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hollyhomburg · 5 months

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Before I Leave You (Pt.63)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: you never thought that just cuddling with Hobi on a cold day could lead to this; his pants off and you begging "Daisy please-"

Tags: fluff, a little hurt but mostly just comfort, first times, soft cuddle sex, unintentional mutual somnophilia, knotting, scenting, under clarified limits, a touch of slick kink, breeding kink, a touch of size kink (you know the good stuff), unrealistic amounts of cum, implied belly bulge, implied feral sex, small triggers after sex, small references to past abusive relationships, hole check's, knot checks, dom/sub undertones to later scenes but not in the main smut,

W/c: 14.2k

A/n: thank you guys for being patient for this next chapter :) it's one of my favorites so please give it lots of love! i know we've all been waiting for hobi's confession and the completion of their arc, did i do it justice? Also i'm sorry that i have a pathological need to end every single chapter with a cliffhanger lol, this one is no different!

Previous part ~ Masterlist

(5 years ago. Before Yoongi. Before everyone.)

Jung Hoseok cleans his arms in a bathroom. He is 21 years old, there is lipstick on his fingers, and nothing bad has happened to him yet.

Bad is all relative of course. Some would call growing up in a rich area while living in a one-bedroom apartment bad. Some people would call not really knowing your parents because they work late nights bad. Some would even say that the fact that they won’t pay for Hoseok’s college education a fucking tragedy.

But between you and me and Hoseok; other people wouldn't know a fucking tragedy if it hit them in the fucking face. Talking to some people about your suffering is like trying to make a toddler shoot the broad side of a god damn barn with a double barrel shotgun. Or like those little lemon slices they put in the water at olive garden-

It's fucking useless. And you're more likely to be sent to the hospital than get some actual fucking results. Weather it's because of food poisoning, a bullet wound, or because some idiot you trusted thinks you're a god damn suicide risk.

See right? Talking about your problems is fucking useless.

But he’s always been able to focus on the brighter side of things. It's a blessing and a curse because optimism always lies to you. It's easier to be happy than it is to be upset, at least for Hoseok at this moment.

At least he was an optimist until they ruined him a little. After this year, finding the silver will take effort.

The tiles beneath his feet are cold to the touch. He knows that there’s a button somewhere to turn on the heated flooring but he just can’t find it. Hidden and unfamiliar as he is with this den. So different from his own little dormitory halfway across the city.

This fancy three-bedroom apartment is one that he will move into in precisely 4 months once they make it official, he’ll live here for exactly 2 years 3 months, and 8 days before being kicked out and moving into the pack's den. It’s exactly 2 years to the date that he meets Min Yoongi in the record store.

But nothing bad has happened to him yet. Today he is just himself, No idea of what's about to befall him and that It won't just be bad.

This apartment is upscale, with its wainscotting and long gauzy curtains that barely keep out the sound of the city streets 5 stories below and the lightly warm June morning. He’s not quite sure who pays for this one yet. Hasn’t had the chance to ask, he's only been seeing this pack for 2 months. This Hoseok is shyer than the one you know. Timid and unsure of where he should place his dulled claws.

It's all awfully mysterious. The question of "What do your parents do?" and the answer pressed to a raised finger. The truth lingering between lipstick and manicure on a single giggled breath.

"That's a secret"

He casts a glance around the bathroom, the marble counters, the plush hand towels, and even the designer soap is forghein to him.

Rich people.

It's one part tired jealousy and one part true distaste. Even if Hoseok had all the money in the world he wouldn't waste it on painting a bathroom white or powdery Dior soap. Why not blue or orange or green or pink?

(Oh Hobi. The pack’s bathroom will be green one day, with delicate tiles in the shade of the lightest moss. Not yellow-toned and not blue. he's going to help yoongi pick it out, He just doesn’t know it yet).

Their apartment is just a few blocks from the college that he attends, a freshman but not for much longer. A freshman, along with the pack's youngest. Her on the business track and him in a weed-out art department. The prerequisite humanities course is their shared battleground.

Out of everything in this story, this is the only true coincidence.

This version of Hoseok likes omegas with a bit of a dark side. The ones that are a bit bitchy, a bit entitled and alot pretty. The ones that hone their eyeliner to a vicious edge, or the male ones that act a little bit more like alphas and disobey gender norms. That’s what drew his eye to this pack's youngest in their hum 1 class.

He got a little melty when her eyes turned less “I’ll kill you if you even sniff in my direction” and more “A pretty alpha like you has to have a pack right?”

Hoseok had stuttered when he’d said that No- he didn’t.

Before long he’ll drop out because he just can’t cut it at art school. Just can’t spend nights with fingers black from charcoal, working on things that will one day be thrown in the garbage because he’ll have a pack to attend to. Good alpha that he is.

(It will be years before he realizes that it wasn't art school just mediums. He’s meant to use flowers to make things instead.)

They’re not his pack yet, not yet. not yet. Not Yet- But there is a gift waiting for him downstairs. A fancy set of pastels and paints. It’s the start of courting even though he’s supposed to be the one buying them gifts. He’s the penniless college student they’re the ones with the nice apartment. He’s the one with the knot, and they’re all omegas. It’s a give-and-take.

Yet somehow even though he’ll be the only alpha he knows he won’t be the pack alpha.

He cleans the lipstick from his fingers. Bright red. He knows he has it in other places too, down below the tugged low hemline of his pants pulled on after they were done fucking.

The last thing he wants to be is like the other alphas in the fraternities on campus, the ones that holler at all the omegas shit like “I can taste your slick from here baby,” and “want to study anatomy together? I’m a hands-on learner” Hobi dreads the idea that he might be like that. Even a little bit. Even unintentionally.

But still, their words from earlier ring in his ears.

“They haven’t been dating for that long, you can’t expect us to be comfortable all the time with you in our nest, it's a really intimate thing for us."

Hobi feels like one of those phraternity alphas when it makes him uncomfortable.

It’s reasonable that they wanted to give his knot a ride and try him out before they make it official. One alpha and four omegas, these odds are every alpha’s wet dream. He knows his performance was Oscar-worthy.

It had been nice to be in a nest for just a little bit, Hoseok’s biology wants it, the tense knot between his shoulders all loose.

Hoseok has never been loved by someone who wanted to talk to him every day, it will be easy for them to reduce his focus to their beck and call.

There's 4 different colors of lipstick on his cock. Four different shades from four different women. His new packmates get to the carrot part of the carrot and stick arrangement.

In the future, he’ll deny that he ever thought of any of these women as that- as packmates. He'll say it was only ever Namjoon’s pack that he wanted in this way. He’ll say it never compared and it didn’t. Except for these first few months. These first few days.

Memories lie to us all the time; memory is the best secret keeper.

He watches one of his packmates sit on the edge of the nest, she wears the lipstick prints better than he does. Lining the inside of her thighs, her own lips smudged.

Hoseok doesn’t let the smile fall from his lips and she smiles back. She tugs her long hair free of a bun that she’d put it up in so that she didn’t get slick in it. It will be a few more months until she cuts it above her collarbones. Blunt to a brutal edge.

Hoseok’s sweatshirt is on the edge of the nest, and Hoseok watches as she brings it to her nose, breathing in deep. Hoseok is just about to say that she can wear it when she throws it onto a nearby ottoman. Not onto the floor thankfully. No omega has ever worn his sweatshirt before. Hoseok tries not to let the rejection of his scent sting.

She looks at the lipstick on Hoseok, there’s a bit on his lip. “Come here.” She asks, parting her legs.

Hoseok is a good alpha and goes.

~-~

(Now, You and Hobi)

When Hobi wakes it's because the pack is moving around the room, bickering, and struggling to be quiet, bickering a little.

Their low hum drum voices as they talk about “Jungkookie? where did you put my mittens?” and ”I sort of love that you still wear mittens, babe.” Yoongi’s deep rumble, “Did Jimin buy those for you too?” All teasing and understanding. Because if anyone knows how Tae likes to be teased, Yoongi does.

Tae’s fond little croon is so melodic it makes Hobi sigh, ears straining to hear more of it. “Yes, he did. Got pup matching ones too.”

Pup. that’s you. Curled in the center of the nest under Hobi's elbows. dozing but unable to lift your head from where it's pillowed. You’re sure that Yoongi knows you’re kind of awake or at least listening in because Yoongi knows everything.

You’re sure that as he looks down at you and Hobi tangled together, he’s doing it with a smirk. You don’t need to open your eyes and double-check.

The temperature of the nest is balmy, overly warm in the way that it gets when it’s cold outside and the nesting is hitting so particularly good that Hobi won’t even think of moving. (The way it feels when you come out of the cold and into the waiting arms of someone you love) Hobi nuzzles into the warmth in front of him.

A small storm brews outside. The snow has been falling since midday. Just a little here and there. But Tae loves how it looks with all the Christmas lights. There aren’t quite enough up yet but the holiday season is close.

But the snow won't last, soon it won’t be falling at all. It will all melt off by tonight, the afternoon is supposed to be sunny. Can sun showers happen with snow?

"Do you think we could walk all the way to the gym, it's not all that far! only like 10 miles. We could run it in like an hour!"

He listens to the others talk. The sound of Yoongi’s voice, gravely and vaguely upset. “Jungkook, you’re not really thinking about going to work out right now- You’ve barely been home for like 5 hours. I just said we could go do something not run 10 fucking miles.”

Jungkook always gets this way; when the dizziness of the seizures turns to restlessness and he's honestly fine but the others can't resist trying to baby him. Too awake to sleep anymore. He sounds grumpy, whiney, and pouty even though Hobi's eyes aren't open to see him turn his puppy eyes on Yoongi. “I’m never going to be able to sleep tonight if I don’t hyung- I’m gonna go crazy.”

There’s the faint sound of lips meeting and smacking. Kisses that are probably meant to soothe Jungkook. “How about we compromise pup.”

“A walk?” Tae offers, sounding hopeful.

“A long walk.”

You shift a little and Hoseok opens his eyes. You're mostly still asleep just settling, making yourself more comfortable with the new space no longer corralled by arms and bodies.

Hobi’s mouth is dry when he watches you shift onto your stomach your face half-smushed into the cushions, scenting them a little in your sleep. The homey scent fizzle in Hoseok’s bones tells him that you've scented him too. Being surrounded by the pack's scent like this makes Hobi’s skin feel like pop rocks. Like his bones are mentos and coca cola. All sensitive and tingly.

He’s cuddled with you before- through your nightmares and last night at the hospital of course- but it’s never been just the two of you in a nest. He’s never been the only alpha here, charged with guarding the pillows and blankets and you curled soft in the center.

Hobi tentatively puts an arm around your waist, tugging you a little closer. The house still hasn't totally warmed up yet and you'd be cold without some body heat. He does it slowly, seeing if you’ll wake.

There is a hand in his hair, petting softly, and he snatches his arm from around your waist the second Hoseok realizes he's being watched. Yoongi leans over the edge of the couch-turned-nest, smirking a little. The door shuts behind Tae and Jungkook with a puff of cold air, and he raises his eyebrows expectantly.

He would look intimidating if his beanie didn't have cat ears.

The pads of Yoongi's fingers rub soothing circles under Hobi's jaw and his lips part unintentionally. “Be good yeah?” he says, whisper soft. Hoseok just nods, too sleepy to verbally respond.

They haven’t talked much about Hobi’s confession; that night on the beach what feels like ages ago. But everytime he thinks of it Hobi still tastes salt on his tongue and your name on his lips.

Yoongi’s wearing the same look now that he did then; half hopeful and half worried. But if there was anyone that would object on your behalf, if Hobi wasn't allowed this closeness with you, Yoongi would tell him.

Yoongi doesn't say that you and him aren't ready for cuddling like this. Yoongi doesn't say that Hoseok should give you space or not cradle you to his chest like you are something as fragile and necessary and as doomed as his beating heart. Trembling and stuttering with the force of sweet expectations and hopes made hollow with satisfaction.

Yoongi does not realize that Hoseok's heart has not had a steady beat since he woke up holding you.

Yoongi doesn't say anything. Yoongi just drags a single knuckle down his cheek and leaves. Heading out after Tae and Jungkook who are, judging from the hallow sound of snow hitting the windows- are having a snowball fight.

“If one of those hits me I’m not holding anyone’s hand for the whole walk-“

The door keeps out the sound of Tae's sweet giggles and Jungkook’s pouted, "just one hyung- I won't hit your face-"

And the two of you are alone. Wrapped up warm, quiet and hushed, just the two of you.

Well, except for Noodle.

The meticulously kept edge of the nest is all fluffed, Noodle makes sure of it. Small paws depressing the blanket as he kneads it and then settles on the edge. His purr is audible from here as he blinks slowly from the bottom of the couch turned nest. Jin wrangled him for a brushing yesterday morning and his coat still looks extra fluffy and kempt.

Unwatched and unjudged, Hobi tentatively reaches to cradle your ribs again. Thumb smoothing down the center of your stomach, a little close to your belly button. You’ve got a little hair there. Hobi’s fingers like the feel of it. Not rough but not silky.

Your skin feels like champagne bubbles and sparklers, everywhere he touches your skin goes fizzy. Hobi looks down at you, breath hitching, and thinks Is it really so horrible to want this? Why am I so afraid of this?

You wiggle a little closer in your sleep and Hobi’s arm goes vicelike.

Noodle's purr goes a little louder.

Hobi doesn’t like to think about his last pack ever, but he recognizes that hollow ache and tug that says memories aren’t too far behind. And it threatens to swallow him until he looks down at you. The house is quiet but your eyebrows are puffed up like something very shocking is happening in your dreams. He doesn't want to think about them right now.

He drags his nose across your hairline; scenting you. Tasting your emotions on his tongue. Comfort. Ease. Arousal-sweet. Not all that abnormal. Not nightmares then. He is always on the lookout for them. After Jungkook and the hospital, he sort of thought they might come back.

Hoseok counts his stars and snowflakes, and rests his forehead against the nape of your neck.

Over the next hour, you’re restless. Moving, worming your way closer to him as he goes in and out of sleep. You make a soft noise and he shushes you. a growl that says to stay put and alpha's here.

You blink slowly up at him. Hobi pulls back, taking his arm from around your waist, feeling like he’s just stolen candy from a jar on the counter that’s for him anyway. You stretch and don't comment on it, yawning.

Noodle hops closer, squirming between the two of you and stepping over your shoulders. Meowing right in Hoseok’s face. “Alright alright, I’ll feed you again.”

You snuggle into the warm hallow he left on the couch when he detangles himself, hand under your cheek watching him as he stumbles out of the nest. Noodle follows tail held high. It's truly horrible. Leaving the nest when every bit of Hobi's body wants him to stay in the warmth. The house is always so slow to warm up.

“Fuck the floors are cold.”

“Quick,” you say, face above the edge of the cover. Hoseok rushes, doling out a single scoop of dry food and then running back to you. Hobi wastes precious seconds to grab his headphones from the kitchen table before collapsing onto the couch where you hold the blanket up, sealing the warmth and him back inside. The headphones tangle between the two of you and he falls with a giggle. Disappearing among the white blanket. He sinks thankfully into the warmth, into the safety that the nest offers. Into you.

Your warm arms wrap around his shoulders and his body shivers delightfully in a way that has nothing to do with the cold. Your jaw pops when you yawn and then he yawns too, a breath later. You laugh too and tuck your face into his shoulder.

“Fuck- it’s so cozy.”

It really is, the kind of cozy that only comes along a few times a year. A quiet to your bones that says there is nothing to do now but rest. The coldness that turns your bodies into these molten-loving things. Your warmth and Hoseok’s warmth. One warmth.

He breathes, deep and heavy.

“I don’t know if I want to get up yet.” The house is still quiet. Nothing but Noodles happy munching sounds and the faint scratch of big snowflakes hitting the windows.

Hobi’s heart beats frantic against yours and you sigh. “Wanna listen to some music?” He offers. Hobi always loves a backtrack, a little compliment for the exposition.

You nod, a little sleepy, but Hobi has a playlist for that. He’s got a playlist for everything including ’sleepy cozy pup time’. The headphones take a second to locate, lost in the nest. But when he does you share them. One earphone a piece, the sound turned low so you can still talk.

Hobi puts on a love song, and it makes you smell all sweet. Stretched out with your hair tangling because you’ve left it unbound, the split ends prodding at Hobi’s cheeks. He doesn’t really listen to the song, just watches you. Eyes closed humming softly.

Your scent sours and Hoseok's hand goes tight on your wrist. You tell him what's bothering you without him even having to ask.

“I saw this line the other day that didn't like." You look at the ceiling, not at him. "it said a love song is really good if you can’t tell whether they’re talking about another person or if they’re talking about god.”

You think about Jimin and Tae. You've been thinking about it since Tae talked about their childhood earlier and the bloody cross between the two of them. If holiness does exist, it’s in Tae. If there is anything like religion for you or Jimin, it's love. God has nothing to do with it. God's not the person who makes love songs sound good.

Hobi turns on his side, leaning on his elbow. “I’m not sure Jimin would agree with that either.”

You turn in time to see Hobi’s smile. It catches the sunlight, lingering right on his cheek. An octagonal shaft of sunlight that has traveled millions of miles to get there could not have found a more beautiful place to fall. He huffs a quiet laugh again, and you swear you might hear the highest note of a piano somewhere.

You wonder when he became so musical to you, maybe it’s just because he’s the person who made you love music so much.

(You can tell a love song is good, when it makes you think of Hobi).

“You’re still worried about him, aren’t you?” You rest your lips against his shoulder and Hobi’s body doesn’t move an inch. They’re soft where they lie not a kiss but not not a kiss either. You can rest your lips against his skin, you can rest your whole body and Hoseok wouldn't move an inch.

“Always worried, got to worry about Minnie. Always worried about everyone.” You mumble. Eyes closing.

The light comes through the windows all honey yellow, turning the bookshelves that Yoongi made gold instead of white. Turns the tops of Hobi’s hair a little red too, the brown has endless depths in the sunlight all burnt umber and Sienna where the sun hits, yellow ocher at the tips. The sunlight savors falling on Hobi, down to the last inch.

You try to keep your eyes open, struggling, and Hobi sets a hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair lightly.

"Go back to sleep pup."

You hum, already half there. He pulls you a little on top of him, holding you with a firmness usually reserved for too-large packages and the tenderness reserved for very fragile very precious things. It makes your whole body feel tingly at the edges.

“Thanks for not leaving the nest when everyone else did,” you think he might be asleep for how long it takes him to answer. But everything in the last 24 hours has left you feeling like you don’t want to be alone, that you can’t be left by yourself. He breathes up and it presses against your stomach.

“Didn’t want to go with the others- just wanted to stay here in the nest with you.” nesting is a biological need for alphas as much as it is for omegas, Hobi hasn't felt so relaxed in ages.

He murmurs, hand still skimming through your hair. His thumb rolling against the nape of your neck and you shiver hard into the touch, sinking further into him. “Is that okay?”

Your hand finds a spot under his arm and you use it to tug yourself closer, getting your forehead against his shoulder, the headphones slipping from your ear.

“Yeah. It’s always okay.”

Hobi tucks your hair behind your ear and puts the headphones back in.

The next time you wake it’s because Noodle is licking at your forehead, grooming you, and you hear the shutter sound of Hobi’s camera, his small giggle. You swat at noodles face and he bats at you a little before settling on the small of your back, fighting Hobi for necessary real-estate and howling when he gets pushed off.

“Nu, be quiet,” Hobi’s hushed words are answered with an equally quiet meow that sends you straight off to dreamland again.

You don't know how long it's been, it could have been hours or minutes the next time you wake. You just know that Hobi smells good, smells musky sweet caramel all drippy and heady, that you've got your nose pressed up against his scent gland. All surrounded by it. Surrounded by him.

The next time you wake is not so innocent.

You’re a little too close. Cuddling with Hobi in a way that you might with Yoongi- with Namjoon or Jungkook. All warm snug hot. Bodies and dreams tangled so thoroughly that it's hard to tell where dreamy wants begin and fragile delights end.

You’re warm at your front from Hobi and warm on your back from the sunshine streaming through the window. Warm all the way through. Until he moves his hand and you realize that’s from him too. His fingers splayed over your spine.

You think you can be forgiven for confusing them. Hoseok and sunlight are one and the same.

The apex of your thigh is pressed tight to his hip just where his thigh starts. Your leg hitched over his hip and tight to it. The fabric of his sweatpants and the fabric of your pajama shorts are all bunched up from your movements. Your knee bent at a comfortable angle. His scent is heady in your nose, pressed to the low tugged collar of his shirt just over his heart.

As close as you can be but still not enough.

You don't even realize your hips are moving, sleepily grinding against his thigh until it's too late.

Hobi grabs your hips and groans.

You stop mid-movement, thoughts sloshing sleepy. And oh, you were moving, weren’t you? There is a dampness between your thighs and the scent of slick and arousal sharp in the air. That comfortable pleasure hiccup in your throat that says you want to cum and can. could like this.

You jerk back from the warmth in front of you, startled into wakefulness as you realize exactly you were just doing.

Oh no- you didn’t mean- Hobi. Alpha, warm and comfortable at your front.

You start to back up, still half asleep, but terror and embarrassment flood you like the ocean floods the sea rocks at high tide.

Hobi groans, a deep near growl sound, and moves before you can back up even an inch. he was just as asleep as you just were until you pulled away. His sleepy brain still clings to you.

His hands slip lower, holding you tight against his front. His sleepy alpha brain is malfunctioning. Sweet omega needs to stay close. The source of his warmth and the friction against his front cannot slip away.

His hands are on your ass and your pussy is pressed flushed to his hip, and Hobi-

Hobi is your best friend, Hobi is your packmate and Hobi has to be unaware of what he’s doing. You’re sure of it. You try to pull away again from him fighting back more embarrassment than you've ever felt in your entire life, hands pressed to his chest.

But He pulls you right back to him.

