#//anyway they be like lemme tie this in your finger to the end of the time to the end of earth

[namaeekaki]

Spring will come again.  ~

As much I love the Red Thread of Fate™ I’m a true believer that soulmates are build through hard work than just fate, so i’ll just smash those two concepts together.

[theorphicangel]

“mi amor, what are you—?”

“shhhhhhhh.” you place your finger across Miguel’s lips adruptly stopping his speech. you can’t see the frown he has on his face as he lays between your legs.

you take a hair clip and a hair tie, you clip a little piece of his hair and tie up a little strand of his brown locks.

“go see.” you tap him lightly on his shoulder twice. he frowns as he gets up, mumbling to himself.

“if you’ve made me look stupid…”

“you always look stupid with that frown on your face, love.”

“I’m going to ignore that comment for your own good.”

you let out a laugh as he trails to the bathroom, going to judge your look in the mirror.

“what the—“

is all you hear slip through the crack of the door.

quickly you go and join him, your eyes met with the scene of your boyfriend staring at the mirror with a hair clip and bow in his hair.

“you like?”

Miguel makes no reply as he stares at himself.

“lemme take a pic—“ you say.

“no.”

“why?”

“because I know you’ll send it to that little annoying group chat you have with Peter.”

“Awh c’mon, how did you even know about that?”

“because I’m in the groupchat.”

“you are?”

(long story short he ends up in a mood because you didn’t know and you have to spend the rest of the afternoon making it up to him. )

“I didn’t know I swear, you never speak on there anyway!”

“so you don’t even bother checking the contact lists? smh”

[eclipseslayer]

BIRTHDAY HEAD

➭ SHINYA KOGAMI X F!READER ONESHOT

➭ Summary: It's Shinya's birthday and you offer to give him birthday head, and, of course he has to do this his way.

➭ CW: Deepthroating, Shinya smoking, Shinya offers you a cigarette.

➭ WC: 1k-ish

➭ A/N: Ahhh! First Psycho Pass fic! Also when I started this it was Shinya's bday, and I know when I finished this it wasn't any longer but... it's the thought that counts, right?

"Birthday head, huh?"

Shinya chuckles, and a smirk tugs at his lips as his cigarette hangs loosely from his mouth, and ash bundles up at the end of it as he's lazy with smoking it. He tilts his head, looking down at you as you're settled between his legs, your hands pressed onto his thighs.

You slowly run your hands up and down his thighs while you look up at him. You blink slowly. "Yeah, c'mon, Shin. Just lemme give it to you."

Shinya raises an eyebrow, amused at your behavior. His hands already move to undo the buckle to his belt, but his words are definitely contradicting his actions.

"What makes it so special? You give me head anyway despite it being my birthday so... what makes it worthy of being "birthday head"?" He asks, and a small grin appears on his lips once he sees that he's annoyed you as your eyebrows are furrowed with your eyes shooting daggers up at him.

"Nothing, it's just head on your birthday," you say with a grin, being smart right back at him and he rolls his eyes.

He sighs and gestures to his lap with his hand. "Alright... go ahead, sweetheart. Not like I'm going to say no to some head anyway."

Shinya finishes unbuckling his belt, and he undoes the button to his pants, and pulls the zipper down. He sighs once he does, and your eyes widen once you see his hard imprint in his boxers. You grin, looking up at him as your fingers press a soft, delicate touch to his length.

"Hard already?" You tease, expecting him to be soft as this suggestion was brought onto him randomly, and he huffs, expelling the smoke from his lips as the end of the cigarette burns red.

"Yeah, yeah," he grunts. "Couldn't help it since you looked so good sitting down on your knees for me like that."

Your eyes widen at that, and you look up at him. He looks so greedy with a subtle smirk plastered on his face, and those dark, grey eyes narrowed onto you like shards of glass wanting to pierce your gaze.

The intensity of his gaze makes your face heat up, and the accompanying image of him smoking that damn cigarette has your thighs suddenly clench together, and, suddenly, to tie it all together, Shinya takes his hand and slowly runs his fingers through your hair and grabs a fistfull of it, tightening it so he can move your head.

"If you're gonna give me birthday head..." His words are sharp, almost mockingly, "...then I'm going to guide you the way I like it."

You swallow thickly, your eyes begin to prickle with that familiar wetness, saltiness as you're reminded of how Shinya likes to treat you from time to time—

Though, you have no time to think as you're quickly brought back to reality when Shinya pulls down his underwear just enough to pull his cock out. He groans as his long, thick length hits the air and he mumbles a curse word underneath his breath. Then, slowly, he guides your head toward his cock, and he reaches down with his hand and he wraps a tight fist around it before tapping your lips with the tip of his cock.

"Open up for me."

It's a simple command, and, you're good enough to listen and obey, so you do, and you open up so perfectly. Knowing what Shinya wants, you drop your jaw and let your tongue hang out and your eyes meet his.

He would've grinned at the sight if he didn't have that cigarette hanging in his mouth. The sight of you, being on your knees and having that pretty mouth of yours hanging open so dutifully has his cock hardening even more, and his tip leaks embarrassingly so.

"Yeah, just like that."

He groans again, and he slowly pushes his tip in past your lips and sighs as he leans his head back against the couch once he feels that warm, wetness envelope him.

You're quick to engage as your lips tighten around him, hollowing your cheeks like you usually do, and Shinya lets out a pleased hum.

"Mmm..."

He grips your hair again, and he starts to guide your head up and down his cock. Instantly, he feels as if rockets are shooting through his skull as pings of pleasure go off in his head. That tight , wet warmth has Shinya is a chokehold as he swallows thickly.

And you—your mouth feels so full of him, and your eyelashes flutter as you engulf him completely when he guides your head all the way down so your nose is pressed against his pelvis. You catch a whiff of his cologne—strong and heady—and it makes your head spin. You moan, and it reverberates around Shinya, making him open his mouth, thus dropping the burned out cigarette onto the floor beside you.

"Shit, girl." He huffs, needing to catch his breath for a moment before he suddenly continues. Quick movements are made with the punishing grip in your hair, almost as if it was in a staccato rhythm: One, two, three, four, five...—your nose hits his pelvis and gags flee your mouth as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and God do you love it. The scene is a bit pornographic as saliva drools out of your mouth, wetting the fabric of his underwear that surrounds his cock and balls, and the sounds of your gags only add to that, but nonetheless, you love every bit of it.

You love gagging around him, and you love your mouth being so full that you can't help but roll your eyes to the back of your head as you take Shinya's cock like the good girlfriend you are.

You moan, and your breath staggers as you inhale his scent every time your nose hits his pelvis, which only adds to the sweet stickiness of your panties clinging to your pussy.

Fuck, and of course Shinya loves it too. He loves the sight of your spit gathering around his cock and muddying your pretty lips. He loves seeing the whites of your eyes as you take him. He loves knowing that you're probably getting turned on to all of this. He loves every bit of it, and, so much so that his breath is starting to get heavy and his balls are starting to tighten. He grunts and his mouth hangs open once again as he speaks.

"Gonna cum, sweetheart."

It's not a quick enough warning as you're too deep in pleasure when you're ripped away from your dreamlike state too quickly from being mouth-fucked as he rips your mouth off of him, and suddenly, thick ropes of his white seed hit your face, covering your mouth and cheeks, leaving you a bit dazed.

Shinya huffs, and he smirks, grinning as he takes a moment to breathe and collect himself. He runs his fingers through his thick, black hair and slowly lets go of your hair, chuckling as he sees the white mess he's made onto your face.

He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out two cigarettes, handing one to you, and a shit-eating grin dons his face.

"Happy birthday to me, right?"

[scarletteye]

Soft and Smitten Scaramouche/Wanderer

I went through my scara fics recently and giggled at my own writing whenever Scaramouche acted soft/smitten. So I figured if I can be delulu about it, you can be delulu too!!!!

I made a smol collection of some of my fave moments, where I lowkey just explore his dynamic with someone he is smitten with (in my fics case, its the reader character) and appreciate how drop-dead gorgeous he is.

GORGEOUS I SAY. anyways, enjoy the clipsss, the fic will be linked at the end of the post! This story takes place in his Wanderer era! Just a heads up. I also can make a collection of him being smitten in his Scaramouche era, just lemme know if u want it!

Without further ado, I present to you: Scaramouche in love!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The Withered in Bloom Ch. 14

It was ridiculous to think that basket weaving could take whole 5 days to finish, yet as soon as you woke up, your brother notified you that they need your assistance with the baskets. At least he let you enjoy breakfast before he hurried you to the busy deck. All of your forest-ranger colleagues greeted you excitedly – everybody was over their job, and everybody wanted to finish the baskets as soon as possible. This was supposed to be the last day. The rest of the week was predicted for a full inventory check, but that was a job for the Forest Watchers.

You found a relatively cozy spot on the ground and began weaving. At this point your fingers had memorized the necessary movements, allowing you to work on autopilot and tie the basket together without mistakes. It also allowed your mind to wander, and you found yourself thinking back about the Sanctuary of Surasthana and your last conversation with Scaramouche. (...)

As if on cue, you heard the song of bells flutter through the air. A warm breeze blew across the deck, scattering away a few pieces of straw and bringing the melody to your ears. Though the sound filled your skin with goosebumps, you felt your lips twist into a gentle smile.

It had been a few days since you last spoke to him. He asked you for secrecy before you left, so you never disclosed your past or anything that was said between you to anybody. Though you weren’t sure whether Scaramouche told you to keep quiet because he was ashamed or because he didn’t want to burden anybody else with knowledge about your past. You agreed with him nonetheless. Your brother seemed happier since Irminsul changed your reality. Cyno seemed happier, too. He was less paranoid, and he allowed himself to relax with Tighnari instead of constantly watching you like a hawk. You weren’t planning on telling them anything.

The bells became louder. You heard his faint footsteps behind you – even and light strides that were barely audible behind the chiming of his hat accessories. Feeling his presence, you put your half-finished basket down, and turned around to face him with a smile.

He stood above you, wearing a deadpanned expression as he looked down at your heart-warming gesture. His arms stood crossed against his chest.

“Good morning,” you greeted warmly.

“It is noon,” he retorted blankly.

“Oh. Wait. Really?”

Seeing your genuine confusion, his lips pulled into a lopsided smirk. He untangled his arms and walked in front of you, finding an empty spot on the ground where he elegantly plopped down. “Obviously. Have I ever lied to you, darling?”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Seriously?” he huffed. “I’ve never told you anything dishonest. I merely kept the truth from you at times.”

His fingers gingerly reached for the box of straw that you kept at your side. He began pulling out pieces, skillfully finding long straws that he could twist and tie together. Scaramouche was silent as he worked, focusing on the knots that his slender fingers tied with ease. The straw looked sturdy in his hands, whilst seeming extra frail in yours. Perhaps it was the way he held it that made it seem like an entirely different art form.

“When did you learn how to weave baskets?” you questioned. Your gaze was locked on his hands that worked diligently and quickly, creating an entire hoop of straw in less than a minute.

“I’ve been alive for nearly 500 years,” he mused. “Do you think I had spent that time living isolated from the world? I know more than you’d guess.”

It was still strange to you to think that he wasn’t human. He looked like everyone else. He looked soulful and alive – like a normal human who is just slightly more attractive than the norm. Whenever you looked at him, you didn’t see a puppet nor a monster. Truthfully, you didn’t care what he was anymore. If you could live through him being a God, you could also accept that he had been alive for hundreds of years.

Scaramouche eyed you carefully as he noticed your silence. Catching a glimpse of him doing that, you offered him a gentle smile. “Like what?”

It was his turn to fall mute. It seemed as if he didn’t expect you to be interested, or rather he expected you to be shocked and horrified by his life span. In the end Scaramouche only shrugged, and his fingers continued to twist the straw into hoops and knots. “Anything you could think of.”

“Playing the lyre?”

“Why?” he questioned you now. “Is there any specific song that you like hearing?”

You snapped your fingers as a shout of victory. “So you do play the lyre!”

Scaramouche rolled his eyes at you. “Yes, darling. I can play the lyre. I am skilled in swordsman ship, and knitting and weaving arts…” his voice trailed off. “I suppose I am well skilled with my hands.”

You blinked at him, feeling heat surge to your ears. His expression remained unchanged, and it seemed as if he didn’t notice that he said something questionable. Or maybe, you were the weird one for finding dirty undertones in something that wasn’t meant to be dirty.

“Well. Skilled with both hands and mind,” he continued, now sounding as if he were bragging. “I suppose I am just exceptional.”

You cleared your throat. “Humble brag.”

Scaramouche shot you a glare. First he looked at your rosy face, and then at the basket that remained unchanged under your hands. “Do you plan to let me do all of your work?” he grumbled. “I didn’t come here to become a Forest ranger. If you plan to slack off, I will leave and let you abuse someone else’s goodwill.”

“I didn’t even ask you to help,” you defended yourself.

“Well if I don’t help you, you’ll be stuck doing this for the rest of the day. And as much as I enjoy watching you struggle, I’d prefer if we could do something else.”

“What a charmer,” you grumbled, forcing yourself to start working on the basket again. You worked slowly, repeating the weaving patterns that you always used. Scaramouche passed you the hoop that he had created. As your fingers grazed his, you felt a strong flutter in your stomach. You tried to act normal as you cojoined his creation to yours. The difference in style was more than apparent, and it made the basket look ridiculous. He didn’t seem to care, and he instead continued to grab pieces of straw to make more.

You worked in silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s presence. Every now and then Scaramouche would toss you a complaint or a masked compliment regarding the basket, but you preferred for him to be silent. There was just something about him in this lighting. Sunlight hit his face perfectly, illuminating his purple eyes and making his red make up seem more vibrant. You liked the way his brows furrowed as he concentrated, and you liked the way his accessories jingled in the breeze. His pretty hat and the golden accents nearly shone in the sunlight, and the sheer mesh of his undershirt seemed lighter than it did in the shade. His Anemo Vision silently glowed against his shoulder, falling nearly hidden by the lotus that hung over it, and weighted down by the golden feather accessory.

Now you knew what that lotus flower meant. It was the same type of flower that he gave you before your first kiss. The same type of flower that you gifted to him as an apology. He kept the memoir.

You smiled to yourself, failing to notice how Scaramouche stopped working to observe you. His eyes glazed your entire face, and his expression turned more relaxed with each passing breath.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The Withered in Bloom Ch. 15

You were so pleasantly surprised by Scaramouche's behavior that you decided to award him with tea - the most bitter vile mixture you could make, but he drank it all without complaint. It seemed as if he enjoyed the bitter taste and you hardly held back from calling him insane. You were someone who preferred sweet over bitter. Though, that stark difference between you was the lightest among the bunch.

You spent the entire afternoon sitting with him and moving around Ghandarva ville to avoid chores. You mostly talked about your family and how they felt about Scaramouche after last night, and he seemed to listen carefully, despite looking distracted.

Noticing how he was observing the remnants of the tea that decorated the walls of the mug, you nudged his shoulder and began to tease him. “Are you trying to read your future? I heard that the tea leaf technique is quite rare.”

He looked at you unamused, before forcing a smirk. “Naturally. Divination is a very taxing profession. Only those with exceptional talents can dabble with fate.”

“Exceptional such as you, of course” you decided to entertain him. “So what do the leaves say?”

“They say I’m about to become very, very lucky.”

“It is nice to know that the leaves want you to have a good day,” you nodded enthusiastically. “What else?”

He let out a chortle. For a split second, his smile turned genuine, and then his face fell to its usual serious position. You felt your heart fluttered. Did you just make him laugh? Did you just…

“Let’s see,” he twisted the mug around. “Here we have. Prophecy of being lectured by a god. The curse of a blabbering companion who can’t keep her mouth shut. And oh…” he swiped his finger against the inside of the mug, tapping it against your face and staining your skin with green. You leaned back in surprise.

You watched him with big eyes. He smirked at you before putting his mug down. “I can’t believe you fell for that. Have you learned nothing from your journey? You shouldn’t be so naïve.”

“Was that some sort of Inazuman trick that people use on children?” you asked, wiping your face that began heating from embarrassment. “Because I will kick you off the deck.”

You were sitting on the edge of the second level of the village, far from anybody. Night was falling over the rainforest, and in turn the air turned louder. Cicadas, birds, signing rangers… the sound of warm evenings and of eternal summer. Every night in the rainforest sounded similar. The sky turned darker with each passing minute, showing more and more stars to those that paid attention.

It had been a while since you sat like this to watch them. In fact, the last time you did, you were with Scaramouche. Back then you knew him as the Wanderer, and you never expected him to be anything else. That night he told you horrible stuff – about you being abandoned and about you never finding true family. It made sense to you now. He projected his insecurities onto you that night, and they hit you deeply because you two, despite your differences, weren’t that fundamentally different.

“It’s not a common trick,” he stated. As he put the mug aside, you noticed his expression turn more sullen. “But the people that taught me used it on me a few times. I suppose it just stuck with me…”

You tilted your head curiously. You wanted to ask. You were actually dying to know more about him, but you knew how he got when asked sensitive questions.

He sighed. “If you must know,” he grumbled, sensing your curiosity. “They were a group of swordsmiths and miners who operated the smelting furnace in Tatatarsuna. It’s an island in Inazuma. The furnace was the biggest in the nation and used to smelt special ore that they could shape into finest blades. I’m not sure why I’m pointing that out. It is irrelevant,” he mumbled, sounding annoyed by himself all of the sudden.

“Oh. No. Actually, I never heard of it so…”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Okay, you don’t have to insult me now.”

“I’m not trying to,” he grumbled. Realizing that you were accidentally stopping him from telling his story, you cleared your throat and looked up at the sky. As you fell silent, he realized that you were waiting for him to continue. All thought your act was theatrical, it worked. He continued to share some light on his backstory. “I was a child. I had just wandered off alone to the shores of that island, when they found me. Needless to say, they were horrified to find somebody like me. Alone and abandoned. They pitied me and took me under their wing. There, amidst the mine, I believed I had found family.”

His eyes dimmed. He was looking at the sky, but his mind wandered off to the distant past. “They taught me all the basics of your human lives. How to tie knots. How to prepare meals. How to shape swords from molten iron… They were just a group of good-hearted men who tried to raise me. They tried to entertain me by using tricks and jokes. The trick with the mug. Anecdotes. Quizzes. The more I think about it, the more I realize just how unnecessary those were.”

You looked at him. Your heart felt full because of his story. You always believed he never had a family. It seemed as if he did. They even sounded lovely but… the look in his eyes told you that there was more. Maybe something happened to them, or maybe they disappointed him somehow, because the look in his eyes told you that it wasn’t a pleasant memory.

“It sounds like they really tried to give you a happy childhood.”

“I suppose,” he responded dully. “It doesn’t matter anymore. That was a long time ago. A mere fraction of my life.”

“But… that doesn’t make it meaningless, does it?”

He looked at you, seeming seldom-annoyed and seldom-comforted. It was always difficult to tell with him. In the end, he let out a sigh and looked up at the sky. The stars had grown clearer, showing you a beautiful painting of the galaxy.

A cold breeze flew past you, and you shivered. The night was drastically colder than the day, and you had left your jacket in Tighnari’s infirmary when leaving your teammates. You swiped your hands across your arms, trying to warm your skin.

“Here,” Scaramouche quietly said. He began untying his tunic. It covered him somewhat loosely, so it wasn’t difficult to get it off. He had trouble with getting his Vision off without damaging the Lotus that he strung close to it, but other than that, his tunic was off in a few seconds. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander to his bare shoulders. The sleeves shirt that covered his torso left little to the imagination, but at night it looked dark enough to hide his skin under it.

Your eyes stayed on his bicep for a bit too long because you were sure he noticed. The corners of his lips twisted upwards, and despite his best attempt to control his facial expression, he showed exactly how much your stares entertained him.

He wrapped his tunic around you, and you huddled under it gratefully. It was warm. As warm as his body whenever you hugged him. And it smelled like him too. You realized you were a bit too fond of that feeling once you pulled the tunic all the way over your chest. You weren’t that cold, but the sheer comfort of being in his clothes nearly convinced you that you would be freezing if you took it off.

“Had I know you were freezing, I would have suggested we head indoors,” he teased. “Though, considering how much you’re staring at me; I’m guessing you are finding this quite enjoyable.”

You were at a loss for words. Your brain felt empty – there was no excuses and no explanations for you to use. Your face turned red, and you were incapable of hiding it. The least you could do was huff and roll your eyes at him. “Somehow you’re more charming when you’re trying to insult me.”

There it was again. A glimpse of a genuine smile that made you feel crazy flattered. To think that you were capable of getting this kind of reaction from him was mind boggling. “I never try to be charming, darling. But I am glad to know you find me as such.”

“Oh great. Now I’m boosting your ego.”

He tilted his head at you. The red allure of his make-up. The darkness of his cunning eyes. You found yourself unable to breath or blink. He was gorgeous. From head to toe, there wasn’t a single part of him that looked flawed.

“Why are you smiling at me?” you quietly questioned.

“Does it bother you?” he asked with the same tone of voice. “I was merely thinking that you look pretty.”

Your lips departed in surprise. All that left them was a quiet breath. The heat of your face reached your ears, making you feel as if you were going to break a sweat at any given moment. It wasn’t fair how easily he made you flustered without even trying.

Scaramouche’s fingers gently traced your face. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers linger on your skin. His touch was so gentle yet so chilling, be it the coldness of his skin, or the knowledge of the power that he had over you. You didn’t care to differentiate them.

With a feeble hold on your chin, he leaned closer. Your breath hitched, and he paused right before you lips touched, sensing your nervousness. Maybe he wasn’t sure if you wanted it, or maybe he thought you got frightened, but his pause prolonged. Your stomach burned with anticipation and desire. You could catch his breath into yours. You could feel the warmth of his body heat. Why did he think to stop?

You closed the gap between you. Your lips softly clashed. His were soft and warm; they moved timidly against yours. Breath against breath, he pressed deeper. You accepted his guide. You accepted the growing hold of his hand on your chin, and you accepted his eager lips. You felt the desire to hold him closer. To have him closer. And your hand traveled to his bicep, trying to fulfill your desires.

Your lips grew hungrier. Deeper. Sloppier. He pushed with more force; his hand slipped from your chin to the back of your head and you accepted his move. It made you crazier. Thirstier for his warmth. Your hands snaked around his shoulders, feeling his exposed skin and the thin fabric that hid the rest from you. You hugged around his neck, drawing him closer.

For a second, your lips slipped off his, and a shiver rolled off his tongue. It filled your stomach with hotness. Made your lips hungrier. Pushier. He tasted intoxicating. He tasted perfect. Bitter like the tea that you had made him, and sweet like the sugar that you had poured into your own cup. The two polar opposites melted in your mouth, failing to quench you.

His hands traced down your body; tingles fluttered through your system, unnerving your stomach and making you crazier for him. Your fingers tangled in his hair. You were trapped in between his arms. Trapped under him as he loomed over you. A quiver escaped your mouth as you struggled to keep your sloppy lips on his.

You both paused as your lips departed, staying tied in each other’s proximity. You listened to his unorderly breath, feeling each of his breaths as tingles on your skin. You felt your heart forcefully beat against your chest, and you were sure he could feel it too consider how close he was. His warmth was driving you insane. His perfect scent and his perfect hands that held you sides now. You were eager to have more of him. To taste him for longer.

Your lips grazed his proactively. He caught you in an instant, returning the gesture by pressing deeper against your lips, and you melted as soon as you tasted his tongue. His fingertips pressed against your sides, holding you firmly and possessively. He put more force into your kiss, and your mind turned foggy beyond recognition. You couldn’t think anymore. All of your senses were focused on him. His scent. His taste. His harshness. His unorganized breaths between your sloppy dance.

Tangled in each other, preoccupied with your desires, you failed to be careful. You were reminded you were sitting on the edge of the deck only after his clumsy fingers grabbed at the ground, and accidentally knocked over the mug that he had put aside. It loudly clanked, nearly falling over the ledge before he hastily caught it.

He reacted so quickly that he practically jerked himself of your lips, and you were left leaning against his cheek. Drawing uneven breaths against his skin as he looked over your shoulder to make sure that the mug stayed away from the ledge.

“Darling,” he whispered against your ear. His voice sent a rush of heat down your entire body, and your lips nervously pressed together as you tried to swallow the feeling down.

“Yeah?”  you whispered back.

