls ached, bordering on painful.

You flipped him onto the bed on his back, rolling and driving your cock back into him. You fucked both his holes hard and fast.

Jungkook began to shudder, writhing on the mattress. You could feel the pressure squeezing around both your tentacle and cock. He was far too overstimulated, this had to border on painful, but he began to twist his hips down, seeking more. You obliged, pumping both deeper.

Jungkook’s cries were high and broken, tiny little “Ah! Ah!” Noises that made you desperate to soothe.

The pressure reached a peak, and Jungkook’s back arched high. He screamed your name as he began to come.

You pulled your tentacle free, but continued to pump your cock, watching him squirt harder than he ever had before. His ass tightened around your cock like a vise, and it only took three more desperate thrusts before you too were coming deep inside him, toes curling as your body lit up with pleasure.

You released your tentacles and slumped over Jungkook, both of you panting for air as your orgasms faded.

Jungkook grabbed you and kissed you hard, laughing into your mouth. “You’re so perfect.”

“You say because I just fucked you boneless.”

Jungkook threw his head back, laughing hard. He nuzzled against you, kicking at the blanket at the base of the bed until he could grab it and yank it over you both.

“Are you feeling a little better?” You asked, wrapping your arm around him.

“Much.” He nuzzled against your neck, and you chuckled when he inhaled.

“What do I smell like to you?”

“Hm…” Jungkook inhaled again. “Ozone. Water, like the sea… Leathery like… sweet and fresh leather. And something that’s just… You. I can’t describe it but it’s a scent that’s just so uniquely you and whenever I smell it I instantly think of you.”

“You have such a sensitive nose for a human, it’s almost bizarre… I love it.” You chuckled a little as you spoke. “I’m glad you like the way I smell.”

“It’s soothing… It’s not too weird is it?” Jungkook worried.

“No weirder than your boyfriend having tentacles and fucking you with them, I’m sure.”

Jungkook giggled at that, nodding. “You have a point. We’re just an odd duo.”

“We work well together though,” you said, stroking his hair back. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here. With you.”

Jungkook’s grin softened to a smile, and you could see the love in his eyes. He didn’t need to speak. The affection and adoration rolled off him in waves, sweet and soft, soothing you like a gentle caress. You nodded.

“I know,” you whispered. “I love you too, Jungkook.”

#thebtswritersclub #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #jungkook x reader #jungkook x male reader #jungkook smut #tentacles #transgender jungkook #jungkook fic #reader insert #mxr #jeongguk #jeon jungkook #bts smut #bts fic #mywriting

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thatshithurted8 · 4 years

Text

Fuck & Make Up

Summary: The Pogues devise a plan for you and JJ to stop hating each other. However, this plan involves leaving you two alone on Heyward’s boat in the middle of the marsh.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: SMUT, oral (female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it,) mentions of bullying, and smoking.

You and Pope pull up to Heywards boat that was anchored in the middle of the marsh. John B called you saying that they needed their help since the engine stopped working for some reason. Without hesitating you of course agreed to help your friends.

As you walk onto the boat you see Kie and John B crouched down near the engine trying to fix it. With a closer look around the boat you realize that JJ wasn’t there, which you were completely fine with. You two have never gotten along so a moment without JJ was a moment of peace.

“Did you guys check the plugs?” You ask bending down beside your friends who were handing the tools over to you.

“No you should check those.” Kiara says as her and John B slowly walk over to the HMS pogue without you noticing.

You furrow your eyebrows as you examine the machinery in front of you and realize it was completely fine. “Guys it’s fine.” You say standing up, but you drop the screwdriver you were holding once you see John B and Kiara jumping off of the boat and swimming towards the boat Pope was in.

“Where are you guys going?” You ask walking over to the edge of the boat, but your thoughts were interrupted when you hear a banging sound come from the lower level of the boat. You walk over and lift the hatch to reveal the one person you couldn’t stand. JJ Maybank.

JJ’s eyes widen when he comes face to face with you. “Oh hell no.” He says coming out from the lower level as he hears the engine start to the HMS Pogue. However, he was too late, the small boat started to move farther and farther away from the two teens. John B raised his hand and dangled the pair of keys to Heywards boat in the air.

“Fuck them.” You scoff, folding your arms while watching the small boat disappear in the distance.

JJ turns and looks at you with an amused expression on his face. Yea he didn’t want to be there to hear you complain about him just existing, but it wasn’t the end of the world. “I can’t be that bad.” He says following you into the control area.

“Yes you are!” You exclaim, opening and closing drawers in hopes of finding a spare key to start the boat. As you did this JJ leaned against the door frame while getting a perfect few of your ass bent over. He quickly looks away when you stand up and turn around with a defeated expression on your face.

The blond has always thought you were attractive, but if you were rude on the inside you were ugly on the outside. Little did he know you thought the same thing about him, but you knew never in a million years you would admit that. It would only boost JJ’s already large ego and you would never hear the end of it.

“Fuck this shit.” You say pushing JJ out of the way and walking to the front of the boat to sit down and wallow in your self pity.

You have a few minutes of peace by yourself before JJ walks over to you and sits down. He scoots close to you, causing you to move over a bit, but you couldn’t help, but acknowledge how good the boy beside you smelt.

“You know Y/N.” JJ says causing you to look over at him while he focuses on rolling a joint. “I want to be friends, but clearly you can’t get over the fact that I bullied you in middle school.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff and fold your arms against your chest. “More like tormented.” You retort, thinking back to the days young JJ Maybank bullied you every chance he got.

When you became close with Pope and then got re-introduced to the rest of the group you were hoping JJ had changed. However your hopes went to shit when JJ saw you standing beside Pope in the Chateau. “Hey guys look it’s pickle!” The nickname originated when you had an allergic reaction to one on your sandwich during lunch one day. Young JJ made one of your most terrifying moments a joke around the school. Since that day in middle school you have held a grudge against the Maybank boy for being so cruel to you.

“I wasn’t that mean to you.”

Once again you scoff, not believing the words coming out of JJ’s mouth. “Yea making me hate everything about myself when I was 12 and 13 wasn’t mean.” You say remembering the nights you would cry yourself to sleep remembering JJ’s mean comments about your body.

JJ’s eyes widen at your bold statement, but he could tell you were telling him the truth. He instantly felt bad especially knowing that wasn’t his younger self’s intentions. Far from it actually.

The blue eyed boy sighs and looks over at you, finishing rolling the joint. “The reason why I bullied you all the time was because I liked you and I was jealous that you liked Rafe. Thinking back now, trying to get you to like me back by being an asshole to you wasn’t the best plan. So I’m sorry for that Y/N.”

You look over at him, surprised that after all of these years he apologized for his past actions. You could tell that he was being genuinely serious too.

“Don’t worry though, my picking up girls skills weren’t good back then, but trust me they are now.” He says winking at you and handing you the unlit joint.

You hesitate not knowing if you should take it or not. Taking it would mean that you would be forgiving him even though you still have insecurities to this day because of things he said to you as a child, but not taking it wouldn’t solve anything.

“Fuck off Maybank.” You say before ultimately deciding to take it, with a small smile on your face.

“Look a shooting star!” You say pointing up at the night sky taking a puff from a freshly lit joint.

“Where?” JJ asks looking up at the sky then back at you when he couldn’t find it.

“There.” You say blowing the smoke out of your mouth and into his face.

JJ blows the smoke away with his hand, an amused expression visible on his face. He takes the joint from your small hand and puts it in his mouth. You watch as he inhales it and you can’t help, but notice the tingly feeling in your core. JJ Maybank was already attractive, but the way he smoked the weed under the moonlight made you feel a certain way. When you realize what you were thinking about, you brush your thoughts off as you just being high, but you hadn’t actually smoked a lot.

Your thoughts are interrupted when JJ copies you and blows the smoke out of his mouth and into your face causing you to giggle. The blond does it again, simply so he could hear you laugh.