Right into a unmistakable hardness poking at your stomach. Hard and warm. Right where you were grinding in your sleep.

Hoseok’s heavy breath brushes your ear.

Instincts are incredibly hard to describe. The way they hook into your consciousness and separate reason from action and want from logic. The part of you that’s in control, that recognizes that you and Hobi shouldn’t be this close like this if it’s not talked about, is so distant.

A needy sound echoes that might be from you, that is from you, as Hobi’s hands slide up your hips and under his sweatshirt. Cold hands on your warm hips and oh-

Hobi’s eyes are cracked open, looking down at you, watching you with pink cheeks. Tongue darting out to lick at his lip. “S’okey you just-" his eyes flutter closed again; breath warm against your face. "You take what you need.”

It’s only a testament to the pack's care that you associate these things with each other. Safety and coziness are just so close to pleasure and comfort. Your sleepy body associates this kind of nesting with sex. it's only natural that you'd get a little needy while inside of it.

You can get needy, Hobi doesn't mind.

Before either of you can say if you really should, if this is really a good thing to do without talking about it first. Hobi’s hands are on your waist, pulling you back snug, his hard thigh between your legs.

If you were more awake, you’d think better of it, you’d think so much but there is only that sweet pressure. The drag, the wetness, the soft little huffs of breath that he shushes when he lets you take what you need. Helps you with his hands on your hips and guides you back into rocking against his thigh.

You feel it all the way down to your toes when his hands slide down to the curve of your ass then back up again, underneath the hem of your shorts and then your sweatshirt- his too (all of you his). Rucked up to your ribs.

“Soft.” Hobi groans.

This must not be real. This has to be a dream. Because Hobi doesn't want to touch you like this, Hobi doesn't groan and twitch against your stomach or guide the movement of your hips with his hands into a slow grind that has you gasping against his jaw. Hobi doesn’t leave the seat of your pajama bottoms soaked with slick. Hole clenching around nothing already. Utterly boneless where you lie against his front.

There is one single moment where you look at each other, one single moment where you try to keep from going any farther. Even though you want it, even though he wants it too. If Namjoon and Jin have taught you anything they've taught you caution.

Hoseok can smell the others lingering on your skin, the spot on the top of your head where Yoongi rested his cheek. He leans down, brushing his lips over it. It’s such a tender gesture and it breaks the flood and he's tugging you up, tugging you even closer, desperation coloring his voice all sweet.

“Fuck- please.” His forehead rests against yours, “fuck I just need-“

You're not sure who moves first, who starts the kiss only that once you’re kissing him it’s hard to stop. One second you're holding back and the next you're kissing him like he's Yoongi and he's kissing you like he's starving.

Teeth clanging against each other, harsh as they nip. Kissing so good that when you pull apart for breath you're both gasping and it has nothing to do with needing air.

Hobi has such nice lips it’s no wonder that they’re heart-shaped. Made for kissing, made for the needy needy licking against the seam of his lips. He shifts turning you on your side, surging up to kiss you properly and put his weight behind it. cradling your head with one hand and your side with the other. You’re so pliant, so willing to let him kiss and take. You want him to take everything. arms around his neck.

He breaks apart, forehead resting against yours, heart beating so quick that he can feel it in his palms. Pupiles blown when he blinks. “If you take what you need, and I take what I need- Can we-“

Your hands thread hard in his hair. Tugging him back to your lips. Closer and closer. “Fuck Yes- please-“

You don’t know where the wanting comes from, why it’s raging through you like a fire. His lips move against yours frantic, you bite his lip and he jerks. Hovering over you with your back against the nest, all tingly and fizzy. Your bones feel like champagne popping, like shooting stars burning out.

Hobi’s hands shake when they touch your hips, just like yours do when you mirror him, your touches shy but just as hungry, tugging up his shirt, fingertips and nails pressing bluntly to his happy trail of fine dark hair. You can feel the way his cock jumps against your stomach and thigh when you scratch gently.

You pull back a little and sit up and it’s sacred; the way that he panics, scrambling to hold onto you. You're A little bit shy when you take off his sweatshirt, nothing underneath. hair fluffing when you get it free from the cotton.

Your bare skin and the cold room. You get goosebumps on your arms almost instantly when they cross over your bare chest. Hobi’s breath stutters in his chest, like roman candles flare and settle. Hobi takes his sweatshirt from you and sets it aside in his haste to hold you again.

He starts to tugs his pants down, getting tangled because he won't even pull back an inch from you. You kiss his throat, again and again making up for lost time. Sucking a mark there. His hands fumble with the waistband of his tied tight grey sweatpants. finding the loops and then freeze when he feels wetness. Pulling back and looking down just to make sure that that is what he thinks it is. you stop your kissing and look too.

There is a wet spot, darkening the grey material. Your slick from your grinding, the spot where you got so worked up and felt so good that you couldn't even help it. He pulls back so that the light can kiss it but yeah that's definitely from you. Evidence of how much you want this. Evidence of how much you want him.

Hoseok thinks you might have actually set his body on fire. Is about ready to start checking your fingers for matches.

You blush so hot that you think you might be burning in embarrassment. Hands between your legs, clutching at the material of the nest, so embarrassed you can't watch as Hoseok looks down at it and then up at you.

“I’m sorry I- I can’t help it- I'm always-“

Hobi’s hands smooth over the wet patch, splaying up to cradle his cock where you’ve left your mark. And he looks at you, jaw rolling and eyes dark. He doesn’t say anything. Can’t.

It’s hasty how you both move to take his pants off, and he kicks them to some forgotten corner of the nest, his boxers pulled off too, and then clings to you. You cling to each other. Kissing again. Hands knotting through his hair and tugging.

You glance down and oh- Hobi has such a pretty cock. the prettiest in the pack maybe (don't tell Tae), Flushed at the tip, hair neatly trimmed and curving up.

Your bare thighs press to his adds a whole new level to this, the skin there is sensitive and unknown. Lying thigh to thigh somehow feels more intimate than chest to chest as you lie the way lovers do, your leg, his, then yours again.

You’re damp between your legs when he touches, hands shaking. He doesn't bother to take off your shorts just tugs the soaked bit of fabric to the side. It’s been a long time since he’s touched a pussy but he knows enough to do it gently. Petting over your folds like he’s teasing a flower to bloom and opening a rose for a bouquet.

“Please” you gasp, hand vicelike around his wrist. Kissing his frantic pulse again. Hot lips and a cold nose drag down his throat. You hiccup as the pads of his fingers find your clit, shaking against him. "Please-"

But you don’t need to ask, you don’t need to beg. Whatever you need Hobi will give it to you. Your hands scratch as his back when he presses close, snaking underneath his sweatshirt. Breath heavy.

He kisses your neck and bites it when his length brushes the wetness between your thighs. Hot and honey slick. his hips press to your hips, harsh lines of his thighs pointing low that you like. There is so much about Hobi that you like; the way that he kisses, the way that he touches. oh- it’s better than you imagined.

His knuckles are glossy with your slick when he curls them against the nest, holding himself up.

Hobi bends down to skim a kiss across your neck, your collarbones, your sternum.

You laugh, your giggle high and bright. He has to pull back, not upset at all but wanting to laugh too, giggling too. “Why are you?”

Your smile means everything to him. “Your hair tickles.” It is kind of fluffy, kind of pulled everywhere from your kissing and you run your fingers through it, scratching a little around the nape of his neck, and Hobi is done playing.

He pulls back, already dripping a bit of precum, silvery and pearl like at the head of his cock, standing against his stomach. a little hidden because he's still wearing his sweatshirt. Checking because he can’t not check.

“Is this- can I- fuck are you-“

“Daisy, please-“ Oh, how that pet name unhinges him.

He won't make you wait another second for it, hands shaking as he holds your hip. Shushing your needy whimpers with a soothing alpha rumble as he guides his cock close. Giving you what you both need.

Hoseok is not as big as Namjoon or Tae or Jimin, but he’s properly thick. Not the kind of thickness that knocks the breath out of you but the kind that fits just right. Not enough to make you ache or hurt even a little. It doesn’t hurt at all when he eases in slowly.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

That might be because of how soaked you are; dripping messy underneath the warm humidity of the blanket. The visual of your glossy pussy robbed from him but unimportant as Hobi stares at your face, resting his head against your forehead. Watching your eyes dilate and eyelashes flutter. “There we go- fuck-”

It’s not worth pulling back to separate how close you are. How good it feels to press his chest to your chest, not even a single inch separating you. His kisses go gentle and messy, moving against yours in a gentle rhythm just like his hips after he gives you a second to grow used to it. Rocking just a little.

Hoseok has heard the others talk about your pussy, those moments that he tried to block out at the beginning and then started to file away once loving you got more real. But for everything he's heard from his packmates, nothing compares to the reality.

The closeness. The way your hips fit. The hot- too much- clench around him.

He understands a little maybe, fully buried in you for the first time, why they talk about it so much. Why Jungkook had slipped it into dirty talk a few times with Namjoon and why it had made him growl and cum so quick. Why Tae had teased Yoongi for hogging you.

Your pussy feels like an inside joke in all the best ways, the kind of inside jokes that always have you feeling both known and loved. You can’t remember what you used to laugh about when you were a teenager and if asked Hoseok would fail to describe why sex with you feels so full. Why it feels like highlights and golden ages, the golden hour drenching you. It’s not sex for pleasure’s sake and it's not sex for closeness's sake either- although that’s part of it.

It’s not sex at all, it's making love. With Hobi, it’s making love from the beginning.

It's not instincts and mating bond urges. It’s not one submissive giving to a dominant. It’s not about protection and safety even though that's there or because you're an omega and he's an alpha. Because he's a man and you're a woman.

It's just love, that's it.

And it doesn’t hurt at all. For either of you.

The eye contact is never ending, his warm and fucked out the more he rocks. Gentle at first and building up frantic. Hobi doesn’t fuck like the rest of the pack does either; he doesn’t speak, letting out these quiet heavy breaths and shushing your squeaks with soothing alpha grumbles. His thumb wiping away the few overwhelmed tears that slip out and a smile swallowing your hiccuping breaths.

"Fuck” he breathes, moving his hips a little faster. His stomach presses to yours damp and tacky with sweat. Hoseok’s doesn't fuck in and out all the way, hardly moving away from you at all. Just rocking in deep.

Hobi doesn’t stop hitting every spot, comfortable with these unending rocks of his hips, maddening in the way that he never stops filling you. Never pulls out even half way.

Your hands weakly clench in the blankets of the nest as he twitches right there. That sensitive spot inside of you that feels like courting ecstasy when he nudges it. It’s the same spot that Yoongi likes to tease at, the spot that only his long fingers can reach properly and Tae’s too when she’s really trying. Ghosting over it and petting at it until you’re mad with pleasure.

But Hobi doesn’t tease, Hobi just gives. rubbing against it again and again with every gentle roll of his hips.

you put your hand over your mouth to quiet your whimpers when he pulls back, sitting up just a little. Holding your waist and forcing your body further down on his cock, nudging it as deep as it can go and you sob.

Hobi grins, a little cocky, a little pleased that despite his size compared to the others you're still equally as wrecked.

“Right there yeah?” he teases, and then rocks against it again. thumbs pressing against your stomach where he cradles you. waist so tiny that they almost meet when he holds you.

Your cheeks are hot, and you have to turn and whimper into the pillow. he lets you shift so that you're belly down in the nest and he's behind you glued to your backside. lying his weight down behind you like a blanket. pressing you into the nest where you'll stay like a good pup.

Hoseok instincts are absolutely purring. omega, getting bred in such a pretty nest. Good warm soft omega.

Your hand laces with the blanket, needing something to hold onto and he kisses the back of your neck, treading your hands together as he keeps going. This new position lets him rock in even deeper, putting his weight behind it.

“If you keep going, I’m not gonna be able to-”

His breath ghosts your ear, lips dragging down the column of your throat to nip and suck gently at your scent gland, marking you there. his hand presses, holding you to the bed as he rocks harder. His barely formed knot already inside and growing, getting you closer and closer as it thickens. Keeping him right there at the spot and you on the edge. You're so wet it's making noises, soaking and dripping down his cock.

He kisses your mating mark, nipping at it, and you’re gone.

You cum, a wet gush around his knot and a broken whimper. a growl in his throat sounds loud in the empty house. It sounds like made mate happy, made omega cum for me. Hoseok's Alpha is absolutely preening watching your Legs shake, the nape of your neck sweaty, body slack and head tilting to bear your neck. both of your bodies messy from it, filthy and blushing with love.

Hobi’s not far behind, rocking another time, a third, a quiet satisfied breath into the back of your neck before his knot pops locking you together as he cums so gently. No growls or gasps, just hot spurts that fill and satisfy you. Knot popping and Locking you so close you can feel his cock pulse. So close you can feel the same heartbeat on his lips when kisses you, hurried kisses pressed to the nape of your neck that quickly go slack with sleep.

Your hand settles across your stomach, and oh- you realize why hobi wasn't bothered by how wet he got you earlier. He just keeps cuming, so much that it's leaking a little around his knot. You're not sure that Jimin or Tae or Yoongi cum this much, Namjoon definitely does- but thats kinda proportional.

he just keeps going, heat flooding you. Maybe he's only cumming so much because it's the first time, and he needs to claim you from the inside out. you're a little too dizzy to figure it out.

You feel like you might pass out. You don't know if it's squirt or cum or just sweat when he lies himself over you. cuddling closer despite the mess. Teeth at your bared throat, Sucking softly, Soothing.

instincts are kind of embarrassing at best, irrationally hot at worse. you squirm a little closer so that his knot goes deeper.

The sunlight spills across your cuddled forms, still underneath the big thick blanket. He doesn’t pull out, the knot keeping him snug tight. His hand is on your cheek, rubbing up and down your jaw. He pulls the blanket up around you. And neither of you says a word as your rapid breathing calms.

You’re not sure who falls back asleep first. Only that he wraps his arm around you and pulls you back on top of his chest, cuddled there. Knot warm and safe inside of you.

knotted together like this, you're finally finally close enough.

~-~

When Hobi wakes you’re watching him and his dick is out. Wet and slick and cold.

That would certainly cause him to be alarmed if it wasn’t for your expression; a little pale. Hands between your legs and looking at the doorway.

You just really don't want to drip cum onto the couch, like- obviously. Hobi didn't hurt you. But the brief terror at waking up uncuddled and so suddenly douses Hobi like a bucket of cold water.

The cold might be the actual reason for his sudden wakefulness. The wintry air in the room is jarring because the house is finally heating up. (as much to do with the heating system doing its job as it is with your activities earlier that turned the windows all hazy with condensation).

It's like someone had just come in and then abruptly left again. Your cheeks are pink, and there is a cloth on the side of the couch, folded and warm. You didn't get it for yourself.

“Don’t freak out, but Yoongi and the others walked in while you were asleep.”

You’re kind of glad that he wasn’t awake to see your mate barely contain his screech, jumping up and down with Jungkook in the entryway. Namjoon’s subtly grinning expression when he took in your appearance and paused in the cold doorway breathing in deeply. Tae wrapped around one arm; their walk interrupted by his return from surgery.

He groans, barely awake enough to think about the visual that Yoongi and the others were treated to. The consequences are better than a shot of expresso at wakeing him up.

But really, was there ever a possibility that the others wouldn’t find out about this? Does Hoseok even want them not to know?

He's too tired, too think about this logically.

Hoseok wonders why he didn’t wake to you holding him. He’s seen you hold the others, hold Namjoon in the morning when you smell like him. The way you wake slowly and run your fingers through their hair. The other alphas have a habit of cuddling up to rest their head against your chest. Hobi remembers that day by the beach when you pet his hair, he wants you to do that now.

But he can't fucking ask. Asking you to cuddle him would be fucking embarrassing.

“Shit." He shakes off his neediness and easily locates his boxers in the mess of the nest because they're bright red. Surreptitiously tucking his now soft and deflated knot back inside. You look away, letting him have that moment of privacy without comment. Your arms curl around your chest, you’re still nude from the waist up. thighs clenched togeather.

“Yeah uhm, they went back out to like- give us some space.”

"Did they say anything?"

You look away, wiggling over to the edge of the nest. "No. But they looked like they wanted to say a whole lot.”

You definitely don’t say that you heard their scuffle, Namjoon and Tae using their alpha privileges to wrangle an overly excited Yoongi and Jungkook. or that both of them had come back inside, both with pink cheeks smelling sweet at the sight of Hobi’s face pressed to your neck and the fresh hickeys at your throat.

(Hobi’s hickeys are always so small and cute. Tae can’t wait to take a picture and save it, for memory's sake. She’s half tempted to take out her phone and snap a picture of the two of you now.)

Your hiss of “Don’t say anything, I swear to fucking god if you wake him-" cured her of any bad ideas and had Namjoon grinning, his dimples showing.

Yoongi’s finger pressed to his lips in the doorway. Smiling wide and showing his gums. Omegas do get awfully protective over alphas in their nests. Especially post-knotting.

You’re honestly a little surprised that their muted shouting hadn’t woken Hobi. The closed door had kept out the cold but not the sound of them discussing on the porch; mostly Tae's insistence that they needed to get out of the house for lunch instead of heading back inside.

“But what if they need aftercare?”

"We shouldn’t leave them alone and unprotected.” (Classic Joonie).

“Yeah! What if they need cleaning!”

Yoongi snorts, “Gross Jk- I’m pretty sure the last thing they want is you licking up Hobi’s cum.”

“But he always likes it when it’s Jinnie-" that had your face and body heating (although that could just be Hobi- a literal furnace that he is wrapped around you).

Now his warmth is on the other side of the nest yet it feels impossibly farther away. As you both stew in silence under the weight of what you’ve done, what you just did.

Everything feels quiet and scary as you put yourselves back together in silence. You use the wet washcloth to keep yourself from dripping all over the couch while he looks for his pants in the mess of blanekts that smell like sex.

Thoughts like shit shit shit and what have you done ping-ponging back and forth across his brain. Mind bouncing between unlikely personal regrets and likely female rejection (of which he is only too familiar with).

Hobi doesn't like feeling rejected, it always brings up bad memories. He didn't wake up to you holding him. Is that a rejection or is his brain just making it up? People always hold each other after sex. Don't they?

You reach for his sweatshirt but before you can touch it a growl bursts forth from his throat and you freeze.

Hoseok scrubs a hand across his eyes, trying to wipe away the memories fitfully. Maybe it’s just because of the fact that he woke up and you weren’t wrapped around him. He's going to have to cuddle you himself if he wants it right now.

This first time with you reminds him of other first time's that didn’t end well. He's sorry for it the second it slips past his lips.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I just- my fucking instincts feel like they're on fire."

“So can I…?” you trail off. Your skin has goosebumps again. And Hoseok doesn’t know if it’s the casual nakedness that has him feeling so unmoored. A blush trailing its way up the back of his neck even though it shouldn’t be weird. He saw you shirtless every other hour during Namjoon’s rut for Christ’s sake.

“Yeah, just wear it- please wear it.” He can’t take back his growl, but he can meditate by watching you pick it up and hug it to your chest. Looking at him for a second as if to check that it’s still alright and he’s not going to snap at you again.

There is a hickey on your shoulder, the spot where it meets your arm. Hobi doesn’t know if it’s from him or someone else. It's a little too red to not be new. You don’t look uncomfortable being nude in front of him.

If anything, you look a little bit glowy.

You look at him and then pull it over your head. His cheeks still heating stubbornly as your chest moves a little, jiggling.

Why do girls have to just- girl all the time- it's honestly a little unfair how much hobi blushed.

He watches you, sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but his boxers as you stand up pulling the sweatshirt down your hips. He stares at you until you ask a little flustered by hiding it, “What?”

He tugs on the hem of his sweatshirt, slowly, carefully, leaning forward as he tugs on one of the strings with his teeth. His hands go to your waist pulling you close gently, half sure of himself and half afraid. Hoseok is always somehow half afraid. Is this allowed? Is this wanted?

He rests his head against your stomach, loosely twining his arms around your waist to pull you closer, still loose enough that you can step away if you want. All of this can stop if you don’t want it. He hopes you know that.

Hoseok looks down at your feet, not at your face. “I love it when you wear my clothes. I really don't know where that came from.”

“Careful,” you say, a grin in your voice. Your tone light because you don't want him to smell so sour again. “I’m gonna go for your pants next.”

You snatch his from the floor and dart away. Nothing excites an alpha’s instincts like a chase, and Hobi feels the fire light down his spine. His movements are a hunt-heavy blur. Brain honed in on you.

He catches you by the counter, your giggle echoing off the high ceilings. His blood heating again as he drags you by your hips and flops down into one of the bar stools, sitting you on top of him with a growl.

His hands grip hard around your waist, determined until he’s shy. Letting you go softly, “Sorry I just-”

“Instincts still? Don't worry I get it.” You give him his pants and sit up off his lap so that he can put them on. And now is not the time to get another boner Hobi- but it’s kind of hard not to when you smell so bred, so wholly satisfied.

Hobi did that. Hobi's the one who made you look like this drowning in the afterglow.

Your own instincts are telling you that you want to take the blankets from the couch and drag them upstairs, and tuck them in around the scents of the others. So that they can all see and smell how good you made your alpha feel.

Hoseok’s pleasure leaves an undercurrent to the air that’s intoxicating. Half sugar-sweet and musky alpha. Your body hums with it as he steps up close behind you, close enough you can feel his warmth and not his body, nose skimming the bruise he left close to your mating mark. Letting out a tired sigh.

You did just work off a lot of energy, regardless of the half-nappy half-cuddle fucking that just was; It's also left you fucking hungry.

As much as the kitchen has been a place of anxiety for you it really isn’t with Hobi there. There is still that tape line on the floor that guards you off from the stove, sink, and the fridge. Hobi steps out from behind you and goes to the fridge, getting out some of the prepped fruit that Yoongi almost always keeps on hand.