“I think we should get away from the open ledge.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The Withered in Bloom Ch. 17

The afternoon turned quiet and still as you found yourself free from work. You were done with all your tasks quicker than usual thanks to Scaramouche. He hadn’t left your side all day, despite admitting that Kusanali was impatiently waiting for him to return to the Sanctuary or Surasthana. You didn’t try to shoo him away, knowing that he would be gone for a few days once Kusanali gets Her hands on him. You figured you could at least enjoy his companionship as long as you could.

Dirty and sweaty from hard work, you were desperate to take a cold swim at the waterfall. This time you didn’t let Scaramouche anywhere near your room as you grabbed your stuff, still feeling embarrassment as you walked past your bed. Memories from last night intruded your mind despite your wish to not think about sinful things. It was difficult to turn a blind eye to it, and the tips of your earns burned a stark red as you found yesterday’s laundry still piled on the floor – carelessly tossed aside by Scaramouche.

 He patiently waited outside of your hut, and silently followed you outside of Ghandarva ville once you had everything you needed. With a towel and a clean shirt over your shoulder, you led him across the dry forest path.

A few finches flied overhead, one of them trying to rest on Scaramouche’s hat. He let out a scoff and swatted them away, and you tossed him a confused glare which instantly made him stop. Being liked by animals was something that every ranger would be jealous off.

The waterfall greeted you with its familiar loud rustling. Water poured over the stoney cliff, showering the blue pool with a strong and majestic flow. Even standing next to it felt amazing, as millions of micro droplets splattered your skin with coldness. It was perfectly refreshing.

You smiled brightly at the feeling, failing to notice Scaramouche who silently observed you as you gleamed in the waterfall’s blessing. You began stripping off your clothes, stopping once you were in your undergarments. You rested your clean towel and shirt against a boulder and slowly made your way to the pool. Hearing rustling, you couldn’t help but turn your head to look at Scaramouche. He took off his tunic, carefully resting it with the rest of your clothes; his Vision shone brightly against the boulder’s surface, illuminating the lotus that decorated it. It somehow looked as fresh as it did when he first attached it to his Vision, making you question if he constantly picked new lotuses, or whether Kusanali tampered with it to keep it looking that way.

He took off his hat, putting it with the rest of his clothes before he proceeded to take his shorts off. He noticed you staring, and he looked at you in surprise before his lips pulled into a smirk. You hastily looked away, but you knew that you were too late.

You sat next to the pool, dipping your legs into the cold water. You had to get used to the temperature before getting in. Scaramouche plopped down next to you, still wearing that same smirk from earlier as his thoughts seemingly greatly entertained him.

“Are you not going to get in?” he questioned.

“It’s cold,” you said. “I need to get used to the water first.”

He hummed in agreement. It wasn’t long before Scaramouche slipped into the water. He didn’t even flinch. Goosebumps dotted your arms at the mere thought of getting in, but he didn’t seem to mind the cold at all. He turned towards you, and you instinctively put your hands up as a shield. “Please don’t splash me.”

“I won’t.”

You put your hands down. Scaramouche slowly swam over to your side, stopping once he was standing in front of you. He looked up at you with a solemn expression. Every hint of arrogance was gone, and his face turned soft. Sentimental. He came closer, putting his hands on your thighs and gently pulling your legs open to make space for his body. You suppressed a shiver at the sudden iciness of his touch. The cold water didn’t seem that different from how his skin usually felt. But in your mind, his skin was as hot as the night prior.

Scaramouche rested on the stone between your legs, his dark gorgeous eyes not once leaving yours as he leaned his head against your thigh. Your lips fell open and then closed. Scaramouche’s gaze turned you breathless. Oozing with honey, his usually dark eyes sparkled in the waterfall’s shiny blue atmosphere.

 He was mute; you were his entire world in that very moment. The center of his eye, the only meaningful, tangible thing… You didn’t know what to think. You couldn’t think. You were mesmerized by the loving eyes with which he gazed up at you.

Your fingers gingerly passed through his hair, messing his purple strands as you pulled them up from his forehead. He nuzzled deeper against your thigh, watching you still as you brushed through his hair.

Your heart fluttered; your heartbeat had long become unbearably fast since he first approached. The heaviness of his honeyed gaze rendered you completely still.

The waterfall’s continuous rustling turned to distant noise. The iciness of the pool bellow you became miniscule. Scaramouche felt so much warmer than the water that you briefly associated him with. His gaze; the loving, sparkling brilliance in his eyes. It warmed you from within, tugging at all of your heartstrings at once.

Your lips pulled into a smile. The joy from your heart threatening to spill from your mouth in the form of laughter. It was unimaginable to you that this man was yours. That you were the one he looked at with such endearment. That, despite his cold and expressionless nature, you somehow ended up helping him feel.

His brows furrowed slightly, knitting together into an innocent and questioning arch. He was puzzled by your smile.

It was as if he only then became aware of his expression. Only then, he realized how much he had relaxed around you. How enchanted he had become by your presence. His face quickly shifted to its usual cold exterior, proving to you once and for all that it was always an act. He frowned at you, leaning away from your leg and body.

“You are taking too long,” he said. Before you could say anything, he swiped his hands across the pool surface and splashed you. You yelped, pulling your knees up as cold water dotted your stomach.

“You said you wouldn’t splash me!”

“I made no promises."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

okay te-hee. i'm still giggling. I hope you enjoyed! I decided to not gatekeep the kiss in the second clip so~

You can find the fic on my Ao3, right here. Withered in Bloom is the third book in my series "A Puppet's Heart". Hope you enjoy if u do end up reading it!

And as always, if u enjoy my writing, I also have a ko-fi and more fics on my ao3 account <3

[demonlovingsheep]

An MC who is addicted in helping the brothers maintaining their horns, wings, and tail. Why? Cause :

You have such a huge area on Lucifer’s wings and plucking out the old feathers until their all gone is so satisfying. It’s like plucking white hair from your older relatives, except you don’t even get paid a nickel for each cause this is a volunteer service. Maybe the first or second time, but after Mammon saw you get rich, he was offering Lucifer to groom his wings before you and stealing your job 😡.

MC “MAMMON FACK OFF, THIS IS MY JOB I’M BROKE.”

Mammon “WELL I’M BROKER”

Mc “AND WHO’S FAULT IS THAT?!?!”

Lucifer got annoyed at this and stopped paying entirely. You gave Mammon the silent treatment after that and he begged you to forgive him, which you did eventually.

Mammon’s wings are leathery. Maybe use a lint roller to roll all the dust and stuff off. The sound is nice too. You also can’t help running your finger over the boney parts up to his back, which he will flinch and get fluster.

Mammon “Wha-what are you doing? S-s-stop!

MC: I’m taking the elevator up to get closer to your heart 😘

Mammon *turning red like a tomato* “S-Sh-Shuddap dummy.”

Levi’s tail is like removing dried paint from the wall. If you never seen a snake owner holding onto the snake while it moves to shed, you are missing out.

MC “Levi, your tail is awesome, beautiful, gorgeous, majestic, long, sexy, and….looks tasty. *Chomps*

Levi *jumps from his chair and howls, then he died*

Satan’s bones tail often has gunk between the cracks. You use a tweezer to remove them section by section and marvel at the pile your able to remove.

Satan “MC, don’t go too deep, you’ll touch the nerves and it’ll hurt a little. I’m sure there is nothing there anyways.

MC “No no, just give me a moment. I’m sure there is something in here, I needa- *pulls out a huge chunk of dusk gunk* holy hell.

Satan 😳 “Oh my tail is a bit more flexible now. So that’s the reason why.”

MC *happy cause the pile of gunk got bigger*

Asmo is the same with Mammon. However his wings smell nicer and you marvel at how his wings connects to his back. Not something you see often and you wonder if his wing muscles are stronger since his wings are small in proportion to his body but he can still fly.

MC “Asmo, your wings are smaller than Lucifer’s but it looks a bit small in comparison to your size. How do you fly?”

Asmo: Because everyone loves me darling. And their love powers me and is able to carry me off. Oh ain’t I just the prettiest being of the world ❤️!”

Your eyes was about to roll to the back of your head.

Beel’s translucent wing makes u put a hand under it while you wipe it with a towel on the other side. You were kinda playing with it’s characteristics, tracing the lines that runs through it with your finger. He finds it very ticklish but thinks your adorable.

MC “You know, in the Human world there is a thing called palm reading. It’s where you can predict all sorts of things like when you’ll get married, your luck, you longevity, and everything by the lines on your hand.”

Beel “Really? Well I sure hope that there is a line on my wing that means we will be together forever” *smiles happily*

MC *wraps arm around Beel’s neck, nuzzling him* “You don’t need a line to tell you that. I love you and will be there forever!”

Lemme grab that floof at the end of ur tail dammit. Belphegor’s tail is like a cat’s toy and you can’t resist just targeting that floof, oohh that floof. And you will take care of it as if it’s a small fluffy animal. You will bath it, blow dry it, brush it, and top it off with a bow tie. Finally you give it a kiss and this whole dam time Belphegor is getting jealous of his own tail LMAO.

Belphie “MC, give me more attention up here.” *pouts*

MC “No! I want to spend more time with Luna.” *Rubs face against fluff*

Belphie “Luna? You named my tail? What about Belphie? He needs attention too. *Lifts tail away from your hand*

MC “NOO GIMME BACK LUNA U MONSTER!”

Belphie: >:(

*I thought this would be a short post but as I started to write, it just keep going, holy.

[starlightxsvt]

— Lover | c.sc (M)

pairing ➳ dom!Seungcheol x sub!inexperienced!female reader

genre ➳ sugar daddy au, fake dating, strangers to lovers, smut, pwp, angst and some fluff. part of the Sugar Spice and Everything Nice project.

warnings ➳ okayy let's see, profanities, reader is shy and timid, she is also a simp, age gap tho it isn't mentioned, lying, insecurities, mention of terminal illness, dom/sub dynamics, explicit sexual content: multiple sex scenes, daddy kink obviously, kissing, a little degradation (slut), marking, big dicc! cheol, one tit slap, one spank, a little fingering, a lil clit biting? tit worshipping, male oral, choking, virgin sex, unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it guys, this is just fiction!), forced orgasms, multiple orgasms, crying, creampie, seggs so gud she passes out, lots of emotions that needs to be addressed, Cheol is kind of an asshole at times?

word count ➳ 15.7k (grab your popcorn besties)

synopsis ➳ the worst first meeting and then an uncanny proposition is enough to cause trouble for you. you fall for a man who doesn't seem all that keen on returning your feelings.

playlist ➨ sugar daddy- queen herby // lover- taylor swift // power- ellie goulding // sugar- maroom 5 // tell it to my heart- meduza // guys my age- hey violet // tie a cherry- cl // only- lee hi // king of my heart- taylor swift // one last night- vaults // i fell in love with the devil- avril lavinge // i like it when you love me- oh wonder.

a/n: First of all happy new year guysss(even tho I'm late) and secondly, it's hereee!!! The first installment of Sugar Spice and Everything Nice is here!! I'm so excited, goshh. This is my first time writing explicit smut so idk how good it was (lemme know, wink wonk). For me it was hard af like I had no idea it was so draining to write smut??💀 Lmao anyways. Tbh when I thought of doing a sugar daddy fic, the first member I could think of was Cheol. I mean- HES A LITERAL DILF OKAY, he has the looks, the money, everything so ofc I had to do my first ever sg fic centering him. I hope y'all have a great time reading this and anticipate Joshua and Jeonghan's story which will probably take another couple months to be posted, sorry! Happy reading and I'll see y'all in hell( I can't believe I wrote this WTF 😀)

Your ass hurts.

It hurts so bad that you feel like the skin has come off and it has been set on fire. But that pain doesn't even come close to the fear and anxiety you feel right now as you watch the godly handsome man glare at you, his eyes shooting fire towards you like laser beams. His secretary or assistant or something dabs away at the stain on his pristine dark blue suit jacket with extreme caution; careful not to spread the stain further. The stain you just gave him.

In your defense, it was accidental but you aren't totally guilt free. You were too busy daydreaming about the man; the one currently sending daggers your way, to notice he was getting up from his seat to take his leave. Somehow your clumsy, pathetic self lost her balance and ended up tossing all the hot coffee that you were about to serve another table on him- mainly his suit while you land ass first on the floor. You are truly thankful that the man was wearing his suit otherwise he would have been burned pretty bad and by now you would probably be on your way to jail for burning somebody.

"Fuck! Stop it!" The man, also known as Mr. Choi bats the other man's hand away from his jacket as he takes it off, still glaring at you, probably cursing you too in his mind while you sit unmoving on the floor, stupidly gaping at him.

"Oh my god! We're so so sorry, sir!" From somewhere Tanz rushes towards the crime scene and helps you get up, while continuously bowing to the man in apology. "That was an accident. Please forgive us, sir. We'll pay for the dry cleaning."

"Forget it!" His voice booms, clearly annoyed as he mutters something to the other man who rushes out of the restaurant. "Do you know what you have done? How I could have been burned? I have a business meeting for fucks sake." He hisses at you while dabbing at the light patch of brown that has seeped on his crisp white shirt from the jacket.

"I'm sorry," you whisper meekly, head hanging low in shame, cringing at yourself. Way to make an impression. Tanz is about to say something but the man speaks again, this time directed at her, "If this is how your employees treat their customers then you should probably think about hiring new ones." He snaps before turning on his heel and marching out of the place.

The hushed chatter returns as obnoxiously rich people stare at you and gossip while Tanz pushes you towards the kitchen. "Wow. So you like spilling coffee on men that you like? Is that your way of telling them that you are interested?" She raises a brow at you making you flustered. "I swear, it was an accident! I just- slipped somehow...I'm so sorry."

She sighs, rubbing her forehead. "It's okay. As long as he doesn't file a complaint about us. And if he doesn't do that, be sure he's never coming back. He doesn't wanna get his pretty face burned next time." Tanz jokes but you don't really find it amusing.

Mr. Choi has been your harmless crush for a while now, well he definitely was harmless until now. He's one of the regular customers here, showing up almost everyday whether to have breakfast or to grab a cup of coffee. He always leaves the most generous tips which are a given for a billionaire like him. You have seen his face on magazines and the internet before as he is a hot topic of discussion because of his extreme success at a young age. Not only is he blessed with extremely good looks but he also doesn't lack intelligence and pairing it up with his communication skills and straightforwardness, he has managed to build an entire empire fairly young. And you just spilled hot coffee on someone like him.

Tanz takes pity on your traumatized state and lets you go home early, where you crawl under your blankets and try to wipe the cringy memory off your mind. You can only hope he does the same.

Sitting here, waiting for the stranger to appear is nerve wracking. Well, he isn't a complete stranger if you consider the messages you exchanged with him over the past week.

You still can't believe you signed up on a freaking sugar daddy website and then started chatting with some dude who you have no idea is real or not and now you are here, waiting for the said dude at a cafe. This all truly feels surreal now. Sure, the man seemed fun and nice over texts but you have no idea what he looks like and if he truly has the capability to be a sugar daddy. In his profile, it said his name is Scoups and his age is 32. That's all you know about the man you are going to meet. You don't have any idea what he looks like because his profile picture was rather vague, a capture of his silhouette rather than his profile.

He had asked if he could meet you in this cafe last night and thinking about all your accumulating bills, you said yes. He even specifically told you where to sit, the third table from the entrance by the window. Now you sit here tapping your foot nervously, contemplating your decision and waiting for the man to show up. You can't even look for him and only hope that he manages to recognize you from your profile picture.

You're so engrossed in your thoughts that it takes you a while to realize a man is standing in front of you. Peeking up to look at him, your heart almost lurches out of your chest at the sight. Mr. Choi stands in front of you in all his glory, a confused look on his face as he judges you with a raised brow. Your throat tightens.

"Wha- what are you doing here?" He's incredulous. You get nervous for no reason. You fiddle with your hands as they flail wildly and blurt out, "I- you told me to c-come here. We- we have been talking through that website-"

"What the fuck are you saying? I was supposed to meet some investors he- wait a second!" Some sort of revelation flashes across his eyes as he clenches his jaw and tightens his fist. You half expect him to start throwing punches but instead, he yells, "Fuck! Yoon Jeonghan!" He grits his teeth as he produces his phone from his breast pocket and quickly dials a number before walking away, leaving you completely bewildered.

You sit there as minutes pass by, baffled at the situation. Out of all people, he had to be your match? Or maybe it wasn't him. God, you're confused. When you are sure he has left for good and you should too, he reappears at your table, an annoyed look resting on his face.

He sits down on the chair across you with a disturbed grunt, before undoing the button of his jacket and releasing a deep breath. You sit there frozen, too nervous to speak or move, only watching the beautiful man in front of you rubbing his temples. He begins, "I have to clear things up. This is a setup, done by my dear friend. He was the one who you have been talking to on that website. He set me up to this, saying that we were meeting some investors. I had no idea I was gonna meet a...sugar baby." He mutters dryly, undoubtedly displeased with everything. Dumbly, you whisper, "I'm sorry."

What are you even sorry for? Oh yeah, spilling coffee on his jacket.

He lets out a mirthless chuckle, "It's really ironic meeting you. God the confusion I felt when I saw you sitting here." He shakes his head at the memory as you grow more embarrassed. "Anyway, I think we're done here. Sorry to let you down but if you want to meet my friend I can give you his number." His tone is dismissive as he prepares to leave but stops in his tracks when a ping comes from his phone. He opens the device to check the text and a frown settles on his face upon reading it. He sits still for a while, staring at the screen while you do the same, waiting for his next move.

And it surprises you.

"On a second thought, I don't mind being a sugar daddy." He announces as he gets comfortable in the chair again and you gulp, wondering what that text said that made him change his mind so quickly. Silently, you wait for him to elaborate but he doesn't, instead starts scanning you top to bottom. You grow flustered under his scrutinizing gaze, shuffling in your seat as you wonder if he likes what he sees or feels repelled. It's probably the latter.

"I have some specific demands that need to be met. One, if I'm being precise. You do that and I pay you generously."

You swallow. "What is it?"

"I need someone to show up with me on family functions and other events. You see, my family has been pressuring me to find a significant other and me showing up with a girl will really keep them off my ass." He states, getting to the point immediately as you sit there, processing his words. His proposition sounds almost unreal, too easy. He continues, "I'm willing to pay whatever your requirement is. If you agree, then I'm gonna prepare a contract which will carry all the details of this arrangement." He sounds so formal like he's doing business which in a way, he is and his authoritativeness makes you stumble over your words as you gather your thoughts.

"I...I don't mind I guess. I have loans to pay off so...I'm willing." You whisper. In the back of your mind, you wonder if this means you have to get physical with him, which you definitely don't mind but the thought makes your throat dry. As if he can read your mind, he speaks, "Don't worry about sex. I'm not looking for anything physical. But if you are willing then we can. However, that is not a priority. We can take it one at a time." His bluntness makes your face burn as you nod timidly, looking away. When you offer nothing more he sits up straight. " Well, then, Miss ____, I take it you're willing?"

"Yes." You nod. "Good. My secretary will contact you soon. We can meet up and discuss the contract." He throws a professional smile at you, a pleasure-doing-business-with-you-with-you smile as he fishes out his wallet and pulls out a couple of hundred dollar bills. To your utter surprise, he pushes them towards you. "Thank you for your time." Is all he says before he stands up and marches away, leaving you to sit there shocked, horrified even as you stare at the bills sitting on the table.

Two hundred dollars?

For what? Like twenty minutes? Is this what it feels like to be a sugar baby? Half of you feel ashamed while the other half feels giddy as you reach for the notes. You have to put your pride aside if you want to pay off your loans and accomplish your dreams. Also, it's not like this is illegal or you begged him for this. He willingly gave you two hundred dollars! With a soft smile on your lips, you put the notes in your purse and head home.

A couple of days later, true to his words, Seungcheol's secretary calls you, letting you know that his boss wants to have dinner with you and go over the contract. Due to the occasion, you take out the best piece of clothing you own; a mid-length black evening dress with a sweetheart neckline that hugs your body nicely and pray that it makes you look decent and presentable. Seungcheol is kind enough to send his car to pick you up and take you to the restaurant.

When you arrive, Seungcheol is already there, waiting for you in one of the private dining areas. Dressed in a grey suit and pants which are a little crinkled right now, it is evident that he had a long day. But somehow, he manages to look perfectly put together and attractive, his intimidating aura ever present. "Good evening, Miss ____."

He greets as he sees you enter and with a shy greeting, you quickly sit down opposite to him. The room is spacious, designed with wood and minimalistic decorations as a table sits at the center, surrounded by a couple of chairs. Seungcheol pushes the menu resting on the table towards you. "Order whatever you please. Then we can start discussing the contract."

So you do that quickly as the waiter arrives and pours some champagne on your glasses. As a means of easing your nerves, you quickly gulp it down.

"Now, since this is a contract, I expect you to be completely honest and tell me if you aren't satisfied with anything. This won't work if you don't tell me your worries," Seungcheol begins, pushing the written contract towards you. Tentatively, you pick up the piece of paper. "I've listed my requirements here. You can add yours if you have any. And if you disagree with any of these then we can discuss it." He states, leaning back on his chair and taking a sip of the bubbling drink. You can feel his eyes burning into you as you read over the contract and you are pretty surprised over its simplicity.

They don't contain many clauses, just a few; none of the parties are allowed to have any other relationships while in this contract, prices are negotiable if they do not satisfy the sugar baby, sexual relationship is not a must but it can be initiated with the consent of both parties and lastly, if any of the parties want to break off this arrangement, they can do so without any questions asked. You set down the paper with a hum and Seungcheol asks, "Okay? Would you like to add anything?"

"No, I think this is fine." You say, making him nod and fetch a pen from his pocket. "You can always add something later if you feel like it. I want this to be beneficial for both of us. This way, we both get what we want, don't we?" Nodding, you scribble your sign at the bottom of the paper, next to his. You feel like you have done something huge, something that will change your life and it will. He is literally your sugar daddy now. Which reminds you.

"Oh, thank you for that money...that day. You... didn't have to do it, really." You whisper. Seungcheol shrugs, his tone bored, "I'm your sugar daddy, aren't I? Besides, you were scammed in a way. Only felt right to compensate you. Jeonghan says he's sorry, by the way." Biting your lip, you nod, unable to come up with a reply.

"Okay, now." Seungcheol puts his hands on the table, his serious gaze making you squirm in your seat. "My parents are hosting a charity event this weekend. And you will be accompanying me."

"This weekend?" You let out an unceremonious gasp. He raises a brow, "Yes. Do you have plans? I will pay you handsomely." The mention of money makes you flush as you quickly shake your head, "No no! I just- I wasn't expecting it. I mean it's in two days and I don't have any time to prepare my dr-"

"Everything will be taken care of, ___." He pins you down with his gaze. "You just need to show up. I will have a pair of stylists and make-up artists at my place this Saturday. You can get ready there."

"O-okay. Thank you." You mutter, feeling a little intimated.

"Good." Seungcheol smirks. "Pleasure doing business with you, Miss ____."

After that, there's a pause in the air as dinner is served and you both start eating in relative silence. "I did some background check on you. You're a business major, I see." Seungcheol states somewhere between the dinner. "Yes, I am." You speak.

"You have quite an excellent score. Why don't you come to my company for an internship." The idea is enticing but you are already in a rather special relationship with this man so the idea of him being your boss too isn't really the most pleasing. It is true that you are preparing your résumé for some internships as you need money to pay off your loans as the diner's pay isn't helping with too much. "T-thank you for your offer, Mr. Choi. But I don't think I will." He raises a brow at you but doesn't speak further, instead sips the champagne. "You are not interested in an internship?"

"I- I was but not anymore. I mean, with our new arrangement," heat flares all through your face "I-I think I'll keep working at the diner and save up. I actually want to open my own shop." You whisper, confessing your dream to him suddenly making you shy.

What does he think of you? Is he judging you? Laughing at you?

"What shop?"

"A flower shop," you breathe, looking at your lap. He's silent for a while before nodding, "A flower shop, huh? Interesting." He muses and you cringe inwardly thinking he's probably laughing at you. Before you can stop yourself you explain, "You see my mother used to have a garden when I was young. I really liked watching her tending to the garden with so much love and before I knew it I started to do the same too. She loved roses, half of our garden was full of them. I just...I don't know, I want to work with flowers." You don't know why you are blabbering about this to pretty much a stranger and you half expect him to roll his eyes and say whatever but you watch him nod, almost understandingly.