To your surprise being stranded on a boat for a night your middle school bully wasn’t actually that bad. After JJ opened up to you and apologized for his past actions you both started opening up to each other and started to act like actual friends. Five minutes go by while you two keep on passing the joint back and forth while blowing the smoke into each other’s faces.

“Wait. I have an idea.” JJ says taking the joint from you once again and inhaling the substance. You watch with parted lips as the boy beside you moves in closer to blow the smoke into your face, but you instantly freeze when JJ places his lips on yours, blowing the smoke into your mouth this time.

JJ pulls away and instantly regrets doing what he just did, by your reaction. You sat frozen and wide eyed, not being able to register what just happened.

“Shit. Sorry Y/N I shouldn’t have done that. The weed just makes me frisky I guess.” The boy says looking down at the joint in between his fingers. However, he wasn’t actually that high.

Thousands of thoughts swarmed your mind as you finally realized what happened. Impulsively you act on the tingly feeling in your core and you place your lips back against JJ’s. To say JJ was shocked was an understatement, but he was quick to kiss you back, his free hand caressing your cheek.

“I’m not that high.” You say pulling away and starring into his blue eyes that looked a lot darker than normal.

“Good cause I’m not either.” He says throwing the roach of the joint somewhere on the boat and pulling you onto his lap while kissing you again.

This kiss was a lot deeper and passionate. JJ bites your bottom lip, causing you to moan. He takes this opportunity and inserts his tongue into your mouth. You let his tongue explore your mouth before he pulls away and moves your hair out of the way.

His head dips down to your throat where he sucks mercilessly on the sensitive skin. You move your head to the side instinctively to give JJ more access. As he bites softly at your soft skin, before placing wet kisses along the places he was leaving hickeys.

“Fuck JJ.” You moan grinding into his lap. His large calloused hands wander along your body as you do so, one of his hands land on your ass and one on your breast. He squeezes your ass, continuing to leave red marks down your neck to the hem of your bikini top.

You continue to grind in his lap and by now you could feel his prominent member against your inner thigh. JJ pulls away from his assault on your neck as his hand plays with the strings of your bikini top.

“Can I?” He asks, referring to taking it off.

You simply nod before kissing him again. Through sloppy kisses JJ was able to remove your bikini top, throwing it somewhere on the boat. His head starts to go further down your body and his mouth eventually meets your left breast. He swipes his tongue around your erected nipple while his hand goes up to give your other breast some attention.

JJ looks up at you and finally puts your hard nipple in his mouth, sucking it. You moan while arching your back and pushing your core closer to his. Seeing you as a moaning mess in his arms only made the blond even more turned on, that and how your small fingers would run and pull on his golden locks.

He gives your right breast the same attention with his mouth while pushing you closer to his throbbing member. “Fuck you’re so hot.” He says as you grind against him again.

You feel his free hand travel down your body as he continues to lick and suck on your nipple. JJ’s hand ends up finding its way to the zipper of your jean shorts. He looks up at you again, asking for permission, but before he even says anything you nod your head yes.

The Maybank boy pulls down your zipper and lies you down so he could take them off, leaving you in your revealing bikini bottoms. He hovers over you and kisses you again, his hand finding your ass and squeezing it.

You kiss back, one of your hands in his hair the other grazing over his abs and down to bulge. JJ basically jumps at the sudden contact, but it doesn’t take long for him to start grinding into your hand while you start to palm him through his swim trunks.

Hearing JJ groan at how you were making him feel made you spiral into another universe. The sounds coming from his mouth was music to your ears. Your hand finds the bottom of the boys shirt and you start to tug on it signalling that you wanted it off.

He quickly takes off his shirt and instantly goes back to making you feel good. His mouth leaves your breasts and he starts to kiss down your stomach, leaving wet kisses.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says in between kisses. JJ makes his way down your body, mumbling sweet nothings about how beautiful you looked withering underneath him. His skilled mouth stops when he reaches your inner thighs. You could feel his warm breath fanning against your core and you wanted nothing more than him to just touch you where you needed him most.

“JJ.” You moan while biting your lip.

He kisses your left thigh and then your right before looking up at you. “Yes beautiful?”

“Please?” You say desperately.

“Touch me JJ.”

“Where?” Here?” He says placing his large hand on your breast once again.

Rolling your eyes you grab his hand and place it on your clothed core. “Touch me here.”

JJ liked seeing you beg for his touch. Despite there being thick fabric between your pussy and his fingers JJ could feel your wetness through the bikini. He slowly moves your bottoms down your legs with his mouth before moving back up to your core.

“Please J-” You say being interrupted by JJ’s tongue finding it’s way into you, lapping up your juices. You let out a loud moan as you pull roughly on his hair. Your reaction only boosting JJ’s ego.

“So wet for me beautiful.” JJ says looking up at you, making eye contact. You swore just seeing your juices on his face almost made you cum instantly.

His tongue finds your bundle of nerves, sucking it while he pushes his pointer finger inside of your cunt. JJ adds his finger and you buck your hips up to meet his mouth and fingers, but his free arm pushes you back down.

As his fingers reach deeper and his tongue continues to work it’s magic you could feel the coil in your stomach about to snap. “Fuck JJ. I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum!” You stutter.

JJ smirks to himself while he reaches up and grasps your tit in his large hand, squeezing it. This on top of the way his tongue and fingers were thrusting in and out of you sent you into oblivion.

You let out a loud moan, arching your back as your first orgasm of the night washes over you. JJ sits up on his knees, leaving your sensitive core. You look down and see his bulge that looked like it was about to break through his shorts.

Sitting up, you reach down towards the top of his shorts and pull them down, causing his dick to pop out, hitting his navel. You gulp looking down at him, not realizing that he was that big.

You perch up onto your knees and meet JJ’s lips in a rough and lustful kiss. His hands instantly finding your ass before he lays you down once again. However, you sit up, flipping him over so now you were on top.

“Look at you.” JJ says biting his lip, admiring you while bringing his fingers up to your mouth that were previously inside of you. Without any hesitation you wrap your mouth around his fingers and begin to suck.

The image and feeling of you swiping your tongue around his fingers while hollowing out your cheeks almost makes JJ cum on the spot. You pull away, your mouth making a popping sound as his fingers leave your mouth. As you do this you continue to grind on his lap.

“Fuck that was hot.”

You simply smirk at the boy under you before kissing him passionately and sitting back up. You wrap your small hand around JJ’s member and align it up with your entrance. JJ groans at your touch, but you two look at each other to make sure this was okay before doing anything further.

With JJ giving you permission to continue you sink down on his cock, both of you letting out whimpers at the sensation. You wait until you are used to his size before moving.

JJ places his hands on your hips and ass while you start to bounce up and down on his dick. Fuck was it ever hot to see you take control.

“Just like that.” He says biting his lip, trying to contain his groans.

“You look so beautiful.” He says. The moonlight illuminating both of your sweaty bodies. You feel your cheeks heat up even more at the compliment and you continue to bounce up and down with JJ’s assistance.

Without warning JJ quickly sits up wrapping his arms around your body before flipping you back over, his member still deep inside of you. You riding him was satisfying, but JJ couldn’t help himself from being the one directing the show.

JJ thrusts into you and you feel him deeper than you did when you were riding him. “Keep doing that JJ!”

Using your moans as inspiration JJ’s hips snap to meet yours at a faster pace before he throws one of your legs over his shoulder. You didn’t even realize you were that flexible until then, but you weren’t complaining.

Your pussy pulses around JJ’s cock as he starts to thrust into you at a merciless pace. The blond reaches your g-spot and his his thumb falls between your legs, finding it’s way to your clit.

“Holy fuck!” You moan once again. “JJ I’m going to cum.” You whine in between thrusts.

“Then cum for me baby girl.” He whispers, biting your ear softly as his cock hits deeper and deeper inside of you.

Without wasting anytime you allow the coil in your stomach to break for the second time that night. You scratch JJ’s back and softly bite his shoulder knowing you were going to leave marks as your second orgasm washes over you.