But you keep looking at the kitchen, the pans hanging above the sink, your mixer sitting dusty in the corner. The hanging mugs. Everything.

He brings it to you, setting it down in front of where you sit. instincts making his eyes fever bright. He watches a little too intently as you lift a raspberry to your mouth. Something about watching you eat cools his instincts, making him release a taught breath.

He watches as you lift another piece, a blackberry to your lips and bite down. Almost purring, too afraid of what might slip out if he speaks. He half wants to do it himself and feed you from his fingertips. But that’s a little too embarrassing to consider.

A minute later, after you’ve eaten half a dozen more pieces, he reaches past you, about to get a piece of peach. He doesn't think anything of it, but when he reaches past your face- you flinch.

It happens so quick that he almost doesn’t even catch it. One second your cheek is turned straight and the next your eyes are darting from him to the bowl. Scent souring with fear and memories from Geumjae.

Fuck. (No cuz actually- fuck Geumjae.)

You don’t look at him with fear, you just look at him with a strange sort of sadness in your eyes. Sorry. Like you’re sorry for being scared. hoseok's hand goes tight on the counter.

"I'm sorry."

Hobi sits down. Holds your hands in his, and waits for a second before he speaks. makes his words quiet and gentle because anger at someone dead and gone has no place here.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” You have nice hands, warm where they press into his. And he cradles them, your knuckles flexing vaguely in his grasp, gentle but commanding.

“You’ll try not to, you mean."

You smile at him sadly. Hobi’s chest is tight with it. He needs you to know how much he means those words. How much he needs to mean them. But you both know how hard it is to promise that.

"No. I mean I’m not going to hurt you. Ever.” He repeats. You smile at him sadly again. And he knows his brief anger earlier when you touched his sweatshirt- usually such a normal thing for you- didn't escape you at all. But grief and mourning and memory always finds you at the worst times; after first times and on sunny winter afternoons.

The two of you are a mess, bodies teeming with the memories of failed loves, lost and broken. But you can ignore your triggers; such innocuous things as you wearing his sweatshirt and him reaching past your face. You can ignore your memories; the wretched and rotten ones, just for today.

You let the heavy moment pass and look at the other side of the kitchen. Hobi’s chest feels tight with something. Something that he needs to say but can’t just yet. You can only tell someone you love them for the first time once. You don’t get a second chance.

Hobi just wants to get it right.

You’re looking at the kitchen that Yoongi made for you, holding his hand still. using the other to feed yourself more fruit.

(Is there anything more intimate than holding hands with someone? It feels like more than the pads and lines of his fingers are pressed to yours. soul to soul and palm to palm. The future is written out right there but you ignore it. Love line, health line, fate. But the two of you are dedicated to writing your own end. Your love line is exactly the same length as his, not a millimeter longer).

Hoseok’s chest is still all tight. “What are you thinking about?”

“I haven’t made anything in months.” You sigh, sad. “I want to. I used to love baking, I used to-” you break off, sorrow making you quiet.

Hobi’s eyes are fixed on your shoulder. There are freckles there. He’s not sure why he’s never noticed them before or that you’ve got them dotting your back.

Hobi swallows past something in his throat. Pushing you gently from your chair until you're standing next to him. Cupping your waist because now that he's started touching you it's hard to stop. Now that he knows he’s allowed to touch you so casually, so affectionately, he going to keep doing it.

“Go. I’ll watch you, make sure you stay safe.” Because that’s the rule, isn’t it? Not that you can’t be in the kitchen at all, just that you need someone there to keep you safe.

The words feel tight in his throat, not easily said. I love you. He thinks as he watches you move to the mixer with a small but pretty smile that looks like daisies have taken root on your skin, everything sweet and flowering.

I love you. He thinks as he watches you get your cookbook from behind the mixer. I love you he thinks when he watches you place a mug from that morning in the sink. I love you he thinks as you get the sugar, the vanilla, the salt. He has to get up and get the flour for you, unwilling to have your arms strain underneath the heavy container, doting on you just because he can.

Just because he wants to, just because he loves you.

The shadow of what’s left on the bag hits his dark clothes like a ghostly outline when he holds it. The flour is a bit like you; everywhere he touches it leaves an impression. The rainbows from his suncatcher you put in the kitchen shift with the angle of the sunlight, winking out one by one as dusk falls.

He sits at the kitchen island and watches as you hum and flick through your recipe book. Golden hour fades to orange and pink the same way that roses fade.

He’s not sure why he blurts it out, why he asks, “What’s your favorite?”

You look up from your cookbook, everything is set out but still, the recipe is undecided. “What?”

Hobi can not look at you for this, instead looks at the kitchen island and the old butcher block countertop. Fingers toying along the edge where a knife left a gash.

“You always make everyone else’s favorites; Namjoon’s honey cakes, coffee-flavored things for Jin, the vegan stuff for Jungkook you know- but-” his eyes flick up to you in a moment of bravery. “What’s yours? What's your favorite?”

You think for a moment, a kitchen apart, fingers tapping on the countertop and Hobi can’t take his eyes off of you. His body feels a little achy but in that ‘was just fucked good’ sort of way that makes his breath deeper. Quieting some alpha part of him that always wants a little more. A little more scenting, a little more validation, a little more attention.

But everything can wait.

“My favorite thing to eat or my favorite thing to make?”

“Both. Either.” You glance at the clock. Going to the pantry for a second to double-check that you have everything you'll need. “I’ll have to make some of it from scratch but-" you look at him. “Do you have time?”

Hobi nods. “As long as you need.”

Hobi watches as you measure out the flour and sift it. Hobi watches as you wait for the eggs to get to room temperature and fucks with the playlist. His phone will eventually get splashed with coco but- it’s okay.

All of this is okay, all of this is I love you I love you I love you and I don’t know what to do with all of it, can you take someone it, please. I don’t have enough space in my body to hold all of it. Hoseok doesn’t speak for how sheer the impulse is just to blurt it out.

The yellow plastic mixing bowl keeps clattering against the counter as you stir the egg yolks until they froth up and fizz. Pouting you turn your eyes to him. “Can you help?”

Hoseok has to swallow back the words before they slip past. Hopping up a little too quickly. “Yeah of course.”

You don’t tell him what you’re making, let him guess. So many of your recipes need egg whites and vanilla. You let him put it together on his own. Hobi doesn’t peek at your recipe book and spoil the surprise.

Every action, every spoonful of sugar is I love you too, just say it. You don’t talk about the sex you just had and you don’t say I love you to him. You wait for him to say it first. You don’t say a thing besides; “Just a half teaspoon of that; drizzle it a little at a time, or else it clumps together. Good.” Hobi’s cheeks heat with every bit of praise and you have a lot of it for him.

Hobi looks away when you look up from the bowl, oh so carefully folding the batter and egg whites together. So gently that the hiss and bubble of whipped egg yolks disintegrating is hardly audible.

Hobi hasn’t baked since he was a kid; since he got into his head that chocolate chip cookies were totally something that an eight-year-old should be able to make on their own without adult supervision and almost burned his parents’ apartment to the ground. He tells you the story and you laugh.

He can tell that you’re making adjustments as you go. Adding in a bit of cinnamon, piping off the cookies in neat little lines, and then tapping them oh so carefully to get rid of the bubbles.

The stove preheats and then the tray goes in, filling the room with your scent. That cakey baking aroma that has him resting his head back against the cabinets when you sit on the floor and greedily breathing in.

You wait the 30 minutes like that, sitting on the floor between the cabinets and stove. Your feet pressed to his knees and a glass of lemonade between the two of you.

“You really like baking,” he says, and your eyelashes flutter, you must be getting tired. He takes your feet into his lap, using his hand to massage up your calf. Smiling when you sigh.

“Yeah, it makes me feel- I don’t know. I like making the world sweeter, just a little. Even if it’s just my little corner of it. Making things you guys like makes me happy too.”

“You know, you could go to culinary school if you wanted.” Hobi gets a little shy because you hadn’t explicitly told Jin and Namjoon not to tell anyone about your plans or your application (still pending). It will be a few more weeks until you find out, but that change is just on the horizon.

He's already seen Jimin perusing expensive leather bookbags and has overseen a recommendation letter coming from Namjoon’s email. Hobi might have read it for him to double-check because Hobi always notices things the others might gloss over. Jin and Tae had given it proof read too.

You make a noise in your throat, halfway between a hum in approval and a hum in distaste. “I don’t know, it seems like- a lot to do for a hobby.”

Hobi and you are the only two in the pack who wanted to go to college but didn’t. Couldn’t in your case because Geumjae wouldn’t let you and flunked out in his. He gets the lack of clarity in your voice; to go back or not go back. To try again or not try at all and not worry about whether or not you’re enough.

“I already started applying anyway. Namjoon and Jin and Tae put a lot of effort into helping me apply and-” You let out a frustrated sigh.

Hobi shakes his head, “Doesn’t matter. You can change your mind.” There is always time. You tap your toes against his shins and he grabs your feet and you jerk, ticklish. And he almost almost gives in to the urge to tell you he loves you right then and there.

“But could you be happy? Doing this all the time?” You turn, putting your hand over your eyes to peer into the oven and make sure that the ladyfingers are rising properly. “Doing it every day? Would it make you happy?”

You pause, hand on the door before replying in a small voice. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe I could be happy.”

You stand with a crack of your knees, sticking out your hand for Hobi and almost falling into him when he truly uses your hand to help himself up.

“Come on, we’ve got to make the whipped cream next-”

It goes like that, you both talking, and Hobi fucking with the playlist. Thinking three little words and not saying them.

You let the ladyfingers cool for a few minutes while you make the expresso. Dunking them in quickly. Piping out the honey-flavored whipped cream in sticky little dollops. Shaking out the cocoa with a practiced hand.

You make the caramel for the top last. Sugar-burning, glass-like little strands on top for a bit of crunch.

The tiramisu is a delicate creation, the layers perfectly spaced out in just the right ratio of cream to chocolate. You let it sit for a second in the fridge and when you take it out, you cut it into a single perfect little square and put it on a plate for him. Treading over the blue painter’s tape line and lingering by him where he sits.

“Try it.” You ask and he does obediently.

Hobi takes a bite of it, rolling the flavors around his tongue while you watch. You haven’t cut a piece for yourself just yet, but you have a fork. You stand on the other side of the kitchen island and take a bite from the other corner of the pan, humming happily when the taste hits your tongue.

It really is your favorite. You grin at the plate, “I could finish this whole thing in one sitting.”

Hobi takes another bite. It’s really good, the flavors are simple but delicate, each of them identifiable but yet cohesive. He could eat all of it too.

Hoseok swallows and realizes why it's your favorite; It tastes like all of you- like the pack.

The honey whipped cream is Jin and Jungkook, and the chocolate cocoa on top is your mate; dark chocolate like an Oreo cookie. Hobi thinks it might not be normal cocoa. The homemade ladyfingers are soaked through with Namjoon's coffee and the cake itself is a delicate dance of Tae’s cinnamon, Jimin’s vanilla, and your scent too. Buttery and yummy.

He's finished half of what's on his plate before he realizes that you added the crunchy layer on top, the caramel too.

That’s Hobi isn’t it? The Burnt sugar sweetness. He knows that’s not typical but still, you added in anyway. The smell of caramel is thick in the air. Sweet sweet sweet. Hobi always smells the sweetest when he’s falling in love.

The tiramisu tastes like the whole pack. Like love soaked threw. Hobi’s heart and body is full of it.

He thinks this might be his favorite too.

Hobi tries to blink back the wetness, really tries not to cry as he takes another big bite. He gets a little bit of whipped cream on his lip, licking it and sniffling. You pause, a bite hovering between the plate and your mouth before you set down your fork with a clink.

“Oh Hobi”

The space between you is nothing more than air as you quickly head around the kitchen island. You cup both of his cheeks and he sags into the touch, hands instantly going over yours to keep them there. Tears spilling warm and unabated down his cheeks.

Hobi decides right then he is beyond pretending that he doesn’t want it, that he doesn’t want you. Wet cheeks and imploring eyes.

“Oh Hoseok, what’s wrong?”

You’re standing between his legs and your collarbone rests against his cheek. Your hand runs through his hair and his heart pulses hard.

"I didn’t mean to make you cry. If this is because-” you trail off. You don’t say that you shouldn’t have had sex earlier because you can’t find it in yourself to regret this even a little bit. But you are sorry for not doing it in a way that didn't make him cry. If that's why he's crying.

“No it’s not that. I just-" Hoseok can hardly speak his mouth is so full of love that it bursts from him before he has a chance to think it through. Sobbing a little as he says it;

"I'm crying because I love you and I don’t know how to tell you.”

Hobi stutters and your hands on his cheeks go firm for a second before they relax. “I love you; I love being around you, I love that you're my best friend and that i get to love you too. I love living in this house with you. I’m crying because for the first time I get it-”

He can’t stop the confession now that it's started, and if he'd just open his eyes he'd get to see your smile but they're screwed shut tight.

“I get it, I get why once Yoongi met you, he couldn’t leave. I understand why he brought you back to us. But-” he hiccups and you giggle a little at the sound. His eyes shoot open and he realizes that you're crying too- that you haven't stepped away. You wipe away his tears with your thumbs and grin down at him.

“I'm so fucking afraid too- I can’t help but feel like the way we started just- fucked everything up. I fucked everything up back then by being jealous. I look at you and I’m scared I’ll fuck this up.”

You hold his face in your hands and think; I will be gentle with you, I will be gentle with you even if it kills me. You have never loved someone broken like you, and you know how easy it is to make a wrong step. But you’re sure when you say the words anyway.

“You won’t.”

“But-” you kiss his hands, knuckles, fingertips. His forehead, his lips Everything. Your eyes are focused and Hobi can’t look away.

“You won’t, you promised not to hurt me and you won’t.”

He falls silent, and you pull him in close. His lips still tingle from your kiss and you kiss him again, long and lingering, hard with the force of your conviction. It tastes like tiramisu.

When you break apart, Hoseok rests his ear on your heart and listens.

You should say I love you back, you really should return the words. But you think there will be other moments to say them. You'll say it when you wake up with him tomorrow morning, you'll say it when you fall asleep tonight curled close to him. There will be more time to say them- during a late-night drives when you look over at him in the dark. There are always going to be more times to say it and you’ll say it and mean it every time.

Unfortunately, life isn't so neat and tidy.

You wipe his cheeks and he wipes yours and you both giggle, leaning into each other. You get him a tissue for his nose and start laughing all over again. Being with Hobi will always be like this, half your lover and half your best friend.

“Do you want to go on a drive later, only,” you wipe tears from your own eyes, “want to take the others this time?”

He smiles, “That’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”

He tries to pull you in for another kiss but you feed him a bite of tiramisu instead and it gets half on his cheek, “finish your cake alpha,” you command, and Hobi is perilous to disobey. the next bite you take ends up on your cheek too because he tickles you, and you blush when he leans forward to lick it off your cheek. All giggly and happy and close. You sat practically on the edge of the counter. Noodle meows and laps up some of it from the floor.

You don’t need to say I love you back, you already have. Hobi can taste it on the edge of every bite.

You cut him another piece and share it this time, and he can't stop looking at you, can't stop smiling.

You smile around a mouthful, "i'm gonna tear up that train ticket."

"Don't you fucking dare. We've gotta like- put it in a scrap book or something."

You clean up the tiramisu, thinking of what might happen when the pack gets back, thinking of how things will go now that you’ve settled this. They’ll be happy; all of you all together finally. This last piece of your little family finally falling into place.

Maybe it will go like this:

Maybe when the pack gets home, there will not just be tiramisu on the counter. Maybe there will be gluten-free lemon bars and honey cakes. Chocolate ginger cookies dusted with powdered sugar and freshly baked bread with cheese and garlic. Little personal cheesecakes that you made in a muffin tin dotted with jam preserve because now that you’ve started to bake again there might not be anything to stop you.

You already feel the urge in your hands, the urge to make things. You think it might have been learned from Yoongi.

Maybe they’ll come home with pizza, unsure if a party and alcohol is really the proper way to go about celebrating, but the cake from the bakery that Tae will buy as a joke, will have flowery lettering and “congrats for losing your Hobi-ginity"

It will make you laugh until your lungs ache like the fireworks have gone off. Will make him blush and rub the back of his neck in shyness.

When they come home there might be a few sly comments but the pack knows when to tease and when not to. Maybe Namjoon will take a hearty sniff at Hoseok’s throat, dragging it up and down the nape of his neck, huffing happily. (Namjoon has always been a little bit possessive of Hoseok the same way Jin has always been possessive of you, but that's pack alpha's for you).

Tae will tuck your hair behind your ears to get a better look at the mark he left on your throat, manicured fingers gently stroking over it. and Yoongi will shoot him a challenging look and drawl, "really daisy? is this really something you wanna start?" all playful. the way yoongi only gets when he's really really happy.

And when Jin gets home, Maybe he’ll drag you over his lap with some squirming because there is no avoiding this hole check. Not when Jin and the others have been waiting.

Under the hungry eyes of the rest of the pack, you would still squirm. Your mate watching and grinning as he nibbles a piece of pizza and just watches as Jin pulls your sleep shorts down to your knees. Leaving them there to pin your thighs together. Hand against the small of your back to keep you still.

Of course, the pack omega has to look after the two of you and make sure the lowest on the hierarchy is being safe without a stronger presence nearby. But your entrance is pink fucked warm, not red and inflamed. Hoseok’s knot is the perfect thing to warm you up, and Jin tugs his sweatshirt over your hips to keep you warm as he examines you.

Fingers drag your entrance apart to show the others how good hobi did. Prompting them to touch and feel for themselves, all of their fingers teasing at your entrance and all of them touching you. Tae and Jungkook holding your thighs, Jimin and Namjoon resting their hands on your ass to help jin hold you open better and yoongi prodding to feel-

They'd want to see his cum slip out, forced from your hole by your needy clench. Of course, they'd just fuck it back inside because not a drop can go to waste. one set of fingers and then another, jungkook leaning down to taste.

Jin’s eyes would be all dark eyes and honey tones, looking hoseok up and down, cheeks as red as the sweatshirt you wear. His praise makes Hobi feel just a little bit too proud for his own good.

Hobi would probably get a knot-check for that, because if the alpha has something to be proud of then surely the others need to check his ego (and only in the way that hobi likes).

The alphas would scuffle with him a little, wrestling to settle him. Hobi's instincts are still fever bright and he needs to be put in his place. To feel the pack for what they are; very necessary safety bumpers.

He'd go so easily after a few nips- Jimin would help pull his pants down so Namjoon could get his big hands around him, fingers teasing at the red skin around his base and making Hobi growl and gasp. Pausing to cup lower and make sure Hoseok's empty, that he didn't hold back breeding you. Tae would tutt and make him open his mouth, her finger teasing along his teeth just for shits and giggles. Just to make him groan.

Nothing makes an alpha more proud than getting to show off his teeth.

Jin would smile at the display, and croon. “Good alpha.”

Maybe Jin will pat your pussy lips softly before pulling your pants up, making you flinch and then relax and jungkook would bend down to give Hoseok's knot a little kiss before standing.

The whole thing would take maybe 5 minutes but it would leave the whole pack ravenous for more. The final evidence of this finally happening; all of you together and not fragmented.

As you should be, together.

Maybe later, after treats and pizza, you'll all get to go to the beach like Hobi promised. Two separate cars. And Namjoon might let Hoseok and Jimin do donuts in the empty parking lot without too much fuss. The smell of tires and gasoline ripping.

Jungkook whooping and Yoongi watching on with his grin, Jin in the back seat with you going “Oh- oh hope- slow down” looking a little green. But terrorizing the pack omega is kind of your job.

It’s cold and late at night but you’ll tear out across the sand. Running to the shore. Tossing your shoes into the dark and toeing into the waves. Yelling happy.

You and Hobi will try and throw Yoongi into the water and then the other alphas will actually succeed in throwing Namjoon, pushing him until he inevitably tumbles into the seafoam. All 7 of you will try and wrangle Jungkook into the same wet fate and fail.

Jin will tuck Namjoon’s wet hair back behind his ear and grin at him, his grin saying the words they don’t need to. Kisses tases like secrets and salt but that much has not changed. Might never change when it comes to the eight of you. All the secrets in the world couldn’t keep you apart.

You’ll get zoomy in the way that dogs get in wide-open spaces. You’ll run. Your feet slapping against the sand, tossing spray into the air as high as your laughter, chasing after each other. A bunch of barefoot kids in too-big bodies and sand between your toes. Hands clasped tight in each other’s so that you won’t let go. You won’t ever let go now that you've found them.

For once you'll be absent of all the things that drag you down. Lighter than the warm air that billows over the sea. Mouths that store special secret salty smiles for the better. Damp fingers that curl against warm wrists. holding onto each other tight even though you’re running and running-

Running.

Maybe.

But that’s not what happens. Instead, what happens is this;

You are sitting at the kitchen counter when Hobi gets a text. It’s from Jungkook asking about the pizza types that you’d want and

Yoongi’s left his phone, he says with a little 👀 emoji. But he won’t truly tease the both of you until he gets home. Of course Yoongi was too distracted by you and Hobi post coitous to grab it from the other room.

you to to the pantry to put away the flour and this close- you can hear another phone ring from the bathroom. It's it yours? Only No, it's not your phone sitting on the counter, but Yoongi’s. Lighting up with Jin’s contact information.

JinJinJin: 5 missed calls.

It's so like your mate to leave his phone in such a random place. You smile as you pick up.

Jin is already talking a mile a minute. Fear and panic make his words come quick and desperate.

“Yoongi- why the fuck didn't you pick up" You don't have time to respond. Don't have time to let him know it's not your mate but you that picked up the phone.

"I don’t know how the fuck it happened, I don’t know- but-“ he’s almost shouting over the phone, such raw panic in his voice that it has your body going frozen.

Jin lets out a broken sobbing breath.

"I shot Minnie.”