"That's great. We'll drink to that. I hope you can open your shop soon." He raises his glass and you quickly grab yours, clinking it with him, whispering a 'cheers'.

It has been two months since that night and God, your life has turned completely upside down. If someone said this was gonna be your life a few months back, you would have flipped them off but lord, it is. You have attended quite a few events with Seungcheol in the span of the last couple of months and after each event, the amount that was dropped in your bank account was mind boggling, almost filthy. You have once tried talking to Seungcheol about it, saying he did not have to pay that much every time but he just shrugged and said that's what you deserve for giving him your time. And you certainly can't complain.

With the current flow of cash, in just a few weeks you can finish paying all your debts and actually start working on setting up your shop.

Other than the obscene about of money, there are gifts. So much of it that bags of Channel and Dior and Gucci and Louis Vuitton and Prada lie around your apartment now because after every party you attend with Seungcheol, he lets you take home the expensive dresses and shoes as gifts. You have tasted the most luxurious wines and champagnes, tried a variety of delicacies, rode cars worth a million dollars and whatnot. It has been an overwhelming but also a learning experience as you got to experience how the filthy rich people lived. And it is easy to get used to because coming from a struggling family, when you have diamonds and rubies on your neck and fingers, you truly can't complain too much. But every now and then you tell Seungcheol to take it easy and tone it down just a little.

Seungcheol, right. The man who is now at the center of your universe. He's an enigma, just like gravity as he keeps pulling you closer and closer yet leaving you unsatisfied. You don't really know what you expected Seungcheol to be but it's definitely not this. He's attentive and respectful but also very professional. While this sugar daddy and sugar baby relationship may sound really intimate to others, it's nowhere near that for the two of you. It's fair to say you are extremely surprised at how Seungcheol keeps his distance and never tries to initiate anything with you.

You have been playing the role of Seungcheol's arm candy slash companion, nothing more or less. So far you have attended four events with him, the first one being his family charity. His parents surprised you, in the best way. While you expected them to make rude comments and judge you down to your pores, they were welcoming and chatty and easy to get along with, like the rest of his family. His mother was the life of the party, talking and laughing and drinking nonstop, her vibe a lot younger than her age.

After that event, you attended two more office parties, followed by an evening party taken place after Seungcheol launched another new business. That night is the most unforgettable as you were flocked with paparazzi coming at you from all directions and throwing questions left and right. However, Seungcheol handed them efficiently, shielding you from the blinding flashes with his large frame as he answered the questions for you. He has always made sure that you felt comfortable and always made you feel included in conversations. And for someone with a soft heart like yours, his attention and politeness towards you have increased the teeny tiny crush you had on him to tenfold.

How can you not like someone as charming as him? Sure, he has kept you at an arm's length, never sharing anything too personal with you nor asking anything personal about you but the sight of him in a suit, engrossed in his work, his ring clad fingers massaging his temples is enough to make you forget everything and fall for him harder. Seungcheol pays you to show up with him at events and while you were first interested in luxurious parties and fine dining events, you've soon lost interest in them; now too busy gawking at Seungcheol. The events now bore you but you certainly aren't complaining when you get to be by the side of a man like Seungcheol.

The way he shows up in expensive suits, tailored just perfectly and free of a single crease and the way he brushes his slicked hair back while talking or the way his adam's apple bobs when he sips champagne or the way his biceps flex when he buttons his suit is good enough to drive you insane. Simply speaking, it looks like you've got it down bad for someone who is clearly not interested in a relationship. You remember asking him about this on the way home after one of his parties.

"Why don't you just...date?"

Your question catches him off guard by the look on his face as he raises a rather judgemental brow at you. Flustered, you're about to apologize for being nosy when he sighs. "Too much work."

"Huh?" You blink at him. "Dating. It's too much for me. I've seen people around me fall in love and then fall apart in the worst ways and I don't want to be like them. I'm not ready for commitment or the effort and responsibilities that come with a relationship only for it to end and cause me headaches. It feels like a burden to me."

"Oh." You murmur. "But it could be fun too. If you find the right person, I mean." Your voice fades into a whisper. A small unamused smile rests on his face. "That's the thing. Finding the right person. I don't think there is someone like that. At least for me."

"Well, you never know until you search." You speak wondering why the hell you are pushing him to find love. Maybe because deep down that's what you wish from him, to love you. Seungcheol stares at you for a while, your eyes not leaving his as you watch the city lights reflect in them. The moment is broken when a frown mars his beautiful face as he snaps, "Well. As I said, I'm not interested."

His rejection definitely hurt you but you didn't have time to dwell on it because the next day Seungcheol announced that you would be accompanying him to Paris this weekend for a two-day business trip. The news came out of nowhere and smacked you on the face but you were too excited to complain how short of a time he gave you to prepare. Seungcheol dealt with all the paperwork work and a few days later you were accompanying him to Paris in his private jet.

It has been a couple of hours since you have landed and checked into the hotel suite. Seungcheol is currently taking a shower as you stand on the balcony, watching the Eiffel tower in the distance as the dusk fell.

You are still in the process of processing that all this is real and you are truly in Paris, staying in a fucking penthouse suite which unfortunately or fortunately has two bedrooms because Seungcheol claimed he didn't want to make you uncomfortable, sipping a wine whose name you can't even pronounce. All thanks to your dear sugar daddy. The word still feels foreign on your tongue and you haven't called him that out loud but oftentimes, your mind wonders if he'd like to be called that in bed. You are yet to find out if you have a daddy kink which seems like it won't happen soon given how professional Seungcheol has been with you.

Your wandering thoughts come to a halt as Seungcheol appears from the bathroom, half naked, just grey pajama pants hanging low on his hips and you almost choke on your wine. Making a quick excuse you dash to the bathroom, seeking shelter from the defined, absolutely perfect muscles all over his chest and abdomen. This sugar baby thing is proving to be a lot harder than you thought but hey, at least you are getting paid enough.

The next day Seungcheol meets his business partners in an early breakfast meeting as you get your beauty sleep in the fluffy white pillows and blankets. Later that evening you prepare for the after party as you put on a champagne colored silk evening dress, another luxurious purchase by Seungcheol. With your makeup done, you are putting on your earrings when Seungcheol pads into your room, dressed in the finest white suit you've ever seen. There's a white turtleneck underneath it and a Chanel brooch pin rests on one of the lapels of his collar. His hair is styled back in a rather messy way as the smaller strands lay scattered on the sides of his forehead and you have this terrible urge to run your fingers through them. He simply looks delectable.

You watch him with bated breath for a while before his voice brings you back to reality. "Are you finished?"

"Yeah, um, I just need to put my shoes on," you reply fumbling for your pumps. Seungcheol watches you for a second, his eyes scanning you top to bottom before he gives you a soft smile and steps out of the room, leaving you to finish getting ready.

This party is like every other, men talking about capitalist things and women showing off their jewels to each other. You sit on a chair by the long table full of sweets and fruits, helping yourself with a piece of strawberry as you sip on the rose champagne and watch Seungcheol converse with his business partners. Well, he stays silent mostly while the men surrounding him talk and this is the first time you have seen Seungcheol look so disinterested. His eyes keep wandering around and often landing on you and when they do, he holds his gaze, eyes boring into yours even though he's on the other side of the room. As you finish your strawberry Seungcheol excuses himself from his friends and stalks over to you. "Boring, isn't it?" He raises a brow at you.

"I'm surprised to hear that from you." You send a teasing smile on his way. He laughs softly, "I know. I'm kind of regretting making them partners. They just don't know when to shut their traps." He sighs, grabbing a champagne flute and finishing it in one go. "Well, would you like to leave then?" You ask. "Now?" He frowns. "We haven't had dinner yet."

You shrug. "We can just have it back in the hotel if that's okay with you." Seungcheol seems to ponder that idea for a second before he reaches out for your hand, surprising you. "Let's do that. I've had a long day." Nodding you follow him, your hands linked with his as you excuse yourselves from the party and head towards Seungcheol's limo.

Tonight the air between the two of you feels different, charged with palpable tension. Seungcheol, who only have ever touched the small of your back or pressed the slightest kisses on your temple as a public display of affection has been keeping his hands a lot more on you today. Like right now.

His hand rests on your thigh casually as you sit next to him on the limo, your heart thudding loudly when he absentmindedly starts stroking the flesh. You take a tentative look at him, his eyes focused outside, his brows furrowed a little. His face is so close to you, just mere inches apart and you can even count his beautiful, long lashes. And you have this insane urge to kiss every inch of his face, press your lips against him and feel the softness.

Your body seems to take matters into its hand as you feel yourself move and press your lips softly against like sharp jawline. Seungcheol is pleasantly shocked as he turns to face you, the hand on your thigh tightening. Holding your breath you watch him, waiting for him to react. He does by cupping your cheek, dark eyes watching you closely. And then he leans closer, pressing his lips on your cheek before trailing down towards your lips. He then stops and observes you for a while, his warm breath kissing your face, the heated desire in his eyes making your heart race.

And then he presses his lips on the corner of yours gently, as if testing the waters. Your soft gasp and tightening hold on his jacket ease his worries as he attaches his lips to yours softly. He takes his sweet time kissing your lips as you sit there frozen, the fact that this is happening stunning you. When he gently prods his tongue into your mouth you grab his jacket, breath hitching as fireworks spread through your body.

Perilously you kiss him back, hands snaking around his neck as he somehow shifts you onto his lap. Your heart rings in your ears loudly, thrilled to finally, finally taste the man you have been utterly besotted to.

He tastes like pure luxury, fine and deep and obsessive leaving you moaning for more. He removes his lips from yours to trail them down your neck, starting from your jaw as soft gasps leave your mouth. You throw your head back once his lips meet your sensitive spots and half unconsciously you start grinding yourself against his thigh. You seem to have lost your mind, your brain overflowing with some sort of horny hormones probably because your period is coming or because of the unfairly sexy man underneath you. However, your passionate moment is hindered as the car comes to a halt making you snap out of your reverie.

Face heated, you scramble to get off his lap while he lets you, an unaffected look resting on his face as if he didn't just eat your face. Getting off the car as fast as possible you march inside the hotel and go straight for the elevator. Seungcheol follows you close by and after one awkward, full of tension elevator ride later you reach the suite and as soon as Seungcheol unlocks it, you almost make a beeline for your room, too ashamed to face him after your little make out session. But his voice stops you in your tracks.

"Did I make you uncomfortable?" He asks suddenly, his face solemn. The sincerity in his tone makes you feel a little guilty. "No!" You signify. "I just- um, I really liked it but I'm afraid you didn't and I crossed a line or something..." You trail off nervously, eyes low in embarrassment. He watches you amusedly for a while before stepping towards you and tilting your head up with a finger.

The proximity of his body next to yours paired with his scalding gaze have your knees shaking but you swallow and meet his eyes. "Trust me, you didn't cross any line." His deep voice reverberates as he leans closer, his lips a breath away from your ear. "I liked that a lot, in fact." He whispers, trailing his lips from your cheek to your earlobe as he softly bites the flesh. Your hands clutch on his jacket tightly as you mewl, legs shaking. You can't believe how embarrassingly wet you are from one makeout session.

"Wait!" You speak, making him step back immediately with a frown and you hate how you miss his warmth. You don't want him to get the wrong idea so you keep your hands on his jacket as you look down and whisper your embarrassing truth. "I- you should know...that...I've never done this before. I'm- I'm-" you can't bring yourself to finish that sentence so keep your head down in shame, scared that he's gonna back out now. For a moment nothing happens and you feel like disappearing into thin air, before he cups your cheek and guides your face up.

"That's okay. What I need to know is," His eyes darken visibly, turning into pools of lava, "Do you really want this? Do you want me?" He utters, his lips a breath away from yours. "Y-yes, I do." He didn't even touch you but you are already gasping for air, the thoughts of him corrupting you sending shivers down your spine.

Watching you for a beat he leans closer and attaches his lips to yours, gently at first. When a soft, pleasured gasp leaves your mouth he grows bolder, pushing his tongue inside and claiming your mouth once again and biting your lips to the point it's swollen. The kiss is raw, filled with molten lust as he somehow manages to guide you both towards the master bedroom your lips always connected to his plump ones.

When you both stand in front of the huge bed, you almost lose your balance due to your lust-riddled brain but he is quick to grab your waist rather roughly and pulls you close while his other hand ventures downwards, groping your ass. He kisses you until you are breathless and then pulls back to look at your already fucked out state, your doe eyes watching him with so much eagerness.

"Beautiful." He whispers, eyes on your swollen lips that are parted just a little.

With a gentle hand, he reaches for the straps of your gown and lets them fall off your shoulders before his hands dance on your back, tugging down the zipper in a smooth motion. He steps back just a little bit, waiting for you to step out of your dress and shyly you do so. The dress doesn't let you wear a bra so your bare breasts are exposed to the chilly air, making your nipples harden immediately. You're about to cover yourself out of shame when he grabs your wrists. "Don't." Is all he says, his voice gentle yet commanding and you nod vigorously like a puppet.

He begins by pressing kisses on your shoulders and then your breasts as his hands work on massaging them simultaneously. He takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting and torturing it with his tongue until you are arching towards him with a moan and bunching the sheets in your fists. "You are so beautiful when you moan for me darling, don't stop." He mouths with a cheeky smile before doing the same to your other breast, all the while watching your reaction and you are so lost in sensations that you don't realize he has taken off his suit jacket sometime while pleasing you.

Then he stops for a moment, pushing you back into the pillows behind you and sitting on his knees as he takes off his turtleneck. His body is truly a sight for sore eyes, chiseled abs all over and you have this urge to kiss every inch of his porcelain skin. Smirking at how you ogle him he then reaches for his pants, tugging them off too. Left in his boxers only which shows a clear outline of his hard length, you can't help but mewl out a please. Your desperation makes him cockier and he decides to tease you a little further.

Leaning down, he presses sweet kisses on your belly before going down, eyes connecting with yours every so often. He kisses your covered core once before tugging off your panties and tossing them aside, making you gasp and without a delay he spreads your legs open, staring at your core. You feel your whole body heat up with embarrassment and you want to close your legs but you can't because of his strong grip. It frustrates you how slow he is, too busy eye fucking you and enjoying your neediness. Throwing the sexiest smirk at you that has your pussy leaking, he leans down and attaches his lips against your core.

You almost scream bloody murder.

His mouth moves expertly against your most sensitive spot as he messily sucks and laps at your core. Your hands fist on his hair as you almost arch off the bed when you feel his warm tongue prodding at your entrance. "Fuck! Daddy!" And the word leaves your lips somehow which makes Seungcheol stop his ministrations on you. He leans back to look at you and you are so embarrassed you hope that the bed would swallow you up.

You're about to open your mouth to apologize but he says, "What did you call me?" His deep baritone has you gushing again as his smoldering eyes pin you down. "D-daddy." You whisper. "Good. Scream that when I make you come." The confidence and authority in his voice are enough to almost make you come as he dives back in with renewed vigor.

He's merciless, prodding your hole relentlessly with his tongue, alternating sucks and nips on your clit. It sets fireworks all through you and you feel the coil in your belly starting to tighten in pleasure. "So fucking good baby. You taste so sweet." He grunts, face pressed against your mound and his words paired with the lewd sight between your legs has your cunt throbbing.

Soon enough you find yourself on the precipice of an orgasm which washes over you when he gently nips your clit before giving it a harsh suck. You scream as you hurl down an orgasm, your first, real orgasm as Seungcheol holds your shaking body down.

Before you can even come back from your high, he continues, kissing your pussy aggressively while adding a finger and then two and the sudden stretch in your tight hole has you coming again in mere seconds, this time your orgasm stronger, setting your nerve endings on fire as you scream his name.

He sits back once done, a satisfied smirk on his face as he watches you twitch underneath him, vision q little blurry. He makes a show of licking his lips which glisten with your arousal before leaning down by supporting himself on his elbows and capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss. You moan, tasting yourself on his tongue and the filthiness of his act sends a new rush of arousal through your body.

"Do you want me to continue?" He asks and though his concern warms your heart you can't help the groan. "Yes, yes! Of course." You almost yell. Chuckling at your enthusiasm, he moves back and rakes a hand through his hair. "Well, then, if we're gonna do it, we have to do it bare because I don't have a condom with me. But I assure you, I'm clean and I'll pull out." He says, his eyes focused on your face to catch any hint of hesitation and honestly, you don't give a fuck. You'll do just about anything to have his dick inside you right now.

"I'm on the pill so I'm fine." You pant, reaching for him to pull him close. Smirking, he grabs your wrists midway and pins them above your head. Lazily he whispers in your ear, "If you want me to fuck you, you're gonna be a good girl and keep your hands to yourself. Understand?" You answer him with an enthusiastic nod but he isn't satisfied as he lands a sudden slap on your tit making you squeal. "Yes, daddy! Yes!" You heave for breaths, pussy throbbing as his rough treatment.

Once happy he works on removing his boxers and when they come off you almost drool, mouth hanging open at the sight. His cock is utterly beautiful, long and thick and heavy as it bobs in the air. Your pussy clenches around nothing as you swallow, thinking about how deliciously it's gonna stretch you, if you can even take it in the first place.

"Like what you see?" His tone is smug and you can only nod. He gives your pussy a few rubs, spreading your arousal before lining his cock up to your entrance, intense eyes watching you as he whispers, "Deep breaths baby. Tell me if it gets uncomfortable, alright? I'll stop immediately." You can only nod, grabbing his biceps for support as you feel his tip entering followed by some inches and just that feeling has you on the brink of exploding. Sharp pain and pleasure surge through you but what steals most of your focus is how incredibly full you feel. Your breath hitches and you tense up as he gradually pushes in, mewling, "Ah- s-so b-big."

Above you Seungcheol grits his teeth as he keeps pushing inside steadily and you wonder just how big his cock is when it finally stops and you let out the breath you were holding. "Alright?" Seungcheol asks. You nod your head taking in a couple deep breaths, pulling him closer as an indication to continue. And he does. Lazily he pulls back until the tip of his dick rests inside you and then he thrusts, so hard that you scream out loud as he hits that spot inside you. "Fuck, you're so tight." He sounds choked.

"Oh god!" you're wail, head full of bliss as your mouth hangs open in pleasure. The ethereal sight of him on top of you, sweaty, full of lust has you moaning and clenching. You wrap your arms tightly around his strong back, nails digging onto his skin as he increases his pace. "Feel good? You want more, little girl?"

His words make you gush around him. "Yes! Yes, daddy! I want more. Give it to me!" You whine deliriously, clinging onto him. He grunts, doubling his pace if that's even possible. You feel like you are gonna break into two, in the best possible way as he keeps hitting your sweet spot that has you moaning like a whore and you feel your orgasm approaching.

"Keep screaming my name. Who's making you feel this good?" He hisses in your ear, thrusting erratically. "You daddy! You! Seungcheol! Please, I'm gonna cum!" You mewl.

"Oh yeah? So easily? Cum then. Milk my cock dry." He bites your earlobe as one of his hands reaches down to circle your clit in tight motions making you shudder violently. You feel like you are gonna burst and you do actually. The coil in your belly snaps and with a raw scream of his name you come, pussy spasming erratically. Seungcheol hisses on top of you as he feels your arousal coat him but continues his ruthless pace, his thrusts so deep the bed shakes.

He's merciless, continuing his torture on your clit even after you come and oversensitivity settles. "Seungcheol, please..." You gasp, unsure what you are even begging for. "One more. You can do one more," he huffs before whispering, "Where do you want me to come baby?" He pants, hands rubbing your clit tirelessly.

"Inside! C-come in me, daddy!" You're delirious, the thought of him filling you up sends your body into overdrive as he pinches your clit, making you come once more with a scream of his name. The orgasm ripples through you like tsunami waves, shaking your whole body and making your toes curl as your fingernails dig into his back. He comes with you, warm spurts of his seed filling you up continuously, so much that some of it leak out. The warm feeling of his release inside your pussy and his sweet sucking on your neck is the last thing you remember before passing out.

When you return to earth it's morning and your whole body hurts. The sun filters through the silk curtains, making you squint as you struggle to sit up. The ache between your legs is ever present, making the memories of last night flood back in. At that thought, you look around the room only to see no signs of Seungcheol. Is he gone for a meeting? The bedside clock reads 9:05 am.

Damn, how long have you been passed out for? You didn't even have dinner last night. At the thought of food, your stomach growls and you scramble to get out of bed, awkwardly moving your legs after the treatment Seungcheol gave to your pussy last night. The thought has you feeling flustered as you pad outside of the bedroom and find Seungcheol sitting on one of the dining chairs, a newspaper in his hands.

A soft gasp leaves you as you didn't expect to see him. He looks up and the corners of his lips turn upward just slightly, "Hello there. Good morning."

"G-good morning," you fumble with the hem of your (his) shirt as you stand there awkwardly, face and neck heating up with embarrassment. "Sleep well?" He asks, his tone almost teasing and you nod shyly. "Good." He folds the newspaper and stands up, fixing his t-shirt. "Take some medicine. I'm sure it hurts. Was I too rough last night? You literally passed out on me." Refusing to meet his eyes, you only shake your head no and mumble out an apology. He steps towards you and lifts your face up with a finger. "Don't be. Did you have a good time?" The sincerity and integrity on his face steal your breath away. "Y-yes, thank you." You breathe, hypnotized by his eyes. He nods and steps back, announcing. "Have breakfast and get ready. We're gonna go for sightseeing today."

"Oh? You don't have any meetings?" You can't hide the astonishment in your tone.

"No. We're in Paris baby. And it's your first time. It's a shame if we leave just like this." He says as he puts on his watch. "I'll be downstairs. Take your time." He sends a smile your way before stepping out of the suite and despite the ache all over your body you move around quickly, excitement bubbling over.

The day is spent driving around in Seungcheol's Porsche as he takes you to visit museums, cafes, stores and whatnot. You return home in the evening with hands full of bags from luxury brands and tonight you two crash into bed early, both of you exhausted from running around all day. Tonight you sleep next to him and he doesn't comment on it, probably because he passes out the second he lies down and soon you do too.

After an early flight the next day, you return home with too many gifts and unforgettable memories and a fat wad of cash in your bank account. Then you fall back into your daily routine, morning at the diner then attending the flower decoration class and then back to home. Seungcheol seems to have fallen into his busy routine too as he hasn't asked you to come over for the past week and the texts from him have been short and simple. Though his lack of attention hurts you a little bit, you push that feeling down and go on with your life. Seungcheol had suggested to you some plots for your shop and you start looking into them, deciding on which would be the best for you.

One Thursday after your flower decoration classes, you text Seungcheol, asking if you can meet him. It has been a while since you saw him physically and can't stop yourself from reaching out to him first. When his text says he's free in the evening, you bounce up and down with giddiness.

You arrive at his penthouse a little after 8. Seungcheol opens the door soon after you ring the bell, his hair damp and you can tell he's fresh out of the shower. He smells so good, fresh and minty and you have to stop yourself from hugging him. In the back of your mind, you wonder how great it'd be if he was your boyfriend.

Get it together.

Smiling from ear to ear you greet him. "Hi! I hope I'm not disturbing."

"No, it's fine. Come in." He steps away as you walk inside and get rid of your coat.

"Would you like some wine? I've asked the chef to prepare dinner for us."

"Oh, sure. And you didn't have to do that," you say bashfully as you sit on one of the breakfast stools and rest your hands on the marble countertop. You watch as Seungcheol moves around the kitchen, the thin t-shirt not really hiding his buff figure. His biceps flex as he unscrews the wine bottle and you swallow. He looks more muscular than the last time you saw him and you wonder if your mind is playing tricks on you.

Sliding a glass of wine towards you he sits on the opposite stool, brushing a hand through his hair and fluffing it. "How have you been? I've been really busy the past week."

"Yeah, I'm doing good. My flower decorating lessons are almost over." You take a sip of the cool drink.

"Good. Have you looked into the plots I suggested?" He takes a sip of his wine. For a distracted moment, you gape at his jawline and how his adam's apple bobs when he swallows. "Uhm, y-yeah. They're all really nice." You whisper, looking away. He nods, finishing his wine. "Take your time. When you decide on one let me know. I'll take care of your paperwork."