JJ could feel his load building up, especially after feeling and watching you come around his cock. He thrusts a few more times before pulling out and cumming on your stomach, since he didn’t put on a condom. He rolls over and collapses beside you.

“That was amazing.” He says regaining his breath and turning his head to look at you. You simply nod your head in agreement a smile appearing on your face as you meet the blond’s gaze.

You two remain laying naked and sweaty at the front of Heywards boat just starring at each other in pure bliss. A smirk appears on JJ’s face while looking at you.

“What?” You ask furrowing your eyebrows.

“Clearly my plan in middle school did end up working.” He says smirking at you.

You roll your eyes, but move closer to him so your head was resting on his chest, “Shut up Maybank.”

A/N this was my first ever smut so let me know what you think and if you have any critiques. Positive feedback is always welcome! :)

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shoutaaizawas · 4 years

Text

↳ pro!hero bakugou katsuki x reader → heal

summary: you’re bakugou’s best friend and work partner and you’ve been in love with him for years. after his girlfriend cheats on him you’re left to pick up the pieces. tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst with a happy ending, very minor injury (blood), cheating (not by bakugou or reader), unrequited love (spoiler but not really) word count: 3,804 a/n: this was my first time writing any x reader. hope you guys enjoy it!

You loved Bakugou Katsuki. That was a fact that you had accepted a long time ago and you were now at peace with that. You had gone to school with him and once you both graduated you worked at the same agency. Your quirks were a good match so you had been working together ever since. When he started his own agency he took you with him.

The thing is, you never told Bakugou that you loved him. He was always so focused you assumed that he wouldn’t want a relationship and frankly despite all the things you had accomplished you were self-conscious and it was hard to think Bakugou would ever settle for someone like you.

A few years ago Bakugou started dating. You could still remember the hurt that burned in your chest as you tried to play it off and tease him like everything was normal. You spent most nights crying yourself to sleep a few weeks after that day.

She was a civilian, who in your opinion was very unlikable. You knew it was petty and you should be more mature but there was something about her that felt off. You figured it was your jealousy. You recalled the time she had ended up in some trouble, you had been able to pull her to safety only. Not only did she not thank you but she gave you an attitude. You figured she didn’t like you because you spent so much time with Bakugou in and out of work. You could understand that to some degree but it didn’t hurt to pretend to be nice.

It was so much easier loving Bakugou from a distance when he was single, you could tell yourself that he would never date anyone or marry them and that being his best friend was the most anyone would ever have. If you could talk to him, joke with him, look after him from his side as a friend you were content.

With him dating the dull ache of unrequited love turned into a dagger in her chest, burning pain only intensified by any movement. You wondered if you should try dating around. Maybe you could find someone who liked you that you could fall in love with and forget about Bakugou. You never got around to it, every time you seriously considered it you thought it’d be unfair to whoever you dated. They deserved someone who truly loved them, not someone trying to put a bandage on a broken heart.

Last week you had caught Bakugou red-handed, a small velvet box in his pocket. Your heart dropped, you thought you had hit rock bottom but it turns out you could always go deeper.

“Is that what I think it is?” You asked, trying to play it off as teasing. You prayed he couldn’t hear the crack in your voice.

“Shut up, it’s none of your business.” He growled back but you knew it was just because he was embarrassed.

“I’m surprised I never saw you as the marriage type.” You tried to say in a nonchalant tone.

“We’re getting old. We have to settle down eventually.” He said. The words stung, you knew he meant them aimed towards himself but you couldn’t help the bile that rose in your throat. I would have settled down with you but now I can’t look at another man without comparing everything about them to you. Who could ever come close to the Bakugou Katsuki.

“Bakugou we’re twenty-six, we just barely became adults if we’re being honest.” You joked.

“Well, I don’t want to be an old parent.” He said, eyes scanning the streets for any trouble. Your heart dropped a little more.

You wondered if you were strong enough to stand by and watch the love of your life get married and have children with another woman. You wondered how long it would be until you had to find an excuse to move away.

“I’m gonna head home since patrol is over.” You said trying to keep your voice steady.

“You aren’t going back to the agency?” He asked giving you an odd look, sensing something off. You knew each other too well.

“No, I have plans later I need to get home fast. I’ll get my paperwork done tomorrow, boss.” You lied about the plans, you needed to get away fast.

It doesn’t get rid of the suspicious look on his face but he doesn’t question you further and you quickly make your exit, barely able to keep it together until you get out of sight. You duck into an alley as tears stream down your face.

You haven’t seen Bakugou today. That concerns you, he never misses work for anything. You can’t count how many times you’ve had to drag him home and force him into bed after he comes into work with a high fever. You make sure things are covered at the agency before heading over to his apartment. Your heart beats quick, he hasn’t replied to your texts. It’s hard to keep the worst-case scenario out of your head.

Knocking on the door to his apartment you get no reply. Pressing your ear to the door you can hear a commotion, fear grips you, and you almost kick the door down before your rational sense tells you to use the key he gave you.

Bakugou’s apartment is a war zone. Furniture is turned over, glass smashed across the ground. You can smell the familiar lingering scent of his quirk. You would have thought he had been robbed if it weren’t from the sound coming from the bedroom.

Opening the door to his bedroom it’s even worse in here somehow. Bakugou is currently smashing picture frames against the wall. It’s distressing to see him so upset and not have a clue what’s going on.

“Bakugou!” You shout hoping to get his attention but he’s blinded by his anger. You let out a huff of frustration before moving closer to him, grabbing his arm as he goes to slam the already mangled frame again.

You’re startled but not shocked as he turns around in the blink of an eye and grabs onto your bicep, fingers digging in you can feel your skin under his hand start to burn.

“Bakugou! Snap out of it!” You shout again. Recognition crosses his face and he looks a little more coherent. You’re waiting for him to say something but he drops to the ground like dead weight, his hands pressing into his palms. You kneel, careful of the glass on the ground.

“Bakugou? What happened?” You ask in a softer voice. He takes so long to reply that you wonder if he will answer.

“She cheated.” You can barely make out the words through his covered face.

“What?” You ask.

“She was cheating on me!” He yelled pulling his hands away, the anger returning. “She was cheating on me for months like it was some game. When I confronted her about it she didn’t even try to defend herself. She wasn’t even upset.”

“Bakugou, I’m so sorry.” Your heart is breaking but not for yourself, this time it’s for the man in front of you that looks broken. You realize that he has cuts all over his body from the damage done to the apartment. “C’mon.” You say holding your hand out to him.

He looks at you confused but takes it. You lead him to his bathroom, sitting him down on the edge of the tub. The first aid kit is under the bathroom sink, you had patched him up here before.

Returning to him you kneel on the ground in front of him. You begin cleaning the cuts that litter his arms, wiping up the blood covering his arms. You look up at him and his eyes look so empty as he stares at the ground past you. Your overwhelmed by the urge to take him in your arms but decide against it. No, you should patch him up first.

You put band-aids on the ones that need them and leave the smaller ones uncovered. You lean up so your eye level with him, he has a cut across his cheek. You’re careful as you dab at it with a cloth, he doesn’t react if it does hurt. You put a band-aid on it before looking him in the eyes, his gaze still on the floor.

It hurts you so much to see him like this, it breaks you. What you would give to have him insulting you about something dumb you did or yelling about how you left your coffee mug on his desk again. Anything other than the painful silence. You lift your hand and softly cup his unharmed cheek, his gaze slowly raises to meet yours. Your thumb gently strokes the skin there hoping that it will soothe him in any way he can be at the moment.

You finally lean forward and embrace him, pressing your face into his shoulder avoiding any of the cuts on him. Your arms circle around his torso and you squeeze him tightly. You wish you could hug him tight enough to put him back together. It takes a moment but he eventually rests his head against your shoulder and he returns the hug. His grip is tight on the back of your shirt and you know he’s trying to pull the broken pieces back together himself. I would do anything for you to make this pain stop, you think.