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 Every little bit of encouragement helps <3

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

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~-~

Notes:

I ended up editing out a good portion of Hoseok ’s inner monologue at the begining, because I realized that at that point in time with the other pack he wouldn’t have been thinking stuff about how terrible it was because it wasn’t terrible yet. i probably should have even edited it fluffier if we're being honest. i think that would have been more unsettling.

The line where she says “One second you're holding back and the next you're kissing him like he's Yoongi and he's kissing you like he's starving.” Is a little hard to explain, she’s not thinking about Yoongi in that moment but the person she associates the most with love is Yoongi so- yeah it made sense. I feel like this line might make people go a little like “what??”

I swear if you guys didn’t cry a little at the ‘It doesn’t hurt at all.’ Parts I’m not doing this right because I was SOBBING.

Listen, I almost edited out the line where he calls her pussy an inside joke so many times- but for me- when I was younger I always wanted to be a part of inside jokes because like- if you are that means you’ve got history with someone- Hoseok is thinking this because until this moment- he hasn’t been able to be apart of something that the rest of the pack had understood.

When Hoseok was leaving a hickey over her mating mark it’s his way of saying “this is mine too 😠” to Yoongi,

Honestly??? Why is Hobi so feral in this like- he’s a /little/ unhinged from how much he wants her and tbh it’s fair. Look away if you don’t wanna read him going APESHIT for her.

ALSO- I’m just imagining him on the walk with jungkook and Tae, cheeks slowly pinking up because he can feel that they’re having sex down the mating bond, maybe getting hard and the others noticing, both of them plastering themselves along his side and teasing him with words like “do you think he’s making her all wet and messy hyung? Do you think she’s gonna cream around his cock like she creams around yours?” and Yoongi just- endlessly suffering around the two horndogs that are Tae on estrogen and jungkook on a regular day.

The moment where they’re holding hands and it’s talking about palmistry is a refrence to noah kahan’s song everywhere everything and the line “it’s been a long year, in all of our books pages dog eared, we write out the ends on our palms dear, and forget to read.”

The worst worst worst part about this chapter is that I don’t??? have a fucking recipe for the tiramisu?? Like I’ve made it before but I’ve never made honey flavored whipped cream or put caramel on top 🥺 maybe I’ll test it out one dayand update this chapter

Okay so the ‘flash into the improbable future at the end is a little too horny for the end of smutt but I couldn’t just /not/ put it in there because you know how I love a good hole check scene.

do you hate me because of this cliffhanger? even i have to say its a little unforgivable.

please be patient for next chapter because i do not have A SINGLE fucking word written for it. like nada, we're starting from scratch come monday.

~-~

Hobi's sex Playlist (jk isn't not a sex playlist)

Dominic fike- Mama's boy (hobis' flashback)

Mitski – my love mine all mine. (yoongi telling him to be good)

Lana del ray – chemtrails over the country club. (the sex)

Olivia Rodrigo – can’t catch me now (when they're both triggered from the respective abusive relationships)

Tom o’dell – black Friday. (Juz cuz)

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devilanon · 1 year

Note

omg omg what about Simon coming home with a collar and a leash!! being excited/nervous how they'll react? btw i LOVE your writing and you should know you're super talented :D

thank you anon :-) i do my best. contains both collaring for simon and reader. [nsfw below cut, gn reader, pet play? choking tw]

He just kind of slaps it on the table without preamble. He comes home, toes off his shoes, and gestures to the inconspicuous black bag he's brought home with him. “Got you a gift,” he says, tone flat. If it were anyone else you’d find it rude, but it’s Simon, so you see it as more of a mark of anxiety than anything else. He seems unwilling to meet your eyes, looking at you, then the wall, then the bag. He’s not normally so… twitchy. “Oh, what is it?” You peer over the table at him, waggling your eyebrows, just to needle him a bit. It works. He lets out an irritated huff. “Just fuckin’ open it,” he says, pushing it further toward your person, and now he really can’t look at you. (He's flustered. How sweet.) You open the (now conspicuous in how discreet it is, given the context) packaging to reveal a studded leather collar and a chain. "…Oh."

FOR HIM.

You blink up at him, holding the chain heavy in your hand. “For me?” He clears his throat a little, and you can see a flush rising onto the apples of his cheeks. “For me,” he clarifies, voice low and gruff. …Say no more. You can work with this.

Simon is not a good puppy. Not at first, anyway. He’s always been headstrong, difficult. He has an attitude, a sort of cockiness about him that needs to be... trained out of him.

For instance, on one occasion, you collar him and then set about doing paperwork while he's sitting at your feet, quiet, looking pensive. Over time he inches closer until he's resting his head on your knee. It's actually quiet cute, his big stone-gray eyes looking up at you, the collar affixed neatly to his thick and muscled throat; not too tight, just enough room to slip two fingers under the leather and tug. He's looking for attention, so you give it to him. You card your fingers through his short-cropped hair and he flutters those pretty eyelashes at you.

And then he's humping your leg. Grinding his half-hard cock against your clothed calf, making no show of hiding it. You gasp, yanking him back by the leash, and he lets out a choked gasp at the pressure on his neck. "Bad!", you chide, frowning down at him.

He's undeterred, because of course he is. "You like it."

You quickly learn punishment doesn't work. Edging is a pain because he can and will outlast you, should he put his mind to it. Impact play just gets him harder. In fact, he'll act out just to get a slap on the face, a bop to the nose. It almost becomes a game to him, frustratingly.

What does work is praise.

You have to ignore Simon when he's acting up, and reward him when he's being good. When he sits with his head in your lap innocently, keeping his hands to himself? "Good boy." He lets out a satisfied little chuff, closing his eyes when you rub a thumb over his cheek, let him suckle on it as you press it to his plush lips. (He has an oral fixation, but that's another story entirely).

When you pull him closer into your sex while he's giving you oral, chain wrapped tight around your hand, babbling praises at him as he sucks and licks at you, he looks like he's died and gone to heaven. He nods, eyes glazed, mouth slick with spit; yes, yes, he is a good boy, keep saying that to him, thank you.

Pull on his collar when you're on top, riding him, making his vision blur and his breathing stutter, and he's a goner. Even better if he's fucking you from behind and you yank the chain over your shoulder, forcing him deeper into your heat.

FOR YOU.

"For me?" You delicately trace the studs on the collar, feel the cool metal, the weight of it in your hand. "For you," he answers, looking at you curiously, trying to gauge your reaction. He gives you an out, then, nodding to the collar - "If you're interested." Of course you are.

He isn't too mean, despite what some may assume; it's less about dehumanization and more a show of dominance, ownership, caretaking, even.

He slips his fingers through the slack of the collar, using it to pull you up and down on his cock as you suck him, the slow drag of your mouth making him groan and curse. He heaps praise on you; "Good puppy, taking me so deep. Good fucking puppy."

He'll have you ride his boots, leaving them wet and shiny with your spend. He'll lean back in his office chair, legs spread wide, his thick, muscled thighs straining in his jeans, and he looks down at you with something like disinterest, like he's watching some a pet of his do something mildly irksome. "That's it, puppy. Hump my fucking boots. I know you want to." He wraps the leash around his knuckles, pulling so that you're forced to look up at him, eyes wet with tears and face burning with embarrassment.

Definitely yanks the shit out of the leash when he's fucking you from behind, though, so he can force you into a deeper arch while he slamfucks you, the fat of his hips clapping against your ass. It drives him a little wild, the sounds you make with your windpipe compressed.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod x reader #mine #didnt proofread this dont impale me

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the-little-ewok · 11 months

Text

Clandestine

Poe Dameron X Fem!Reader

Rating : E / 18+

Word count : 2400 (ish)

Warnings : Smut. PIV, fingering, semi-public sex, tiny bit of needy!Poe, reader wears a dress, illusions to lack of self confidence, praise kink, cock warming

Summary: Poe can't keep his eyes, or his hands off you during a party....

(Alternatively a discussion was had about staining Poes trousers when he decides he can't wait to have you in private...)

A/N : Yea I'm still mostly on hiatus, but after a bit of lovely feedback from my Discord loves, I am sharing this with you all.

No longer using a taglist because it's out of date.

Forgive any mistakes. It's not beta'd and I'm bad at finding my own mistakes.

It was no secret that Poe hated these type of events with a passion, and so it should be no surprise that he had situated himself in the corner furthest from the dance floor, mostly hidden in darkness, sipping his drink as he watched the party begin to reach its peak.

He'd agreed to go only because you asked him, and for the most part, he had been the perfect partner throughout the dinner, apart from the fact he had politely refused to leave the table to dance. Instead he seemed content to sit quietly eyeing you in the dim lighting.

"Stop that," you scold, for what feels like the hundredth time since the pilot had seen you this evening.

"Stop what?" He grins, raising an eyebrow, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he eyes you with blatant, feral desire.

"Looking at me." You fidget under his gaze, adjusting your dress and trying not to let him fluster you, although the heat prickling at your skin lets you know you are failing on that front.

"I'm admiring," he clarifies, sipping his drink without ever taking his eyes off you.

The moment you had walked out of the fresher in this dress, he'd all but drooled over you. You still vividly remembered the way his mouth had fallen open, his eyes taking in every inch of your body — more than once — before he regained the ability to speak. You had fidgeted under his gaze, feeling suddenly self conscious in your choice of outfit, which was a little more daring than your usual attire.

"Jess helped me pick it," you had mumbled, as though it explained everything.

"Well we arn't going to the party." He had stated after a drawn out silence, swallowing hard.

You had frowned, confused, but before you had a chance to ask, he had pulled you into his arms, his mouth on yours, his hands cupping your ass as he held you against him, begging you to let him view your dress on the bedroom floor, while he buried himself inside you.

Much to his disappointment, and if you were honest, your own too, you had managed to wriggle out of his grip, and firmly told him that he could do whatever he wanted with you, and your dress, after the party. The look he had given you would make anyone think you had told him BB-8's programming had failed.

So to the party you had come, and enjoyed it, with one glaring problem — he had barely taken his eyes off you, all night. Everytime you glanced over at him during conversation he was, for all intense purposes, absolutely eye fucking you.

You had no idea, until you met Poe, what being so openly desired could do to you. He riled you up with just a look and Maker, he was so damn hard to say no to. More than once you had to curl your fingers against your thighs under the table, willing yourself to have some control and stop your thoughts wandering to the way he was dragging his tongue along the Meiloorun fruit served for dessert. You were thankful when they finally cleared away the plates.

"Well, admire something else," you answer, keeping your eyes trained on the dance floor lights, trying not to give in to your desires.

"I can't," he practically hisses, leaning close to you. "You have no idea how much I can't."

"Poe." It's half a warning for him to stop, but the flicker in his eyes lets you know he knows he's starting to get to you. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't regretted turning him down earlier this evening. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't considered faking some illness to leave the party early. But you had promised to come, and now you were here you had to stick it out, at least until a decent time.

He holds your gaze as his hand slips into yours, firm and comforting, even as he eyes you hungrily.

"Come sit with me. At least let me hold you," he whispers softly, sweetly, dangerously. You know exactly where he's about to put you, and why. Yet you don't stop him when he pulls you out of your seat, and guides you to sit on his lap.

You let out a soft gasp at the feel of his hard cock pressed against your ass, realising exactly what he meant by "can't".

"I need you," he whispers, almost sinfully, in your ear. "I need you, now." His nose brushes against the column of your neck, from your collarbone to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. It's so much harder to ignore him now, to try and reason with him.

"Poe, we are in public!" It's barely a protest, your body already responding to his, your pussy clenching at the thought of his cock buried deep inside you, here, in a hall full of people. It shouldn't excite you as much as it does.

"I can't wait," he groans. "Please baby, it's been like this all night. Please. I need to be inside you." His tone is needy, begging, desperate.

It's thrilling, knowing you can pull that out of him.

"I'll be good to you," he promises, his hands already hitching up your dress under the table, splaying them warm against your thighs. "You know how good I can be to you."

The shiver of desire that runs through you at his words is completely involuntary. You can't stop it, no more than you can stop the way your heart gallops, and butterflies erupt in your stomach as his promise, and the memories of previous similar promises it revives.

"If anyone sees…" you trail off with a pleasured sigh as he kisses your neck, just below your ear.

"They won't," he states confidently, as though the table were a wall between you and the party.

You want to argue that he has no way of knowing, that this is a terrible idea, that you should wait, but you're too far gone, lost in the way his mouth feels against your pulse point, sucking a mark to claim you.

His hands, already pressed against the skin of your thighs, start a slow journey up, taking his time to squeeze your flesh lightly, enjoying the warmth of you against his palms, lightly pressing them open for him.

When he finally slips a hand between your legs, he lets out a sudden breath, as though the air has been punched from his lungs.

"Fuck," he hisses, his fingers skimming against your bare flesh, collecting the wetness already gathered there, and dragging up to brush against your clit.

You expect him to be smug about it, to tease you about how easily riled you are, how you want this as much as he does, but the pilot seems to have been struck dumb by your lack of underwear and only succeeds in a low whine against your neck, his hips rutting up into you, desperate for friction against his aching cock.

Your own gasp, as he slips a finger easily into you, curling against your walls, is thankfully covered by the music. He gives you a moment to school your expression, lest anyone notice, before he slowly, almost lazily withdraws it, moving up to circle your clit, before back down to sink two fingers into you.

"Shouldn't have let you leave the room," he grumbles against your neck as you squirm on his lap, his fingers stretching you open with practised ease. His hands know your body better than your own, and it takes him absolutely no time at all to have you struggling to contain your moans of pleasure.

Leaning into you he licks your neck, making you shudder with need.

"Can I fuck you now?"

You should say no, make your excuses and leave, pick this back up in your room. He's giving you an out, a way to stop this before it goes further than you're comfortable with. But you find you don't want to stop. In fact, you very much don't want to stop.

"Yes," you breathe out, rolling your hips against the straining bulge in his trousers. He curses, and within moments his fingers are removed and he's scrambling to unbutton his trousers, freeing his cock with some careful manuveting from you.

His hands find your hips, steadying you as you position yourself, your back to his chest, leaning your hands on the table, trying to look as innocent as possible.

Taking a breath you bite your lip hard as you sink down onto his waiting cock, taking things slow despite his desperation, and now yours. Both of you know drawing too much attention to yourselves would not be pleasant.

Poe's teeth sink into your shoulder, stifling his groan against your skin as you settle back on his lap. The bite of pain makes you clench around him and the pilot lets out a choked noise of surprise, his hips jolting against yours, pressing him deep inside you.

"Shit baby, don't do that," he warns, taking a trembling breath. "Not unless you want this over really qui-nghh!"

You can't help but do it again and the torturous sound he lets out is more than worth it.

"Stop," he gasps "I don't wanna rush this". But you aren't listening to him. He's pushed you this far and now you're on edge, your body crying out for a blissful release you know he can give you. It just feels too damn good to tease him.

You clench again, and this time earns you a low growl that sends electric through your nerves.

You're expecting him to thrust up into you, hard and deep, the way he usually would when you tease him this way, but instead his arms hold tight against your waist, pulling you down into his lap as he grinds up into you, slowly.

It's so much better….or worse. He adjusts his hips until his cock brushes up against that one blissful spot inside you, constantly. It's never ending. No amount of squirming or wriggling allows you a moment from the pressure. It's too much and not enough. It turns the tables in an instant, and you can't help the whimper that passes your lips.

"Good girl, taking me so well," he praises, clearly trying to keep his breathing steady as he rolls his hips into you again. "Letting me have you here, where anyone can see us."

You have to fight to stop your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he whispers in your ear, your hands dropping from the table to grip his arms so hard you're sure the nail marks will still be there tomorrow.

"Driving me crazy in this dress. Lookin' like the hottest fucking thing. Fuck baby, you're so good to me, letting me do this," he slurs, his voice progressively more wrecked and quiet as he rambles on. Or maybe it's your hearing that's the problem. Suddenly all you can concentrate on is the base of the music as it vibrates through your veins, the press of his cock inside you, the weight of his arms around your waist, the pleasure surging through you.

You completely lose all sense of what he's saying to you, desperatly trying not to cry out his name aloud, or throw yourself forwards onto the table so he can pound into you. Instead you try your best to stay as still as you can, as calm as you can, while Poe seemingly does everything he can to make you a screaming mess.

Each grind of his hips is blissful torture. The pleasure builds and builds. The wave gets higher with each slow roll of his hips, your nerves on fire, your muscles taunt and aching, but there's no release. It's blissful and terrifying all at once. It holds you on the precipice, tiptoeing the edge but never allowing the tide to claim you.

He pushes you almost to the point where it's too much, to where you're almost sure you can't take any more, to where your considering begging him for release. But before you have chance his hands are suddenly grasping at your dress, pulling it up out of the way to press his fingers against your clit.

"Cum for me. Cum now," he demands.

And you do. Oh, you do.

You gasp, choking back your moan as your hands fly to grip the edge of the table, so hard your knuckles go white, as the cresting wave finally crashes down over you. Thighs trembling, toes curling, back arching, your eyes flutter shut as your climax rockets through you, uncaring who notices your reaction, lost in the bliss that seems to go on, and on.

You feel Poe's cock throb as he empties himself deep inside you, muting his own climax against your neck, his fingers digging painfully into your thighs as he continues to grind into you with the same slow, deep roll of his hips, riding out both your highs until you come down.

When you finally open your eyes your gaze flickers around the room, quickly checking if anyone had noticed either of you, but everyone seems thankfully lost in their own business. You left out a sigh of relief, your body sagging back against Poe's in sudden exhaustion.

"Told you nobody would see," he mumbles as he nuzzles your neck affectionately.

"You're lucky," you smile, turning your head to capture his lips in a soft kiss.

"I am very lucky," he nods seriously, before the edge of his lip tugs up in a cheeky half smile. "Thanks for helping me take care of that problem. I'll repay the favour later tonight… or now?"

You let out a strangled noise as Poe's fingers brush against the inside of your thighs, too close to where his softening cock is still buried inside you, unsure if you want to go again, or if you need a minute to recover. You feel the pilot smile against your neck as you twitch and squirm on his lap. Placing a soft solitary kiss to your damp skin he sighs.

"I'm sorry baby but it seems you might have made quite the mess. You're soaked everywhere." There's an undeniable smirk in his voice that lets you know he's anything but sorry about it, or his part in it. And now he's mentioned it, you can feel it — the slick warmth coating your skin, the evidence of both your climaxes seeping out. There's no denying it must be covering his lap as well as your own, and it makes an embarrassed heat prickle across your skin.

Before you can apologise, his arms wrap around your waist, anchoring you in place, unable to leave his lap as he brings his mouth to your ear. You shiver at his words, body tensing in anticipation.