"Thank you," you smile before reaching for your bag that sits beside you. From inside you pull out your gift for him, which is the main reason you wanted to see him today. "This is for you. I made this today," you whisper shyly as you push the bouquet of dried flowers towards him. They are a combination of dried pink and red camellias, white clovers and red roses, all tied together with a white satin ribbon. Seungcheol raises a surprised brow at the present as he takes it in his hand and examines it.

"They are dried flowers. They'll last forever, you know. You don't have to take care of them." You explain nervously.

You shouldn't really be giving this gift to him. Last forever? Why would he want to keep something from you forever? You have let your emotions get the best of you. You want him to have something that'll remind you of him after all this is over; that is if he actually keeps this stupid gift. Chewing on your lower lip, you watch him anxiously, hoping he'll be blind enough and just accept it as a simple gift.

"Thanks. They are beautiful," he comments, setting the flowers down on the counter and you let out a breath of relief.

That night after dinner and too many glasses of wine you end up in Seungcheol's bed where he claims you as his own, all over again. You scream his name on the top of your lungs and by the time dawn rolls around, you're passed out completely. When you wake up in the morning, you find yourself alone in his large bed and a note resting on the bedside table, telling you that there is breakfast if you want and to check your bank account.

Sure enough, there is another new load of cash when you open your banking app, the amount staring back at you almost tauntingly. Accepting money from him has started to become harder and harder and you know very well you won't be able to continue this for long. You also know very well that Seungcheol will let you go without any questions asked but that's the problem. You want to stay. With him. Even if this is the way you can. You always end up feeling cheap and filthy at the end but you don't have anyone to blame but yourself.

A couple of days later you accompany Seungcheol to yet another evening party, dressed in a teal gown and pearls in your neck and ears. It is boring like every other party and Seungcheol seems to feel it too. He sticks by your side mostly instead of entertaining his business partners who, you have noticed, does a poor job of keeping their lusty eyes off of you. You have overheard one particular Mr. Wang asking Seungcheol about you and if he's willing to share. The look Seungcheol sent his way made him look like he was about to piss his pants and after threatening to cut off all business ties with him, Seungcheol stuck by your side and hasn't left since.

"Should we just leave? Let's eat at my place. We can order whatever you like." Seungcheol offers and you are quick to agree. Getting to be with Seungcheol alone is something you can never refuse. Especially if that means you can leave this dull party.

And so you head home with him, picking up dinner on the way which you share over a nice bottle of Dom Perignon. He talks about his upcoming plans and you talk about your schedules regarding your shop as you finish dinner. Then the conversation dulls down as you both enjoy the wine in comfortable silence.

You sip on the drink and take your sweet time watching his beautiful profile, burning the image deep into your memory. From his thick brows to his long lashes, his structured nose and his plump pink lips and his adam's apple, you ingrain every detail into your mind.

Maybe it's the overflowing amount of alcohol in your blood or the fact that you are deeply, madly in love with him which you once again realized, that you speak the words. "You're such a great person, Seungcheol. Whoever you marry is gonna be so lucky." Half of you can't believe you said that out loud and how utterly smitten you sounded.

He stares at you for a moment, contemplating your words before responding, "Thank you, ____. But I don't think that'll happen anytime soon, if ever."

"Why not?" You whisper, tracing the rim of the wine glass with your fingertips. The fact that he once again is denying any thoughts of marriage or love hurting you. "You're such an amazing person. You're smart, talented, passionate, hard-working-"

"Yeah but that all gets dumped by the amount I make." Seungcheol frowns. "At the end of the day, money and power is everything, is it not? If there's a scope to get even more of that, they leave, no matter how passionate or smart you are." His tone sounds mocking, almost.

"Not everyone is like that," you remark, even though you feel like a hypocrite. The relationship you have with him is solely based on money. Sure you said yes to being his sugar baby because you were in need but also because you always found him attractive, not because of his money, just because of him. And he sure as hell wouldn't just date you in a normal way so to get a taste of him, to get a touch of a luxury like him, you said yes because that's the only way someone like you can have someone like him nearby. "There are people out there who will love you just because of you. Not because of your money or anything else."

He raises a brow at you, almost challengingly, probably indicating your relationship with him. You can't help but cringe in your seat.

"Hmm, I doubt that. Take my father for an example. He was whipped for my mother. At first, he thought she loved him equally, maybe she did but it'd all change after I was born. She'd be too busy for us, for me, always outside, shopping and splurging and meeting men half her age. But even after all that my father forgave her, didn't push her away. And that angers me more. Why would he do that to himself? It doesn't make any sense. My mother used him."

At the mention of his mother, your mind brings up the images of her at their charity event, her bubbly and outgoing persona dominating the crowd. She wasn't like how you expected someone her age to be but she didn't seem like a neglectful or a bad person either. But who can say how what happens behind closed doors.

"That doesn't mean you will end up like that too." Is all you can whisper, hoping to bring him some solace.

"You sound awfully sure and I'm not sure if I like that." His eyes narrow on you as his demeanor starts to change. His voice turns cold and you feel like there's suddenly a wall between the two of you. But your alcohol riddled brain keeps going on, "Maybe I am. Because it is true. Everyone's lives are different. You may not end up like your father. You just need to open your heart-"

"You should stop," he interrupts you, his icy stare boring into you. You watch him like a lost puppy as he abruptly stands up, to leave this conversation you assume. You do too but not for the same cause.

"Why are you so stubborn!" You can't stop yourself from accusing him. You sound desperate and pathetic and hopeless even to your own ears but you continue. "Don't you see what an amazing man you are? That there are many who'll kill to be by your side not because of the baggage that comes with you but simply because you are a wonderful person! Why do you keep doing this to yourself? Why do you deny yourself the happiness you deserve?" You're yelling at this point, tears brimming in your eyes as you two face each other. His eyes blaze with anger and you can literally see him fuming when he hollers, "Remind me since when my business became your concern!"

You scowl at him, clenching your fists, anger seeping into your veins. This is so stupid. You hate how desperate you are and you hate how right he is. This truly is none of your business. Seungcheol seethes, "If we are to continue this relationship then you need to know your place. Otherwise, it's better if we just part ways."

A tear streaks down your cheek as you feel this aching void starting to form in your heart. You find yourself whispering, "I am in love with you, Seungcheol. I just...love you."

His eyes widen, alarmingly. There's a look of disbelief on his face. He almost looks betrayed, like you did the worst possible thing to him. Considering how he despises love, that is probably true. In silence, you two stare at each other as you wait for him to say something, do something. He clenches his jaw and then rakes his hand through his hair frustratedly before blowing out a loud breath.

"I think you should leave ____." His voice is quiet, extremely so. It's barely audible but you hear it loud and clear. His eyes lack any emotion and you know he has once again put up his walls, like many times before. Still, you stand immobile in your spot for a while, soaking up his words, the realization that this is over for good washing over you.

He's done with you and now he's showing you out the door. And you can't do anything to protest. You've lost your voice. So with one last longing look at his beautiful face, you grab your purse and coat with a shaking hand and carry your slumping body towards his door. He doesn't say anything, do anything and you don't look back, channeling all your energy into getting out of here instead of collapsing in front of him

As soon as you step out of his building a gust of cold air hits you on the face. You stand there in silence, letting the cold wind numb your face, the same feeling blooming in your heart. You shiver slightly as you stand like a statue, staring hard at the ground. The past few months that you have spent with Seungcheol wash over you like huge tsunami waves and you feel overwhelmed and pathetic and broken. You are wrung out of your self pity when you feel droplets of water fall on your head. Looking up, you see the roaring dark sky and within seconds, it starts raining.

How perfect.

It definitely suits the mood, making you feel like you are the protagonist of some angsty romance drama. Oh how you wish you were that instead of a pathetic fool who yearns for a man who doesn't give two shits about her. With a sigh, you pull your coat around you tighter and start to take heavy steps, your beautiful gown dragging behind you. You feel out of place, all alone and pitiful in an area full of houses worth millions of dollars. The streets are empty maybe because of the rain or maybe because people don't walk in this neighborhood. Laughing humourlessly at your pathetic state you continue walking until you are out of that neighborhood, far, far away from him.

3 MONTHS LATER

Running a shop is harder than you predicted. Especially when you have customers coming in every now and then. This may have something to do with valentine's day which is in a few days.

Your last two days consisted of working till your back was about to break, greeting customers and preparing bouquets for them, shipping them and so on. Your business has been doing really good. It has been almost two months and you are surprised at the progress you have made. People seem to love your shop and you have made a fair amount of regular customers. At this rate, you need to hire a part-timer because it is becoming quite impossible to prepare hundreds of bouquets by yourself.

You have named this shop after your mom, who visited on the opening day with your dad. Tanz visited too and treated you to a meal later that day. Though you don't work at the diner anymore, you still hang out with her every often as she gossips about whatever the rich people are up to. It took you a while but you told her everything about Seungcheol, from start to finish. She had an outburst after hearing your story, calling him all sorts of names.

You agree with her but not completely. It isn't his fault if he doesn't feel the same way you feel about him. Sometimes you think you pushed him too hard and it was completely your fault but other times you believe you did the right thing. That stubborn man needed to address his issues and frustrations.

You haven't seen his face nor had any contact with him after that night, and you're partially glad. You don't know how you can handle seeing his face when you haven't gotten over him. A part of you probably never will. You still remember him, all the moments with him so vividly as if it happened yesterday. When you lie in your bed alone at night you can almost picture him right next to you, his arm wrapped around you, his scent surrounding you. You should probably get your head checked for that.

Other than the pretty constant thoughts of Seungcheol lurking in the back of your mind, life has been pretty good. Well, it certainly was until now, when dear life decided to smack you on the face and bring back your misery.

Seungcheol stands at the door of your shop, a confused look resting on his face once his eyes land on you.

It was a busy day, full of customers and now that the night had fallen you were preparing to close for the day when this man showed up out of nowhere. He stands there, watching you while you do the same, the pen in your hand about to break from how hard you are clenching it. Looking at his outfit, you assume he has come here straight from work, dressed in a dark blue vest and pants, his suit jacket resting on his arms. His hair is a little messy, in the sexiest way possible. Your simping brain almost wants to forget everything and run into his arms, as if you are seeing your boyfriend at the end of a long day.

How pathetic.

Seungcheol clears his throat, somewhat awkwardly and you snap back into the painful reality. He stalks towards you, eyes scanning around the shop as you stand frozen in your spot.

"Do you have red roses?" He asks, standing in front of your booth. You grit your teeth.

Why does he need red roses? Who is he saying I love you to? Shit, tomorrow is valentine's day. Looks like he's got a date. The thoughts float through your mind and you hate yourself for how jealous you feel.

"Yes." You reply looking towards the said flowers. Seungcheol speaks, "I'd like a fifty of them in a bouquet."

You have to stop yourself from frowning. Why the fuck is he buying fifty roses? More like, who the fuck is he buying them for? Putting on your best professional smile you nod, preparing a receipt. "That'll be 22 dollars." You move to prepare his bouquet quickly, half of you wanting to give him the withered roses.

Gosh, when did you become so childish?

Hastily wrapping it with a ribbon, you push it towards him. He grabs it and examines the bouquet for a while before saying. "Thanks. Nice shop, by the way."

Is he doing small talk now? You refrain from rolling your eyes. "Thanks." You mutter lamely, eyes on your desk. Seungcheol stands in his place for a few breaths, amplifying the tension in the room as you pray to God to just get him out of here. Him standing so near you, a faint whiff of his cologne tickling your nose is too much to bear and you are losing your sanity. It also doesn't help that he has bought roses for some stupid girl, from you.

The audacity of this man. Is he doing this on purpose? Maybe not if you consider the shocked look on his face when he first entered.

"Well, have a good night." He says in a form of goodbye and heads towards the door.

"I thought you didn't do love. Yet you are here, buying a bunch of roses for valentine's day, it seems, Mr. Choi." It takes the frown on his brows and his rather judgemental stare for you to realize you just said those words out loud.

Gosh, could you appear any more pathetic? You sound like a jealous ex, which you are kind of.

He regards you with a perplexed look as you pray for the ground below to open up and swallow you whole to save you from this embarrassment. Seungcheol lets out an amused noise, "Well, thank you for reminding me. These are, in fact not for any lover. But now, I would like something else too actually, for them." His eyes are taunting, watching you closely for your reaction as he steps back towards you. "Do you... perhaps have some salvias? In blue?"

You can't believe how this situation backfired on you. Now he's really buying blue salvias for his lover. Real nice. You just gave him the chance to rub it all over your face. With a loud sigh, you force a smile. "Yes, we do."

"A bouquet then, please," he smiles, sarcastically almost. Huffing you grab those poor flowers aggressively and hastily put them in a bouquet before accepting the money. "Thank you for your visit. Have a pleasant night." You motion him towards the door with the fakest smile, desperate to be left alone and he takes mercy on you. With a nod, he briskly walks out of your shop and you sink down on the floor as soon as he's out of sight, letting out a huge breath of relief.

You know very well that life comes with surprises. Still, some surprises are too hard to comprehend like the one happening to you right now. You stare at the bouquet of blue salvias sitting on your countertop which was just delivered, half wondering if you are dreaming or hallucinating. The note that came with it sits crumpled in your hand as a try to wrap your head around it.

Happy Valentines. I think you know what these flowers mean. If you do then could you do me the honor of joining me for dinner? At my place tonight, if that's okay. I feel like we should talk.

— Seungcheol.

I think of you. That's what blue salvias mean. He thinks of you? Is this some sort of joke? You have been trying so hard to get over that stupid man but now this puts you back to square one. You feel like ripping your hair out. Should you go? You and the whole world knows knows how obvious the answer is but you still try to think about it, knowing very well what the result will be.

Of course you'll go.

Seungcheol is fairly perplexed when he opens his door to see you that evening. "____-....I didn't really think you'd come."

He looks like he just got home, still dressed in his crisp white shirt underneath his unbuttoned vest and matching grey slacks. It doesn't help how he has rolled his sleeves up to give you the perfect view of the veins in his arms. One look at them and you almost forget what you're here for. Averting your gaze, you cough. "Yeah." He steps aside and you walk into his house, the memories immediately flooding your senses.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Silently you pad towards his living room as he speaks behind you. "You should have told me you were coming. I would have called the chef-"

"Seungcheol," you cut him off with a sigh. "I'm not really here to have dinner. You and I both know that." He watches you for a while, his face emotionless before nodding with a sigh. "Would you like some wine? Whiskey maybe?"

"I'd like to keep my head clear, thank you." You murmur, sitting down on his couch. The place is as pristine as you remember, nothing out of place. As if no one lives here. Seungcheol disappears from your view, probably pouring himself a drink as you hear noises from the kitchen. A minute later, he returns, a glass of whiskey in his hand as he sits on the sofa opposite to you.

You're glad that he keeps his distance.

"I have a lot of explaining to do, right?" He chuckles dryly, taking a sip of his drink. Mutely you watch him as you don't trust yourself to speak now. You actually don't trust yourself with anything right now as being remotely close to Seungcheol always tends to mess with your head. It's better if you just stay still and melt into the background.

With a loud sigh, Seungcheol sets the glass down on the center table and leans back into the sofa. "I don't know where to start. Maybe with the roses I bought yesterday. They were for my mom, actually. I visited my parents last night. My mom is sick. They are suspecting it's cancer."

All thoughts of staying silent fly out the window when you hear those words. "Oh my god," you whisper. "I'm so sorry."

He shakes his head dismissively. "Anyway," he starts. "The past few months have been hard but educative for me. Maybe because I'm finally dealing with my shit or whatever. I had a lot of time to think. About what you said. About me, my life. About everything. You see, it's like a habit to be an asshole and shut people out when you're scared and you hate yourself." His eyes are focused on the glass in front of him, no emotion whatsoever in them and you feel goosebumps.

"I don't know how I ended up like this but I've been hating myself for the longest of time. Maybe it was because of my mom's shitty habits and how she hurt dad when I was younger. Or maybe because she never had time for me. Or maybe because never in my life I've met a person who loved me unconditionally, who was ready to give everything up for me. Everyone surrounding me chases money and that scares me. So much. I'm scared that I'm nothing without that. Without my reputation or power. That if I open myself to someone they'll get what they need and then leave, like they always do." He blows out a long breath, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I'm scared of love because I've never experienced it and I've seen people do horrible things in the name of it. I'm scared the same will happen to me once I open my heart." His voice is quiet as he trails off and reaches for the whiskey to finish it.

The breath you have been holding until now finally comes out as you watch him, your heart thudding loudly in your chest. You want to hold him and tell him that it's okay, that you're here but you seem to have become a statue as you only sit and drink in the beautiful, pained man in front of you.

"That being said, I'm sorry for how I treated you," his voice seems foreign as he grits those words out and you realize this man probably has never apologized to someone in his lifetime. "You didn't deserve that. Everything you said hit too close to home so I pushed you away as a defense mechanism. But I missed you, still do. More than I'd like to admit. I keep thinking about you, about how my world seemed to be a little brighter with you. And I keep regretting what I did. I'm sorry and...if you are still interested in me, I'd like to have you back. I'd like to try again, really try this time because I-... I think I love you."

It's a wonder how he manages to keep his voice so stable and emotionless. Like he is briefing a new company strategy and not expressing his love for someone. But don't focus on that because you can see how he's still holding himself back, holding his emotions back. And it's something that needs to be worked on but that's for another time.

This man just said he loves you. This stubborn, egoistical, too handsome for his own good man just confessed to you.

You feel like you are on cloud nine. But you don't have the time to rejoice as Seungcheol stares at the ground blankly, probably overthinking once again while waiting for you to say something. So you get up from your seat and walk towards him, before kneeling right in front of him, your hands resting on his knees. "Oh Seungcheol," you softly call for him.

His eyes meet yours as you cup his cheek softly with a hand and for a brief second, you see his eyes shine before they get lost underneath his blank gaze.

You gently pull his face downwards while inching yours closer to him and press your lips against him faintly. You try to kiss him as gently as possible, as if you are kissing his broken soul. He remains still to your touch for a second before cupping both of your cheeks and kissing you back earnestly. This is the first time Seungcheol kisses you with so much need and passion, like this is the last time he'll ever kiss you. Your lips mold against each other perfectly but he doesn't go too hard, instead just kisses you, soft and slow. You pull back to see the desperation in his eyes and you realize that you still haven't given him an answer.

"I still love you, Seungcheol. Of course I'll try again with you." You croak, your voice choked up with all the emotions. This time you clearly see his eyes glisten and the faintest of smile kiss his lips. But he only breaths, "Thank you, ____."

You smile at him sweetly, "You're welcome, Seungcheol. But I need you to be honest with me if we want this to work. Don't hide from me, Cheol." You whisper, the nickname falling from your lips easily. He observes you in silence before closing his eyes and nodding. He leans closer once again and with a shy smile, you close the distance between the two of you. This time you don't hold back on kissing him as you wrap your arms around his neck while he pulls you up from your knees and sets you down on his lap, lips connected.

You pull back to look at the sinfully beautiful man underneath you, his eyes hazy with need, his plump lips parted slightly as he takes deep breaths. Your hand moves on its own as it reaches to touch the fluffy mess of his black hair. Gently you stroke through the locks, eyes set on his as he absentmindedly draws soft circles on your lower back. In this moment of tranquility you feel the surge of love and adoration you posses for this man flow through you all over again and you can't help but smile knowing he's yours now.

"What's so funny?" He asks, dark eyes peering at you. "Nothing. Just how much I love you. How beautiful you are," you reply bashfully as you press a kiss on his jawline. You continue kissing down his neck and nipping the skin gently, encouraged when you hear him release a blissful sigh. And then an idea pops into your mind as you lean backward and get off of his lap just to sink down onto the floor again.

Seungcheol's eyes widen, "____, what are you doing?"

You can't help but pout, "I'm taking care of you. Don't you want this?" Your hands dance over his crotch area mischievously. Blowing him has been on your to-do list for so long and today you are not backing down.

He grunts frustratedly, "I- fuck, yes I do. But- are you sure you can? I don't want to push you too hard, baby. You don't have to do it."

"But I want to. Let me try at least," your pout deepens. The thought of having Seungcheol in your throat makes you desperate. "Tell me if I do something wrong, please."

He lets out an amused snort as your fingers work on undoing his Gucci belt. "Trust me, there's nothing you can do wrong." With a coy smile at him, you undo the buttons of his slacks and then the zipper as Seungcheol shuffles a little to help you pull down his boxer briefs.

The sight of his thick, hard cock has your pussy clenching and your mouth drooling as you tentatively reach for the semi-hard member and give it a few experimental pumps. The tip leaks white pearls of precum and your mouth waters. Seungcheol's nails dig into the armrest as he lets out a grunt, the sight below him purely sinful. Wanting to hear more of his sounds, you quickly take the pinkish tip of his cock into your mouth and suck.

"Fuck-" Seungcheol hisses, hands coming to rest on the top of your head. The way your doe eyes look at him with your mouth full and your curious hands work on him has him losing his mind. His reaction pleases you and you swirl your tongue around his tip, moaning when he leaks salty precum into your mouth. Your hands work on the base of his cock as you inch down your mouth.

"Shit, ____-" You don't listen to his curses as you keep going down and then suddenly your gag reflex activates as you feel him kiss the back of your throat. You haven't even gotten half of him inside your mouth and your throat already hurts.

You pull back to take in a deep breath before delving back in without any delay as you take as much of him as possible in one go. Your throat burns and you feel like choking, tears in your eyes but it's somewhat manageable when you relax your throat so you keep sucking what's in your mouth and pump the rest using your hands.

"Shit, you're so good baby," Seungcheol breaths, looking down at you with dark eyes, a proud smirk on his face that makes your pussy leak. Loving his praises you pull back to lick a stripe down the underside of his cock before sucking him harder. His hands fist in your hair though he remains careful not to hurt you. It takes all of Seungcheol's willpower to not just grab your head and shove it down his length. When the pleasure begins to increase and he can feel his high approaching, Seungcheol pulls your mouth off of him with a grunt.

"That's enough, baby. I'm gonna cum," he hisses and you whine, voice croaky as a little bit of drool escapes from your mouth. "I want to make you come! Please, let me. Did I do something wrong?" Your concerned wide eyes make his heart soften as he strokes your cheek gently. "No sweetheart, you were perfect. It's just that I really need to come inside you right now. Is that okay?"

The thought of it makes you swallow as you nod your head mutely and with a smirk, Seungcheol quickly drags you towards his bedroom where he manhandles you onto his king sized bed. He crawls on top of you like a predator waiting to devour his prey and the intense fire in his eyes is enough to make you forget the human language. Roughly, he attaches his lips against yours, tongue prodding inside your mouth in no time as his hands work on undoing your blouse. You don't realize he has torn it open until you hear your buttons scattering over his floor.

"Seungcheol-"

"Shush. I'm too impatient." He whispers, leaning back and tugging your jeans down swiftly. Then his large hands reach for your bra as he unhooks it hastily and tosses it away before kneading your breasts softly. You mewl in pleasure. "Seungcheol- that feels so good."

"Oh yeah?" The cocky smile never leaves his face as bites your soft flesh, sucking your sensitive nipples before pushing your soft flesh inside his mouth, marking it in the process. Your mushy brain tugs at his shirt as you whine. "T-take this off please. Wanna see you." You hear him chuckle, "Why don't you do it for me?"

You don't need to be told twice as you immediately start fiddling with the buttons of his shirt and help him out of it. With that offending piece of cloth gone, his sculptured figure is once again revealed to your eyes and you almost drool. He's just as buff as you remember, if not more, taut muscles spread all over his torso. Subconsciously you trace your fingers over them as you drink him in.

"You can stare at me all you want later, baby." Seungcheol gives you a soft smile before pressing a kiss on your belly. "I need to be inside you now." He whispers lips ghosting over your core as his hands make a quick work of taking off your panties. He starts with kissing your clit before moving down and licking a long stripe across your cunt and then sucking. Your toes curl as you writhe underneath him, "Daddy!"

The name falls from your lips almost unknowingly as your delirious brain grinds against his mouth for more. He's relentless, determined to bring you to your orgasm as he pushes his tongue into your hole and continues his torture. Your hands grip his hair tightly as he continues his ministrations on your sensitive spot, your arousal leaking onto the bed. "Fuck, missed this sweet pussy so much." You hear him mumble and his words seem to make your orgasm come faster. "Seungcheol! I'm g-gonna come!" You wail.

"Come, baby. Come for me so I can fuck you open." His voice is muffled against your core as your mouth opens in a silent scream. He gives a particular harsh suck on your clit and your orgasm washes over you making you shake.