You don’t know how long you stay there, holding each other tight but eventually you decide you should leave. The last thing he needs is to be stuck in the apartment that he shared with his girlfriend, the one that was currently trashed.

“Let’s go to my place.” You offer. “You can stay as long as you want, you shouldn’t stay here.”

He nods and your stomach drops, normally he would protest even if he agreed with what you wanted to do. It made you feel sick that he gave in so easily. You nod back before standing up and going into his room. You grab a duffel bag and grab his clothes and other things he’ll need while away from his home. By the time you’re done, he’s standing there watching you wordlessly.

“Let’s go.” You say you take his hand in yours. You had known Bakugou for years and worked by his side for most of them, this wasn’t the first time you had held his hand but the conditions were usually different. Normally you were dangling off the edge of a building as he pulled you up or you were dragging him out of harm’s way.

Holding his hand now was different, you could actually take note of what it felt like. His hand was much larger than yours, the callouses on his hand rougher than your own. It was easy to pretend that the circumstances were different, that you were dragging him out of his apartment to your favorite place to grab dinner together instead of taking him home with you to help console him from what had happened.

The car ride is silent, he’s still processing everything that’s happened and you have no words to say. You know that he needs time to think about everything, you refuse to push him to talk. Growing up you had to if you ever wanted him to process his emotions but Bakugou had matured a lot as he grew up and you knew that when he was ready he would talk.

“Here, you can take a shower if you want or you can change into something less torn up.” You say as you press the bag of clothes into his arms. “I’m going to make us lunch.”

“I’m not hungry.” He says. His retort gives you hope that he’s beginning to return to himself and not the empty shell of person who sat on the edge of his tub.

“I doubt you ate breakfast, I know you probably don’t want to eat but I’m making food and you’re going to eat at least a little bit.” You say. He doesn’t argue again, he heads towards your bathroom needing no directions.

You’re glad that you went grocery shopping yesterday. Even more glad that you always make sure to keep the ingredients to make Bakugou’s favorite dish in your fridge in case of emergencies. Or him demanding that you make it for him, as he does at times.

He’s in the shower for a long time. You’re finishing up lunch and you’re about to go check on him when you hear the water stop. You’re plating up the food when he walks into the kitchen wearing a fresh pair of sweat pants and a black shirt. His eyes are red but you don’t comment on it. You shove the bowl of food in his hands.

“Extra spicy, just how you like it.” You tell him as you grab your food. “Let’s sit down.”

You sit down on the couch in your living room eating in silence. Despite his denial of being hungry his food is gone in minutes. You grab his empty bowl from him to take it to the kitchen but before you can get up his hand is grasping your wrist. You look at him and his gaze is on the mark he left on your bicep when you pulled him out of his rage.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is raw and the guilt is clearer than day on his face. He slowly reaches towards your arm, his thumb softly glides at the edge of the minor burn.

“It was an accident.” You tell him in the most genuine tone you can manage, he’s been through enough the last thing he needs is to feel guilty for this. “Besides, I can handle you.” You tease trying to lighten the mood. Your hand covers his own on your arm and you squeeze it to emphasize your point. His hand drops back to his lap after a moment and you leave for the kitchen.

When you return to the living room you see him sitting there, he looks less empty but more annoyed. You figure he’s had enough time to process most of his feelings.

“How did you find out?” You ask, testing the water. If he didn’t reply you’d know he wasn’t ready.

“She left her phone when she left for work, I grabbed it to give it to her before she got out of the building but I saw her notifications.” He said. Pain stings in your chest for him, you can’t imagine how upsetting that would be. “She came back for her phone and I confronted her.”

“What did she have to say?” You ask.

“She acted like she got caught sneaking a cookie before dinner, she barely even cared.” He said, anger returning to his tone. “She’s been with him for six months, she said that she was only ever with me for my money and status. She wanted someone she could brag about.”

“Bakugou,” You said putting a hand on his arm.

“I guess it’s only fair.” He scoffed. “I never loved her either. But I’m still pissed off she made a fool of me.”

“You didn’t love her?” You tried to keep your tone even but it comes out like an exclamation. “Bakugou, you were going to marry her!” You nearly shout. Had you really spend the last year suffering while Bakugou dated someone he didn’t even care about?

“No, it was just convenient.” He answered. “The person I loved, they would never want me. I figured I should just get over it and move on.” His gaze is on the floor.

Your sick again, he didn’t love his girlfriend but he loved someone else. You really couldn’t win, could you?

“Bakugou, why wouldn’t someone want you?” You ask. How could he believe that.

“I’m loud, angry, and rude.” He says. “I’m not good at relationships, I just screw everything up. She deserves someone who will make her happy not burden them with their crappy personality.”

“Don’t say that about yourself!” You scold him. “You’re an amazing man, you’re strong and determined. Even if you don’t show it like other people you care more than most people do about your friends. You would go to the ends of the earth to help them even if you don’t admit it. You’re the best hero I’ve ever seen. You’ve matured so much since we were in high school, you worked on yourself and became a better person. I’ve been by your side for years, don’t you dare say that you aren’t good enough. If anything, anyone you date will never be good enough for you. You’re the best man I’ve ever met, you deserve everything you want in the world.” You take a deep breath after your rant, it takes a moment to realize how much you spilled out.

His eyes are off the floor and he’s staring at you in shock. There’s something in his eyes you don’t recognize but he doesn’t say anything.

“Who’s the lucky lady?” You ask, trying to steel yourself for his answer. Whoever it was you would help him as much as you could to get their affections. It would kill you to watch him fall in love with someone else but more than anything you wanted to see him happy even if it cost you your own happiness.

“It’s you.” He says and the silence is deafening after his words. At first you think you misheard him. You feel dizzy at his admission. This had to be a dream, there was no way. “It’s always been you.”

“I-” You try to speak but there are no words. Your head is spinning, the world falling apart around you in the best of ways.

Bakugou moves slowly, one hand holding your face like it’s delicate glass, the other reaches behind you and pulls you softly to close the distance. He leans in, a breath in between you, you know he’s waiting for you to close the distance. To answer his confession without a word. Once your brain processes it all you lean in a little too excitedly almost knocking your forehead against his.

You move your arms around his shoulders as your lips meet.

With one action the dagger in your chest is suddenly gone and the pain there melts away. You feel like you’re submerged in warmth, laying in a grassy field in gentle sunlight. You kiss him until your lungs can’t take it anymore. As you part you stare into his eyes, they’re filled with so much warmth and love it makes you tear up. You lean back in for another kiss.

“Bakugou-” You say as you pull back.

“Katsuki.” He says. You had used his given name on occasion but it always felt too personal, your heart couldn’t take it.

“Katsuki-” You repeat, it feels right now. A small smile lights up his face, it’s like staring into the sun. “I love you, I’ve loved you since we were kids.”

“Me too.” He replies. You let out a laugh.

“We really wasted a lot of years.” You said, nose brushing against his, arms still around him. It was almost sad the time you could have spent happily together but you’re too excited by the years you’ll get to spend with him going forward.

“We did, I’m not going to waste any more time.” He said before moving in for another kiss.

Bakugou stays at your apartment for two weeks before he mentions moving into a new apartment. With your heart in your throat you offer for him to move in with you, he doesn’t hesitate to say yes.

You help him go through his stuff, tossing anything that was hers but she hadn’t taken or things that remind him of her. You stand at his side as he tosses the ring he bought for her off a bridge even though you told him he should just sell it. He refused, not caring about the money and definitely wanting to avoid the shame of selling an engagement ring.

He didn’t love her, he never did but he still bares the scars of her infidelity. His self-esteem in a relationship was already low but some days it feels even lower when he things about what happened. He knows you would never do the same but regardless you still hold him tighter on those days and you don’t hold back any of your love or admiration for him.

Sometimes he feels embarrassed that it went on so long without him knowing but you reassure him that the only person who should be embarrassed is her. You don’t call him a victim, no he would hate that, but you tell him that he deserves better. You can’t hold back your smile when he says he already has better now that you’re together.