"I guess you'll just have to sit right there until the party's over."

~~~~~

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#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron smut #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x fem reader #poe dameron fanfiction

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robinsno1lesbian · 10 months

Note

Have we thought abt cowgirl!robin yet?? Cause….im thinking about it….thinking about it hard…specifically the “wear the hat ride the cowboy/cowgirl” rule….-🍓

𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 - 𝐑.𝐁.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: getting lost in the desert doesn't seem that bad when a pretty stranger on a horse offers her help... 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6668

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ mature content! (MDNI), mention of alcohol, nipple play, oral, strap-ons, light spanking, not a warning but i want to clarify that cowgirl!robin has a southern accent and if you're imagining anything other than that you're wrong, let me know if i missed anything :) 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: save a horse, ride robin buckley. that's all. also @maladaptive-day-dreams & vix helped with the creation of cowgirl!robin. the ending is sort of rushed because I wrote it on my phone, sorry in advance!!

getting lost in the desert wasn't what you had planned when you left your home early this morning.

you'd been on your way to visit friends across the states and had chosen to go on a solo road trip to get there.

people did advise you not to go all alone and, looking back at it now, you understand why.

yet earlier this month, when you were planning it all out, it seemed like a great idea to do this on your own.

you had marked the route on maps, had done as much research as the small town you were living in offered, had gotten your stuff ready and packed the car up only a couple of hours ago, kissing everyone goodbye before leaving.

it isn't even your fault, when things starts going downhill:

your car has given up on you, its engine giving nothing but a pathetic little noise whenever you turn the keys.

and even if it was working like it should be, you have no idea where you are.

the map that you've opened over the steering wheel is not helping one bit. all its many lines and symbols are capable of doing is confuse you further.

you try to memorize all the turns you've previously taken as you trace the tip of your index over the paper but ultimately end up somewhere that can't possibly be right.

"fuck, fuck, fuck" you mutter to yourself as you crumble up the map and throw it onto the backseat. this won't help you anymore.

you bring a hand to your forehead and wipe away your sweat-stained hair.

the heat is stinging where the car has stopped and, with the sun currently at its highest point up in the sky, there is no lowering of the suffocating temperature in sight.

you look around for what must be the fifth time, somehow still hoping that a town will magically appear somewhere on the horizon. or a telephone booth. or anything that could help you out right now.

but there's nothing.

just the seemingly endless and empty highway ahead, stretching out farther than your eyes can see.

you're lost and desperation slowly settles in. you have less than half a bottle of water left and you're also running short on gas.

circumstances which are definitely concerning considering your current state.

in your head, you're already trying to recall any and all survival-in-the-wilds-advise anyone has ever given you throughout your life. that is when you finally do see something.

it is just a silhouette against the beaming sun at first, but the closer it gets, the clearer becomes the image of your unknowing savior.

"holy shit, holy shit-" you immediately jump out of your car, burning your hand on the heat of the door and far too desperate to care about how stupid this must seem to others.

you're waving your hands at whoever person is riding their horse this close to a highway until they eventually notice you.

the relief that's washing over you is quickly replaced with utter surprise when you realize who is on the back of the horse.

the person in question is wearing denim pants, tight around the thighs and looser on the lower leg, as well as a blouse that is tugged into said pants. right over where a belt sits proudly.

she is wearing a hat to protect her head from the heat and the most cowboy-looking boots you have ever seen all your life.

there's even a damn lasso attached to the belt, used for god-knows-what, a picture that could've very well been straight out of your fantasies.

and even though the sight of it catches you by surprise, you can't help yourself but bite your lip: this woman is gorgeous, with freckled skin and long hair in a braid.

the horse comes to a halt a couple of meters away and she swings off of its back in what has to be the most attractive thing you have ever seen.

"someone's gotten lost i see...?" she calls out from afar, arms crossed over her chest as she steps closer in big steps.

"y-yeah i- uhm-" you stutter, taken aback by just how tall she is when she stops right in front of you. "my car has sort of given up on me....i was just- i'm on the way to visit friends and, well I guess it couldn't handle the hear...or something?"

"i see..." she smirks "want me to take a look at it? i ain't no mechanic but i know a thing or two about cars"

you can't even find the words and just nod helplessly. this has to be the most attractive woman you have ever seen.

"alright," she gives a wink and walks right past you to open the hood of your car.

concern creeps through you as smoke rises up from the engine but it is quickly replaced with a tingling sensation through your whole body when she leans over and the shirt rides up her back and reveals part of her skin.

this is not the time to thirst over a stranger, you remind yourself, but your eyes are practically glued to her body and the way it moves.

after a minute or two the woman turns around and shakes her head apologetically.

"i won't be able to fix this here" she explains, voice raspy in ways that make it hard to focus on her actual words. "but i could take you down to the farm and try again?"

normally, you would not let a stranger take you to their home without anyone knowing your whereabouts. but you're desperate. and getting murdered by a handsome cowgirl seems like a much better way to go than dying of starvation or because of the heat.

so you give her a nod and she smiles, as if she'd been hoping for you to say yes.

"we're gonna have to come back for your car" she speaks. "my horse isn't enough to drag it all the way to the farm. but i'll take care of it, don't you worry"

"uh- thank you" you mutter. "i- i would really appreciate that"

"of course" she turns around and walks towards her horse, swinging herself onto its back again. "you coming sugar-?"

"oh-" you surely hadn't expected to ride to the farm she has mentioned. but you suppose there's no way around that now. and besides, you would probably do anything to hear her calling you sugar again.

you take the hand she's offering you, one foot in the stirrup as she pulls you over the animal's back. your movements are less smooth than hers have been, from the endless practice she must have with this. but she watches your body nonetheless, obviously checking you out while you swing your leg over the horse's back.

"may i ask for your name?" she asks sweetly, head turned to look at you.

"y/n" you speak with a painfully obvious shake in your voice. "y/n y/l/n"

the woman nods her head. "robin buckley" she, robin, introduces herself.

"alright y/n. just hold onto me real tight okay?"

you do as she asks, arms wrapping around her lower half. you fight back a gasp when your fingertips sense the hard muscle under her blouse.

a shaky breath falls from your lips nonetheless and you're praying that she hasn't heard it or simply blames it on the fact that the horse starts moving with a click of her tongue.

either way, she has heard something. she turns her head and gives you a grin that has you weak in the knees.

⋆

it doesn't take long until you get to the farm she has mentioned. it takes even less for you to feel a strong sense of -what?- comfort around her...

robin surely knows how to wrap a woman around her finger and you wonder if you're the first who falls for her charming way of being.

judging by the way she leans in closer, her eyes wandering down to glare at your lips while you share a bottle of something stronger than you've ever had, you assume that you're not.

she has kept her promise and got your car for you once she has dropped you off at the farm, telling you to make yourself a home while she was out.

you took the time to inspect the place, walking around the living room and looking at the pictures up on the walls.

the house she lives in is spacious and comfortable and still, it is the perfect reflection of her. wooden walls and furniture and yet everything has a modern touch to it.

it's perfect.

when you first got here, you spotted stables as well which had you wondering how many horses she owns aside from the one she was riding before.

there are many things you wish to know about her. maybe that's just the effect her voice has on you, raspy and husky from the bit of alcohol you have shared already. but either way, you are genuinely interested in finding out more about that woman.

has she been with other women before? have they sat with her the way you are right now? has she kissed them, put them up against the wall or taken them to her room?

somehow that doesn't bother you one bit, because at the end of the day, this woman has saved you, she's done plenty for you already. and yet, after she has picked you up like an idiot who got lost and took you to her house, she still seems to want you.

her strong arm finds its way around your shoulder almost naturally as she speaks about god knows what.

you don't even pay that much attention to the words but much more to the sound; the rasp and occasional crack of her voice sending heat waves down your body.

of course, you knew of your attraction to women before but this woman specifically only solidifies the attraction. or, if anything, is worsening it: just the sight of her, the way her legs are slightly spread and one hand rests on her thigh while the other lays upon your shoulder has your heartbeat picking up its pace and the wetness between your own legs growing.

"enough about me though" she concludes "tell me some more about you, sweetheart"

her lips wrap around the bottle and she takes a sip, throat moving when she swallows the liquid.

your eyes are still focused on the way her mouth looks around the bottle and you raise your voice to speak.

"well there's not that much really" you shrug and draw your legs up to your chest, sitting down sideways on her large couch.

robin watches you attentively nonetheless.

"i- i suppose there's not that much to know about me, it's not like I'm much of an..adventurer? like you are-"

robin grins and passes you the bottle.

"you're calling me an adventurer?"

"you live on a farm!" you exclaim "with horses and...and you have a lasso and- and all that cowgirl stuff. so, yes, i am"

"well I've never been called an adventurer before" she chuckles "but i do think you're interesting, y/n. and i wanna know more about you"

"you do...?" you ask, genuinely surprised.

"of course i do!" she nudges your shoulder. "come on. surprise me"

surprise me.

god, how do you surprise a woman like robin buckley, who seems to have seen it all before?

"i-" you consider the question for a second and then drop the very first things that comes to mind. "i have...never had an orgasm during sex before"

robin's brows shoot up the second these words leave your mouth, obviously surprised by the sudden turn this conversation is taking.

soon enough, her expression turns into one of utter satisfaction with what you have said, a smirk settling on her lips.

the silence that follows, aside from that amused chuckle she lets out almost immediately, seems too pressing and you know you have to do something about it.

"what?" you grin, feeling a sense of boldness around her.

robin, still chuckling for most parts, manages to reply anyway: "nothing sweetheart, it's just- it's not some sort of magic to make a pretty girl like you cum, is it?"

you shrug yet again.

"well, tell that to my ex"

her tongue moves to the inside of her cheek in thought but it has you squirming at just how good she looks like that.

"what I'm saying is" she leans forward and places the bottle of the coffee table "you deserve better than that"

your breath hitches in your throat when she leans back in and wraps a strand of your hair around her finger. robin is much closer than before and you can feel her breath on your skin, coming in warm, short puffs.

when your eyes meet hers, you can practically feel your own pupils blow.

her gaze falls upon your mouth and her tongue darts out to lick her own lips before she looks back up at you.

"why" you breathe "think you're better than they were?"

"oh" she chuckles "i know i am"

and for some reason, you already know she is. you're just dying to find out how much better.

every second that her lips aren't on yours seems to stretch out endlessly. you scoot down the couch slightly, closer to her and let your own eyes gape at her mouth shamelessly signalizing her that you do want this.

that this is more than just a little bit of flirting and playing around.

“can i kiss you?" robin rasps.

"i thought you'd never ask" you answer immediately and pull her against you by the cheeks.

the first thing that you are able to notice is the way she tastes; her lips are so much softer than you had imagined and have a hint of nature on them, though it is hard to place.

it tastes like summer, like wind and the freedom she has out here, in the best ways possible.

her arms wrap around you while she is kissing you and push you around until you're straddling her lap.

getting manhandled by a handsome woman like her sends arousal to pool between your thighs.

her mouth never leaves yours and if it does, she always makes sure it finds its way right back against yours, kissing you in a determined way.

like she wants you, you think.

with how she's grabbing at your clothing, hands roaming your sides and fingers digging into the soft flesh beneath, you're certain she actually does.

it's not long after your first kiss that you part your lips, hungry for more.

robin gets the sign, of course she does, and licks into your mouth experimentally, awaiting your reaction.

your hands come flying around her body and you hold onto her for dear life as she starts making out with you with her back still leaning against the couch.

robin's tongue still tastes like the liquor you've drank before and you want more of it, tongue sliding against hers more passionately, silently asking for her to give you that.

"god robin" you gasp eventually "please take off my clothes"

"you sure, pretty girl?"

a frustrated groan leaves your lips when you take matters into your own hands and pull your shirt over your head, revealing your breasts for her.

you haven't put on a bra this morning, wanting the carried to be as comfortable as possible. you don't regret that choice, if anything you feel even better about it now, considering how the woman beneath you is staring at you.

"oh wow" she breathes and her voice is carrying some cracks with it at the sight of you.

her hands brush over your chest, hardly applying any pressure at all but enough for you to let your head fall back.

"touch me"

that is all it takes.

her palms meet your breasts and her fingers squeeze them, still a bit too gentle for your liking nonetheless.

there is a look of awe and desire written all over her face while she's studying yours for any kind of reaction to the way she is touching you.

she toys with your nipples, holding them between her thumb and her index.

"don't-" you hiss, eyes closed and lips agape "don't be so gentle with me...show me that you want me"

"fuck" robin curses and you grin "are you sure you know what you're asking for, doll?"

you do open your eyes at that if just to emphasize your point.

you flutter your lashes at her and whisper "ruin me" against her lips.

she keeps her eyes on yours and gives your nipples a harsh tug. she is rewarded by a lewd moan and your tightening grip on her upper arms.

"i see" robin raises a brow "you really are desperate, aren't you?"

"oh shut up" you lean back down and kiss her lips .

"shut up?"

"yeah" you hate how breathless you sound already "shut up and fuck me"

"that can be arranged"

and suddenly her mouth is all over you while her palms on the little of your back keep you from squirming when her lips wander down your neck. you're sure the way she's sucking will bruise. you might just want it to.

but it's all nothing compared to the way they feel when they wrap around your nipples.

"fuck" you cry out when she licks over them before she sucks them into her mouth.

robin repeats the action a few times, making sure to leave one hard and never without the attention of her flicking fingers when she moves to the other.

"what a sweet girl you are" she mumbles, mouth full of your tits and smiling at the way you're grinding down against her thighs. "tell me what you want again"

"you know what i want"

"i know" robin hums "but i wanna hear it from you"

you roll your eyes, your brain is hazy with want for her and at this point you would do anything to feel her touch on you, to feel her inside of you.

"fuck me".

"see? good girl..." she leans back and runs a hand through your hair.

you look positively fucked out already, lips puffy and sure and nipples covered in the wetness of her saliva.

"alright" robin puts a hand on either side of your hips "let me take you to bed, yeah?"'

your legs are weak when she helps you up, shaking in anticipation when she guides you up the stairs that lead to the second floor.

both of you can't stay far from the other though, constantly stopping to kiss heatedly. for a second, a moment of weakness, really, you doubt you'll actually make it to the bedroom: robin lays you down right on the stairs and shoves a leg between your thighs, clearly eager to test how far you're willing to go right now.

you grind against her and the moans echo through the whole house.

just a moment later, you can't recall just how it happens, you're on your feet again and she is dragging you upstairs and into the room.

it's a spacious one really and her bed is large and looks all too inviting right now.

you grab her by the collar and pull her against your half-bare body and she follows you, kicking the door shut regardless of the fact that you're all alone in the house.

you understand soon enough though, when she presses you up against it and shoves her tongue past your lips again.

her hands on your hips are keeping you upright but they are probably the only thing to do so.

your gasping and whimpering turns into unhinged moaning when her lips find their way down your body again, this time without stopping at your breasts.

she sucks a trail of marks down your body until her mouth reaches the waistline of your shorts. robin is kneeling in front of you, her chin resting against your bare belly as she looks up at you.

“can i take these off?"

you bite your lip and nod; her mouth had been skillful with your nipples already and you wonder about the magic it'll do between your legs.

her fingers make quick work of the zipper and the shorts drop down your legs and pool around your ankles before you step out of them and kick them aside.

robin runs her palm up your thighs, her gaze following the way her hands are taking in amazement.

"you're so gorgeous" she finally speaks and you bite down on your index "so, so fucking gorgeous, god, i got lucky"

and with that, she starts kissing up your inner thigh, occasionally letting her tongue dart out to lick over your flesh.

"can i taste you?" she rasps when her nose is almost nudging against your panties.

instead of answering her, you hook your fingers around the hemline of the panties and push them down, leaving you entirely bare and exposed to a very much fully-clothed robin.

somehow you don't feel exposed though. you feel almost like you want to be seen by her watchful gaze.

robin smiles at you before she lets her eyes drop to your bare cunt. you can feel where your wetness is sticking to your thighs, the cold air of the room hitting the wet spots in a way that makes you shiver.

"oh god" she runs a hand through her hair to get the bits of bangs out of her face, probably a distraction to what robin is about to do.

and then, as if she has been reading your mind, she throws a leg over her shoulder and licks a long stripe all the way through you, gathering your arousal on her tongue and moving ti upwards to spread it around your clit.

you smash your head back against the door almost forcefully and cry out for her, your fingers tangling up in her hair to ground yourself.

"you taste so fucking good" robin says from between your thighs.

her mouth is right where you want it and she seems to read your body language just a little too well, reading into each and every jerk of your hips, every moan and every slightest gasp.

the second she dips her tongue into you is when you nearly lose it, the wet and velvet sensation hitting you with so much force that you could've fallen over the edge right then and there.

it takes everything within you not to.

"you like that? when i'm inside you?"

your brain can't seem to form a proper sentence and so you just nod over and over, hoping she'll get it nonetheless.

robin does.

she leans back, her chin covered in your wetness that is glistening under the light, and smirks up at you.

"don't worry precious, i'm gonna be inside you soon enough alright? just gotta help you relax first"

and by that, robin means actually making you cum.

it's strange, really, how it seems so easy with this pretty stranger you've met mere hours ago. how she seems to know your body better than you do yourself and how she actually wants to make you feel good.

soon enough, you're so close you feel it in every nerve of your body. she is lapping at your folds relentlessly, coaxing sweet moans and loud squelching noises out of your body.

you didn't even think you could ever cum on someone's mouth.

oh how wrong you were.

"robin..." you murmur, eyes rolling back in your head for her "i think...god i think- fuck"

"don't you worry, doll" she smiles and presses her tongue flat against your clit "just cum for me. you can do it. cum all over my face, come on, be a good girl"

these words are enough to push you over the edge, sending you into the best orgasm of your life.

you pull her closer against your cunt, releasing all over her mouth.

you can feel your release flowing out of yourself but robin doesn't let a single drop go to waste, licking it up until you're squirming from the overstimulation on you.

"fuck..." you finally groan after a minute of catching your breath "that was- fuck"

"i told you i could do it" robin says and gets up from the floor. you really did make a mess of her face, your cum spread on her chin and the tip of her nose.

you lean in and kiss her, tasting yourself on her.

it's obscene really, how much it turns you on to have your own wetness on her lips and tongue. how your cunt immediately clenches around nothing, longing to be filled by robin, regardless of the fact that you've cum just now.

she chuckles when you moan into her mouth.

"didn't have enough yet?"

"fuck no-" you answer, hips jearking forward to chase her touch.

"it's okay, shh" she hushes you "i got you pretty girl...remember what you said? i'm gonna make sure to ruin you"

you gasp when she grabs you with a sudden sense of roughness and makes you sit on her bed.

"now" robin whispers against your lips "be a good girl and wait for me okay?"

you nod and she smiles before she turns around and walks towards her closet. you can't help but watch her every move, delighted to see it when she starts taking off her shirt, revealing her back to you. you would ask her to turn but your voice would probably die in your throat, so you just sit there and watch her as she strips out of her clothing.

robin bends over and you bite your lips. god you're helpless.

but how could you not, when the muscles are flexing on her upper back, giving a slight hint to the power she holds, the power she could potentially have over you if she wanted you.

a power you can't wait to get your first taste of.

but these thoughts leave you when she turns around, revealing herself to you.

she is still in a plain black bra and boxer shorts but it's more than enough. your eyes wander over her and you visilby gulp.

you weren't mistaken when you felt the abs on her stomach earlier on this day and there is a thin layer of freckles all over her skin.

she is without the shadow a doubt gorgeous.

then your gaze falls upon the item she is holding out suggestively. it's one you have never gotten the chance to see from up close but you were lying if you said you hadn't fantasized about it countless times before.

"fuck" you whimper.

robin grins and shakes your head "i knew it...you want me to fuck you with my strap?"

"please"

"it's okay" she assures, fingers working on attaching the harness to her body already "don't worry sweet girl, just sit there and look pretty while i attach this one alright?"

you chuckle and nod your head.

"yeah, i can do that" you bite your lip and she looks up from where her fingers are working.

robin's fingers work with the harness with ease, strapping it all up in it's destined position until the toy sits where it is supposed to.

your mouth waters at the sight of it.

"like that?" she grins and steps closer to the edge of the bed until she is practically towering above you.

you visibly gulp when robin reaches for your chin and tilts your head so that you're staring up at her. her features shimmer golden in the light of the sun that floods through the window at the other end of the room.

you can't help but feel a little bit exposed, sitting on the bed of a woman you hardly know without any clothes on.

a soft blush creeps up your chest and her eyes catch it immediately.

"what is it? are you okay? you know we can always stop, right?"

"no!" you exclaim, your voice far to desperate for your own liking. "i- I mean- uh- no. just a little...self conscious, i suppose"

a smile softens her features and she turns her head to the side in thought, her fingers still holding onto your chin.

"it's okay, we can take things slow if that's what you need...?"

you think about this for a second but ultimately end up shaking your head. there's something about being in this vulnerable position beneath her that does things to you. something you haven't known yet but definitely also something you would like to know more about.

"I don't need slow"

"oh?" robin smiles as if that's exactly what she'd expected. "well in that case..."

she reaches around herself, to where her bedside table is, and grabs another hat, similar to the one she wore before: a white, big one that falls over your eyes when she puts it on you.

"here" robin rasps "like this you'll feel less...naked"

you chuckle when it covers your eyes, against all odds of this situation, but robin joins you in the laughter and softly pushes it further back.

"now" she finally speaks, a look of adoration in her eyes. for someone you have just met today, you really want to get to know her better. you don't want this to end once your car is fixed. somehow, as strange as it might be, you wish to be here for longer. who knows, maybe you'll purposefully hide some of her tools when she tries to fix your car?