Seungcheol wastes no time, pushing a couple of his fingers inside your sensitive hole as he gives a few quick pumps before popping the fingers into his mouth, his eyes seductive as he makes a show of sucking them. Then he stands up and hastily takes off his pants and boxers. Your mind is fogged up as you recover from your orgasm and watch him stroke his cock, intense eyes set on you before lining his hard length with your pussy.

"Ready, sweetheart?" He asks. You can only nod, hands clutching the bed sheets for support. And then he pushes in. The stretch of his thick cock has you moaning loudly, the overwhelming sensation of fullness consuming. Above you, Seungcheol curses softly as you grab him tighter and try not to lose your mind. "Oh my god- Seungcheol-" You gasp for breaths.

"So fuckin tight. Just as I remember," he breathes.

He marvels at your reaction, eyes rolling back as your mouth hangs open, hands blindly clawing his body to ground yourself. He leans closer so that his naked chest presses against yours and starts peppering wet kisses on your neck, never faltering his thrusts. They are slow but deep and calculated, hitting your sensitive spot every single time as you whine and whimper, tears forming in your eyes. "Daddy, harder please!" You wail mindlessly.

"Oh yeah? You want it harder, baby?" He raises a full brow at you, expression cocky as he captures your lips in a bruising kiss before shuffling back and pulling out of you completely. You're about to cry for him when he grabs your hips and flips you over onto your front, your ass in the air for him. He gives it a sudden smack and you squeal, jolts of pleasure rippling through you before wasting no time to push himself back in. He doesn't go slow this time, immediately increasing his pace as his cock moves inside your tight walls brutally.

The new angle has him even deeper inside you as he holds your body still by grabbing your arched hips. You can feel every inch and ridge of his cock rearranging your guts as you scream into the pillow. "O-oh fuck, d-daddy-"

His grunts feel like music to your ears. "Is this what you were asking for little slut?" He hisses, snaking his arms around your body to reach for your breast. His degrading words make your pussy throb harder as you shake your head wildly, "Yes daddy! Yes! Please give me more."

He snickers, doubling his pace and you can hear the headboard of the bed hit the wall. "Such a polite baby girl, I have." He softly bites your shoulder as he takes a nipple between his index and thumb and twists it harshly before flicking it. You mewl loudly, the rough treatment bringing you closer to your high. "O-oh my god- fuck, I'm g-gonna come."

"So soon?" He teases, ramming his cock inside you tirelessly as you nod. "Go ahead then, come, little slut." He whispers in your ear, another hand trailing down to your pussy where he starts rubbing your clit in harsh movements and your mind goes blank. "Come, baby," he mouths, nipping your earlobe and the combination of his merciless thrusts and his fingers on your clit brings you over the edge with a pornographic scream.

"Seungcheol!"

Your whole body shakes violently as you come, toes curling in pleasure as meaningless sounds escape your mouth. You can't even fully process anything when Seungcheol flips you again to face him and holds both of your legs wide open, continuously railing your sensitive pussy. His hands keep doing their magic on your hypersensitive clit, making you shudder and whimper. "C-cheol." You call for him mindlessly.

The sight in front of you is God sent, Seungcheol's dark eyes watching you, his body coated in a thin sheen of sweat as he keeps fucking you hard. It makes your throat dry. "Give me one more, baby." He says, leaning closer to peck your lips before ramming himself inside you, pace so fast that tears actually leak from your eyes. "Oh fuck- o-oh fuck-"

Before you can even feel it, your orgasm washes over you with a force that has your ears ringing and white dots filling your vision. You twitch underneath Seungcheol's large frame as his pace falters and with a loud groan of your name, he comes. His warm release fills you up and some even leak out, but you're too gone to care. You feel nothing but pure bliss, as if you are floating in a cloud.

Seungcheol gently slips out of you before collapsing right next to you, his hands pulling your body close but you can't even comprehend anything until your brain starts working a little. His warm breath tickles your shoulder as he pants next to you and you feel this seed seep out of your beaten cunt.

Mustering up enough power to open your eyes, you lazily turn your head to look at Seungcheol. You have to blink a few times to properly see and the sight warms your heart. His beautiful face greets you, his hair disheveled, a look of content and a small smile sitting on his lips. "You didn't pass out this time," he teases once he catches his breath. You can only grin, eyes falling shut again.

You feel him move beside you but your hands stop him immediately by wrapping them around his torso. "I have to clean us up, baby." His voice is soft. You shake your head, lazily pulling him back and he lets you, before scooting closer to him and nuzzling his neck, his addictive scent overwhelming your senses. "Don't. Just stay." You croak, voice almost inaudible. You hear him sigh and pull you closer, your face squishing against his hard chest as his hands move in soft motions through your hair.

"I love you," His gentle whisper makes you open your eyes and peek at him. "I love you so much that it scares me." He sounds so vulnerable, a side of him you never thought you'd see and your heart aches for him. But your heart also feels full and warm and happy hearing those words, words that you've wanted to hear for so long.

Wrapping your arms around him as tightly as possible you shower gentle kisses on his chest. "I love you too, Seungcheol. I love you so much."

His eyes gaze down at yours, and the emotions swirling in his brown orbs make your heart skip a beat. "Thank you. For loving me. For giving me a chance. For everything." His lips meet your forehead for a kiss. You grin, "I should be the one thanking you Seungcheol, really. I'm so lucky to have you." He smiles, leaning into your touch as your index finger trails over his face.

After a beat of silence you ask, "Now, does that mean you're my boyfriend?" Your shy eyes wander to his as you nervously chew on your lip. Seungcheol seems to ponder for a while as hums, "Boyfriend? Doesn't that sound so limited? I'm more than that. I'll be your everything if you'll let me. I'll be your lover."

Warmth blooms on your face at his words as you almost melt. "That's... really romantic, Cheol. And very unlike you." You whisper.

"I'm trying to be romantic for you, lover." He smiles his signature gummy smile which is quite a rare sight.

"Lover...I like it." You smile gleefully, hands reaching for his to interlock your fingers. If you look very closely, you can see just the faintest hue of red shading his cheeks and ears and your heart flutters at the sight.

"Lover it is." Seungcheol whispers, capturing your lips in a loving kiss.

Lover, he is.

a/n 2: SO, if you enjoyed reading this and want to know more about this couple or lover! Seungcheol in general, my ask is open. I'd love love lovee to hear your thoughts about them and if you have any questions regarding how they/he would act in a situation or something like that, you can send me an ask and I'll write drabbles regarding it. I'm just so excited about this fic, I'd really like to chat about this with y'all, I'VE SO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT so please let me know your thoughts and requests for any drabbles!

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[waratah-moon]

Permanent

Violet returns to Hogwarts after winter break to find out Sirius has done something very stupid. Masterlist.

Pairing: Sirius Black x Violet Evans (fem Evans!OC), established relationship.

Warnings: Violet gets annoyed, implied sexual content if you squint, not beta read (lemme know if there are glaring errors)

1978, January, beginning of second term

“Hey princess,” Sirius grabbed his girlfriend’s hips, pulling her into a kiss.

“Hi,” Violet said, grinning. “I missed you.” Her hands slid into the back pockets of his jeans; he always waited until the last possible minute to put on his robes.

"It hasn't even been a week since your sister's wedding," he tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "That being said, I've missed you too. Like crazy, ma chérie."

He leant in for another kiss when the Hogwarts Express blew its horn, signaling the last chance for students to board. “Worst timing, hey?” Violet laughed, pulling apart from Sirius. “I've got to meet with the other prefects, but I'll come find you, okay?" She pecked his lips before taking off to the front carriage.

-

After an utterly pointless prefect meeting that had been sidetracked more than once by James (much to the annoyance of Lily), Violet and Remus made their way to a carriage at the end of the train where they found Sirius, Peter, Marlene and Mary.

After catching up on holiday news, Sirius, ever so predictably, turned the conversation on to himself.

“Vi, I have something to show you,” Sirius grinned, unbuttoning a couple more buttons from his shirt.

“Ugh,” Marlene groaned, “do you have to do that here?”

“Relax, it’s a new tattoo.” He pulled the his shirt collar down to reveal a flower tattooed on his chest, right above his heart. “Get it?”

“Is that a… a violet?” Violet’s eyes widened as she took in the ink. Telling by the scabbing, it was fresh. Each petal was darkly outlined and shaded with black, and filled in with hues of purple, yellow, and orange.

“Yup,” Sirius said proudly, turning to Remus to show him the new tattoo.

“You got a violet tattooed on you,” she said slowly, her eyes meeting Remus’s who gave her an understanding grimace. “Sirius we’ve haven’t even been dating for three months.”

Marlene and Mary groaned.

“I know, but I was going to get a new tattoo anyway, and the idea just came to me,” he turned back to her and saw the look on her face. “What, you don’t like it?”

She sighed, “I can’t deal with this right now. I'm going to find Morgana and Aisling,” she got up. “I’ll see you at dinner,” she slid the door of the carriage shut as she took off to find her friends.

"What did I do?" Sirius looked at his friends.

"You got a tattoo for her, mate," Remus shook his head. "And like she said, you haven't been going out very long." Remus reached across and moved Sirius's shirt, properly studying the art. It was clear Sirius had put thought into the placement of the tattoo. Green leaves framed the flower and weaved their way around the other ink on his chest. Two tiny words were scribbled above the top petal; ma chérie. It was obvious he'd thought about this piece longer than he let on. "I like it."

"You do?" Sirius did up a few of the buttons, leaving his tie loose.

"I think it was a bloody stupid thing to do so early in your relationship," Remus leant his head back and shut his eyes. "But it's a nice tattoo."

-

“Hey,” Sirius slid into the seat next to his girlfriend at the Gryffindor table. It was dinner time and she'd already made him a plate.

“Hi.”

“Look, I’m sorry about the tattoo. You know I’m impulsive. I love you, Vi, this was just my way of permanently proving it to the world. If it bothers you that much I’ll find a spell to remove it.”

Violet sighed and took his hand, intertwining their fingers, “I was shocked, that’s all. Now that I've had time to think about it, I actually think it’s quite sweet. Plus it shows everybody you’re all mine,” she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Permanently.”

“I am yours. Forever,” he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer, his free hand settling on her thigh as he gave it a squeeze.

“I’m going to have to properly inspect it later. Make sure it’s up to my standard.”

“Of course, wouldn’t expect anything less. You got anything knew to show me?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. She'd hinted at going shopping last time they saw each other.

“I may have bought some new things, you’ll just have to wait and see.”

He groaned, rubbing her thigh. “You’re too good to me, ma chérie.”

[t-lostinworlds]

Twenty-Five (Tom Holland)

a/n: well, i haven’t posted a fic in a while and i’m scared asdfghjkl. anyhow, this was a last minute idea, a.k.a was written fairly quick so bare with me for it may be shit lol. hope you guys enjoy! oh, and happy birthday to this handsome man in a turtleneck!

pairing: tom holland x female!reader trope/genre: none summary: Tom unwraps his last gift for his birthday, from you. warnings: implied smut (18+), nothing detailed, will include a glimpse of dom!tom at the end. word count: 1.6k+ (short but sweet spicy)

masterlist in bio

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It's been ten minutes since you arrived back home from Tom's birthday dinner, a simple yet eventful night with friends and family. It was a given that the birthday boy was probably tired from all the fun and rowdy activities, add that to the fact that he'd been entertaining his guests the whole evening. But, with one last gift, it was also a given that your night was far from over.

You were nervous, there was no denying that. This was the first time you'd ever bought something like this, much less, show it to someone else. Despite being together for almost two years now, you hadn't really dabbled much into showing Tom a much more alluring type of clothing. But since it was a special occasion, you found no harm in giving your man a little surprise, a gift, as you might say. So of course you were nervous since this was going to be the first time that Tom will see you in something so...lacy, dainty, and well, sexy.

After checking yourself countless times in the mirror to make sure everything was right—with a few pep talks thrown in as well—you tied up your short, red, silk robe before finally coming out of the bathroom.

You found Tom sitting on your shared bed, still sporting his outfit of the night which was his tight, black turtleneck, biceps practically begging to be free with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. It was paired with his striped pants, one that was making his thighs look even more ravishing, inviting. He was looking handsome as always. His eyes were glued to his phone, fingers typing away, probably responding to more of his endless sea of greetings.

You silently made your way in front of the bed, fingers toying with the hem of your robe from the jitters. Taking in a few steady breaths, you tilted your head and said,

"Tom, go on and unwrap your last present for tonight."

"Huh? What present—oh," Tom cut himself off, eyebrows rising once his gaze landed on you. He hurriedly put his phone away, even doing as much as putting it inside his drawer, and you could only assume he turned Do Not Disturb on as well, the eagerness written all over his face. His smirk grew wide as he stood up from his place, walking over to you with his brown orbs gradually turning a shade darker. His hands found themselves on your waist once he was in close enough proximity, squeezing it tenderly. "Is my present under that robe?" he asked, voice falling down an octave.

"Maybe," you said with a shrugged, a feign innocent smile playing on your lips.

Tom shook his head. "I think I might need to sit down for this," he chuckled deeply, settling himself on the foot of the bed, spreading his legs wide so you could stand in between.

He kept his eyes locked with yours as he twirled the tie of your robe around his fingers, smirk only growing wider once he saw you swallow the lump in your throat. With how close you were, he could probably hear how your heart was beating so loud. Tom always found pride whenever he earned any reaction from you by doing absolutely nothing yet. It was very smug of him, but Tom being confident and in control will never fail to be so damn attractive, who were you to complain?

Agonizingly slow, he undid the ribbon, eyes never leaving yours even until the fabric had loosened around your body. Then, Tom reached up, fingers slipping underneath the silk, touch unhurried as he gently pushed it off your shoulders. The smooth material slipped down your body with ease and pooled at your feet, Tom still holding your gaze but only for a moment. With a deep breath, his orbs flickered down, features befalling with awe, his jaw dropping as he cursed,

"Fuck."

It was a simple, red, 3-piece, lingerie set. The garter and lace detailing covered so little but enough to still leave something for the imagination. It was hugging your body in all the right places, accentuating your shape in the most flattering of ways. The set was practically see-through yet the fabric was still cut out in certain areas to show even more skin. There was a ribbon right on top of each bra strap and then a matching one right in the middle of the hem of your panties.

"Absolutely stunning, you are," Tom marveled, almost like a gasp, hands wandering from your shoulders, down your arms, curling around your waist before proceeding down your thighs. His touch was laced with utter worship and praise. Add that to the way he was gazing you up, your nerves were quick to be replaced with confidence. You giggled softly, cheeks flushed as Tom did nothing else but caress your flawed skin amorously, making sure that there was nothing left untouched. His eyes were roaming just the same as if he was being extra sure that he wasn't missing a single detail, both on your perfect imperfections and the lace alike.

"You like it?" you asked.

Tom scoffed, shaking his head as he looked up at you with much adoration. "Like is a massive understatement." Squeezing your waist, Tom let you go as he leaned back on his arms, now all sprawled out with a wide smirk. "Step back a little, darling, I want to see all of you," he drawled. And you did, walking back a few steps so he could get the full scope. Tom shook his head with a low groan, "Fucking gorgeous."

"Now, give me a spin."

You laughed timidly but did so anyway, nothing but hums of satisfaction and appreciation coming out of your man as you did a full 360. Once you were facing him again, you found him with his head tilted far to the side, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his eyes stayed down to which you assumed was ogling at your backside. Your assumption was swiftly proven right when Tom threw in another request.

"Turn to the side a little, sweetheart," he asked, not at all trying to be discreet as to where his eyes were glued. With the confidence brewing in you, you posed for him sideways, chin on your shoulder as you flashed him a charming smile. Tom bit back a groan, admiring you from head to toe, shaking his head and blowing out his cheeks once he did so. After a few moments, he met your gaze again with nothing but a proud and satisfied look on his face. "Difficult decision," he pondered, a soft hum with his voice all deep.

"What?" you giggled.

"I can't decide if I should rip it off of you immediately," Tom paused, tilting his head at you with a knowing grin as he continued with a guttural tone, "Or fuck you while it's still on."

You bit your bottom lip to suppress a whimper, thighs instinctively pressing together which only earned a low chuckle from you man. Yet with your newfound confidence, you took a breath, a soft sigh as you ran your hands slowly, teasingly over the lace repeatedly. Tom's eyes followed your fingers, brown orbs coated with much hunger and lust.

"Well, don't rip it yet. It's new," you hummed, pouting at him sweetly before you shrugged. Toying with the garter of your panties, you added, "Then again, you are the birthday boy, you can have your way however you may please."

Tom's eyes snapped back up to meet yours. There was a flicker in his orbs, like a switch, and that was when you knew he caught on that your words meant more than just the lingerie.

"The latter then," he concluded, sitting up straight before his hands patted his lap, beckoning you closer. "Come here."

You walked over to him slowly, making sure to sway your hips sensually, which made Tom shake his head at you with a low groan. Once you stood right in between his legs, you lifted a hand to grab his shoulder for support, ready to straddle his lap. That until he caught your wrist midway into the air.

Tom shook his head no, tutting with a menacing smirk. He brought your wrist to his lips, giving it sweet, chaste kisses before he slowly guided you to where exactly he wanted you. You felt your insides churn when he simply said, "On your stomach, my love."

With a sharp breath, you did as told, situating yourself on your stomach, your body sprawled right across his thick thighs. You shivered once Tom ran his fingers down your spine before tracing the fabric that hugged your body so delicately that it may have seemed like he wasn't even touching it at all. He was silent, merely admiring, and dare you say it, enjoying his view. If the certain hardness that was poking your stomach wasn't a dead giveaway, then the way he was breathing heavily, would. Yet once he spoke again, you felt your whole body fire up, every inch of your skin tingling with utter fervor and excitement.

"How old am I again, darling?"

You gulped. It was rhetorical, but an unanswered question could only do more harm than good for you.

"Twenty-five."

Tom only hummed in response. There was no use for words anyway when you felt his warm palm smooth over the supple flesh of your ass that was exactly in his line of sight, exposed for his and his sight only. Yet in contrast, the cold metal of his Rolex on your skin emitted another shiver from you, a shaky breath escaping your lips soon after.

Tom chuckled proudly at your reaction, a few seconds of silence floating over you both before a sudden, sharp smack rang in the air.

Your body jolted in utter surprise. The stinging sensation immediately covered your cheek at the harsh impact, starting from where Tom's hand once was before the heat spread to your very core as you breathlessly moaned,

"One."

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thank you for reading love! like, reblog if you enjoyed and lemme know your thoughts! x

[duskandstarlight]

Embers & Light (Chapter 39, NSFW Nessian)

Notes: Well, over a year you've had to wait for these two to seal the deal... BUT NO LONGER. And because I'm thankful to you all for sticking with this story, I've granted you with over 16k of sinful naughtiness. I think it's safe to say this is NSFW but you guys have read my smut before, you know the drill.

Embers & Light has always very much been the alternative story to Habits, but I couldn’t help but write in some crossover moments here to highlight the differences in events--timeline is a fascinating thing! Lemme know if you spot the moments :)

Please let me know what you think :) Comment and kudos will make my day!

I won't be able to write much of August (wedding & mini-moon) but I'll be doing my best to get you guys something as soon as possible. Hopefully by the end of the month, anyways <3

Oh! And I got a bookstagram. Find me at bookships.and.fandoms (and bear with me, I cba to take pretty pics atm)

Chapter 39 Cassian POV

Cassian stared at the doorway and the staircase beyond it, his gaze fixed and unwavering. Nesta had slipped out of the living room to follow Feyre up the stairs over ten minutes ago and he was already consumed with the biting sort of worry that gnawed at your insides.

He wasn’t concerned about what Nesta might be discussing with Feyre—that was her business—but because he couldn’t help but fret when it came to Nesta’s wellbeing.

It was a myriad of concerns that trampled through his mind like a herd of cattle. Had she slept enough? Had she recovered from being caught in the crowds the day before? Was her conversation with Feyre going to have her take three steps back rather than one forward? Cassian had spied the book of fairytales she’d slipped into her bag. Had guessed what she’d intended to do with it.

And then there was the fact that Nesta had left the bed before he’d woken again. Cassian couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she’d not been there when he’d opened his eyes, especially after the night before.

But that was how it was with he and Nesta. When the sun dipped below the horizon, Cassian often felt as if they were on the right path; as if once the world shut its eyes, the pressure was off and their play could continue. But as soon as light bled back into the sky, things weren’t the same. They weren’t cold… but Cassian felt suspended in a limbo of flirtatious banter and respectful distance. Which was hard, when all Cassian wanted to do was be as close to her as possible: to hold her hand and wind a hand through her hair. To kiss her brow and mouth and sink his teeth into her neck—

Cassian’s jaw tightened. He wanted to do wicked things. He wanted to make her moan and shatter. Wanted to know how she felt wrapped around him. Wanted to see if she’d gasp awake as he pushed inside of her.

Their trip home was going to be a turning point. Or at the very least it would be a milestone—a hammered notch as they progressed towards something. Yet, Cassian wasn’t naive: he wasn’t expecting Nesta to fall into his arms and never leave. But he hoped that it might make Nesta see their connection—not the tie between them, but the chemistry that Cassian knew would forever exist even if the mating bond was severed.

From the very first moment his gaze had settled on the haughty, vicious sister Cassian had known. Had nearly been brought to his knees—the heart-stopping moment so powerful, it suspended time as he felt something turn inside of him, as if something that had lain dormant had finally snapped open an eye.

And because of that Cassian would willingly allow Nesta to forge the reigns when it came to whatever it was between them. He could go slow. He would take the chance that Nesta might grow to accept him, even as he was seized by the terror that she might grow bored and draw a line under things before he had the chance to prove that he was worthy.

Cassian took a deep, steadying breath that made his ribcage heave. Thought of the lullaby that sat in his room at the House. Used that to ground himself and banish the painful thoughts.

Nesta had cared enough to gift him a piece of his past that nobody else had ever gone to the effort to find for him. And that was… everything. It was everything to him.

“I can hear the worry grinding gears in your brain.”

Rhys was standing where Mor had been a few moments earlier, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, his eyebrows raised. Cassian hadn’t noticed Mor slip away. Couldn’t even recall what she'd been saying to him. Had he ignored her? He didn’t know. Didn’t really care. They all knew he was head over heels when it came to Nesta anyway.

Cassian blinked. It took him a moment to process Rhys’s words, but his body finally caught up. An instinctive grin tugged at the corners of his mouth and he commanded his eyes to sparkle, even though it was all fake. “I was under the impression you didn’t think I had one.”

Rhys didn’t chuckle or retort with something dry. Sometimes his brother allowed him to indulge in his self-deprecating behaviour, but it didn’t seem like today was one of those days. Instead, he cut to the chase. “They’re fine.”

Cassian bristled. Didn’t bother to pretend his mind wasn't solely on what was happening upstairs. “Feyre’s speaking with you now?”

Nesta would hate that. Would know if her sister was communicating to her mate whilst they were talking.

His brother’s laugh was as smooth as velvet. “No, she locked me out. It’s a habit she’s started recently and it’s usually coupled with the mental finger.”

This time, Cassian’s smile was genuine, as was the chuckle that chased it. “Feisty.”

“You have no idea,” Rhys responded with a wink.

Mor, who had breezed back to Cassian’s side with a new cup of coffee, rolled her eyes. “We do actually, you two are like rabbits.”

“We’re mated,” Rhys replied with a wave of his hand. “It’s to be expected.”

Mor lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Cauldron, I need to bed someone rather than hearing about my cousin’s exploits with my best friend.”

“Head to Rita’s and find yourself a pretty fae,” Cassian drawled, tugging Mor into a one armed hug.

“Mmm,” Mor hummed, but she chewed on her lip again. Glanced nervously at Azriel, who was in deep conversation with Elain. His shadows were tucked in neatly to his frame rather than trailing, ever-moving and loose around his body, but Cassian knew he could hear them.

Cassian dropped a friendly kiss to Mor’s head before he let her go. Tussled her hair, grinning mischievously when she squawked in disapproval.

As if sensing that his cousin wanted a change of subject, Rhys looked square at Cassian. “Azriel will come over later to update you on the latest movements.”

Cassian sobered as if someone had poured icy water down his back. “Not later,” Cassian corrected firmly.