You spend your workdays out on patrol together, your usual banter filling the day as you fight off any villains who dare make a mess in you territory. On your days off you spend time in each other’s arms, basking in the happiness you finally found together or out on dates. Sometimes he drags you hiking even though you hate the bugs and other times you make him go to theme parks and force a pair of mouse ears on him.

It doesn’t take long for Bakugou to propose. Your relationship had been so close for so many years that it becoming romantic didn’t change much. You already knew everything about each other, you knew how to work with each other at your best and your worst. Making it official was a natural step.

Watching him tear up as you walk down the aisle is something burned into your heart and mind and you refuse to let it go as long as you live. Spending the night dancing, eating, and drinking with your closest friends who all were relived you finally got together was an unforgettable time.

You lay beside Bakugou, arms wrapped around each other, legs tangled together. Your head rests on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat. You hold onto each other as if you would lose each other if you let go. You can’t get rid of the big smile on your face as his hands move lazily through your hair nearly lulling yourself back to sleep.

You love Bakugou Katsuki. That was a fact and you were more than happy to spend the rest of your life at his side not just as a friend or partner but as the love of his life and that made you happier than anything ever could.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #x reader #bnha writing

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alreadyblondenow · 3 years

Photo

Not that innocent

▸ Jaemin x reader ▸ 3.438k words ▸ Smut, Angst ? ▸ Swearing, unprotected sex, a lot of kissing, slight nipple play, touching, fingering, mentions of sex, spitting, oral sex female receiving, high school au, older Jaemin, younger by a year reader. ▸ Requested and part of B’s giving back event, Ho Ho Ho?! See anon request message at the end of this drabble.

“I need this job, please listen to me during our sessions. Your mom will seriously fire me from being your tutor” Jaemin whines as he looks at your report card. “I need this job” he repeats and he’s desperate to keep it because he’s saving up for college.

“But you’re so boring and uptight whenever we’re studying-“

“And your mind is full of sex and sex only. Seriously that’s all you say to me”

“Well I can’t help it, you’re attractive and it’s fun teasing you”

“You’re impossible!” He shouts at you, raking his hair away from his face and breathing heavily while he thinks of another strategy to improve your studying. “Fine” he finally blurted out, exhaling a heavy sigh. “I’ll touch you. I’ll do whatever you want just pass your subjects”

You wanted to smirk at him and be proud that you can do it effortlessly but you can’t. Studying is hard. But who would’ve thought that your tutor, who’s innocent in many ways is making a deal with you that includes pleasure? Sure he looks hot and handsome at all times but, he’s Jaemin. All he knows is studying.

“Why are you suddenly quiet?” He sits beside you on your soft bed, still holding your damned report card. “Fine, I’ll lay out the terms and conditions. First, pass your quizzes. All of them, then I’ll touch you” he says in a very shy tone.

What he’s saying now excites the hell out of you so you turned your head towards him and showed him that you’re interested. “What’s the second condition?” You asked with a flirty tone. You watched him gulped before he answers you, turning shy and red as he says “Pass your exams and I’ll eat you-“

“Deal” you were quick to agree with him knowing that you are not sure if you can do it but it’s an opportunity that you will not pass. “I didn’t know you’re capable of this kind of stuff” you smirked at him, sitting pretty on your bed.

“I’m older than you, what do you expect. Besides, you know nothing about me ” he bites back, completely still annoyed at you because of your grades.

After he made that deal with you, Jaemin finds it easier for him to teach you. Surprisingly you are now quiet during your sessions, you whine less about the topics, and you’re improving. If Jaemin is being honest, he is actually scared that you might do a great job this time. But a deal is a deal. You, on the other hand, find studying really hard but everything will be worth it, you thought. It’s like hitting two birds in one stone, you get to have good grades and a handsome senior is willing to go down on you.

In three weeks, you passed all of your quizzes. They’re not perfect, but still, you passed and you impressed Jaemin. You were excited while showing off your scores and teasing him over and over again because he looked nervous. He was staring at the papers, flipping through pages and he looked like he wants to chicken out of the deal. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” you said as you turned your back on him, unbuttoning your school uniform to change into something comfortable but Jaemin is quick with hands and stopped you from changing.

“Let’s get this over with. It’s going to be weird if I touch you immediately so uhm,” he scratches his head and motions you to sit down on the edge of your bed. “Why don’t we make out for a while. Y-you know, to set the mood” he suggests, and you're completely in shock because he’s willing to do it.

He’s standing in front of you, looking so handsome in his school uniform. He bends a little to tuck a hair behind your ear, and slowly he went closer to you. Not even hesitating to plant a soft kiss on your lips. “Am I going to kiss a stone? Or are you going to return the kiss?” He asked.

You looked behind him to check if your door is locked,

it is.

And without hesitation, you swing your arms around his neck and positioned him in between your dangling legs on the edge of your bed. Your lips moved in a way that felt good for both of you, smiling in between kisses when you felt his hands unbutton your school uniform so you did the same to him. Effortlessly, he unclasps your bra which made you stopped returning the kiss and prevent your bra from falling. “You don’t like it?” He was worried for a second, he thought he had violated you.

“N-no. I’m just shocked you know how to unclasp a bra so easily” you let out an awkward laugh and Jaemin did too, he kissed you again and he is the one who removed your bra and throw it on the floor. You lied down on your bed comfortably, feeling shy because it’s Jaemin. He crawls on your bed, towering you and looking at you like he’s about to fuck you. But he’s not... right? He’s just going to touch you.

“What if I couldn’t stop myself and we have sex in the end, do you have a condom?” He shamelessly asked you that question that made your body heat up in an instant. His hand travels from your ankle all the way up to your thighs and plays with the hem of your panties under your skirt. He lowers himself on your half-naked body and kissed you oh so slowly.

It was lustful.

The way he kisses you right now is so different from earlier. But maybe it’s different now because he’s touching you already. When you asked for air pulled away from the kiss, he didn’t stop but he turned to your neck, kissing it slowly, feeling his hot tongue glide on the part that makes you weak, close your eyes, and part your lips.

But not for long.

His lips travel down, in the valley between your boobs, and your eyes automatically opened when you felt his tongue on your nipples. Teasing it to make it hard, sucking it to make it swollen. You thought that this is all it. That he doesn’t have anything more up his sleeves but you’re wrong. He parts your legs and pull your panties to the side with one hand and play with your wet slit.

Up and down. Very slowly. “Fuck” you said in an airy tone, brows furrowing and hands gripping your bed sheets tightly.

“Jaemin, is y/n there with you already? I’ll get back to you guys to bring you some snacks, okay?”

“Y-yeah, mom. That would be great! We’re almost done here, there’s not much work for school today” you shout back to your mom so she won't suspect. You hear footsteps fading and your heart was thumping so fast you thought that your mom will catch you and Jaemin. You were so busy being nervous that you didn’t even notice that Jaemin didn’t stop sucking your boobs and fingering you. But once you’re back to reality, he stopped and faced you.

“That’s it for today” he winked and teased you before putting your panties back and removing his finger. He turned his back at you and buttoned his school uniform quickly before your mom arrives with the food. You, on the other hand, did not waste any second to go to the bathroom and change into your house clothes.

What happened between you and Jaemin changed the way you think of each other especially you. You used to see him as this innocent guy but now every time you see him around the school, suddenly your knees become weak and you remember everything he did to you on that unforgettable afternoon after school.

What happened between you and Jaemin pushed you to study even harder so you can feel his lips on your lips again, so he can put his hand under your skirt again, and of course, so he can finally eat you.

“You okay?” his voice brought you back to reality while he put his stuff on the table and start studying with you. You nod as your answer and went back to putting your stuff on the table too. “I need to study for something too, but if you have questions regarding the activity that I gave you just tell me”

He rarely studies with you but when he does, you seriously find him very attractive. The way he writes in his notebook and the way he concentrates on what he’s reading is very sexy to you that it makes you wet this instance. So you shook your head and focused back on what you’re answering.