"be a good girl and help me get this ready for your pretty pussy okay?"

the words catch you off guard and have you visibly gasping.

when you finally gain your composure back and nod for her, robin steps into your space and reaches around your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair to pull you close.

"open up, pretty girl" she taps the tip of her strap against your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly.

you've never done this before, not for anyone really. you've never thought you would ever want it this much.

eager to obey, you part your lips for her. robin uses the hold she has on the back of your head to pull you down against her until your lips are nearly touching the base of the toy, your mouth taking it all the way.

you moan around it at the new sensation and robin rewards you by running a hand through your hair.

"you take it so well" she whispers and looks down at you in amazement, watching the toy disappear in your mouth with each thrust of your hips.

at one particular deep thrust, you can't help yourself but gag around the silicone cock.

the noise mixes with a strange sound of pleasure and it's clear that you're enjoying yourself like this.

"fuck" she groans and her lashes flutter. "just like that, get it all wet for that cunt of yours...just like that"

you can feel yourself drooling but robin makes sure to wipe it from your chin.

she pulls out of your mouth eventually, eager to finally fuck you. a string of your saliva is connecting your lip to the toy and it's glistening with your spit on it.

"look at that" robin whispers proudly and strokes through your hair "i'm not even gonna need any lube. you got it all wet for me"

you nod your head eagerly, unable to form a proper sentence at this point.

"i think you've earned it, haven't you? sucked on my strap so good, you deserve to be fucked with it now"

she walks around the bed until she can crawl on it behind you. robin sits down with her back against the many pillows and spreads her legs slightly.

you turn your head and shiver at the sight.

"fuck"

"come here" she smiles and taps her thigh "come here and ride me"

you don't have to be told twice, immediately scrambling up on the bed to face her.

you’ve already forgotten about her hat that is still on you.

when you do so, ready for her to ruin you, robin gently shakes her head.

"not like this" she says and puts a hand on each of your shoulders "turn around for me".

robin gives you a slight shove but it is enough for you to understand. so she really wants you to ride her filthy.

god this woman is going to be the death of you.

you do as you're told, turning around so that your back is facing robin’s front.

the woman runs her fingers down your spine until they can firmly rest on your hips, just above the sell of your ass.

“robin” you whine pleading “please!”

“you want something huh?” she rasps from behind you and you can feel her leaning in until her lips are lingering by your ear. you also feel the strap attached to her body, its bulge pressing against you firmly.

“then be a good girl and take it”

you take this an invitation to reach out, taking the spit soaked strap in your hand and lining it up with your dripping entrance.

“hmh” robin hums, pleased with what you’re doing. “just like that”.

slowly, you lower yourself onto the toy. robin’s deep, shaky inhale sends a soft blush of pride upon your cheeks.

you don’t have much time to focus on that, her strap now buried deep inside your aching cunt. you take each and every inch greedily and it is sucked in with ease.

until finally, you feel robin’s thighs on your skin and the base of the strap pressing against your entrance.

“how is this sugar?” she hums, her nails scratching over your skin slightly.

“so good” you exhale, adjusting to the fullness.

“i know” robin murmurs, followed by sweet praise and slow, sensual strokes over her fingers up and down your sides.

“robin!” you exclaim when the woman behind you suddenly jerks her hip forward, causing the strap to press up against your inner walls just right.

your hands reach out, desperately trying to find something to hold onto.

they rest on robin’s legs in front of you.

“you take it so well” robin whispers softly “i’m gonna make you feel so fucking good you hear me?”

her hand lands on your ass slightly more forcefully than before, a small smacking noise echoing through the room.

your eyes roll back in your head and your mouth falls open as a moan you can’t hold back falls from it.

“oh you like that?”

“hmh” you nod your head, far too desperate to feel embarrassed about the confession.

robin doesn’t mind though, she just chuckles before her palm meets your ass again, harder this time.

“fuck-“ you cry out and your head falls forward against your chest “fuck me please”.

you slam yourself back against her at the same time as you speak, leaning forward until only the tip is still inside and then taking it all the way into you again.

you never knew it would feel this good to be fucking yourself on a pretty woman’s strap.

her hands ghost over your back again, dancing up your ribcage and eventually finding their way to your waist. that is where they stay as she pulls you back against herself, supporting you with each thrust.

“oh my god” you moan “y-yes! yes fuck- harder!”

robin chuckles from behind “you want it bad yeah?”

your head is spinning with pleasure, your previous orgasm still rushing through you while the next one is already approaching. it’s coiling in your lower body, ready to snap if you just get a little more.

“robin” you babble “fuck me harder robin please, god, please”

one of her hands is placed upon your ass while the other is dragging you back against her over and over again, helping you through the thrusts.

“oh my-“

you grip her legs harder, your nails digging half moon shapes into her freckled skin.

the strap hits all the right spots inside of you and your clenching around it only sucks it further in with each time she pumps it into you.

“so close” you whisper finally “so fucking close robin can i- please let me touch myself fuck”

“do it y/n…fuck you look so fucking pretty when you ride me like that” robin pants. she sounds breathless, proving that your actions are affecting her just as much.

you just groan and push yourself against her again before you use one hand between your legs, rubbing your clit all while you’re bouncing on top of her.

the headboard of the bed is banging against the wall, causing a noise that can be heard through the entire house.

the whole bed is creaking underneath your bodies, that’s how forcefully you’re throwing yourself back against her.

it only takes a few more clockwise circles of your index against your clit and deep thrusts into your cunt to send you over the edge.

you choke out a lewd scream when your orgasm hits you.

your head drops forward, causing the hat to drop into your face again as you feel yourself gushing around the toy that’s fucking you through your release.

you hardly notice when robin mumbles “holy shit” as you make a mess of the strap, her sheets and her lower half even.

“fuck fuck fuck” you mutter, over and over again. your body is shaking and your breathing is heavy and labored.

you can’t even find it in you to feel embarrassed for what you’ve done. either way robin doesn’t seem to mind, judging by the way she’s glaring at it in amazement when you turn your head.

you chuckle breathlessly and lift your hips just enough for her to pull out of you.

your arousal sticks against your thighs when you close them and turn around to lay on top of her.

“come here sweetheart” she whispers approvingly. “fuck you did so good for me”

robin wraps her arms around your sweat stained body and takes the hat off of you to wipe your hair out of your face.

“so good” she repeats and places a kiss to your forehead.

“do you need something? a water? anything?”

you smile at how considerate she’s with you but shake your head.

“just- can we stay like that? for a bit? please?”

now it’s robin’s turn to chuckle.

“of course we can. it’s okay, you can rest alright?”

and, oh you will, but by now you’re certain you want more than that. you want to stay. screw your plans, because you can’t leave robin behind just yet.

your plan comes back to your mind; stealing her tools so she can never fix up your car, not until you want her to.

maybe you’ll do that. or maybe you’ll just ask her if you can.

maybe you will know once you have rested like robin has suggested.

her arms sure are comfortable and your body is exhausted…

before you even know it, you’re fast asleep in the arms of robin buckley.

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley x yn #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x you #robin buckley smut #cowgirl!robin buckley #robin buckley x reader smut #stranger things

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russellsppttemplates · 5 months

Note

So what about one of the girfriends not feeling well during the raceweeked but being stubborn about it. She ends up feeling really really poorly on race day and has to sit inside with some other wag inside hospitality or even be taken to the medical area for a bit. Maybe it's the heat or the jetlag idk,but driver ends up knowing about it after and he's worried, so he's taking care of her from them on and is grateful for their friends

Tw: sickness from heat stroke, medical visit

"I'm getting a coffee, Y/N, do you want something?", Carmen asked, "can you bring me a bottle of water, please? Cold, if possible", you asked her, seeing her nod as she got up. It was hot, that much you could say. Inside the hospitality, you were feeling okay, but the minute you set foot close to the garage, where the air outside was much more prominent, it was a different story. So, for now, you and Carmen were keeping yourselves indoor until the race started, having already wished good luck to both of your boyfriends on their race, hoping for a double Mercedes podium today.

"How did you convince Mick to let you watch the race here?", Carmen asked as she came back, handing you the cold bottle for you to place it on the nape of your neck, "I might've told him that I was fine, which I feel like I am", you said as the Spanish woman looked at you sternly, "fine-ish, but it's going to be okay, I just have to keep myself in a cooler spot, lots of water, maybe grab some ice from the catering", you joked.

Joking, however, didn't seem like such when about halfway through the race, you started having trouble in seeing the screen properly, even with your glasses on, "you're not feeling well, are you, Y/N?", Carmen asked as she got up, helping you to a cooler part of the garage, "I'm a bit dizzy", you admitted. After giving you some water and placing an ice pack on your neck and another to your wrists, you started feeling a little bit better even though you were still a bit weak.

"I think it's best if we go get you checked out", Carmen reasoned, "you're looking pale and flushed, and those two are never a good sign", she said, getting one of the media girls to help you to the medical tent hoping someone would just check if everything was fine.

"Y/N, have you been sleeping well?", the doctor asked after he took your temperature, "I've been travelling for work, and then I came here, so sleep hasn't been so easy", you clarified, "jet lag and this heat is a bad combination", he stated, "this is likely heat stroke, there's nothing else suggesting another situation, so rest up, lots of fluids, stay away from the sun as much as possible for the next few days and ice packs on your pressure and temperature points should help, too", he concluded as you nodded, thanking him.

"It looks like there might be some celebrations today, but I'd rather you stay in", he said as he showed you the final results, George and Mick getting a Mercedes 1-2 as they crossed the line.

Opting to stay in Mick's driver's room until after the podium, it didn't take long for your boyfriend to walk in, his trophy standing on Toto's counter as he checked you, "I heard what happened, are you okay?", he said, approaching you as Carmen stood back, looking for her boyfriend so she could congratulate him and give you two some privacy, "I'm fine, I just can't take the combination of hot temperatures and sleep deprivation", you smiled, hoping to soothe his worries.

Understandably, you and Mick passed on the team's dinner despite your insistence that Mick should go, "knowing Mick, he would eat very quickly and wait for the best and most polite time to come back to you, so he might as well just pass this one and we will all celebrate later when you feel better", Toto said as you smiled at his attentiveness.

"I have a bath, cool water, so we can wash the day away, I asked room service for something light for dinner and also a bucket of ice", he smiled as he helped you undress, "I know you're tired, but I promise you're going to feel better after this, liebling". Holding you with one arm under your knees and one around your back, Mick eased you into the bathtub before he got in, "don't think I won't scold you for letting me believe you were feeling better when you weren't. I'm just not going to do it now", he chuckled, kissing your shoulders as you snuggled closer to him, "thank you for looking after me", you whispered, "always, liebling, always".

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

#mick schumacher blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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izurou · 1 year

Text

you can’t sleep, and so kento can’t either.

it’s a recurring theme. you toss and turn, turn and toss, and being the light sleeper he is—kento will wake up.

he always attempts to lull you back into a slumber though, even if he is only twenty percent aware of his surroundings. one of his arms will reach out to your side and pull you close upon discovery, more or less restricting any further movement on your end as he keeps you in place with his strength.

ten minutes pass, followed by fifteen, twenty five, half an hour—and all you get is the overflow of his seemingly endless supply of body heat, which in turn, just makes your dream of a good night’s rest—or what’s left of it, even more unattainable.

you slip out of his grasp—mumbling something about getting a glass of water from the bathroom—or using the kitchen? he isn’t entirely sure. even so, you’ve pulled this stunt enough times for him to know you won’t be back anytime soon.

so he forces himself out of bed and steps into the pair of sandy brown slippers he keeps by the door—dragging them against the hardwood floors as he joins you downstairs.

“you can’t do this every time,” he mutters over his shoulder—filling your little kitchen with the steady sound of his spoon as it clinks against the sides of his mug. “you do know that, right?”

he’s cute like this—little blonde tufts sticking out all over his head, a faint red indentation wrapping around the arm he was passed out on, and the subtlest hint of annoyance woven into his words—a watered down version of the tone satoru is often on the receiving end of.

“why not?” you ask, sweet and innocent—you’re not hurting anyone—well, maybe yourself in the grand scheme of things, but that has nothing to do with him, right?

“don’t you think it’d make more sense to, i don’t know,” he pauses, lifting the cup to his lips for a quick sip before turning around. “try to sleep?”

“no,” you say, mimicking his movements as you reach for your own cup—chamomile tea he made for you. “sometimes you just have to get up and move around.”

“yeah?” a puff of air leaves his nose—something resembling a laugh as he hides his growing smirk behind his coffee. “looks like you’re doing a lot of moving, sweetheart.”

well, he isn’t wrong, you’ve been leaning against the kitchen island this whole time—at no fault of your own though, because kento insisted on making the beverage himself.

“you know what i meant,” you grumble, giving him a rather unsavoury glare.

he just hums in agreement, pushes himself off of the edge of the counter, and settles in next to you—same exact position, better company.

“something on your mind?” he asks, knowing full well that your brain is often the culprit on nights like these.

“nothing major,” you reply, “just wondering why you put creamer in my tea.”

flavoured creamer to be exact—tasting vaguely of peppermint, something you’d only expect to find in store around the holiday season. why kento has it now will have to remain a mystery.

“i did?” he furrows his brows, craning his neck to peek into your cup—and sure enough, the liquid is a much lighter shade of brown than it should be.

you didn’t say anything of course, seeing as he was nice enough to do it for you—but apparently, not conscious enough to do it well.

“mhm, it’s,” you pause—bringing the rim of the cup to your lips, reluctantly letting the concoction slide down your throat, and over exaggerating the disgusted face you make in the process. “t’s really bad, maybe you should’ve let me do it.”

“tch, don’t give me that,” he huffs, though he just can’t seem to fight the grin that bullies it’s way onto his lips.

“give you what?” you ask, as innocent and sweet as always—even despite the pout on your face.

“that,” he clarifies, pressing a finger against the apple of your cheek, which consequently replaces your pout with a pretty smile—and maybe, this is worth more than the sleep he’s missing out on.

you wrap your arms around him, nuzzling into the warmth of his chest—ironic, you know—but it’s much different when you’re not buried under the blankets. at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

you remain like this for a few minutes, and he’s silent, incredibly so—with his chin resting atop your head and his hands holding your waist. you can’t make out the sound of his breath, nor the beat of his heart—did he die up there?

“ken?” you poke him, searching for a sign of life.

“hm?” he jolts a little, seemingly coming back to his senses on contact. well, he’s not dead—just sleepy, and totally giving himself away.

you might not be able to sleep, but kento can—he just chooses not to, for your sake.

#izurou #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff #nanami <3 i miss him sob

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acourtofinkandpapyrus · 7 months

Text

My Little Shadow: Part ten (Azriel x Reader)

Warnings: OH THE ANGST- Body image issues, mentions of smut, and trauma.

Part nine Part eleven

Tag list: @mis-lil-red @bubybubsters @luvmoo @rorel1a

Y/N tells Feyre and Mor about her feelings for Azriel, and they convince her to confess, because he feels the same way... right?

“Well, You should tell him.” Morrigan said, grinning at me in Rita’s.

I hadn’t really wanted to come here, as it was a ‘girl’s night out’, they insisted I came with.

“What are you two up to?” Feyre asked as she found a seat in our booth, and cheeks heated a bit more.

“Y/N’s crush on Azzy.�� Morrigan said, and I wondered if I was going to melt right then and there.

Feyre’s eyes went wide, sparling with glee as she grinned. “Are you going to tell him?”

This was the absolute worst.

“No!” I said, shooting the both of them a glare. “He probably doesn’t feel the same way anyway.”

Morrigan and Feyre looked at each other conspiratorially, and I suddenly had a bad feeling.

“What are you two planning?”

“Oh, nothing…” Feyre said with a smirk.

Morrigan scooted closer to me and spoke softly, “You know, I’m pretty sure Az feels the same way.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course you only say that after I said I wasn’t going to tell him.”

Mor grinned, and I knew then I wasn’t getting out of this for a while.

“What you need is to feel more confident in yourself.” She declared, getting out of the booth and looking at me with chaotic delight in her eyes. “We are taking you shopping.”

“No-” I started to protest but mor grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the booth.

Feyre chuckled, taking another small sip of her drink before following us out the door.

I was half dead on my feet from exhaustion as we made it to the dress shop. I had been so busy with training in the mornings, I never got to explore the city at night. It was somehow even more beautiful, glowing in the night.

We had already gone and gotten our hair and nails done, despite my protests, and now Mor claimed I needed the perfect dress.

I sat by the window with Feyre as we watched Morrigan look through the beautiful fabrics.

“Thank you.” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Feyre swung her head around, a small smile on her face. “Oh, don’t worry. We have plenty to spend on things like this. And anyway, you’re part of our little family now.”

I blushed at this, but quickly added, “Not just this. Everything.”

It was obvious she didn’t quite understand as she looked at me, and I clarified, “I mean for letting me stay here, for giving me a home.”

Her eyes softened in understanding and she wrapped a comforting arm around me. “You will always have a home here Y/N.”

I smile softly, about to say something else when a dress catches my eye.

I’m quick to stand, and even quicker to make my way over to it, feeling the shadowy fabric on the mannequin.

The cloth of the dress clings tight in the chest and torso, the fabric almost swirling as it falls into a skirt of dark blues, purples, and black. It also comes with a little caplet, adding to the elegance of the design.

I bite my lip nervously. The only problem is that it’s otherwise sleeveless, and would reveal my torn up arms.

“Ooh, that’s a nice dress! You should try it on!” Morrigan encouraged, rushing up to take it off the mannequin.

“No, I can’t.” I say, backing away a little bit.

I didn’t want them to see. I didn’t want anyone to see. My scars didn’t look like art, like Azz’s swirls that add so much character, they aren’t some badge from a fight I had won.

They were just… Scars. Deep, ugly, scars.

“Come on, pleaseee?” Morrigan begged, and I swallowed hard.

“Okay…” I said, not feeling comfortable even as she squealed in excitement.

I felt a warm hand grip mine, and I turned to see Feyre next to me, mouthing, “Are you alright?”

I nodded, forcing a little smile to my face.

Soon, I was in the dressing room, changing into the dress. I looked into the mirror, and almost gasped as I saw the way the dress hung on me. It almost looked better on me than it did on the mannequin.

It accentuated my curves and the top of my hips before flowing freely, there was a bit of cleavage, but not extreme.

But the part that made me nervous was the scars littered down my arms. I knew as soon as I went out they would see them, and I didn’t want to talk about what had happened to me under the mountain right now.

I take a deep breath though, knowing that I couldn’t avoid this forever.

If they ask, I don’t have to tell them. I really don’t.

So I opened up the door, stepping out so they could see me.

They both just stare for a moment, and I wait for them to be horrified, to usher me back in to change back-

“YOU LOOK STUNNING!” Morrigan shouted, loud enough to wake the whole goddamn city.

She rushed over, forcing me to spin around so she could get a better look. Feyre was smiling now, although it seemed a bit sad.

I was still reeling from their reactions when they dragged me out of the store, still wearing the dress because I think they knew if I got out of it, they may never get me to wear it again.

“Now you go talk to Azriel, tell him how you feel.” She said, grinning as Feyre winnowed us back to the river house.

They quickly rushed off, leaving me on my own to find Azriel.

I could have sent my shadows out, but I decided it was better if I looked myself. I can’t always hide behind them.

As I’m searching, I go through many rooms, but one thing they all had in common was that they had some sort of art from Feyre hanging in them.

I head into the library, and I’m surprised to find a red-haired female. She’s a bit short, and I wonder if she’s completely fae, but that never really mattered to me.

“Hello.” I say, and she drops her book in surprise. She looks tired, like she’s been through a lot.

This is easier than talking to Azriel, soI smile, walking over to her. “I’m Y/N. What's your name?”

She’s quiet for a moment before she says, “Bryce.”

Her accent is a little strange, but I didn’t mind. I looked at her discarded book. “Whatcha reading?”

She struggles as she speaks, “I- I’m still learning- to talk this language.”

My eyes go wide and I nod. “That’s alright. Hey, have you seen Azriel around?”

For a second I wonder if she understands me, but then she says, “Kitchen.”

I grin at her, giving her a thumbs up. “Thank you! And hey, if you ever need any help, come find me. I used to help the kids back home learn to read, so I might be able to help with some pronunciation.”

She looked a little confused, but nodded gratefully. As I headed to the kitchen, I hoped whatever she was going through ended soon. She seemed nice.

Nearing the kitchen, I could hear snippets of conversation. I paused, rethinking the whole thing.

I took a steading breath. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the night I had shared with Mor and Feyre, but I decided fuck it and turned the corner to the kitchen.

My shadows wrapped around me as soon as I went around the corner, sensing what was happening before I even did.

His hand was half up Elain’s skirt, and her head was tipped back as he planted kisses on her collarbone.

I stand there, reeling a bit.

I thought- Mor had said-

Elain’s eyes meet mine, and I suddenly realize that I’m watching a very private moment.

Azriel notices her stare, and turns to look, but I’m already sprinting for the door.

I hear Azriel call out my name, but I don’t stop, I don’t even register it fully.

Take me somewhere else, anywhere else, just away from here. I’m thinking to myself, but my shadows understand, and for the first time, they winnow me away.

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spacelazarwolf · 7 months

Note

I thought that I noticed some hypocrisy and contradiction in your posts but I'm not sure so i would appreciate it if you can clarify things for me bc I don't want to assume the worst. I'm just confused

So basically I feel like you are overly harsh on Christians while being very permissive to (religious) Jews. You act like even progressive Christians are super problematic and not allowed to reblog your posts and wtv, but then you turn around and say that all religious Jews are valid and should be accepted, including conservative and orthodox branches (forgive my ignorance if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure those are the ones that are very conservative and bigoted). So basically what I'm trying to say is that you seem to put conservative Jews on a higher level than progressive Christians which doesn't make sense to me.

I understand that conservative Christian, progressive Christians and anyone raised Christian pretty much has antisemitism that they have to work through. (I'm an ex Christian goyim atheist and your blog has really made me reconstruct some things which im grateful for btw!) But at the same time, antisemitism is only one bad thing that you can be.

So like to summarize I feel like antisemitism from progressive Christians is enough to make you tell them to dni but other kinds of bigotry like homophobia, transphobia, sexism etc from conservative Jews doesn't stop you from saying their religious is totally fine and acceptable.