Tomorrow. No the day after that. Cassian couldn’t guarantee that he’d be able to stop once he’d had his first proper taste of Nesta.

But of course they couldn’t do that—wouldn’t. The situation in Illyria was too dire for them to be so selfish as to lock themselves away for days.

It didn’t mean Cassian didn’t want to, though.

“You’ve got plans?” Rhys asked lightly and Mor froze.

You’ve got no idea, Cassian thought. But then realised his brother knew. Of course he did. Surely everyone in this room knew how desperate he was to get back to Illyria. To have Nesta in his bed again, writhing and moaning, their bodies slick with sweat as they moved in unison.

Clenching his jaw, Cassian grounded that desire between his teeth, until it was nothing but broken, delicious shards that scraped down his throat. His blood coiled. “Yes. Maybe.”

If she doesn’t change her mind.

“It has to be tomorrow, Cass.”

Biting back a sigh, Cassian nodded. “I know. Come at noon. I suppose I’ll be camped out in Illyria for the foreseeable future.” He cast a stern look at Mor. “Send me letters.”

“You have a housemate,” Rhys reminded him. “You’re not going to be entirely alone.”

Mor grinned slyly. “A very beautiful housemate.”

Cassian was more than aware of that.

He grunted and unable to stop himself, he voiced the fear that always niggled away at the back of his mind. “For now.”

But Rhys just loosed another manicured shrug, that was at odds with the ground-breaking revelation that followed it. “For a long while. Nesta has expressed her desire to remain in Illyria long-term despite the discontent. Assuming you don’t mind sharing your bungalow.”

It felt as if an iron band of hope was clamped around Cassian’s chest. He stared at his brother. Tried not to blink. Crossed his arms firmly over his chest, protecting his heart. “And you know this how?”

“Nesta spoke with me. We have arrived at a truce, of sorts.”

That must have been what they’d spoken about yesterday on the balcony. He wanted to know more—everything—but Cassian would not press Rhys. If Nesta wanted to tell him, she would. He had to respect that.

So, he bit back his curiosity and grumbled, “About time.”

Rhys clapped his hand on Cassian’s back, but there was something wary in his expression, as if there was something he wanted to say but wouldn’t. Finally, he said, “Patience is a virtue, brother.”

“I’m not the patient sort.”

“You are when it counts,” Rhys countered, and Cassian didn’t say anything because they both knew what he was referring to. Rhys had been the first to know. Had witnessed Cassian in a tangled web of despair and longing and unwanted visions. His brother had immediately put two and two together. Because he’d been there, too. Knew what it was to want someone you thought you couldn’t have. To hope that someone might finally grow to see you in colour rather than in black and white.

Cassian cast another look towards the empty doorway and the quiet hallway beyond it.

A shiver of anticipation ran through him. It was time for them to go home.

***

In the end, Cassian folded to his worry and had Elain fetch Nesta from upstairs. It was time to go, he’d insisted, even though there was no true reason as to why they needed to leave quite so quickly.

“No guesses required to identify why you want to head back to Illyria,” Mor muttered out the side of her mouth, as the creak of the stairs a few flights above heralded the sisters return. Cassian jabbed his elbow into his friend’s ribs and Mor yelped through her grin, even as she had to sidestep, the nudge throwing her off balance. “What? It’s all over your face. You think I can’t read you after five hundred years?”

“Don’t announce it to the room,” Cassian muttered darkly under his breath, “and you won’t find yourself torn to pieces.”

Mor briefly bumped against his arm, the jostle affectionate. Unfazed by his threat, she glanced sideways at him with rich chocolate eyes. “I won’t. We just want you to be happy, you know.”

Cassian’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “Now isn’t the time for a lecture about finding a more suitable mate.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, hadn’t meant to voice what he’d kept inside for so long.

Mor’s eyes widened, but she wound her arms around his waist. Cassian allowed her to tuck herself under his arm. His friend scented of citrus and cinnamon. When she craned her neck to look up at him, her expression was glowing with sincerity and Cassian realised that she hadn’t been insinuating that Nesta wasn’t right for him at all. “We’re all cheering you on from the sidelines, Cass, I promise.”

The muscle in Cassian’s jaw flexed. He looked away from her, towards the doorway again, unable to help himself. “Don’t say anything.”

She tightened her grip on his waist. “I won’t. I promise.”

“She doesn’t want it.”

Mor untangled herself from him. Shook her head in disagreement. “She does. She just isn’t ready to admit it yet.”

They both fell quiet as Nesta walked through the door with Elain and Feyre. The first thing Cassian noticed was that she scented of water and salt—tears.

Heart pattering with concern, Cassian quickly scanned Nesta’s expression and body language, searching for clues. But Nesta remained close to her sisters rather than apart, her fingers snagged in Feyre’s, her expression not in tatters but smooth and calm, like still waters.

“Ready to go?” Mor chirped from beside him. “I can winnow you back when Sala arrives.”

Nesta’s grey-blue eyes slid to Mor. “I called her on my way down.”

“Then you have time to see the snowdrops you gave me before you leave,” Elain responded eagerly, tugging at Nesta’s arm. “The cuttings took well to the soil. I planted them beneath the shade of the birch trees near the river.”

Cassian watched Nesta disappear into the garden. Surveyed the way a strand of golden brown hair that had escaped her loose braid floated on the breeze, as if it was part of the element rather than separate, as Elain bent to show her the snowdrops.

Yet despite the clear ease to Nesta’s movements, Cassian couldn’t help but ask Feyre whether everything was okay when she came over to hug him goodbye.

“We’re fine,” Feyre assured him, as together they watched Mor tentatively sit beside Azriel on the couch. For once the Shadowsinger’s shadows didn’t lighten, but Azriel still turned to her, drawn by some magnetism as she began to speak with him.

Slim fingers closed around his. Squeezed. “Thank you for fetching the book of fairytales for Nesta.”

The strand of ebony hair that had wrangled free of Cassian’s hair tie tickled the side of his forehead as he inclined his head. That had been a long time ago, when Nesta was a viper that he dared to poke with a stick, just so he could get a reaction. “Of course.”

“You travelled all that way on barely healed wings just to fetch a book.”

It wasn’t just a book, but Cassian knew Feyre understood that, so he only grunted, “Az took me most of the way. He waited to winnow me back.”

But Feyre’s eyes were burnished, as she asked, “Is there anything you won’t do for my sister?”

“It depends,” Cassian replied honestly. Because although he’d rather die than see Nesta hurt, Cassian wouldn’t hesitate to stand up to her when her fire was ill-wrought. And that’s what he liked about the both of them: if he was an ass Nesta told him straight, and he did the same for her. A grin slashed across his face. “Your sister has claws and teeth when she’s angry.”

It wasn’t long before Sala landed on her four large paws in the garden, prompting goodbyes. Mor winnowed Nesta and Sala, whilst Az’s scarred hand closed around Cassian’s arm.

Together, Cassian and his brother passed through realms of shadows and light and raging wings. Then Illyria was taking shape before Cassian bit by bit: there was the sting of winter on his cheeks, the crunch of snow beneath his feet, the scent of pine and untamed air. It felt like that wonderful first heave of your lungs after being starved from air. It alerted Cassian senses—woke him up.

Not bothering to say goodbye for the second time, Azriel bled straight back into shadow, but Mor raised a hand in a parting wave from where she stood beside Nesta and Sala. Her long golden hair caught on the breeze. It tussled behind her like its own puff of wind, before she vanished into nothing.

When Cassian’s eyes snapped to Nesta, he found her standing with her eyes closed, breathing in the wilderness of their surroundings. After a few beats, Sala jumped onto her hind legs, climbing up Nesta’s body with her snow-crusted paws to knock her head impatiently against Nesta’s.

A breath of laughter clouded in front of her as Nesta ruffled Sala’s ears. She murmured something Cassian couldn't identify in the manticore’s ear, before Sala dropped onto all fours and padded through the snow in the direction of the main camp.

Cassian watched the manticore go. He suspected Sala was going to seek out the widows camp and check everything was in order. It was the kind of thing Nesta would fret about—that whilst she was warm and fed, others might not be extended the same courtesy.

Or, the dark part of his mind whispered, she wants Sala out of the house.

You can fuck me wherever you like in the bungalow, Cassian.

The many needles of thrill pierced through him just as Nesta met his stare from across the snow. Suddenly, Cassian didn’t know what to say. His tongue felt swollen and thick in his mouth, words suddenly as viscous as tar. The atmosphere had altered—the aura surrounding them despite the distance suddenly heavy with promise: a change that pointed to something new.

The siphons on the back of Cassian’s hands glowed in anticipation. Nesta merely raised an eyebrow at him. Turned. Walked towards the house just as he caught the thick scent of jasmine and vanilla on the wind.

Cassian’s nostrils flared as it wound around him; invisible ropes of arousal. And then he was moving, following Nesta’s footprints.

His friends had winnowed them to the back of the house, halfway between the small stone outhouse and the backdoor. They weren’t far from the bungalow, but it felt like miles as Cassian stomped noisily after Nesta, his boots compacting the snow as if they were grinding shards of glass into powder.

When Cassian drew up behind Nesta, she already had a hand half-raised towards the door. Even though he wasn’t touching her, she was a whirlpool of warmth. It sucked him in, begging him to line his torso against her back, so when she cursed, realising she hadn’t taken her gloves off, Cassian didn’t hesitate to reach over her shoulder and rest his palm against the wood, encasing her.

The touch of his bare skin—or Nesta’s—was the key to the magical lock. A thunk sounded as the bolt released but Cassian didn’t push open the door—was too preoccupied with the female before him—who had twisted to stare up at him.

As soon as their gazes snagged, history began to knit together in a rush of thread, until it was a tangible, living thing. Because this moment had been written in the stars as soon as Cassian had seen Nesta in her amethyst dress in the human realm; her hair wielded into a mighty crown, her expression haughty and defiant, yet burning with the potential of a life not yet lived. They’d denied that history, even as it waited patiently in the wings. It had watched as they danced around each other, fumbling and snarling their way to this very moment—

They moved in unison. Cassian’s head bowing just as Nesta reached upwards; her body bowing to his, her palms sliding across his jaw until they were around his neck. Their lips met with a force that rattled Cassian’s bones. This wasn't a brush of a kiss. This was immediate and awakening: Nesta tasted like life and breath, like destiny. And yet again, Cassian knew with startling clarity that they were meant for this, he and Nesta. They were meant for each other and nobody could tell him otherwise, including her.

A soft breath whooshed out of Nesta as her back hit the door, but then Cassian was pushing it open, guiding her inside in a whirlwind of noise and wreckage.

The scrape of wood on the flagstone tiles sounded as Nesta’s back knocked against the table before Cassian turned them, his wings grazing against cupboards and the cool walls. Items clattered and shattered, but Cassian used his wings to keep a check on his surroundings, the touch guiding him to the left-hand wall where he could press her against the wall and devour.

Because Cassian could not tear his mouth from Nesta’s. Couldn’t stop tasting her. Couldn’t stop craving the roll of her tongue and the sound of her guttural moans. It fuelled a fireball inside of him; it roared into life in the centre of his heart, before spreading throughout his limbs, rushing through his body until it settled deep in his groin, aching and burning—screaming for relief.

When they finally hit the wall, the thud of their bodies shook the cabinets and the porcelain within it. Without thinking, Cassian took the brunt of it, his hand flying to cup Nesta's lower back and head to purposefully shield her from the hurt.

Because he was coarse and rippling, galloping towards a primal sort of wilderness that Cassian wasn’t sure he could control.

If Nesta was ignorant to the fact or wholly aware Cassian didn’t know. All he knew was that her hands were scrabbling at his leather like dancing flames, tugging him closer.

When he pressed his body over hers, aligning every inch of her to every inch of him, she whined.

Cassian swallowed it. Slanted his mouth across hers. Tucked his wings in tight as every muscle in him tensed in anticipation.

Nesta tasted of chai and vanilla and embers with a destiny to roar.

Another strangled noise came from her throat as Cassian sank his hands deep into the hair at her scalp, coaxing strands free from her braid as his fingers threading through her hair, just as he had done the night prior when he’d coaxed her to sleep. But this wasn’t a soothing touch. This was a touch to startle every nerve ending to life.

Time began to bleed around them, but Cassian only registered the fluidity of the frantic dance they had not learnt. The way Nesta arched into him as his palm slid back to span her waist. The pant of her breath against his skin. His heaving chest. The way his wings began to spread again of their own volition, like a fan unfolding to reveal a secret pattern—as if they were controlled by nothing but the ache of his cock as it strained against the leather of his pants.

As if in acknowledgement that his body was no longer ruled by him, his hips slanted upwards of their own accord. It was a desperate bid to relieve the ache, and his throat vibrated with a thunderous growl as Nesta dug her nails deeper into the leather of his jacket, using it for leverage as she arched into him.

Something turned further inside of Cassian, like a lock beginning to grind as a key turned. And then it felt as if he were plunging beneath water; ducking into the depths and travelling beneath an invisible barrier before emerging on the other side buoyant and surging with power.

Ruby crashed through his veins, like the walls of a dam broken free and… singing light. Magic roared so loudly in Cassian’s ears that he no longer heard the galloping beat of his heart or the sawing of their breath.

Reeling, he tore his mouth from Nesta’s. Her eyes were just as wide, puddles of startled moonlight—endless mercury—and Cassian didn’t need to look down to know that her hands were wreathed in silver.

For a moment they stared at one another. Time slowed until it was sluggish around them and then the feeling receded, as if Cassian was being carried by a wave as it was dragged unwillingly from the shore on thundering feet.

Sound bled back into Cassian’s ears, like raindrops slowly blotting paper. A moan whispered on a wind carried through him, the words fleeting—her name three times, like always—before they dispersed into nothing and ragged breathing filled the hole.

Fuck, they needed to be careful. He needed to be careful if just kissing her led to some transcendental experience. Cassian knew Nesta became open during sex—had seen tumbled images of tangled limbs and heard her moans—and he couldn’t afford to lose her when she had finally let him in. Couldn’t let her down, even though he wanted nothing more than to finally be found worthy by someone.

That twisted rope between them couldn’t widen and strengthen. Couldn’t finally open and click into place with a consensual snap.

Because Cassian had heard stories of mates who had gone to bed. Who had fleetingly accepted what they wanted in their hearts but not in their minds. And after they had both finished and life had been breathed into that bond, only death could sever their Cauldron-blessed connection.

Cassian would not have a mate with regrets, but he didn’t have the will-power to deny himself of her any longer. Not when he could scent how much Nests wanted him. When he could feel it like an unquenchable ache in his bones—an ache which made him tremble and shake. His rocky warrior exterior ground to nothing but sand.

As if Nesta could read his thoughts she tipped her head back, baring the column of her neck.

A resounding guttural sound dragged from his throat. The noise was animalistic and unchained. A booming crack ricocheted around the walls, the muscles in Cassian’s back burning as his wings snapped outward.

Something toppled from somewhere and crashed to the floor, but Cassian didn’t bother to raise his head to look at what it was.

And then time seemed to both slow and drive into a frenzy. Cassian launched at Nesta’s neck at the same time he tugged at her hair, urging her head to fall back even farther.

His lips were against the column of her throat in the blink of an eye; his teeth scraping, his mouth sucking until her blood pounded in his ears. Nesta’s knees buckled but Cassian quickly pinned her body to the wall, holding her up, his knee sliding firmly between her legs…

And… nothing. There was no panic or sensation of being trapped—no sudden fire launching him back thirty feet—but Cassian still tore his mouth from Nesta’s neck. Had to know she wasn’t panicking. “Ok?” he rasped.

A frown burrowed Nesta’s brows. Her swollen lips parted in confusion. Somehow it made her look more beautiful.

Cassian raised a shaking hand to trace it away. “Nesta. Are you ok?”

Understanding dawned like millions of unfurling petals.

When Nesta spoke she was short of breath, the words an exhale. “Don’t hold back.”

Cassian practically arched into her at the words but he made himself remain still, even as his body vibrated with tension. His bones creaked but he held fast.

That stubborn, beautiful chin lifted and Nesta’s eyes glinted wicked yet pure. Always an oxymoron, his Nesta.

“Don’t hold back,” she repeated, her voice stronger this time. She pushed her hips against his thigh and the friction had her lips parting, a shaky breath tumbling from her lungs. “I can take it.”

The words were like slashing knives of pleasure, severing the leash on any control Cassian thought he had.

The subsequent rush of air Cassian loosed was akin to a snorting horse.

Then he was moving and their mouths were fused together again, their tongues a delicious push and pull of control and pleasure before he yanked away.

“Thank fuck,” he gasped. His hands flew to her hips, guiding her to ride his thigh. “Thank fuck, Nesta.”

The friction had Nesta moaning, her fingernails digging so hard into the leather of his jacket Cassian was sure she had dented the material. But he didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything but the living fervour that clawed at them.

His hands were everywhere at once. Tangled in her hair. Sliding over her cheek. Cupping her ass. Attacking the buttons at the back of her dress, until they popped and scattered. Until he could pull the material down her arms, exposing tantalising creamy skin.

At the first sight of her breasts, Cassian growled. He bowed his head to capture a nipple sharply between his teeth before he laved over it with his tongue, smoothing over the wound. He relished the way Nesta cried out. Arched into him. She began to tear at his jacket. It snagged on his wings but Cassian shrugged it off until it hit the floor with a thud.

The first slide of Nesta’s palms beneath his tunic was like oil sizzling in a pan. Cassian hissed as the callouses of her palms scraped deliciously over his skin and scars and ink. Snarled as she made quick work of the stays and fastenings. Tried to focus on her other breast as she inched her hand beneath the tight leather fabric and eased him free.

Fingers wrapped sinfully around him, causing Cassian to snarl around a peaked nipple—to buck sharply—pressing them more firmly against the wall.

“Don’t bother,” Nesta moaned as Cassian wrenched desperately at the fabric of her dress, trying to coax it further down her body. She ground down onto his thigh as it to emphasise her point—her need—and the heat of her burned.

It was all Cassian needed to hear. He fumbled desperately with her skirts until a hand was under the material and sliding up her thigh. Until fabric ripped and her underwear fell away in what Cassian imagined to be a ripple of lace.

In one swift movement, Cassian lifted Nesta’s body upwards, until her legs were gripped tightly around his hips and her back was flush against the wall. Her hands flew to find purchase, grappling at the back of his neck, and when she was steady she raked her hand purposefully through the hair which had come loose from his tie. Tugged at the leather until his hair fell over his face. Whined. Tangled her fingers through the ebony strands as if they were her reigns.

Cassian splayed the hand that wasn’t supporting her body against the cold wall. Tried to catch his breath, but the position evened out the height between them. Just a slight movement would allow him to capture her lips with his, and Cassian couldn’t deny that demanding tug that drove him to devour. Nesta seemed to feel the same way. Moaned in relief as Cassian tasted her as if he couldn’t get enough, gave back as good as she got. Over and over they moved, until they were nothing but an undulating wave of tongue and teeth and groans. The pleasure was a surging, roiling entity. It was all consuming. It overtook Cassian’s body, demanding that his hand drag from her ass straight to her core.

When his fingers slid through wetness, Cassian’s groan sounded like thunderous defeat. He dropped his head to Nesta’s collarbone. Gently pressed his lips to her clavicle. To her shoulder. Tried to ground himself as he slid straight to the spot that made her keen—as pleasure ignited down the bond like a crashing wave. Brushed over it again and again and again. Relishing in the noises he coaxed from her. At the curling fists of desire that clenched agonisingly inside of him.

Cassian had to see Nesta fall. Had to look into her eyes as she broke.

But he wanted to be inside of her when it happened.

Cassian was reaching for his cock at the same time that Nesta let out a broken moan. “Do it,” she breathed. There was no bite of authority in her voice, as if all of the energy she had directed in the pursuit of pleasure had smoothed over the serrated edge of her personality he loved so much, leaving a softer version in its wake. “Please. Just—”

A satisfied snarl ripped from Cassian as he felt her want. And in that moment, Cassian knew there would be nothing gentle about how this was going to play out. It was going to be rough and frantic, riding a wave of pleasure that had been building for too long. Knew afterwards that they would sink to the cold floor in a mass of tangled limbs and mingled breath.

And Cassian wanted that. Had never wanted release so badly in his life.

Something clambered in the back of his mind. Something he needed to remember, but his limbs were moving of their own volition. He didn’t even bother to pump his cock or squeeze it to relieve the tension. Only cared about finally being inside of her.

The heat and slickness of her was sinful and divine when he lined himself up at her entrance. The hand he had braced against the wall came to span her cheek. It relied on Nesta clamping on tightly to his waist with her legs and the press of his torso against hers, but they managed it.

Shaking, Cassian raked back the hair that had fallen free from her braid back from Nesta’s face, just as she tugged him in for a bruising kiss.

There was a moment when everything paused and trembled. As Nesta pulled away and stared at him, her eyes swimming silver—glowing with it—her pupils obscured.

His magic surged at the sight of it. Crashed against his skin as if it was trying to escape. His siphons burned bloody.

“Cassian,” Nesta panted. Despite the keen desperation, there was cushion to his name. Gently, Nesta bowed her head until her forehead rested against his. The gesture was surprisingly tender. It tugged at his heartstrings, triggered his hips into movement as they finally pushed forward.

The tight heat that wrapped around him like velvet was so immediate that Cassian swore. Sweat trickled down his back and seeped into the tunic Nesta hadn’t gotten round to discarding. He trembled as Nesta’s breath stuttered and he felt the burning pain mixed with pleasure as he sunk in an inch. Felt the stretch of Nesta’s body as it strained to fit around him.

Claws dug into his back—Nesta’s nails—biting into his skin, until the metallic tang of blood infused the air.

Cassian’s body stilled before he even had a second to register that he needed to stop. That instinct buried deep to make sure she never hurt.

And then a knock rapped at the front door.

“No,” Nesta moaned. She shifted her hips and Cassian sank a little deeper. That pain flared again through the pleasure and Cassian grip on her turned vice like.

Sense stumbled into his desire addled brain, like a fawn on gangly legs.

But then it righted itself.

Another sharp rap at the door cleared his head completely.

He bowed to bury his face in the crook of her neck but Nesta whined. Tilted her hips again, urging him deeper. “Nesta, stop.”

“No.” Her whimper was doused in frustration, but all Cassian could feel was that sharp needle of pain.

He tried to pull back, but Nesta clamped down around him with that incredible strength of hers. The strength that only seemed to appear at times of desperation or anger.

Cassian’s jaw flexed, his features hardening. “I’m hurting you.”

“You’re not,” Nesta countered, defiance colouring her expression.

“I am,” Cassian retorted, not allowing for a passing beat of their hearts to pass before he replied. “I’m hurting you. Don’t pretend that I’m not.”

I can feel it, Cassian wanted to explain, but didn’t. Knew somehow that if he did they might not end up joining at all.

Desire fogged Nesta’s mind and it fuelled the punch to her next words. “I don’t care.”

Ire punched through Cassian’s desire enough for him to see red. “Well, I do,” he snapped.

Nesta’s nostrils flared at his tone and her eyes burned silver. Cassian wondered how everything had gone southward so quickly—they were on a sinking ship and he needed to patch it up. Knew she felt rejected. So, he kissed her and pushed back that unquenchable ache he felt for her. Knew it hit home because she gasped softly into his mouth, her surprise tart on his tongue.

He pulled out. As soon as his cock fell free that pain throbbed and ebbed. But Nesta moaned all the same.

Moaned again as he drew his head back to stare at her.

She surprised him when her eyes remained open rather than closed off. There was no hard shield. Nothing but want and a vulnerability that made his heart squeeze.

It gave him the courage to do the right thing.

He kissed her again. Trailed a thumb across her swollen lips, ignoring the desire that roared as Nesta sucked it into her mouth, her tongue darting across the top before the bit down lightly.

“This is how things are going to go,” Cassian murmured lowly, pulling his thumb out of her mouth and across her jawline, trailing the wetness all the way to the sensitive spot behind her ear. Nesta shuddered.

“I’m going to get the door and send whoever it is away,” Cassian continued. He paused to let the words sink in. Lowered his head to trace a path with his nose, up the slope of her shoulder, all the way up her neck until his lips were grazing the shell of her ear. “You will go to your bedroom. When they’re gone, I’ll find you.”

Another shiver coursed through Nesta’s body. Her fingers tightened around his neck.

When Nesta next spoke, Cassian knew he’d piqued her interest. “What then?” she demanded.