After a few minutes of solving some math questions, you feel his hand on your knee and touch it without looking at you. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he asked, still not looking at you. But you can’t speak because you’re too shy to tell him ‘don’t stop’ so you came closer to him and moved your stuff near him. He snorted and let out a low giggle, “thought so too” he says, and continue to caress your knee all the way up to your thighs under your skirt. Touching your skin while he reads his workbook, flipping pages like how he normally does like he’s not doing something to you under the table.

He didn’t touch you further after your study session with him. He said goodbye and good night to you and your mother before he heads home.

“Well, what do we have here, good exams mark. Shit, I feel proud. You did great, I must admit and I’m beyond impressed” he looks at your test papers and felt really proud because your scores were more than okay, they were great.

“I think I deserved more than having your mouth on my pussy then” you teased him. Lifting your skirt, and unbuttoning your school uniform in front of him. He shook his head in disbelief and pushed you on your bed, making you both giggle and laugh while you let your bodies bounce on your mattress. He tucked a few strands of your hair behind your ear again, just like the first time he touched you, “if I have a condom, I would definitely have sex with you. But I don’t”

“And I don’t have either, fuck” you whine.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you cum now. I didn’t get to make you cum last time, we didn’t have time. But now, we definitely have time” and without further discussions, he slammed his lips on your lips and quickly unbuttoned your uniform and removed your skirt until you’re only wearing your matching underwear.

“Why do you need me naked? Were not fucking right?” you giggled as he pulls away from you, watches him strip in front of you, and reveal his hard rocked abs for the first time.

“Just go with it” he went back to kissing you and situates himself in between your parted legs. Kissing and grind your bodies on each other, touching and moaning shamelessly like you did this a hundred times.

Whenever you’re in bed with Jaemin you seem to have no control over anything, he is the one controlling you in bed and you like it. He flips your body effortlessly and putting you on your stomach, before removing your panties and unclasping your bra. You don’t know but Jaemin is now naked like you on your bed for the first time now, and he is in awe seeing you like this.

“I want to see you-“ you tried turning your body to see the naked handsome guy, at your back but he stopped you. Pinned your body on the mattress and kissed your shoulders with wet lustful kisses.

“Sshh” is all he said before lifting your hips, making you arch your body and parting your legs from behind. He swipes his thumb on your wet slit to make you moan and turned on before he finally licks your cunt with one long stripe. Making your legs weak in an instant. His hands spread your ass cheeks and wet folds whenever he wants to gain more access to your cunt, while all you can do is take whatever he gives you.

Fingering you from behind with two fingers inside your cunt, licking you mercilessly, spitting on your cunt, and slurping it. He did everything he wanted before he makes you cum and making your legs shake uncontrollably. When he finally flips you on your back and finally seeing him naked, your body felt hot and your eyes heavy already but you’re smiling weakly.

“Don’t you sleep on me, we're having so much fun” he kisses your tummy to tickle you, and wake up until his mouth is near your boobs again, ready to suck your nipples. You can feel the hardness of his cock, poking your thigh while he’s busy with your boobs m. You didn’t expect him to be this big, and you’re somehow thankful that he doesn’t have a condom now because for sure his cock won’t fit you.

Until his mouth was too much and you unconsciously lifted your hips and glide your wet slit on his cock. He stopped what he’s doing and you’re quick to apologize, “No. Don’t apologize. I like it, do it again”

You didn’t think it through and followed Jaemin, you watched him lose his mind while he's on top of you and you’re moving your hips to wet his hard cock. He lowers himself to you making it easier for you to tease him and make him feel good, but he made you stopped and told you, “I’ll take it from here” the moment he took charge, it was like he was fucking you but not really.

But still, it felt so fucking good that you’re both moaning louder than before.

“I think I’m gonna cum again” you admitted, moving your head from side to side and arching your body to ease the sensitivity. You don't know but Jaemin is really horny right now, and he is about to do something he’ll sure regret afterward.

“Fuck it” he murmured. You thought he was going to kiss you but turns out he was going to ask you something, “Do you trust me?” He asked in a very low tone, lips on your cheek while his body continues to grind on top of you. He intertwines both of his hands with yours and put them above you. He looked so fucking hot and handsome at the same time. “Let’s fuck raw, I’ll pull out. Trust me”

He was breathing heavily and gasping sharply, kissing you deeply while he waits for your answer. You’ve never had sex without a condom and the risk scares you, but you’re too horny now and you want the same thing. So you nod your head yes and let out an airy ‘fuck’ when you finally felt him push inside you slowly. Gripping his hand tighter, and breathing heavily as he put his whole cock inside you.

“You feel so fucking-“ he thrust, “good” hard. Harder than you could ever imagine. And you love it.

His hips were quick, lips never leaving yours, catching each other’s moans while praising each other. And when you’re ready to let go for the second time, you bit his shoulder as you cum so hard feeling your legs shake again. Jaemin continued to thrust until he’s on edge, pulls out to pump his cock and cum on your stomach.

The pleasure was too much for both of you.

He lied down beside you and catch his breath, waiting for you to calm down too. He wanted to kiss you more, but he’s feeling the regrets now. So he simply checks up on you and asked if you’re fine. “More than fine” you answered, raking his hair away from his face. He smiled sweetly at you and covered you with youranket.

Having better grades and passing all your subjects in exchange for pleasure has done you good, but seeing your mom pays Jaemin for the last time hurt you a little. His job is done here. “Don’t worry, we can still see each other in school”

“Yeah but you’re graduating and we only have two weeks left for school”

“You’ll be fine” he smiles handsomely and embraced you tightly. “Go inside now,” he said.

And after that day, everything changed. You didn’t get to talk to Jaemin like how you used to because he’s graduating and busy preparing for college. Until one day the news came to you that he left already. Without even saying goodbye to you.

A year quickly passed by and you just graduated from high school and you’re busy packing your stuff for college. The doorbell rings and you call for your mom to get it but turns out she went outside without telling you. When you opened the door you’re surprised that Jaemin is in front of you now, shocked like you but he was smiling so big while you’re anger slowly balls and you couldn’t stop yourself from hitting him.

“Aw! Stop it- what did I do?” He whines.

“You didn’t say goodbye asshole!” You shouted.

“Hey, watch your mouth I’m still older than you. Jeez- okay, stop it. Seriously-“ You left him at your front door and didn’t even invite him inside. “Is your mom here?” he asked and invited himself in.

“Nope she went outside, I don’t know where” you answered and gave him the cold shoulder.

“How are you?” he smiled like he’s teasing you and you’re still not amused. “Heard you got into your dream college, wow. You’re studying really hard now, huh?”

“All thanks to you” you said and remembered everything from the past. From the way, he kissed you to how he came on your stomach. “You’re not here for my mom aren’t you?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I'm here for you” he admitted shyly. “I wanted to apologize. I kept thinking about you” he walked closer to you, but you went back to your room. He followed you of course, and while walking in the hallway he remembered how you two walked in this same hallway with your school uniforms. It feels like it's only yesterday, now you’re both in college.

He closed your door like how he usually does and watched you pack your stuff. He scans your room and noticed that you grew up well even without him. The magazines on your study table that you used to have are now thick books, he even noticed that your walls are full of sticky notes you use for studying and memorizing and that makes him happy because he taught you that strategy.

When you felt his presence behind you, you feel his hands on your shoulders and caging you with his. You missed him. “I’m sorry. I’m here now” he turned your body to face him, tucked your hair behind your ear, and kissed you.

And just like that your anger is nowhere to be found. “I missed you too,” you said, and came closer to him and hug him. Apologized for hitting him earlier.

“Do you have a condom now?” you both let out a laugh before you kissed again like good old times, undressing each other and praising each other in between kisses. He didn’t need a condom to be honest because he can always pull out, and besides sex with Jaemin is not sex if it’s not done raw.

Your leg is on his shoulder as he fucks you slow a deep this time, hands on your boobs while watching you lose yourself underneath him and after a few good minutes, he’s pumping his cock and cumming on your stomach again. As usual, he made your legs shake. He’s the only guy that can do that to you, Jaemin is still the best fuck you’ve ever had.