Again, this is not an accusation, but more of a question. (Even though I probably phrased it like an attack in sorry!) I don't really know if I analyzed the situation correctly and I would really just want to have a chill interaction with you instead of a heated argument. If you could please explain how exactly you view this issue i would very grateful but you are under no obligation! If you don't feel like explaining yourself to a complete stranger, you are free to just ignore this. Have a meaningful Yom Kippur!

(sorry for the rambling post lol)

i made the mistake of absentmindedly opening the tumblr app on my walk to synagogue and i did not think i could be surprised by gentile fuckery anymore but this has left me pretty speechless. the audacity to send this on yom kippur is. wow. i regret not locking my phone away for 25 hours because fucking YIKES. please come off anon so i can block you because i do not want you interacting with me or any of my content.

#ask avishai #jewish #jumblr

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landwriter · 1 year

Note

Sandman prompt: Dreamling roadtrip

"Remind me why I am allowing this," says Dream.

Hob casts a sidelong glance at him. Dream, in his car. Dream, stuck in the crawl of London traffic with him. Imagine that.

He reels off Dream's succession of unfortunate choices with poorly smothered glee. "Because your sister said you should spend more time among us humans, which you mentioned in passing to Matthew yesterday, who suggested a road trip, then had to explain to you that a road trip meant 'Just driving somewhere for a while', and you apparently you said-," Hob pauses to pitch his voice as low and poncy as possible, "'Ah, a pilgrimage, then. A journey for self-knowledge.' And Matthew said 'That's right, boss' and you said you would, in fact, be curious about such an experience."

"False pretenses," says Dream, darkly, under his breath.

"Indeed," says Hob, who thinks he loves false pretenses now. Matthew had shown up at his flat laughing so hard he couldn't even speak. When he finally recounted the conversation (after Hob had gotten very concerned and asked if Matthew needed a human counselor or an animal vet, and Matthew had shaken his head and wheezed 'No, a driver', before falling into fits of laughter again), Hob had immediately agreed.

"And then I canceled my plans for the weekend because I'm the only human you know who has a car, it turns out," (A reliable and bright red Vauxhall Corsa, thank you for asking.) "And because I'm a very good friend," he adds. He still relishes the new-word feel of it. It had only been four months since Dream had shown up at The New Inn. Hob was skiving off marking midterm papers for this, actually.

"Yes," says Dream. Hob realizes he'd skive off the whole term for this.

How could he turn down the prospect? His friend, literally strapped into the Corsa for at least the next several hours. Assuming Dream didn't leap out and flee on foot down the M1 - which seemed so thoroughly undignified for a being of Dream's station that Hob felt utterly assured of his company. It had all rather gone to his head.

"This will be fun," he promises. "Feel the grass under your feet, and that."

Dream looks out the window bitterly as a lorry overtakes them. Hob has never been the fastest of drivers. Never really took to it, to be honest. Bit of the medieval peasant in him, he thinks, can't quite make himself go over fifty miles per hour. But he's very safe. Hardly any accidents. Mostly minor rear-end damage.

"I see no grass," says Dream.

"Surely the Lord of Stories is familiar with figurative speech," says Hob, and glows under the heat of Dream's glare in reply.

"Anyways," he continues, "We're getting to that bit. Literally. In, uh, six hours or so? It's a great spot. But in the mean time, this is part of it too." Hob takes a hand off the wheel to gesture with a flourish at the sea of sensible hatchbacks and work vans around them, swimming like fish in the asphalt rivers of London's outer burbs. "Humanity," he pronounces, and the car drifts a little into the next lane. Humanity honks rudely at him and then accelerates safely out of Hob's radius.

Dream's sulking seems to have pushed him fully into the realm of catatonia, because Hob's passengers are usually more animated when he does exciting little things like that. Hob looks over in concern and this time the car barely follows with him.

"Bit rusty," he offers.

Dream deigns to snort softly at that. "My sister is far worse," he says.

Hob raises his eyebrows. It was hard to imagine Death bad at anything, frankly. Dream must see his look because he clarifies.

"Another sister. Delirium. An official of the carriageway stopped us. He would not have us continue our passage. So she gave him delusion of bugs crawling across his skin. Forever."

"Well, that's one way to get out of a ticket," says Hob, and makes a mental note to ask Death for a complete list of siblings and how to avoid angering them.

"He was being rude," adds Dream. He suddenly sounds very much like an older brother.

"Oh, fair play, then," says Hob affably. He'd had little sisters once. He understood.

They drive in silence for a few minutes. Hob thinks about putting on a playlist, and has just decided that nineties Britpop is perfect for this occasion when they pass a junction sign and he exclaims in recognition.

"The M25! Funny story, I know just the loveliest antiquarian book dealer who says his partner - uh, I'm assuming there, but if you heard the way he talks about him - anyways, his partner designed it. Some kind of high-flying civil engineer, I reckon."

"Really," says Dream. "A...high-flying...civil engineer." He sounds fascinated.

Hob hadn't expected Dream to be interested in road design.

"Something like that, definitely," he says, looking over to see Dream, staring at him, rapt. He looks back and brakes just in time to avoid hitting the car in front of him as it turns off onto the motorway in question. "Sorry. Saw him once in passing, actually. Dresses like you. Very fancy and dark."

"Perhaps you should keep your focus on the road, Hob," says Dream, but he sounds like he's smiling.

"Oh, we're not for a while yet," says Hob. Half truth, half optimism.

"Where are we going?" asks Dream. Hob beams. He's just won a bet with Matthew.

"It's a surprise" he says. "Now, have you heard of this band called Oasis?"

#asks #the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #prompt fill #my writing #road trip fic is a timeless genre #hob is making it up as he goes #hob def has multiple routes in mind depending on how long dream is willing to abscond with him #hey fellas is it gay to want to drive across the country with your best friend #(hey fellas is it gay to hope you'll have to stay the night at a village inn and be mistaken for a couple)

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boyfhee · 1 year

Text

⋆ POPSICLES · lhs

synopsis · you're cold and heeseung knows the perfect way to warm you up

genre · established relationship ( 1.2k )

notes · we love reposting, pt 2 the sequel !! i have so many fav works from old blog

“who even eats popsicles in winters?” you snicker, letting the flavour conquer your mind along with the cold ice that sends slight shivers down your spine.

“there’s no right or wrong time to eat popsicles,” he replies, and you find it funny. just ten minutes ago, heeseung was scolding you for not carrying a scarf and not having your jacket zipped up when you should be taking care of yourself in this cold weather.

there are times when he doesn’t make any sense. like back when he told you he doesn’t like cats, but you can still spot him having a fun time with the ones living by your street. or when he said he hates writing essays, but stayed up till one in the night to write yours because you weren’t feeling well. if you’re not mistaken, he also told you that he isn’t interested in relationships, only to ask you out just four days later.

you’re damn sure, heeseung doesn’t make any sense, but neither does love.

“if i get sick, i’m blaming you.” you speak up, a faint laughter falling off his lips before his eyes settle on your satisfied grimace as you devour on the delicacy.

“for someone who’s against eating popsicles in winters, you sure are enjoying it a lot, ” he holds back a laugh. “

“i’m doing it so that you don’t feel bad,” he laughs, saying something along the lines of ‘thanks, i’m honoured,’ before you both break into giggles. suddenly, the weather doesn’t seem as cold anymore. well, it has always been like this. heeseung has always been warm, literally and figuratively— and it’s something he takes pride in. just like now, his hand is wrapped around yours as an excuse to keep you warm when you know very well that he just wants to hold your hands and relive the feeling of your fingers intertwined in his’ over and over again.

and as much as you appreciate his ‘concern,’ heeseung uses that excuse a little too much.

because when he stops in his tracks, looking at you with a soft yet mischievous gaze, your heart speeds up a little as if you’re about to run for your life. and when heeseung takes a step towards you, inching closer to your lips before capturing them with his, the time ceases to exist, the minutes hanging like autumn frost on rose petals.

and you just look at him with a love-struck gaze, a question floating in your eyes; however you don’t voice the mess that your thoughts are. you don’t need to, he knows about them already.

“well, your lips looked cold, so I thought i could warm them up.” he clarifies as he continues on his path once again as if nothing happened. as if he didn’t just kiss you in the middle of the street, on a freezing winter night, and even though you both have the same flavour of popsicles, you can swear cherry never tasted so good before.

“you’re not helping, hee. i’m still cold.” you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool because if he can pretend nothing happened, you can too. ( and you both know it’s childish but one of you cares enough about it )

“is that so?” this time, he didn't wait.

instead, heeseung simply snakes his free arm around your waist, pulling you closer into a kiss, again. it feels euphoric the way his lips move in synchrony with yours, fitting like puzzle pieces. a faint gasp escaping your mouth that dissolves immediately into your breaths mingling together.

he pulls back, much to your disappointment, looking at you with love sick eyes and dust of pink sprinkled on his cheeks. “are you still cold?”

you press your lips into a thin line, nodding in acceptance. “maybe if you kiss me again, i won't be cold anymore.” and once again, his lips land on yours, your cheeks heating up a little as you smile in between.

the popsicles are long forgotten in your hands.

#—approved.#enhypen #k-labels #heeseung x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung imagines #enhypen x you #enhypen scenarios #enhypen reactions #enhypen drabbles #heeseung drabbles #heeseung scenarios #heeseung fic #enhypen fic

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hellfirenacht · 4 days

Text

Reader ==> Enjoy Your New Car!

Summery: Through no powers of your own, you end up in Hawkins 1985, in a tv show that you once saw on Netflix. Slow burn, Eddie Munson x Reader will be canon, choose your own adventure to a degree, monkey’s paw author.

Isekai Chronicles Master List

START HERE <<<--- FIRST CHAPTER HERE

Chapter Summery: You get a new (old) car! That should help you get around Hawkins... right?

Tags: Eddie and Reader, sfw

Work Count: 2.8 k

Reader ==> Enjoy Your New Car!

The junk car that you managed to scrape together a couple hundred dollars for worked well enough for the first two weeks. It had no heating, no radio, the seats were uncomfortable, and there was a lingering scent that you couldn’t get rid of no matter how much you tried to clean it, but it drove you to the Hideout and the high school, and to the trailer you now called home.

That was until about a half hour ago when the key snapped in the slot to turn the engine on. Could you ever catch a break? Just fucking once while you were here?

You nearly jumped out of your seat and through the roof of your rust bucket when you heard a tap at the window. You looked to see Eddie, frowning at you and you manually cranked down the window.

“Evenin’ officer. How can I help you?” you asked, trying not to sound as defeated as you felt in that moment.

“This is a no parking zone.” He said, leaning over and resting his arms on the open window. It was late November, and the cold was consistent now, but you hardly noticed with how you’d been just staring out the windshield for the past thirty or so minutes. “Neighbors have been sending in complaints.”

You looked behind you at the neighboring trailers. There were at least 2 that had broken down cars within the block, one that’s been sitting on cinder blocks since before you arrived and one that the neighbor had been working on for a few weeks on and off. Other cars were scattered and parked near their own trailers, haphazardly.

“I’ll be sure to move it.” you said, more dry than intended.

“So why are you sitting out here in your car, staring out into space?” Eddie asked and looked out the way your car was facing, as if trying to see if there was anything interesting in that general direction. There wasn’t.

“Car’s broke.”

“How broke?”

You held up the piece of plastic where your key had been attached to.

“So the car’s fine, but the key broke.” Eddie clarified.

“Is there a difference?” You asked.

“There is. If the car was busted then you’d be fucked out of this rust bucket-”

“Eddie, you can’t say things like that.-” you rubbed your face, now feeling the cold in the contrast to the warmth in your cheeks.

“What I’m saying is I can help.” He continued. “Do you have any tools?”

“Uhhh....”

“Follow me.”

You got out of the car, not bothering to roll the window back up, and followed Eddie back to his trailer across the park. It wasn’t a long walk, you had already come to visit your friend more than a few times since you moved in. You felt a little bad, you found yourself spending time at Eddie’s place more than your own.

“So, what brought you to my end of the park?” you asked as the two of you walked. The ground was covered in a thin layer of frost that wouldn’t fully commit to snow or ice.

“Boredom.” he said honestly. “I fried my brain trying to learn this new riff I’ve been working on and I needed a break.”

“New song for the set?” You asked. “It’s about time, I get that one Judas Priest song is a staple, but you’ve beaten it into the ground at this point.”

“Prowler isn’t going anywhere as long as it’s the one song everyone can play consistently.” Eddie protested. “And it’s a new original song I’m working on.”

“That’s actually really cool.” you followed him into his slightly warmer trailer and watched as he opened a tiny closet and pulled out a tool box. “How many original songs do you have?”

“Three and a half.” Eddie said. “We uh.. We started with a song that Ronnie and I wrote together. We don’t play that one anymore, but we’ve got one other song, and this one that I’m working on now.”

“Why don’t you play the first song?” You asked as you followed him back out.

Eddie’s face went stoic for a moment, staring at the dirty green toolbox. “It just didn’t work out.” he finally said, and you had a feeling he wasn’t interested in talking about the song. “The second song is called Litch and if Jeff can commit to learning the vocals then we’d actually be able to play it at the Hideout at some point. They always hesitate on playing our original songs.”

“I’d like to hear your original stuff at some point.” you said, following him back out into the cold.

“If I can get the guys to commit, then you’ll hear it at some point.” Eddie said, leading the way back to your car.

There were times where the two of you couldn’t shut up for five seconds, and then there were times where the silence between the two of you was deafening. Sometimes you felt like you were getting somewhere with your friendship with Eddie, and sometimes... sometimes you wondered if he thought about you at all when you weren’t around.

He came over to see you. Of course he thinks about you. You told yourself, watching the subtle way his hair moved as the two of you walked together.

Eddie hopping into the driver seat of your car and you moved into the passenger side seat next to him, with the toolbox between the two of you. He immediately pulled out some pliers and started messing with the key slot, trying to get the broken bit of metal out.

You focused on his face, watching the way his eyes narrowed in concentration and the way his tongue subtly poked out from between his lips. That was something you noticed he did a lot. His brows were furrowed and from your angle it almost gave him a unibrow until he moved his fringe to the side. It was a little longer than it had been in the past two months and you wondered how often he cut it.

“Shit.” he muttered and leaned back against the seat, his hands resting on the wheel. “Yeah, it’s really jammed in there.”

“So I’m fucked out of this rust bucket?” you asked, frowning.

“I... there’s another option.” Eddie said, staring at the wheel. “It’s not a smart option. It’d be stupid, actually and not really safe. And I’d have to do something not completely within the letter of the law.”

You paused and stared at him. “Don’t you sell special K to high schoolers?”

“That was once and I overcharged them.” Eddie said. “I save that for a different clientele.”

For now. You thought.

“So, what’s the illegal method you have to help me with my car?” you asked.

Eddie took a deep breath and seemed to refuse to look at you. “We can hotwire it.”

“Hotwire... I’m sorry, what?” you looked at him surprised. “You know how to hotwire a car?” Had that been part of the show? You really wished that you had watched season four more than once over a year ago. It didn’t help that the longer you stayed here, the less you seemed to remember. You had your private box and notebook tucked away in your closet under a blanket, but you only pulled that out when you absolutely had to. Paranoia stopped you from reading everything too closely, and the idea of being caught with the things in that box... you shuddered to think about what would happen and how you’d explain yourself.

Eddie didn’t say anything for a moment before he pulled a screwdriver from the toolbox. “It’s up to you. I can hotwire the car and teach you how to start it up like that, or you can call a tow and pay to have the key fixed.”

You thought about the options for a while, you were already eating ramen for most of your meals to pay for the car. The car clearly wasn’t worth more than the couple hundred you had paid for it, and you really were convinced that you’d overpaid for it.

Fuck it.

Eddie wasn’t gentle with the way he ripped open the dashboard and he started pointing out the different wires. You did stop him for a moment to grab a sheet of paper to write it down. Eddie insisted that after you’ve done it once, you wouldn’t need the cheat sheet, but you weren’t going to take any chances.

“So.. how’d you learn to do this?” you asked as he rubbed two wires together, flicking them almost. You didn’t think he’d answer, but then the car suddenly rumbled to life and he actually smiled, looking proud of himself.

“My dad.” Eddie explained. “We didn’t exactly have a traditional relationship growing up. Some kids got birthday parties and trips to the zoo, I got lessons on hotwiring cars and trips to the bar to learn cheap tricks for money. That only lasted until I was about ten when I stopped being small and cute.”

“Shit.” you said, looking at him, trying to decide on how you’re supposed to respond to that lore that was just dropped on you. Eddie didn’t open up often, and this had to be a sign of trust, right? “...Want me to fight your dad?”

Eddie snorted at your question. “I bet my uncle would take you up on that.” he shook his head. “No reason to, I haven’t seen him in years. He’s probably in jail right now, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s been locked up.”

“Want me to break in and beat him up anyway?” you offered. “I’m sure I could figure it out.”

“Your stealth rolls are shit.” he said.

“You sound like Gareth. What I can or can’t do in D&D is completely different from what I could do in real life.” you said.

“And how exactly do you plan on sneaking in to beat up my dad?” he asked, amusement in his eyes.

“I’ll walk in, bat my eyelashes, and ask to visit him. Then when he’s in front of me I start swinging.” you punched your own hand for good measure.

“I’m pretty sure you have to be a relative to visit someone in jail.” Eddie said. “And I’m not exactly itching to see him again, even if you decide to start a fight.”

“Okay, so my car is now on.” you said, on a roll now. “Hear me out, Eddie. You and I go to the courthouse right now and get married- I said hear me out, I’m not done-. I take your last name, use that to get into the prison to visit your dad, and then I can beat him up. I leave, we get divorced, we split with all of our own shit since we don’t have kids or shared property. Easy.”

Eddie rubbed his cheek as he laughed. “Bad idea, you’d be stuck with my last name. Munson doesn’t really get you anywhere in this town.”

“‘Lipton’ isn’t exactly doing me any favors either.” you pointed out. “Go big or go home, Eddie.”

“You are home.” he motioned to the trailer.

You weren’t, and you didn’t think you’d ever be again.

“So, is that a no on marriage?” you asked, leaning close to him with your hand over your heart. You gave him your best pout. “I’m heartbroken.”

“You were only going to marry me to get to my dad.” He gives you a playful shove away from him.

“Yeah, but you’d be a bonus.” you said, blurting out the words without thinking. Ah, fuck, you weren’t supposed to be flirting. Flirting was a bad idea, a very very bad idea. You had made the decision a while ago that it was a bad idea.

If he turned you down, it could be awkward and that could fuck up your chance to save him. If he dated you and it went badly that would make your chances worse.

Focus on the mission, and not the way Eddie sounds when he laughs or how impossibly pretty his eyes are get your shit together and stop that-

“Nice to know you think I’m such a prize.” Eddie said casually, maybe a little too casually for how he usually talked.

“When we divorce you can use that to fuel your music. I look forward to hearing the break-up album.” You tried to smooth your genuine flirting over by committing to the bit.

“If I ever sell out, I’ll write our divorce album.” Eddie replied. “Until then, I’ll stick with singing about Hell and demons and references to my campaigns.”

You don’t know why the idea of him writing songs about his campaigns made your stomach explode with butterflies, but it did. Maybe it was because you were now part of the campaigns and knowing that made you feel special. Like you were actually a part of something, part of him.

Stop that.

“Oh shit, I was actually doing something.” you realized and shook your head. “Right, I wasn’t just sitting here for fun. I had to go get groceries.”

“That would explain why you were sitting in here when I found you.” Eddie agreed. “Do you... Want company?”

He wanted to go grocery shopping with you? That surprised you a lot. It almost felt domestic-

“Yeah, sure.” you agreed, pushing any other thoughts out of your head. “I need you to come anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you showed me how to start the car but you didn’t tell me how to turn it off.”

Eddie laughed and hopped out of the car so that you could scoot back into the driver's seat. He hopped in next to you and it felt like things were swapped now. You had spent weeks in his passenger seat and now he was sitting in yours.

If this was going to be a regular occurrence, you were tempted to slap a BABY ON BOARD sticker on the back of your car.

As you pulled out of the trailer park, Eddie rummaged around his jacket and pulled out a cassette.

“Radio’s broke.” you warned as he stuck the tape in and pushed play. To your surprise, music started playing through the speakers.

“Tape player isn’t.” he said, looking proud of himself. “You can keep this one.”

“Keep...?” you asked. He’d loaned to tapes before, but that was always with the promise you’d return them.

“Yeah, I already have all these songs.” Eddie fidgeted with one of his rings casually. “I thought you might need something to fill the silence. You know, since you’re always coming over to listen to music with me.”

You really did, the quiet of being home alone had been grating on you and you had been spending as much time as you could with Eddie at his place.

“Is this your way of giving me a hint that I’ve overstayed my welcome?” you asked wryly, feeling a knot in your stomach at the thought.

“No! No, not that.” Eddie said quickly. “No, uh... I just thought you’d like these songs. You told me you liked a few of them.”

“So... you made me a mixtape?” you asked, trying to remain calm despite the fact that your brain was screaming.

“I had some time to kill, and you were complaining about not having anything to listen to so...” he shrugged.

Maybe you’d ask him to marry you for real. You didn’t even had a tape player, or anything other than your car to listen to it but you didn’t care.

Next up, get a tape player for Emergency Vecna Use. And batteries. All the batteries. You added to the endless list of to-do’s to prepare you for Hawkins High’s Spring Break.

“Thank you.” you said, feeling genuinely touched that he went out of his way to do that for you. “Really. I’ll listen to it until it disintegrates.”

“I’ll make you a new one when that happens.” Eddie promised.

Conversations drifted back into easy territory after that. Hellfire, dungeons and dragons, comics, work. It felt so easy talking to him in these moments when it was just the two of you. It had been so long since that first disastrous hang out session, but somehow he’d still let you keep hanging out.

You wished that things could be different.

For now, you just decided to do what you did best when hanging out alone with him. You pretended that your ID was legitimate, that you were some vague relative of his drug supplier, and that you two could be normal friends, doing normal things.

For now, that would have to be enough.

Reader ==> Learn How to Hotwire a Car was submitted by my Green Heart Anon <3

So what would you like to see Reader do next?

Tumblr User ==> Leave A Suggestion

Dividers by @strangergraphics

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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lemonykoo · 2 years

Text

some of the genshin boys when you have a nightmare!

Includes: Diluc, Gorou, Albedo, and Scaramouche

Genre: Fluff!

Word Count: 380-500ish words per character.

Notes: Just short bullet imagines on what the boys would do when you have a nightmare! Just the boys being mushy, love sick fools over their s/o. I realize that this is a kinda popular thing to write about, so I just want to clarify that I didn’t take any inspiration from anyone on this. If there’s anything I’ve written that is very close to what someone else has written, though, let me know! Spoilers for Albedo’s lore and Scara is very loving and probably a little ooc but who cares! I was going to include more characters but I got kinda tired and couldn’t think of anything, but if you want more characters, just let me know and I’ll write a part two! (Not edited btw hehe)

Diluc:

You paced in front of the fireplace, your bare feet padding against the dark, hardwood floors softly as you bit your nails anxiously. The firewood cracked and popped as it burned slowly beside you and the heat it radiated would normally give you a deep sense of comfort, but it was no longer present – not at the moment. Not with your heart beating wildly, daring to jump right through your ribs and your skin and out of your chest and onto the floor.