“Then I’m going to make you come until you see stars.”

Nesta’s entire body froze. For a long moment, she didn’t so much as breathe, but Cassian felt the throb of her blood and magic as it pounded against her skin.

Then, Nesta’s hands worked between them, until her small palms were splayed across his chest. She pushed firmly, indicating that she wanted to get her down. Her body slithered to the floor, her lean legs falling away from his body.

The sudden distance between them felt like miles.

Nesta lifted her chin. “Hurry or I’ll start without you.”

A breath heaved at Cassian’s lungs and he felt his pupils contract, pushing out his irises until they were swallowed by black. The image of Nesta sprawled on the bed wearing nothing but skin, her legs open, a hand moving between her legs had that coil within him tightening to the point of pain.

A growl spiked through the air as another knock sounded at the door.

Nesta must have known she’d wrangled back control, because she arched a cool eyebrow at him.  “I thought you were going to answer the door?”

A dark chuckle forced its way out of his chest, but it was mechanical rather than true. Because there was nothing funny about resisting Nesta right now and his body seemed to know that.

Cassian reached for her before he knew what was happening. Rested his forehead against hers. Breathed once. Twice. “I need to calm down,” he confessed.

Nesta snickered, but the sound fell flat as her breath hitched upwards at the end. It betrayed the effect he had on her, even as she said silkily, “Did the image of me pleasuring myself get you hard?”

“I was already hard,” he growled. He pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth. “As you well know.”

A hand reached between them. Stroked over him—the touch feather light but tantalising enough that Cassian bucked into her touch.

And then cunning words, “Maybe I’ll let you watch.”

A string of swear words left Cassian’s mouth. He yanked back from Nesta, as if someone had tugged firmly on a leash. Tugged up his pants and jerked ruthlessly at the ties until they fastened, trapping his cock back into the leather.

With a growl, Cassian waved a hand towards the living room—to Nesta’s room to the right of it. “Leave before I fuck you against the wall, Nesta,” he barked.

Nesta’s sly laugh skittered over his skin, and without pulling her dress back up to cover herself, Nesta sashayed through the nearest arch and disappeared.

*** It had been Mas and Roksana at the door, laden with bags full of groceries and supplies from the market. With full access to the house, there was no reason why they shouldn’t have just come right in. Which meant Mas had suspected somehow, enough so that she had left the bags on the front step and remained standing with Roksana a few feet back.

“I am sorry Sinta, but the meat might spoil,” the housekeeper had apologised as soon as he’d opened the door, his hair a tangled mess from where Nesta had yanked it free of its tie. He hadn’t had the sense to recover it from the floor, but he had righted his tunic and fastened his pants.

And thank the Cauldron for that, because Roksana peeked up at Cassian with wide eyes from her position of safety behind Mas’s legs. He didn’t know when Lorrian had brought the youngling back to the camp, but Cassian guessed it hadn’t been easy on the two of them to take a little girl out of the warmth and back into the snow.

Cassian tried to soften the eyes that he knew were a little wild. He raked his hands through his hair and sent them his most disarming smile, but there was fuck all he could do about his scent. So he thanked her, trying to keep his voice light and conversational. Ordered her to take the rest of the day off.

To the housekeeper’s credit, she did not linger. Had merely nodded and rushed Roksana back into the snow, towards the main vein of the camp.

Yet, whilst the housekeeper’s interruption had been unwanted, it did grant Cassian some breathing space as he rammed perishables into the cool box. Because even though Cassian would allow Nesta to decide how this all played out, he needed to lay down a rule of his own: he could give her the space to decide what she wanted—for him to prove that he could be what she needed—but there was one thing he could not suffer through.

And if they had stormed ahead in a hurricane of lust; with Nesta’s back against the wall as Cassian pounded into her… Well, it would be too late for Cassian to lay down his one condition once they were sweaty and sated. Nesta was more likely to get up and walk away. To not look back.

Cassian found Nesta sitting at the dresser in her room re-braiding back her hair.

Leaning against the doorjamb, Cassian opened his mouth to explain who had been at the door, but an iron band closed fast around his chest, robbing him of breath.

“What are you wearing?” The words came out of him eventually, entirely uneven to the point of being choked.

Because Nesta was wearing his shirt. It was the same steel blue shirt she’d worn that first day in Illyria. The shirt that was an identical match to her eyes, purchased before Cassian had realising what his subconscious had done. A shirt he’d had to hide away in the spare room because Cassian hadn’t been able to bare seeing it in his closet—of being reminded that his mate was a ghost who had banished him away.

Go home, Cassian.

Nesta met Cassian's eyes in the mirror. Announced with cool simplicity, “You ripped my dress.”

“And this is your way of torturing me?”

An indifferent shrug. “Why wear my own clothing when I know what fate it will suffer?”

Cassian knew his nostrils billowed, but he remained propped up against the doorframe. Pretended he was stuck to it like glue because his body was trembling for him to launch across the distance and claim her mouth. Her neck. Her.

The silence seemed to unnerve Nesta. Cassian knew that from months of living with her. From months of studying her slight tells when her masks slipped.

Right on cue, Nesta reset her posture—a gesture that most people read as defiant. But Cassian knew it was also a sign of nerves. She shrugged with feigned indifference, even as her throat tightened and that damned pulse fluttered temptingly against her throat. “You liked it the last time I wore it.”

Cassian huffed a breath. He had liked it the last time she wore it, even if she’d been so gaunt that he’d worried she might wither away. But the shirt… it had put images in his mind that Cassian had long tried to store away, imprisoned in rock and flame: her in his clothing, not fucking other males but him, her lithe legs wrapping around his waist as he sank deep—

Which brought Cassian neatly to the point he needed to discuss with her…

Nesta’s eyes tracked Cassian in the mirror as he peeled himself out of the doorway and came to stand behind her. When their eyes locked into place, it felt as if someone had punched him in the chest. There was something deep in Nesta’s gaze that made it feel as if he was tumbling down a rabbit hole, that magnetism between them drawing him in like gravity.

When Cassian’s fingers brushed Nesta’s neck—ran down the braid she had draped over her shoulder—Nesta shivered. “You had your hair down then,” he rasped. Didn’t wait for her to protest, as he slowly coaxed the tie free from the end of her hair.

Nesta turned preternaturally still, watched him gently part her hair in the mirror until it fell free from her plait, his calloused fingers brushing over her skin as he coaxed her hair to fall down her back.

The pulse hammering at her throat and the warmth radiating from her skin were the only indications that Nesta was alive rather than stone.

Only when Cassian had finished and lifted his hands from her neck, did Nesta come back to life.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. But she cocked her head slightly to dissect him. “It’s a nuisance like this. It gets in the way.”

“It’s beautiful,” Cassian corrected, his voice rasping, like sand scraping against skin. He ran a hand through her hair as if to emphasise his point, his fingers running down, down, down until her waist.

When Nesta stood and turned into the warmth of him, Cassian scented what she wanted. But there was something else simmering in her expression—surprise. As if she’d caught the truth in his words and hadn’t expected someone to truly think her beautiful.

She stepped closer, until the lines of her torso ghosted his. Until Cassian’s heart pounded so hard he could hear the frantic tempo of it in his ears. Nesta tilted her head back so she could stare up at him and Cassian’s hand weaved through the mane of her hair before he could stop himself.

He was desperate to touch her again. Desperate.

But Cassian waited. Waited for Nesta to reach up on tiptoes and press her mouth to his.

The kiss was not like their bruised, desperate kisses from earlier. It was coaxing and unsure; the tentative beginning of something that was not merely fuelled by ardour. But it soon blossomed into something more, like a snowball rolling down a mountain blanketed white, gaining speed as it grew and grew—

Dragging his mouth away from hers, Cassian fought for breath. Battled to remember what he needed to do and say. But then Nesta was tugging his head back down again, her fingers tangled in his hair, the gesture indicative of an insistent need that Cassian knew would not go away.

As always, Nesta tasted divine. Addictive. He could taste the curl of her power on his tongue—silver and white, life and death—and he wondered if she could taste his. Knew his siphons were glowing scarlet—

“Nesta,” he murmured hoarsely, her name a caress against her lips. He couldn’t invoke a distance between them, couldn’t stop touching her. His nose brushed hers as her drew back an infinitesimal amount. Closed his eyes. Inhaled deeply, summoning courage. “You can dictate how this goes between us. But if we do this, I can’t—there’s no-one else. Just you and me.”

The subsequent pause was one of the worst of Cassian’s life. It was barely a breath. The blink of an eye. But it felt as if it was malleable and elastic, drawn out by the hands of fate as everything suspended in time.

He didn’t want to open his eyes, but in the end he managed it. Caught Nesta’s eyelashes flutter downwards, casting shadows on her skin. Her fists tightened in the fabric of his tunic, anchoring him to the moment.

She swallowed. Shook her head. Agreed with a conviction he had not been expecting, “No-one else.”

The relief that swooped through Cassian was so fierce it was painful. But he still didn’t dare to believe it.

He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger so Nesta could not look away. So he could look into the deep waters of her irises and know she was telling him the truth.

But her gaze was steady and unwavering, as he demanded, “Say it again.”

His voice cracked but Nesta didn’t appear to notice. Her grip on him tightened. “No-one else,” she repeated on an outward breath.

A low, ravaged moan sounded from Cassian’s throat. “Diyosa,” he murmured, slipping into Illyrian. Goddess.

“Bruha,” Nesta corrected. She fumbled over the pronunciation but Cassian felt as if he had been an ember that had burst into flame. Witch.

He let out a rough bark of laughter. Then he swore in a long, drawn out moan. “No Illyrian,” he ordered roughly. Pressed his mouth firmly against hers, the kiss searing. “Otherwise this will be over far too quickly.” Another kiss. “And I want to take my time.”

The smile Nesta painted against Cassian’s lips was feline. “You’ve made a lot of promises, General. I hope you don’t disappoint.”

Cassian snarled. Spun her body until her back was cradled against his chest. “I have, haven’t I?” he mused lightly, even though the hammering of his heart must have beat a betraying rhythm against her shoulder blade.

In the mirror, Nesta’s expression grew less poised and controlled. Delight mixed with anticipation clung to her features at this game they played; this tussle for control. She did not try to wrangle free from his hold or shift uncomfortably in his arms at having her back enclosed against his.

It thrilled him—that trust. Enough so that when he met her eyes in the mirror, Cassian found that his irises had been swallowed by his pupils until they were only a ring of chocolate gold.

Slowly, Cassian brushed Nesta’s hair over to one shoulder with his left hand. Traced his fingers down the arc of her neck to her collarbone. Continued a path down the centre of her chest, to the pyrite which glittered between her breasts.

When his fingers met the first button of his shirt, Cassian toyed with it. Purposefully grazed his nose against the shell of her ear. “Shall I start here?” he murmured. “Undress you in front of the mirror whilst you watch?”

Nesta suppressed a shudder, but Cassian caught it. Could swear he felt her blood boiling beneath her skin as he slipped the button free of its hole. Then another. And another. Until there were no more buttons and the material hung free.

Leaning back into his body, Nesta rested her head against his chest. Curved her back slightly so her chest thrust upwards, silently instructing him where she wanted his hands.

And Cassian couldn’t deny her. He turned his palm so it was face up and curled into a loose fist. Brushed his knuckles down her sternum all the way to her bared naval, before bringing it back up. His fingers ran up the side of the material free of buttons, until he was at her collarbone—her shoulder—leaving a litter of goosebumps in his wake.

This time, Cassian snickered when she shivered. Dropped a slow and deliberate kiss to her bare shoulder as he slowly, slowly inched the material down, down, down over her arm. Repeated the motion on the other, until the shirt pooled onto the floor, exposing her bare body to the mirror: endless creamy skin, divine curves, the luscious full weight of her bare breasts, and… lower.

Nesta’s eyes, which had been tracking the fabric as it fell away, snapped to his as a feral growl ripped from him. And she moaned at the expression on his face. Grabbed at his hands, pulling them to her body.

“Touch me,” Nesta hissed, but it came out strangled. Almost pleading. Another crack in her armour as it broke and fell away.

The sight was enough to threaten Cassian to his knees. He guided her body backwards, his hands splaying firmly across her stomach despite her whine, until his legs hit the edge of the mattress

Neither of them broke eye contact in the mirror. Not when Cassian coaxed Nesta down to sit on the bed with him. Not when he pulled her between his legs, her back firmly against his chest. Not when he bowed his head to kiss the slope between her neck and shoulder.

When Cassian finally brushed a thumb over her nipple, Nesta back bowed so fiercely Cassian was thankful he had an arm strapped across her stomach.

The small noise she loosed fuelled his fire and Cassian held on to her. Stroked over that peaked nipple again as Nesta careened into his touch. Followed it with a firmer roll with his thumb and forefinger. Used the fingertips of his other hand to draw slow, tantalising circles across the silken skin of her lower stomach, before he moved southwards…

The air around them hushed when Cassian’s fingers stilled. Anticipation built and only when it vibrated with tension did Cassian slide his hands to cradle Nesta’s hips.

A snarl of frustration, but Cassian paid the sound no heed. Only grazed his thumbs over Nesta’s hipbones. Watched her expression in the mirror—the way her face contorted as she squirmed into his touch as if she was a puppet on strings. Ground back onto him, pressing into that building ache that was bordering on painful.

Fuck, Nesta.

Cassian wasn’t sure if he had spoken out loud or in his head, all he knew was the blessed, fleeting relief he felt as he bucked into the small of Nesta’s back on instinct. He was rock hard and thirsting to be touched, but the thickening scent of Nesta’s arousal pulled his focus.

A groan rumbled from Cassian’s throat as Nesta’s hand darted between her legs. He caught her wrist just in the nick of time. Kissed the heart of her palm. Rumbled into her ear, “Not yet, sweetheart.”

His voice was coarse enough that Nesta shivered, the goosebumps travelling down her skin like a cresting wave. She didn’t struggle against him, nor did she move to disobey him as he dropped her wrist. Instead, she waited, trembling and shaking at every pass of his thumbs over her skin.

Cassian buried his nose behind the shell of her ear. Breathed Nesta in, steadying the drum of his pulse.

Not once did he take his eyes off of hers in the mirror, especially as he murmured, “Shall we find out if you’re wet for me?”

Nesta squeezed her eyes tightly shut, as if the movement would steady her. Swallowed hard. It was so unlike her to take stock, to show any signs that she was rattled, that Cassian softened. He nuzzled at her neck, trailed a line of kisses instilled with promises. A hand flew up to tangle in Cassian’s hair, keeping him there.

“Yes.”

The word stuttered out of Nesta on several staccatos, but she forced her eyes open and met his gaze in the mirror. Watched as he pulled her tighter against him and hooked her legs over his thighs so she was spread wide. Slipped his hand across and down…

The first ghost of a touch had Nesta panting through her nose. The second had her gritting her teeth. The third had her moaning, her back bowing so sharply as he skimmed straight over the place she wanted him the most.

Her head hit the centre of his chest with a resounding thud that had his bones creaking, but she did not look away from him. Seemed to know the game they were playing without him having to express it.

When Cassian brought his fingers lower and discovered just how wet Nesta was, he had to force his wings in tight to his back to hide his surprise. Growled, “You’re soaked.”

Pleasure and embarrassment twisted in Cassian’s stomach, and Cassian wanted to tell her that it was not something to be ashamed of, that he wanted her just as much as she clearly wanted his fingers between her legs.

Her eyes glinted steel, her stare commanding. “Make me come—“ she ordered, but Cassian chose that moment to roll his finger over that spot at the apex of her thighs.

The command bottomed out of Nesta as she inhaled sharply. Satisfaction bloomed inside of Cassian; because he may have done this countless times before but barely enough with her. And nothing seemed to matter apart from him seeking out her satisfaction. Of learning about what made her body freeze with pleasure and what made her come undone. “There?” he murmured into her ear, repeating the movement, before he passed his fingers down further. Until they were at her entrance, playing gently before he drew upwards and circled.

This time, Nesta groaned. Her hips jerked sharply beneath him, tilting, guiding him to just the right place.

Picking up on the cue, Cassian increased the tempo and friction until Nesta’s hips were rolling in a punishing rhythm against the hard length of him.

And Cassian snarled in satisfaction, his fingers tightening around her hip in a plea for her to keep moving—to not stop pushing back on him—because it was blissfully good. The rapid tightening in his groin was almost painful, the cord so tight that Cassian thought it might snap. But he couldn’t stop Nesta, not when she looked so bewitching, the arousal so stark on her face as he stroked and circled and pressed.

Burning pleasure clambered to its peak and Nesta’s eyes grew so heavy they fluttered closed. Something unintelligible left her lips, her head tipping back into the heart of his chest.

When Nesta’s arms wound around his neck, her knuckles accidentally grazing the leather of his wings, Cassian part-snarled, part-roared. Swore. Held her even tighter as his wings snapped out high and mighty behind him. They wrapped around Nesta’s body before Cassian’s pleasure-fogged mind could stop them curling towards her, starved for her touch.

Fuck, he was unhinged. So desperate for relief—in the scent and feel of his mate—that his control was barely there. Enough so that he didn’t react when Nesta reached out her hand—

Sense knocked Cassian for six only when Nesta’s fingers were millimetres from touching the membrane. He drew back his wings so fast  the air around them stormed, but he swooped in before surprise could register on Nesta’s face. Dipped his chin and coaxed her head even further back so he could claim her mouth.

The taste of her lips was as vital as breathing, the scrape of her nails on his scalp grounding. He moaned into her mouth at the same time as she whimpered. His hand was still moving between her legs, interchanging the same three patterns over and over again, mixing things up as soon as Nesta’s moans grew too untamed: he wanted to draw out her pleasure, not sate it with a few choice strokes.

Pulling away, Cassian pressed a kiss to her forehead. Coaxed her to dip her chin until she was looking back at their reflection in the mirror: ebony and golden brown, tan and cream.

Nesta’s irises were wisps of silver, but when he traversed past that bundle of nerves so he could slip two fingers inside of her, they flickered into living flame.

That was indication enough that she liked what he was doing. Cassian had quickly learnt that Nesta became completely readable between the sheets, that mask slowly crumbling away until she broke completely.

Curving his fingers as much as he could, Cassian pressed upwards hard—again and again— revelling in the strangled sounds Nesta made. The way she writhed but tried her best to hold his gaze.

Cassian dropped a lingering kiss to the crown of Nesta’s head. Murmured into her hair, “Is that good, sweetheart?”

The only response Cassian received was a long moan which extended into a whine as he withdrew his fingers. Then a sharp cry as he swept them upwards, swirling them in a well-practiced motion that had Nesta’s lower half seizing in pleasure.

Cassian circled again. Again. Firmer. Faster. Nesta’s cries grew louder, her breathing became more laboured. A silver wreathed hand flew to his forearm—not to stop him, but to keep him there.

Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

The bond between them creaked and cracked as it expanded.

Nesta panted his name.

“Are you going to come for me, sweetheart?” Cassian scratched out.

In vain, Nesta attempted to burrow her head into his shoulder, but Cassian’s voice dropped out of soft and into the role of general within the fraction of a heartbeat. “Eyes on the mirror, Nesta, or I’ll stop.”

It seemed to take all of Nesta’s energy to fight her leaded eyelids and meet his dark eyes in their reflection. When she did, Cassian’s magic roared and pounded beneath his skin, as if it was trying to break free and join Nesta’s. There was a pressure and power fuelling the sensation that was separate to him. It was like the magnetic force which rules the relentless ebb and flow of the tide—that desperate crash followed by a scrabbling, thundering retreat.

That twisted rope between them grew corporeal, tugging at their ribcages as if it was clambering to remind them both of its existence. Of the cost of this exchange.

Something deepened in both of their gazes, but if Nesta had felt what Cassian had, she gave no indication. She only arched her hips back into his, grinding backwards.

Cassian loosed a rough groan that skittered across the shell of her ear. Her gaze was purposeful but hooded, as if she was in a continual battle with the pleasure weighting her eyelids.

“Good girl,” he praised as Nesta’s eyelashes fluttered from the strain of maintaining eye contact. And then his fingers were everywhere at once and Nesta’s moans fell away to short gasps that rose in volume.

Nesta tightened her fingers around his neck, scrabbling for purchase, for some sort of tether as her pleasure launched high into the air. The hand that had been at her hip, steadying her, encouraging her to roll back on him moved to her breast; cupping and pinching and rolling as she stuttered pants and words that Cassian couldn’t make out.

When Cassian slid two fingers inside of her again and pressed down firmly on her clit with his palm, Nesta’s cry was wild.

“Look at me,” Cassian ordered as Nesta’s eyes flew shut. His voice was resonant—startling—even to him. It punched through the bubble that had encased them—their entwined scent—and Nesta’s eyes snapped open.

For a beat, time seemed to stand still around them. Their gaze fastened back into place and for a moment, Cassian could see a conflict of thoughts swirl in the magic of Nesta’s irises.

He froze just as anguish crashed down that bond, right into the heart of his chest.

It knocked the breath from him. Confusion rattled inside of his head but he came up empty of answers. Had he gone too far? Had he hurt her somehow?

“Sweetheart—“ he started, but stopped. Unsure of what to say because he could still smell how much she wanted this. Could feel how soaked she was. But perhaps that was what the mating bond did. Fooled reason with an overwhelming drive to pleasure and claim.

Cassian went to draw his hand away but Nesta’s hand whipped out, her fingers curling around his wrist. Desperation flooded her next words—the plea in them stark. “Don’t stop.”

As if to punctuate her point, she rolled her hips. His fingers slid over her of her own accord and she stumbled a moan. Light barrelled down the bond and Cassian’s blood spiked, thrilled as he felt the truth of her words, as she ground back into him again.

“Fuck that feels good,” Cassian grunted into her ear. His hips pushed into the small of her back, accentuating his point. It chased the delicious reprieve from the ache in his cock, even as he knew this moment wasn’t about him. As he pulled her back into the solid muscle of his chest, steadying her movements so he could pick up where he left off: so he could watch the pleasure whip away her conflicted expression until her eyes were once again blazing with the promise of flame.

Silver mist climbed from Nesta’s fingertips into the air. It crawled over the glowing ruby siphons across the backs of his hands, past the corded muscle of his forearm and the rolled up sleeves of his tunic, to his chest, his neck…

A sheen of metal shone in Cassian’s eyes, flickering across his irises so they appeared to turn a metallic gold. The lick of Nesta’s magic didn’t burn. It was a rush of heat—the tender caress of a lover’s kiss instilled into his skin over and over again, ascending Cassian to another realm of pleasure, as if he’d climbed a staircase to an entirely new place.

It felt like an extended method of foreplay Cassian had never been privy to before, lighting up every nerve ending until he was so hard he could cut stone.

Gritting his teeth through the pain-cloaked pleasure, Cassian focussed instead on Nesta’s bare skin.

The tempting fullness of her breasts. The way desire had completely rewritten her countenance. The way she whimpered and then cried out.

Cassian sped up his movements. Until his fingers were no longer teasing, but dancing over her with sure, quick movements designed to thrust her towards a crescendo.

Nesta’s magic swirled into flame, the heat of it a licking promise down Cassian’s limbs. He groaned, swore at the exquisite pain on her face as she hung at the precipice, ready to plummet into rapture.

Her climax became a tangible, living thing and Cassian wanted to see it play out for as long as he possible could. Wanted to see her break for him again and again and again.

So, he waited until she reached the summit and when she was there he slowed down his movements. Ordered through her whimpering, “Look at me Nesta.”

Metallic irises met his, and then Nesta was trembling and shaking in fits and bursts as her release ripped out of her like a taut cord cut loose. Cassian drew her orgasm out as best he could, suspending that pleasure until finally Nesta slumped against him, spineless.

She turned her head to bury it in his shoulder and Cassian let her. Stroked her hair. Pressed a kiss to her sweaty head. Murmured, “Good?”

Slowly, Nesta nodded, but for a long while, that was the only communication he received. But Cassian let her recover. Watched the way her ribcage moved as she heaved for breath. Relished the way her body was splayed out over him, her legs held wide open from where they were hooked over his thighs.

Unable to help himself, Cassian brushed over her sex. Delighted in the way Nesta shuddered rather than batted him away. Fresh desire reignited across her expression and Cassian played gently for a few minutes, revelling in the wetness that had gathered from her release.

Finally, Nesta lifted her head to meet his gaze again. “Did I burn you?”