“Is this the part where you’re going to leave again without saying goodbye?” he smiles at you.

“No don’t be like that, I said I’m sorry, right?”

“Right” you smiled back at him and tried reaching for a kiss but he avoided you.

“Don’t do that I might fall in love with you” he admitted.

“I thought you already have feelings for me- what if I want you to fall in love with me Jaem?” He didn’t answer you but he gave you a kiss on the forehead and left you. Truth is, he never felt anything for you. And after the first time he had sex with you, he felt bad because he realized he loved the sex but he doesn’t love you. No. He just can't say it to you yet.

I got carried away, sorry. 3k is too much. And sorry I didn’t follow much from your request and changed it. 1, I don’t have any experience with roleplay sex so I have ni idea how to it write that part. I searched for something about that, but I’m not sure If what I’m reading is what you want so I scratched that just to make sure. sorry. 2, i scratched the ‘during christmas’ because again, i’m sorry if this is super late :((( i feel so bad. but thank you for your request.

#nct smut #jaemin smut #neosmutcollective #nct-writers #kpopscape #neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct dream smut #jaemin angst #jaemin x reader #nct jaemin x reader #nct x reader

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scuttling · 3 years

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While I'm writing Dad!Bod Hotch with babies... 🥺

...Here's a very baby excerpt from one of my other works (modified a little so it can be read as reader.) It's pretty cute if I do say so myself! Tags: 18+, NSFW, Blow job + Pregnant sex The next child abduction case they get happens a year later, and it takes them to Seattle; rain beats down on the Sullivan house while she and JJ sit with the family and try to keep them informed of what’s going on in terms of the investigation. The mother stares out the window at the rain, and she brings over the cup of tea she’d offered to make, sets it down on the table beside her, takes her trembling hands.

“I promise you, Mrs. Sullivan, our team is doing absolutely everything they can to locate your son safely. They are the best in the world at what we do; we just need to let them do their jobs.”

Mrs. Sullivan frowns, takes a sobbing breath, and then wraps her arms around her; she’s a little startled by it, but rubs her back, trying to provide comfort.

After a couple minutes, Mrs. Sullivan pulls back, and she offers her a tissue.

“Do you have any children?” she asks, wiping her eyes.

“Yes. He’s seven years old, and his name is Jack.”

They find the boy five hours later. Alive.

She and Aaron have celebration sex on every available surface.

“Hey. So, I got three or four calls from my doctor’s office a couple weeks ago, but I was preoccupied with the Sullivan case and I kept forgetting to call her back,” she says later from Aaron’s lap. He sits up, holding her hips while he shifts his weight.

“Okay. Is everything alright? Why was she calling so often?”

“Apparently, my IUD expired a month ago. I have to get it taken out.” He looks cautiously over her face, like he’s not sure what reaction she wants from him. She’s fairly certain she knows what his first instinct is. “Well, Jack and I were at the grocery store when I spoke to her—and you know I’ve been feeling a little off…” She wets her lips, reaches over the arm of the couch and pulls a little cardboard box off the console table. She can see his breath hitch.

“Have you taken it?” She nods quickly, presses her lips together.

“Just waiting now.” Carefully, he reaches for the box, takes it out of her hand, and sets it back down on the table. He pulls her close for a tight hug.

“Whatever happens, I love you so much,” he murmurs in her ear, and they just hold each other until the timer on her phone goes off. She brushes her hand through his hair, and his eyes are wet; she knows hers are too.

She climbs out of his lap, and he follows her down the hall, clinging to her back like he can’t physically let her go. When they make it to the bathroom, she picks up the test, squeezes her eyes briefly shut, and holds it up so he can read the word on the screen.

The word.

She spins in his arms, wraps hers around him, and jumps up and down, the grin splitting her face nothing compared to the gorgeous smile that lights up his.

“I’m going to see if Dr. Rose can fit me in tomorrow,” she says, leaning up to smooch him several times in a row. “Just to be sure.”

“Let me know, I’ll come.” She nods, kisses him a few more times, takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“I love you so much.” He holds her, repeats it, kisses her forehead, her eyes. Then he starts kissing her for real, reverent and steamy, and they walk gracelessly toward the bedroom, tugging articles of clothing off as they go.

She is kneeling over him on the bed, giving him a very good, messy, ‘Congrats, you’re probably going to be a daddy again!’ blow job when she pulls back suddenly, an overwhelming thought crossing her mind; she looks up at him with wide eyes.

“You know my brother has two sets of twins, right?” “A package came from your brother today,” Aaron says a couple months later as he’s leafing through the mail; he holds it out to her, and she opens it up, excited, then covers her mouth, can’t help but aww. “What is it?” he asks, not looking up from the stack of envelopes, and she puts her hand on his arm to get his attention.

“‘For the Hotchner siblings’—that’s what the card says,” she explains when he looks up, and then she holds up the largest t-shirt: it’s brown, with a cartoon bear cub, white letters spelling out Brother Bear. She holds up a smaller shirt: Sister Bear #1. Then another small shirt: Sister Bear #2. He smiles.

“Okay, that’s cute. We have to FaceTime him and thank him.”

“Definitely. He’s not going to believe how big this belly is,” she says, reaching up on her toes for a kiss; he comes at her from the side, because it’s easier to reach her lips that way. “Uh, Hotch, we need you down in the bullpen. She's crying and we can’t get her to stop,” Spencer says into the phone, looking a little freaked. Aaron must agree to come down, because he hangs up the receiver wordlessly; JJ rubs her shoulders, trying to comfort her.

“It’s okay, I completely understand. It’s normal to feel like that at this stage of the pregnancy,” she explains, and it’s all sounding very rational, but she just covers her eyes and keeps crying.

When Aaron crouches down beside her, he takes her hands carefully off of her face, wipes her tears with his sleeve, peers up at her with soft eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I want…” She gulps, sniffles, and Prentiss hands her a tissue over the desk partition. “Thank you. I want these babies out of me,” she sobs, and she knows she’s making a huge scene, but she doesn’t even care. “I want your babies out of me, Aaron!” He sighs; she knows he’s heard it all before.

“I know, honey, but you have to be patient. It will happen when it’s meant to.” She sobs, then hiccups, and that’s just great.

“But I’m—I’m drinking the stupid tea, I’m eating the dates. I got the, the acupuncture—do you know how weird it is to see those needles sticking out of your body? It’s unsettling!”

Morgan returns from Garcia’s office, takes one look at them, and abruptly pivots on his heel to head back.

“Oh sure,” she calls, and then hiccups, “everyone sees a crying pregnant woman and they just run away!”

“Noo, he just texted me!” Spencer lies, waving his phone that he never even looked at. “He said he forgot something and he’ll be right back.”

“Spencer, tell me what else can induce labor, please,” is all she says, doesn’t call him out because it’s sweet that he even tried. He counts off with his fingers as he recites the list.

“Raspberry leaf tea, dates, castor oil—” she grimaces, because that shit’s the worst “—acupressure, acupuncture, exercise.” He hesitates, looks a little uncomfortable, and she hiccups, gets pissed, takes a deep breath.

“Sweetie, honey,” she says, reaching out a hand for him, and he takes it, pats it awkwardly. Bless his heart. “You’re my partner, and I love you, but please spit it out.”

“Okay, uh. Nipple stimulation, and uh. Well. Sex.” Oh, yeah, the nipple thing they tried, but it felt like a restless cat trying to get comfortable on her chest, wasn’t sexy at all, so they didn’t try the rest. She snaps her fingers at Aaron like a douchebag asking for the waitress, wipes her face, hiccups again.

“Okay, we’re doing it, we’re doing that one. Sex me up.” Prentiss barks a laugh, and Spencer looks deeply disturbed. “Please can we go home now?”

“Uh, yes, we can,” Aaron begins, “but I’m not sure we should—” Nope, she’s not gonna listen to that bullshit. He hasn’t been pregnant for 42 fucking weeks.