“Lady Ragnvindr,” head-maid Adelinde stated as she watched you pace around restlessly, “maybe you should sit down and drink a cup of tea. The Master will be home soon.” When you didn’t respond, she sighed. “You just had a nightmare, y/n. Master Diluc is just at the tavern tonight, and he’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’m not going back to the bed until I know he’s okay,” you answered quietly. Adelinde nodded, before scurrying off to make you a pot of tea.

The minutes ticked by slowly and agonizingly, but almost two hours later, the front door to the Dawn Winery creaked open. Diluc entered silently, under the impression that you’d be upstairs sleeping. Instead, he was met with you sitting in front of the fireplace with a teacup in your grasp as Adelinde sat beside you holding the tea pot. When the door shut, you were startled out of your daze, drawing your attention to him as he approached you. “Diluc, you’re okay,” you murmured, standing to greet him.

“Of course I am,” he responded, shrugging his coat off and tossing it aside onto a nearby chair. When you were close enough, he embraced you warmly and placed a soft kiss on the top of your head before planting another on your lips. “Why would I not be? Did something worry you?”

You had almost forgotten about your tragic dream since Adelinde had convinced you to sit down and tell her what was bothering you so much. You were feeling a lot better now, but you still wanted to be awake for your husband’s return to ease the ball of anxiety residing in your stomach that just wouldn’t leave. “I just had a bad dream,” you explained simply. “It made me worry about you.”

Diluc still had you in his embrace, keeping you close to his body. He glanced up to see Adelinde smile gently at him before leaving to go to the kitchen with the tea pot and cup you had sat down. “Well,” Diluc started, “I apologize for not coming sooner, darling.”

Diluc knew that you always worried for him, with his vigilante job and whatnot. He wished he could reach into your mind and pluck those worries out so you wouldn’t be bothered with any scary dreams of something bad happening to him. Since he can’t do that, though, he’ll just hold you close in the bed, hoping whatever bad dreams tried to disturb you during the night would be scared away by his presence.

Gorou:

You never felt the need to worry for Gorou. Sure, he was a general, but you never felt… anxious or scared when he went out to defend the resistance. You were always confident in his abilities. Being a childhood friend of his and now his lover, you knew Gorou was capable.

After the height of the Vision Hunt was reached and all the fighting happened, though, you quickly realized that danger becoming your fiancé was very real and wasn’t just something to brush aside like you had been.

You tried to convince yourself that you weren’t going to show how worried you were for him though and choked down those thoughts. It didn’t take long for those worries to surface in your dreams, however, and turn them into nightmares.

While you slept, you’d be tormented with visions of Gorou being defeated during a battle. The way he’d lay lifeless on the ground, his vision no longer glowing golden but rather fading in color, just like his life from his veins. You’d wake up in a panic before making sure Gorou was still with you, peacefully sleeping beside you after a long day’s work.

Tonight’s nightmare was just awful, though – worse than any other nightmare you had yet. You don’t know why it was particularly worse this time, but it was and you wanted it to stop but it never did. Just when it couldn’t get any worse, you awoke, sitting up quickly and banging your head on something in the dark.

“I’m sorry!” you heard the hushed whisper of your fiancé in front of you. You opened your eyes to see him rubbing a spot on his forehead. “You were whimpering in your sleep, so I was trying to wake you up. I didn’t expect you to jump up like that.”

You felt a dull pain on your skull from the accidental head butt you had given him. “It’s okay,” you reassured. “I was just having a bad dream.”

“I could tell,” Gorou answered, shifting to sit beside you. “I didn’t want you to experience it anymore… so that’s why I wanted to wake you up.” He reached toward you and guided you to lay against him. “I know you’re worried about me, y/n, but it’ll be okay.”

He laid down, you following suit with your head on his chest, and his arms came to lace around you to hold you closer to him. “But you don’t know that,” you murmured, tears surfacing in the corners of your eyes. “What if it’s not okay?”

“I know I can’t promise anything,” he said. “But, knowing I have you waiting for me at home keeps me here. I can’t just leave you here all alone. I never have and I never will.”

You didn’t feel like forming a rebuttal, and instead continued to lay there and let your fiancé play with your hair as you drifted off to sleep once more.

Albedo:

Your eyes popped open and you observed your surroundings, your heavy breaths beginning to calm as you realized you were just in your room, and no longer in whatever hell you had been in in your nightmare. You sat up and looked at the spot in the bed beside you to see it empty. Flashes of your nightmare surfaced in your memories, and you gulped, remembering this was exactly how it started.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you got up and ventured to the hallway outside of your room, stumbling a bit as you had just woken up. You paused before turning the knob to the room your boyfriend often holed himself up in with his research and cracking the door just enough to see him at his desk, swiftly jotting down notes.

“You’re still here,” you whispered without thinking, drawing Albedo’s attention to you as you lingered in the doorway.

“Oh, y/n, did I wake you?” he asked, turning a bit and welcoming you to come in. You walked over to him and once you were close enough, he placed an arm around your waist. “No,” you responded. “I just had a bad dream.”

A look of concern crossed Albedo’s face as he looked up to you. “A bad dream? What was it about to make you so upset?”

You bit your lip, images that hurt you the worst appearing in your mind like pictures in a photo album. His blonde hair, the fire raging behind him, the blood on his hands. “You destroyed Mondstadt, or at least what was supposed to be Mondstadt.”

Your boyfriend stood from his chair and enveloped you into a hug. “Let me take you back to bed.” What you couldn’t see as he hugged you was how concerned he looked at the mention of your nightmare, but he didn’t want you to see that. “Nothing like that is going to happen, okay?”

With that, he led you back to your bed and laid you down, before getting ready for bed himself so he could ensure that you would be okay.

Even though there was a bigger truth to him than what he told you, Albedo hoped that you would be gone by the time he got to that point. And if you weren’t, he at least hoped you’d be spared from the monster he’d become. But for now, he’ll hold you tightly underneath all your blankets to comfort you that he’d never become what he feared.

Scaramouche:

With a jolt, you awoke, sitting up as your heartbeat pounded in your head. This strange feeling of anxiety coursed through your veins and you don’t know what woke you up but it must have been a nightmare. You felt panicked as your eyes scanned the dark room around you, hoping you could remember what your dream was about in hopes of calming down. As for the time being, though, you could only remain scared and anxious over an unknown cause.

“What are you doing?” a voice asked, startling you. You looked beside you to see your husband, gazing up at you from his position beside you. You could see in the soft moonlight his slightly annoyed expression, but in his eyes you saw concern. Your heart rate seemed to slow as you remembered that everything was okay – you were just at home, safe underneath your covers with the man you married just almost a year ago.

“I just had a bad dream, Scara,” you stated, sighing a bit before you laid down once again. “Sorry if I woke you up.” You rolled over to your back to him, back into the position you had been before you had woken up. You knew he wouldn’t be upset if you had – you had come to learn that his annoyed expressions weren’t really anything and that it was always his eyes that told you how he was feeling. Still, you hated that you might have disturbed him, since he needed every bit of sleep he could get.

“I was already awake,” he responded curtly, though you felt his arm wrap around your waist and pull you closer to him. That was another thing: though his tone could be cold and brash, you knew it had been conditioned to be like that due to his work. You could hear the gentleness and love peppered into his words when he spoke to you, even when all others could hear was short, bland sentences. A quick, soft kiss was placed on your exposed shoulder. “Just go back to sleep, y/n. I’m here.”

Even though he didn’t say it out loud, you could hear the rest of his thought in the night air around you, wrapping around you lovingly like the arm wrapped around your waist.

Nothing will ever harm you if I’m here.

#genshin impact #genshin gorou #genshin albedo #genshin x reader #genshin #genshin imagines #genshin diluc #genshin scaramouche #diluc #diluc x reader #genshin fluff #albedo #albedo x reader #gorou #gorou x reader #scara #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #lex’s writing 💫

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ereardon · 4 months

Text

Golden Hour || Ch. 5

[Bob Floyd x Bradley Bradshaw x OC]

A Bob Floyd & Bradley Bradshaw AU [Hart of Dixie inspired]

Synopsis: Willow, Georgia. Barely even a town, just a speck on a map that you tried to wipe off, mistaking it for a crumb. You’re the outsider: a fancy New York doctor, fresh out of a failed engagement, with zero primary care experience. You’re also the new town doctor, taking over for a recent retiree who was beloved. His son, Bob Floyd, is the other physician at the practice, and takes an immediate dislike to you. But you were looking for a fresh start, and Willow doesn’t seem all that bad if you can get past the fact that there's only one restaurant in town. It helps that you've caught the eye of Bradley Bradshaw, the town attorney, despite the fact that you vowed to take a break from dating. How long until you start to make friends in a town where social circles have been set in stone since elementary school? And what will it take to make Bob Floyd see you’re not as bad as he wants to believe you are?

Pairing: Bob Floyd x OC; Bradley Bradshaw x OC

Tropes: Love triangle, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, heart attack

Chapter summary: Bob and Olive fight about the partnership agreement for the medical practice; Olive and Bradley attend a Halloween party where one townsperson has a medical emergency

WC: 3K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here; next chapter here

“It’s hot,” you groaned. “Halloween is not supposed to be hot. Halloween is supposed to be leather pants and cocktails and a chilly breeze on a rooftop on the Lower East Side.”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow. “Leather pants, really?”

You shrugged. “College.”

She opened the fridge, pulling out a container of orange juice and sliding you a glass. You held it out as she dribbled the liquid into your glass. “Halloween ‘round here is kids hopped on sugar and parents chasing them dressed as pirates and it’s still shorts season.”

“Is it too much to ask for one cold day where I can wear sweats and eat cornbread and chili and watch a movie?”

“Sweats, Doc?” she asked.

“Cashmere sweats,” you clarified as Phoenix rolled her eyes. “Besides, what do people even do here on Halloween? People over the age of nine that is.”

“Party at the Flannery House,” she replied. “They throw it every year.”

“And the Flannerys are?”

“Charlotte’s parents.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t run into Charlotte since she walked into Breakers two weeks before, but rumors in town had been swirling about her return. One was that she was here to get Bob back. Another was that she was starting a dance studio in town. You had even heard she was planning to run for Mayor.

“She’s a pill,” Phoenix said, “but the parties are legendary. You’ll be my date.”

You laughed. In a matter of only a few months, you and Phoenix had fallen into an easy routine together. The town no longer despised you, and besides Bradley you even had a few regular patients. Bob was still the doctor of choice at the practice, but he had begun to relinquish walk-ins to you when necessary after the flu epidemic. “Is Bradley going?”

Phoenix crossed her arms over her chest. “Should have known you’d only want to go to see Bradshaw. Yeah, he’s going. Everyone goes.”

It had been a week and a half since your date with Bradley. He dropped you back at the guest house, the two of you lingering a moment on the sloped porch. “I’d invite you in,” you said softly, “but to be honest it’s a mess. Your house is way cuter, so I’d be embarrassed for you to see what I live like.”

Bradley laughed, a deep throaty sound. “Next time, Doc.”

“How about you give me your mother’s name if I need an interior designer?”

“One date and you already want to meet the parents?”

You grinned. “You’re cheeky. I like that about you.”

“There’s a lot to like about you, Doc.”

How long had it been since you kissed someone who wasn’t Peter? Years. How long had it been since you had done that sober? Even longer. You could feel the heat radiating from Bradley’s body. From several exams before you realized he was faking all illnesses, you knew for a fact that Bradley was well built. Surprising, for a lawyer. But then again, nothing about Willow had turned out like you expected. “Goodnight, Bradley,” you whispered, opening the creaky door. You held your breath. It had been years since you’d gone on a date. You no longer knew the etiquette.

Bradley leaned in, sliding his lips gently across your cheek. His scent flooded your senses, and you resisted the urge to grab his collar, pull him in, lock your lips to his. But restraint took hold and as he pulled away, you smiled. “Goodnight, Olive.”

***

“You’re where?”

Lina’s voice was shrill and filled with shock. In all of the chaos you had neglected to tell your globe trotting best friend that you had packed up and left New York on practically a whim. “Georgia.”

“Like canned peaches, plantations, Coca-Cola, hillbilly truck driver, fried chicken Georgia?”

You sighed, walking in a tight circle in the living room that doubled as a bedroom in the guest house. “Like small town Americana. It could almost be Lana-core if only it was set in Rhode Island instead of Willow.”

“Willow?” That was a screech. “Like the fucking grandmother tree in whatever that movie was?”

“Pocahontas,” you clarified. “And yes.”

“Did you have a stroke?”

“Peter left me.”

“What?” You could hear the gasp through the phone. You could picture her perfectly: jet black hair swishing as she stopped dead from where she was doing the stair stepper in front of her window overlooking Fifth Avenue. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope.”

“The ring?”

“East River.”

“Fucking christ, Livvy,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. To think I wasted all those good years on him.”

“He has a pig face you know,” she said. “I stuffed that comment down for years but now that we’re over him and he’s dead to us, I can admit it. He has a pig face and a medical degree from California.” The way she said California made you laugh. The utter disgrace of it. “You’re better off.”

“Thanks, Lee.”

“So are there men in Willow?”

“A few.”

“Tell me everything.” You told Lina about Bradley and his dramatic attempts to get you to go on a date, and the reluctant dinner date at his house. She hummed along. “And what about this Dr. Bob?”

“He’s surly,” you replied instantly. “But there’s something deep down that isn’t so bad,” you added. “I don’t know. He hates me I think.”

“Nobody hates you,” Lina said. “You’re the perfect angel baby.”

“Peter hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” she replied. “He just didn’t respect you. And that should be enough to make you hate him. Because any man who can’t respect you doesn’t deserve even an afterthought.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too, sweetie,” she said. “I would say I’ll visit, but small town charm is good for some and slow painful death for others. I think you know which camp I fall into.”

“You liked small when it was a village in Tahiti.”

“I like small when it’s half-naked men carrying me on a daybed and feeding me smoothies,” she clarified. You laughed. “Anyways, I should go, Paolo is going to be here any moment. Love you Liv.”

“Love you, too.”

The line clicked and you sighed, tossing the phone onto a pile of silk pillows you had ordered. The room was a disaster, just like you had told Bradley: boxes from Bergdorf’s half opened, a pile of sheets that needed to be washed, your closet spilling out onto the floor in the corner.

A knock on the door stirred you from your stupor. You frowned, gliding down the hallway and opening the door without looking at who it was. Bob stood wearing a pair of chinos and a short sleeved polo tucked into it. You felt severely underdressed in a pair of satin pajama shorts and a thin tank top that you were almost positive showed your nipples. You crossed your arms over your chest defensively. “Dr. Floyd.”

“Dr. James,” he replied. “Is now a bad time?”

“Only if you’re morally opposed to mess,” you said, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

Bob stepped into the narrow hallway. Under the dim lighting of the broken fixture, he looked pale, a little drawn. He peered around the corner into the living room. “Sorry to impose.”

“I’m still getting settled,” you admitted, grabbing a cardigan and yanking it on before brushing off a set of towels from the couch. “Have a seat. Want something to drink?”

“If it’s not a bother.”

“If you drink wine then it won’t be a bother. If you want water or something archaic then we’re all out.” You grabbed a mug from the cabinet to your right and the bottle of pinot noir you had opened earlier, slopping a few inches into the mug and handing it to Bob. He took it with an unreadable face, crossing one ankle over his knee. “How can I help you?”

“My father is quite ill,” Bob said and that’s when you realized what was written all over his features but unsaid until that moment.

Fear. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He nodded solemnly. “And as part of his estate, I’m working on finalizing the details for our medical practice.”

“Ours?”

“Mine and my father’s,” he corrected. You nodded. “But it’s my understanding that when he offered you the position, it came with a partnership. Is that correct?”

“Yes.” You had a flashback to the first time you had bumped into Bradley on your first day in Willow. The paperwork that had scattered at your feet, partnership in large block letters across the top.

“Do you have that in writing?”

“No.” You took a sip of wine and folded onto the couch seat next to Bob, feet tucked up beneath your butt. “Just a verbal agreement.”

His lips pursed into a fine line. “That’s what I thought.”

“What?” you asked, eyebrows knitted together.

“According to my attorney, that’s not legally binding in the state of Georgia, so I have no requirement to uphold it.”

“Your attorney?” you asked. “You mean Bradley.”

“Bradley Bradshaw is my attorney, yes.”

“Mine, too.”

Bob frowned. “Not possible. We can’t have the same attorney on a case as plaintiff and defendant.”

“First off, since when is this a court case? Secondly, you can’t call dibs on the only lawyer in town.”

“Go to Atlanta or Macon.”

“You go to Atlanta!”

“Bradshaw has been my lawyer for a decade,” Bob countered. “Besides, he’s handling my father’s estate.”

“What estate?” you scoffed. “Three pencil erasers and an old Lincoln Continental?”

“It’s a Subaru Forester.”

You rolled your eyes. “Seriously, Floyd, are we going to fight over this?”

“If by this you mean my medical practice, then yes,” he answered. “This is my life’s work, Olive. It’s all I’ve ever known. And it’s mine.”

“It was promised to me, too.”

“Why the hell would you want it?” he demanded, eyes blazing. “You’re a New Yorker. You don’t belong here and you never will. Why are you pretending you’re planning to stay?”

His words cut. The truth was, you had nowhere else to go. Three months ago you hadn’t known Willow existed. Now, it was the only place that knew who you were. The only place that might miss you when you were gone.

Bob stood up, placing his mug of wine untouched on the table. “This was a mistake,” he said. “Coming here tonight. I should have just done this at the office.”

You scrambled to your feet, cardigan falling from your fingertips, exposing your sheer top. Bob’s eyes traveled down and his cheeks blushed, hard. You stood your ground. “What can I do to convince you that I’m here for good?”

“I don’t know, Olive,” Bob said softly, turning toward the door. “All I know is I’m running out of time to figure this out. And I can’t wait around to see if you’re going to hold up your end of the bargain.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Bob opened the rickety front door and stepped outside, one large hand on the knob to stop it from closing. He turned back, his eyes locked on yours. “We’ll see about that.”

***

“I look ridiculous.” You tugged on the hem of your white nurses uniform dress. “I can’t believe you convinced me to wear this.”

“It’s hilarious,” Phoenix said, stepping out of the car in a pair of form fitting jeans. “You’re dressed as a nurse but you’re really a doctor. It’s theatrical.”

“It’s slutty.”

“Sorry to admit it, Olive, but your regular outfits aren’t much better.”

“Hey!”

She laughed. “Sorry Doc.”

“How come you get to wear pants?”

“I’m Beth Dutton,” she said, frowning. “You know, cowgirl shit.”

You shook your head. “I could have worn pants.”

“Be happy you’re hot,” Phoenix said, linking her arm in yours and tugging you toward the front door.

The Flannerys house was what you’d expect old Southern money to look like. It was essentially Tara, minus the carrot. Giant white pillars holding up a roof over a wide wraparound porch. Enormous jack-o-lanterns peppered the stairs on either side, faux spider webs hanging from the pillars, lights illuminating all of the windows inside as music pumped through the house. You looked over at Phoenix with wide eyes. “This is a house?”

“This is Poe’s Run,” she said. “Been in the Flannery family for two hundred and fifty years.”

“Jesus,” you whispered under your breath. “And Floyd gave up marrying into this because?”

“For his sanity,” Phoenix said. “Charlotte is a certified psycho.”

“Oh yeah, that.”

“Just stick with me and you’ll be good,” Phoenix said as the two of you reached the bottom of the long white staircase. You milled around couples and groups, Phoenix smiling and nodding as you passed. The chill that had accompanied your arrival in Willow was dwindling, and there were even a few nods in your direction, a handful of grins.

“Doc!”

“Marvin,” you said with a smile. “How’s the leg?”

He pulled up the hem of his pants from his pirate’s costume to showcase a five-inch scar. “All better.”

You bent down, examining it visually. “No swelling or redness. No infection.” You straightened up. “Looking good. You’ll come see me if you see any changes though, right?”

“You got it.”

A hand skimmed over your low back. You turned, eyes wide. Bradley tipped his cowboy hat. “That’s a mighty short dress you got on, Doc.” You blushed. “Almost saw something only an OBGYN should see when you bent down there.”

“Oh, Jesus,” you muttered under your breath. Phoenix laughed.

“I see you’re in good hands,” she replied with a wink. “Going to get myself some of Lacey’s famous punch.”

“Watch out,” Bradley warned as Phoenix made her way through the crowd, “don’t forget about Halloween 2013!”

“Shut up!” she cried, disappearing into the crowd.

“What happened Halloween 2013?” you asked as Bradley led you to the outskirts of the room and plucked a glass of champagne off of a tray.

“Phoenix got so drunk she ended up serenading Mr. Flannery on top of the grand piano like Marilyn Monroe to JFK.”

“God, I’d pay money to see that.”

“Just slip her some vodka and you’ll see it.”

“Deal.” Bradley’s hand didn’t move from your waist as you looked up at him, sipping your drink. It fizzed on your tongue. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” He said it in such a sincere way that it made your heart squeeze.

“Bob came to see me the other day. About the partnership.”

Bradley’s hand fell from your waist. You watched as his professional persona washed over him, like a transformer, bit by bit until he was in a plastic shell of an attorney.

“He said the deal I had with Dr. Floyd Sr. isn’t valid.”

Bradley sighed, setting down his glass onto a nearby table. “That’s correct. In the state of Georgia, verbal contracts are not binding.”

“Bradley,” you whispered. “I moved here for this job.”

“I know you did.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

He shook his head. “I can’t provide any guidance because I’m not your counsel.”

You set your champagne glass down, pulling out your purse and yanking a twenty out of it, shoving it into your hand. “There, now you’re my lawyer.”

“Not that simple, Olive,” he said, pressing it back into your palm. “I’m already retained by the Floyd family. I can’t represent you both.”

“You’re the only lawyer in this whole fucking town, Bradley!” Your raised voice and the cursing caught the eye of a few nearby people who craned their heads at the commotion.

“I’ll find you someone,” he promised quietly. “A few of my friends from law school ended up around here. I’ll find you an attorney, I promise.”

You frowned. “OK.”

“Let’s leave this for Monday,” he said. “It’s your first Halloween in Willow. Don’t you want to see what all that small town charm is about?” He held out his hand and you took it reluctantly, letting him pull you out into the middle of the room that had turned into a makeshift dance floor. It was easy with Bradley. He folded you against him, one large hand spread across your lower stomach, his other pressed against your hip as you swayed against him, the curve of your ass molded softly to his front. He was tall, so damn tall, and you could feel the heat from every inch of his body. And even though you had resisted his charm for months, the walls were starting to crumble. “Doc,” Bradley whispered in your ear, his fingertips gripping your waist tighter, pressing you against him so close.

“Hmm?”

Just as Bradley was about to spin you around, a commotion broke out at the far end of the room. Bob appeared dressed in a flight suit, a look of calm panic on his face. His eyes scanned the crowd before zeroing in on you and he stepped forward, taking in the way you were pressed against Bradley. “Dr. James,” he said and you could hear it in his voice.

You stepped forward, out of Bradley’s embrace. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Mr. Flannery,” he said quietly. “He’s having a heart attack.”

“Fuck,” you whispered, already mentally preparing yourself.

Bob held out his hand. “This way.” You allowed him to press his hand to your back softly, propelling you forward through the crowd, leaving Bradley in your wake.

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