“I love you, but shut up. Your dick put these things inside me, and your dick’s gonna get them out.” She moves to stand, and so does he, arms out like he’ll catch her if she starts to wobble. “I know I’m not sexy anymore with this gigantic stomach, but please please please just fuck me.” He closes his eyes, sighs like he regrets so much in life, and then gives her a hard kiss on the mouth. It makes her, like, instantly horny; she’d initiate sex right here if she thought she could get her pants off.

“You are as sexy as you’ve ever been,” he murmurs, hovering over her lips, “and I’m going to fuck you.” Sex this big sucks. Missionary is hilarious, doggy is uncomfortable, side by side seems okay but is actually kind of impractical. She feels betrayed.

Aaron helps her get on top of him—his dick is so hard it makes her feel really, really good about herself—and she’s more than okay with bouncing on him, but her belly bounces too, and it feels weird.

“Can you hold it?” she pants, and she takes the hair tie off her wrist and sweeps her hair into a ponytail because she’s sweating from all the position-shifting. “Just like, hold it.” She takes his hands and rests them on her enormous beach ball belly, sighs because it feels nice. “Good, yeah, thank you, let me try again.”

She braces herself against his thighs, rides him quickly, bucking hard—after about 15 years of wishing she had bigger breasts, she now despises hers, and therefore avoids them at costs, but she does manage to reach her clit, and she rubs it furiously as she moves atop him.

Aaron—who is so great, and sweet, who she loves so much—is all but useless, just holds her belly still and groans like he’s getting the best pussy of his lifetime, which she guesses maybe he is, because she wants these babies out and she’s well and truly desperate. “Oh, fuck, baby,” he grinds out, and his hands move to her thighs, squeezing hard, and she whines.

“No, no, do not come, don’t come.”

He comes.

An hour later, they try again, with her propped up on a pillow, her legs dangling over the edge of the bed. The internet said this would work, and if it doesn’t, she’s prepared to let BoyMom282 fucking have it.

“Oh my god, yes, yes,” she moans, clutching at the sheets above her head, and Aaron’s hands feel so good on what remains of her waist as he pounds into her. “Fuck, yes, fuck me until your babies are ready, Aaron. Such a fucking man, knocking me up with two babies at once—you can help me get them out, can’t you, daddy?”

He groans long and loud, and she puts a hand on his, squeezes hard.

“Don’t. Come. I swear to god if you come inside me right now, it will be the last time you ever do it.”

He comes, but luckily for him, she comes first. “So, tell us which is which,” Garcia leads, visibly excited, and she leans back against Aaron’s body, looks at the sweet baby girl in his arms.

“This one is Camila,” she says, touching her teeny tiny little foot, “and Spencer’s holding Mia. Mia Clarita Hotchner Cortes—Clarita after my mother—and Camila Marie Hotchner Cortes.”

“Marie after my mother,” Aaron explains, and he puts an arm around her, which she snuggles happily against. “We’re just waiting for Jack—he should be here any minute.” Spencer hands Mia back to her, and she kisses her forehead.

“This is the best day of your mama’s life,” she coos, touching her soft, dark, fuzzy baby hair. Her heart swells. “I was going to become daddy’s next unsub if you little cuties didn’t vacate my uterus in a timely fashion.”

She can hear the squeak of Jack's shoes coming through the door, and she looks up at Aaron with a grin. When Jack comes around the bed and sees the girls, his eyes get big. “Whoa, are these my sisters?” Haley pops in behind him, and she smiles at them.

“Yeah, buddy, come here,” she says, gesturing for him with her free arm. “This is Mia, and this is Camila.”

“Gentle like we practiced,” Aaron reminds him when he reaches out to touch Camila’s face, and she and Haley both roll their eyes, then laugh.

“He knows, sweetie.” She watches their interaction with so much love, then brushes her fingers over Jack’s hair. “You’re going to be the best brother bear ever, aren’t you?” He looks up at her, grins; he’s missing a tooth just to the left of the front ones, and she’s obsessed with that little gap.

“Yep, I’m going to read them stories and share my toys and play with them at the park.”

“They’re lucky to have you,” Aaron says, leaning down to look into his eyes. “And so are we, buddy.” “And do you, Aaron Hotchner—”

“Da-ah-addy!” someone sobs—Mia, she mouths to Aaron across from her—and she sees JJ step out from behind her, trying to soothe her so they can proceed, but she’s not having any luck. Mia is a daddy’s girl, and the fact that she can see him, but she’s not in his arms, is like a mortal sin to her.

She gets it, she really does. She felt that way every day for two years.

When it’s obvious she’s not calming down, the officiant clears her throat and tries again, but Mia’s wailing just gets louder. Aaron smiles, shrugs.

“Sorry. It’s okay—here, Mia, daddy’s right here,” he assures, reaching out to take her from JJ, and he wipes her eyes, her red nose, and bounces her on his hip for a moment until she settles. She shoots them what she’s sure is a sickeningly sweet glance and then turns around and asks for Camila; Emily hands her off with a big smile.

Aaron grins when she puts her on her hip, and he reaches behind him for his best man, Jack, encourages him to come forward so he’s standing between them. She smiles at him, touches his face, and nods at the officiant, who takes a deep breath and proceeds.

“Do you, Aaron Hotchner, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” They opted not to write their own vows, because their vows are living, breathing things between them, three perfect little heartbeats. Anything more felt unnecessary.

“By the power vested in me by the state of Virginia, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” He does, so well she thinks she might get pregnant again, and then they each kiss their three babies, and she silently marvels over the fact that all it took was being clobbered over the head with a fire extinguisher for her life to end up this perfect. “Did you know that your chance of having a second set of fraternal twins jumps to 12% after you’ve had the first?” Spencer asks as they’re gathered in the briefing room one morning. She and Aaron are standing up front, pressed close together, nodding patiently. “And considering they run in your family, and that your brother has two sets of fraternal twins, I’d say that statistically the odds are more likely doubled.”

She looks over at Aaron, whose eyes are filled with love and awe and also some pretty sexy other things, and then pulls the ultrasound image out from the little envelope, holds it out for the team to see.

In unison, they answer, “We know.”

They get a package in the mail later that week: One Jack-sized t-shirt—Brother Bear #1—and two tiny t-shirts—Sister Bear #3 and Brother Bear #2. She and Aaron stop by the hospital to visit a friend after surgery and she can't resist walking past the maternity ward. Something about seeing all of those brand new, healthy, happy babies rejuvenates her after a tough case, and the one they'd finished up earlier in the week had been one of the toughest.

A woman comes to stand beside her as she looks at the babies, wearing sweatpants and a hospital gown—she's maybe 30, so just a few years younger—and she smiles brightly at the woman. "New mom?"

"Yeah, she's the one right there," the woman says with a grin, pointing to a sweetly sleeping little girl. "Isn't she perfect?"

"They're all perfect," she sighs, "but she is very beautiful. Congratulations." The woman's smile turns warmer, softer.

"Thank you. Do you have any children?" She's so wrapped up in the dreamy haze of little babies wiggling their toes that she almost doesn't hear the question.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, five of them: Adrian, Isabella, Mia, Camila, and Jack." The woman's eyes go extremely wide, and she laughs, because she's so very used to that. Aaron steps up on her other side, wraps an arm around her waist.

"Thought I might find you here," he says, and he smiles politely at the woman, who's looking like she may never open her legs again. "Can't resist looking at the babies."

"I just love babies," she says sweetly, and she stretches up for a kiss. "Do you ever think we should have another, just to even it out?"

"Hmm. Yes, but knowing us, they'll be twins again, so it's probably best we stick with five." He bends for another kiss, and she pulls him close; when she remembers where they are, she pulls back, to shoot the new mom a sheepish smile, but she's already gone. She sighs.

"Fair enough. But do you want to go home and practice anyway?"

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #dad bod hotch #something stupid #third time's the charm... kept messing this post up

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