“No,” Cassian replied hoarsely, his heart squeezing at the genuine fear in her words. He let out a rough laugh, passed his fingers lightly over the knot at the apex of her legs for the last time before he withdrew them.

Nesta moaned softly, even as her brow twisted into a small frown.

“It felt good,” Cassian elaborated. He kissed her shoulder at the same time that he pushed his hips into hers as if to demonstrate just how much he’d liked her magic. “I’m being strangled to death in these pants,” he confessed.

When Nesta cocked her head, her hair moved in a golden tangle. Then she smirked. Unravelled her limbs from him and turned.

Nesta slung her legs over his waist so she was straddling him just as Cassian’s hands caught in her hair. A booming sounded as his wings snapped out and fanned behind him, settling like falling fabric.

“We can’t have that,” Nesta remarked, her breath a whisper against his skin.

“No,” Cassian agreed roughly. “It’s your favourite part.”

Nesta snorted a laugh, but it was not derisive. “Egotistical bat,” she muttered.

A slow, smug smile was Cassian’s only reply. Because he was more focussed on her mouth. With the feel of her silken skin beneath his palms as he ran them up her legs and over her rounded ass. His touch was a promise as he tugged her into his body and ground up into her core, the seam of his trousers doing nothing to relieve the damning ache in his cock.

Together they gasped, and then, as always, they moved at the same time, their mouths slanting one another within a fraction of a second.

The heat of Nesta was liquid, the touch of her smoke—feverish and everywhere all at once. It was the same heat that had roared into existence when Cassian had pinned her against the wall earlier, yet… better somehow. Passionate and awake rather than fogged with lust. Life-giving.

A shuddered groan was pulled from Cassian’s chest as Nesta’s hands slid beneath his tunic and met his burning skin. And then the tunic was on the floor—the rest of his clothing was torn from him soon after. It all happened at such speed Cassian could barely keep up, but when Nesta reached for his bare, burning skin—the tattoos on his arms and the faint scar on his stomach—her fingers were gentle.

“Battle scar,” Cassian panted in explanation, as Nesta’s fingers lingered on the silvery tissue that wound over his lower abdomen: a permanent reminder of what had happened to him during the final battle with Hybern. “The trauma was too great for Madja to heal completely.”

“I remember,” Nesta replied shortly and she looked so fierce that Cassian reached for her. Cupped her cheek with his palm.

“Still breathing, Nes.”

Nesta nodded, but when she kissed him this time there was something fierce and desperate about it, her fingers burying deeper into the mane of his hair.

And then a hand was trailing down his skin and closing around his cock. The touch was sinful and a glimpse of the heavens. When he hissed into her mouth, Nesta gripped tighter—until pain laced the pleasure—just how he liked it.

His groan was that of rumbling thunder as she began to move her hand. It was everything Cassian needed, but it was too much, too good. He scrambled to hold on to some sense of control, because he’d never been this close to losing it from just a few touches.

Then Nesta stopped. Glanced downwards—

The realisation thumped through Cassian so loudly his heartbeat punched like a fist against his ribcage.

“Don’t you dare,” Cassian choked out.

Nesta’s eyes shot to his, but rather than looking startled she arched a challenging eyebrow.

“If you so much as try to put my cock in your mouth I’ll explode,” Cassian rasped.

Before she could protest, he was gathering her to him and had slipped a hand down between her legs.

Just the touch of his fingers had Cassian seizing back control. Nesta stilled at the sudden pleasure, as if she was trying to coax time into suspending the sensation.

“Still so wet,” Cassian purred against the tip of her ear.

Gliding his fingers over the centre of her, Cassian paused briefly at the apex of her legs, toying with her clit, before he ran them back down. When he drew his fingers back, rubbing them together and raising them to the faelight, they glittered.

Nesta’s nostrils flared as if she was an animal in heat. And Cassian knew before he spoke that his voice? would be what pushed them over the edge. But he said it anyway, his voice dropping impossibly low,  “Is this all for me?”

Nesta launched at him until their mouths collided, until they were nothing but a clash of teeth and tongues, their skin so flush they may as well have been fused together.

Burying her fingers deeper into the tangled mane of his hair, Nesta tugged sharply. Met his gaze head on. Demanded, “Fuck me.”

All it took was those two words. Cassian moved, flipping them so Nesta’s back was flush against the mattress. He covered her body with his and Nesta whined at the contact, her body bending and arching towards him as if she were a plant and he was sunlight.

Cassian ran a hand up her bare thigh to her ass, coaxing her leg to bend, but Nesta was too impatient. She broke free from the weight of his body, repositioning herself until legs were wrapped tightly around his hips.

An uneven laugh choked out of him. “So stubborn,” Cassian chided darkly, but he allowed his hips to fall into the cradle of hers. Hissed as he loosed his control and thrust so his cock could glide through her centre. “Fuck,” he grunted. “Nesta, fuck.”

Nesta’s breathy whine fuelled the sparks of pleasure that crackled through him like static energy. He kissed her hard. “There’s a high probability I won’t survive this.”

The snort Nesta loosed tried to sound unaffected, but her voice shook as she accused him, “Liar.”

But he wasn’t lying. And Nesta knew it. She had to know it because his walls were now shattered around them in splintered shards.

Yet, Cassian found himself assuring her. “Not lying," he grunted as he passed over her again. Pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth—a parting goodbye as he moved to kiss the underside of her jaw, down the column of her throat. Down further, to flick his tongue and scrape his teeth over both nipples.

He moaned when she moaned; their sounds a chorus of want until he couldn’t take it anymore. Cassian’s claws clipped around the metal of the bed frame at the same time that he pushed off of the palms that were framing her face, until he was on his knees before her.

Despite the desire coursing through him, Cassian’s head was nothing but clear as he slid his hands under Nesta’s ass and lifted her effortlessly, positioning her so that the undersides of her thighs were flush against his knees.

Nesta’s hair was tousled over the pillow, her lips swollen and parted as she surveyed him. When she tried to wrap her legs back around his hips, Cassian held firm. And despite the fact that Nesta listened to nobody, she allowed him to bend her knees and press his calloused palms to the insides of her thighs in silent instruction.

They fell open and a growl rumbled in Cassian’s throat. His hand was fisting his cock, lining it up to her entrance before he knew what was happening. But then he remembered the pain from before. And even though Nesta was more than ready for him, the thought of hurting her made him feel physically sick.

When he moved away, Nesta let out a strangled noise. A hand shot out, closing around his wrist. “You said you’d fuck me.”

Cassian wanted to explain, but that meant alluding to that tie between them, that instinct that couldn’t allow him to see her hurt. Cassian knew Nesta wasn’t ready for that. Knew that if he so much as breathed a word about it that this precious moment would fall away.

And Cassian was selfish. He had to see how this played out. Had to know if Nesta could grow to accept the bond between them—deem him worthy enough to accept something that was Cauldron blessed.

So, he only drawled, “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

One swift movement had Cassian gathering Nesta into his arms. This time, he allowed Nesta’s legs to wind around him. She gripped him like a vice and Cassian knew it wasn’t from fear of him dropping her. When he sat back against the headboard and guided her onto his lap, Cassian expected her to bite out a comment about doing all of the work, but Nesta only let out a pleased sound. Weaved a hand back into his ebony hair. Wrapped a tight fist around his length, twisting once at the tip, before she guided him to her entrance.

Cassian hissed a curse as she closed around the head. Murmured her name into her mouth. Gripped tightly at her hips when she didn’t stop sinking down on him, as he felt that pain mixed with the sweetest pleasure.

“Nesta.” The way he said her name was firm and commanding, but he still had to dig his fingers hard enough into her skin that he was sure it would leave temporary bruises. The thought made him falter, but then that sharp pain flared again as she resisted against him, and he knew that the bruises were a necessary evil. “Nesta,” he barked, “Go slowly.”

Something creaked and cracked between them. A stretching, growing pain reached its fingers down that bond, the sensation strong rather than constricted as it fought to make its way down their usually thin tie.

Nails dug into Cassian’s neck. A whimper sounded in his ears as Nesta fell forwards, burying her face into his neck. “Please,” she whined in frustration. “Cassian—”

She broke off as she clamped down around him and Cassian felt an ebb of pleasure cut through the pain—that promise of something more.

“Don’t make me hurt you, sweetheart,” Cassian pleaded and the rawness in his voice stopped her resisting against him. He eased a hand between them, touched her right where she wanted him. Allowed her to tug his face upwards so she could kiss him. It was infused with desperation and Cassian eased his hold on her hip. Allowed her to lower herself downwards until she had slid another inch deeper. Continued to stroke her until Nesta began to shake.

“I’m going to—,” Nesta gasped against his mouth. Her body trembled and Cassian’s blood roared at bringing her to the edge again so soon, despite the pain. “Cassian—”

Abruptly, Cassian moved his hand away.

Nesta’s snarl whipped around the room, but Cassian smoothed the sound away by fusing his mouth on hers. She stopped shaking but the sharp bite of Nesta’s glare pierced its teeth through his flesh in a flash of silver.

“It will be better if you wait,” Cassian gritted out in explanation when they parted. Nesta’s breath gusted against his skin. “And I don’t think I can hold on if you come so soon. You feel so good, Nesta. So tight.”

As if on cue, Nesta contracted around him and Cassian ground his teeth together so hard that the muscle in his jaw worked. But he let Nesta slide down on him another inch. Then another. And another. Until their hips were finally flush with one another and that pain had bled away until it was nothing.

The moaned words that fell from Nesta were indistinguishable, but he felt her tremor. Felt that surge inside of him as Nesta repeated herself with a whine that indicated she was toppling over the ledge of control, like a glass teetering before it fell.

And then she was moving and Cassian let her. He was unable to think or breathe. Could only focus on the feel of her.

“Fuck,” Cassian groaned. His head thunked back hard against the headboard as she ground her hips into his, testing the feel of him. “This is better than I’d dreamed.”

No soft snicker, only an untamed whine. Then teeth scraping a sinful path down his neck to his pulse.

Cassian’s hips kicked up hard as her teeth nipped.

“Sorry,” he gasped, because even though Nesta had told him not to hold back, he was still concerned about hurting her. But Nesta’s fingernails bit into his skin and her body moulded to him—a delicious second skin—as she inhaled sharply. “Again,” she demanded with a fierceness that did not allow disobedience. “Do that again—”

It didn’t take a second command for Cassian to thrust up hard. And true to her word, Nesta took him all. Did not change her mind and ask him to hold back. Instead, Cassian knew that this was exactly what she wanted—no, needed. She needed this punishing rhythm just as much as he did.

And it felt… incredible. Beyond anything Cassian had ever felt before. The blood roaring in his ears intermingled with Nesta’s cries and the slap of his hips meeting hers, was the only thing he could hear, his senses narrowed down to the sensation of her wrapped around him, so tight …

It was too good. It threatened to break him, to take everything that he was and reform it entirely, as if he was going to shatter and be pieced back together as someone else entirely. The air around them became taut with pressure, tanning leather stretched too tight over a rack, as if their joining controlled one of the essential elements.

“Cassian.” That one word threatened to break him. Not bat or it or you, only his name falling from her lips as if it was their secret. “More.”

Exhaling a curse, Cassian planted his feet firmly on the mattress and thrust up with as much vigour as he could muster. The movement had them slipping from their upright position and Cassian’s claws absent-mindedly closed around the metal bed frame, strapping them in for the ride as his body coiled and tensed as he slammed into her over and over.

Nesta cried out. Grabbed fistfuls of his hair as they moved together as if they had been made for this moment, their wild gasps melded together until they were one.

Only when release teetered too close to the edge did Cassian drop the rhythm. Cupped the breasts he had dreamed of more times than he could count. The breasts he’d had the privilege of seeing bare and glorious only twice before.

Capturing a nipple between his teeth, Cassian scraped his teeth hard enough that Nesta stopped rocking and angled her hips until he was pressing impossibly deep inside her. She whimpered. Clenched and unclenched. Throbbed in a way that told him she was as close as he was—that if he wasn’t so close himself, he could drive her over the edge with a few well-timed thrusts.

The understanding had him letting out a jagged groan. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

A whine in response, but Cassian didn’t let it go. He raked back the hair from her sweaty forehead. Pressed his lips to her swollen ones in a lingering kiss. Watched the frown that knitted her brow as she was overtaken by the feel of them.

“What do you need, Nesta. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

Nesta wound her hands around his head, buried her face into his neck. Began swaying and circling her hips in a rhythm that was dictated purely by the chase of pleasure. “Just… this,” she panted. “I just need this.”

Then it was only the licking fire of her breath against his skin. The magic that curled around them like a heated blanket and the building anticipation of both of their releases, which pulled at him like a strange sort of magnetism, begging him to fall with her in unison.

“Cassian—” Nesta began in warning, but he had already felt her begin to quake, as if the ground was moving beneath their feet—the mountains trembling.

That pull became a driving force—a cresting wave of pleasure so profound that Cassian felt that twist inside of him—that signal that he was about to join her.

He groaned, jerking his head back so it collided with wood, the pain grounding him enough that he could say, “That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me.”

As soon as the words left his lips, Nesta broke, as if she’d been waiting for him to ask it of her. Her cry was muffled and Cassian wanted to tear her mouth from his neck—to hear her break for him—but then she was sinking her teeth into his skin right over his pulse.

Roaring, Cassian kicked his hips up hard on instinct as she marked him, but the shock distracted him. Clouded the desperate clamber of his release so he could hold himself back.

Cassian held tightly onto Nesta as she slumped against him. When she lifted her teeth from him, Nesta whined like an animal. Dragged her tongue over the dent she’d made in his neck—once, twice, three times.

He shuddered. Couldn’t help it. Turned his face into her hair. Breathed her in. The gesture was tender, like an animal tending to the wound of a significant other—its mate.

And wrapped in this moment, Cassian could almost believe that this was something more than sex for Nesta as her forehead came to rest on his collarbone. As she kissed the hollow of his throat. Then the knot. His lips.  

“Good?” Cassian asked softly. He lifted a hand to her face, ran a calloused thumb over her cheekbone.

Nesta made a rare, content sound that vibrated through him like a balm. She leant into his hand, her eyelashes swooping down.

When she finally pulled back to survey him, her eyes were still dark. She shifted her hips. Moaned quietly. Rasped, “You’re still hard.”

It was a miracle Cassian hadn’t followed. If it hadn’t been for her teeth in his neck, Cassian would have been wrestling with the embarrassment of finishing too soon.

“I was too preoccupied with your teeth in my neck.”

A flush crept its way up Nesta’s face, like vines reaching their wicked encroaching fingers up a wall. But she raised her chin. “You wanted me to do it.”

It was true, he had wanted her to. And he wanted to do the same to her—to mark her as his so everyone would know that she was off limits for the brief hours before her body healed.

“And what about you?”

The patter of Nesta’s heart broke into a sprint. It was the only thing that betrayed her feelings, her expression devoid of any reaction. “What do you mean?”

Cassian leant forward until their noses brushed. Lifted his eyebrows. “Do you want me to bite you, Nesta?”

Nesta’s nostrils flared. If she had wings, they’d have flung wide by now. Would have collided with furniture and cut through air.

That was answer enough.

In one movement, Cassian lifted himself up and over, until Nesta was on her back and he was pressing her body into the mattress. Breath gushed out of her lungs but it was not from fear, not as Nesta turned herself out bare and tilted her chin for him—for once not in defiance but as an act of vulnerability—of complete and utter trust.

Every instinct in Cassian clambered to the surface, but he closed a fist around it until its life fluttered against the cage of his palms and fingers: his to control, rather than the other way around.

Slowly, Cassian lowered his nose to the exposed skin and breathed her in: her scent and the life that pummelled beneath her skin, the roaring of her blood as it crashed through her veins. It took everything in him not to move inside of her, to thrust up hard and feel the way her breasts would move against his chest.

“I could do it right here,” Cassian murmured, his mouth ghosting over the pale column of her neck until he came across that pulse. He brushed a tongue across it.

The movement was a mirror of what he’d done before in the human realm and Nesta knew it. But this time she did not jerk back from him demanding what he’d done. Instead, her body drew up beneath him, exposing more of her neck, begging for more.

Cassian groaned, raking his teeth over that swell at the same time that he pushed in deep. Nesta’s groan was guttural and everything. His blood turned molten, so hot that he expected his skin to melt away until he was nothing but bones.

“Please,” Nesta panted, her fingers tightening around his back.

Another flick of his tongue over her pulse. “Do you want me to bite you or fuck you?”

“Both.”

That was enough to loosen the fist on Cassian’s control. He sat back on his knees, prying her hands from his neck, coaxing her fingers until they were above her head and clasped around the railings of the headboard. Nesta’s breasts rose with the movement, her peaked nipples so tempting he bent to take one into his mouth. Then the other. Suckled until she mewled and her nipples were no longer rosy but red from his attention.

Cassian lifted his head and surveyed Nesta. Warned her, “Hold on tight.”

And then there was no thinking, no worrying or desperation to hold back. It all came as easy as breathing, their tempo,the snap of his hips and the shift of the mattress as her body shouldered the impact. At some point, Cassian’s body fell over hers, needing to feel every inch of her against him. His wild, punishing rhythm dropped into a rough rocking that was intimate at the same time it was claiming.

Nesta didn’t seem to mind—let out a pleased moan of consent, her legs clamping tighter around his hips until they were flush with hers. When he next moved she whined, and Cassian felt that change inside of her—somehow—that twisting fist of pleasure that glimmered down the bond, pushing against the walls of that thread, pushing it wider and wider, like a heart expanding.

Silver-wreathed fingers tugged his head down until Nesta could claim his mouth, fusing them together so they were complete. Cassian shuddered as her fire cascaded from her fingertips and down his body. His magic, attracted to hers, began to suck out of his pores, but it didn’t leech him of power. Instead, it was like his magic was searching for its mate, desperate to be reunited.

Then that sensation again, as if Cassian had ducked beneath something and had come up for air somewhere else.

Ruby greeted silver like a long-lost lover, blending until their magic was a metallic sheen of scarlet—a fog that misted their bodies, rubbing tantalisingly against their skin as they rocked and moaned their way to release.

“Don’t stop,” Nesta begged desperately through stuttered breaths, and Cassian wondered how many times she’d reached this pinnacle with other males only for it to be taken from her.

Cassian’s hand found its way to her face, his thumb stroking over her cheek as that coiled release twisted across her devastatingly beautiful face. “Can’t,” he panted honestly, his other hand searching for hers across the mattress until he was clasping it—holding on for dear life. “I’m so close, sweetheart. You have no idea how good you feel.”

“Come with me then,” Nesta pleaded. Her eyelashes had fluttered downwards as she took in a sharp breath of pleasure, but now they opened. Stared deep into his soul. “Come with me—”

Then her body turned both loose and taut, clamping yet completely molten as her release ripped out of her.

“Fuck,” Cassian swore. Invisible hands clasped around his ass, tugging him deeper—deeper. Everything in him tightened as Nesta crashed around him, and that siren called to him, singing her name, over and over as pleasure clawed at him, desperate to whip out of him.

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.

Cassian launched at her neck, his teeth sinking deep enough to claim as Nesta cried out, her body trembling as he continued to thrust into her, wringing out her release at the same time he desperately clambered towards his own.

He managed to pull out just in time, his teeth still deep in her neck, his release spilling hot onto her stomach in bursts of pleasure.

And even though Cassian had vowed to bite her and Nesta had already marked him, he found himself apologising at the red, angry dents in her skin. How was it that he couldn’t bare to hurt her but biting her neck was a completely different story?

“Sorry,” Cassian rasped. His mouth was as dry as a desert as he gingerly touched his fingers to the marks, but Nesta’s fingers clasped around his, halting him. Then she raised her other hand and brushed her knuckles over the identical marking on his. Reminding him that she’d done the same—had been the first to do it.

“I liked it,” Nesta admitted brazenly, but she didn’t stop him from dragging his tongue over the marks. Shivered instead. Held his head to her.

“That was intense,” Cassian rasped eventually against her ear, after the quiet had settled over them like a blanket. He nuzzled at her neck again, unable to help it—just one more precious moment like this until he had to pull away.

When Cassian pulled back to meet Nesta’s eyes, he found that the blue bled back into her irises. “It was always going to be intense,” she replied frankly.

Then Nesta looked down at her body, as if she’d only just remembered how he’d marked her in a different way. “You didn’t have to do that—pull out. I can take a tonic.”

Cassian hadn’t wanted to pull out at all—and neither had that tie which bound them together—but that wasn’t the point. “I’d rather be cautious,” he explained—a little too shortly, because Nesta bristled.

“Neither of us have had a tonic in a while,” Cassian elaborated when Nesta’s expression hardened.

He tried not to think about how his body had been desperate to spill inside of her. For him to press as deep as he possibly could until he was spent.

Climbing off of the bed, Cassian disappeared down the hallway and into the bathroom. When he returned, he was holding a wet towel.

“A while?” Nesta queried, picking up their conversation, as he began to clean her up.

Cassian cocked an eyebrow, but he didn’t dare meet her eyes lest she read him. His shoulders turned rigid at the thought. “Have you been sneaking people in and out of the bungalow that I’m not aware of?” he asked.

They both knew that Cassian would tear any male she brought back to the bungalow to pieces, but neither of them voiced it.

“You go back to Velaris,” Nesta accused. “You visit the other camps.”

For a moment, Cassian stared at her. Did she believe that he’d been fucking other fae? She had taunted him in Velaris the other day, but Cassian had thought that it was just their extended, agonising tussle of foreplay.

Perhaps you should go in search of some female company tonight.

Cassian managed to huff a breath, but it wasn’t one of amusement. He knew that his expression was steely as he said, “I told you that I don’t sleep with Illyrians. And I haven’t been fucking around in Velaris.”

From the way Nesta’s expression darkened, Cassian wasn't sure she believed him.

She opened her mouth to throw back a retort, but Cassian wanted the discussion to end. If she knew he’d barely touched another female since he’d met her, she’d run the other way. It was too intense a confession for someone who didn’t know what they wanted.

“It was self-inflicted,” Cassian supplied, his tone flinty enough to warn her that he wasn’t willing to discuss the subject any further.

Climbing off of the bed to further his point, Cassian extended a hand towards her. Banished any of the rigidity to his posture. “Come stand in the tub with me.”

There was a sinful promise behind the order. Already Cassian could envisage how he’d press Nesta against the tiles, his lips trailing open mouthed kisses as he kneeled before her—

Nesta must have thought similarly, because the pleasure that sparked in his stomach was not his own. But still she studied him, her head cocked as if she was trying to figure him out. Her hair was a muss of golden brown, her skin glistening with sweat that Cassian wanted to lick off.

Nesta parted her lips, taking stock, but Cassian didn’t allow her to speak. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he vowed. Meant it. Because already he was turning hard again, that desire to have her roaring.

He’d known this would happen. Knew that finally being inside of her wouldn’t sate him but stoke the embers into flames. But Cassian didn’t hide it—utterly unashamed of this need for her. From the way Nesta’s nostrils billowed, he knew she'd marked the change in his scent.

Nesta’s eyes flicked to his cock and the she-devil smirked, her lips curving in a way that had Cassian thinking about how they might wrap around him—how her tongue might feel, how warm she’d be…

In one supple movement, Nesta stood. Took his hand, her slim fingers threading around his large ones. Raised her chin and levelled him with a smoky blue gaze that promised wicked, wonderful things. “Then lead the way, general.”

Tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @arinbelle @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @lovelynesta @melphss @darkshadowqueensrule @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @princessofmerchants-reads @jeakat @sjm-things @imwritingthesewords @nestable @inejbrekkxr @silvernesta @inyourmindeye @amelie775 @helen-the-weirdo @pizzaneverdisappoints @wishfulimaginings @trash-for-nessian @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @valkyriesupremacy @vidalinav @onceupona-chaos @inardour @thesunremembersyourface @teagoddess99 @ellies-iced-coffee @nehemikkele @misswonderflower

[bittersweetmorality]

— chuuya boyfriend headcannons (sfw & nsfw)+ drabble

☾ genre: SFW and NSFW Headcannons (NSFW section is marked-- 18+)

☾ pairing: Nakahara Chuuya x GN!reader (reader is given the name ‘mommy’ in the drabble)

☾ warnings: none for the SFW– general smut for the NSFW ??

☾ w/c: 1,978 words

☾ a/n: hey lol :D as a certified chuuya fucker, i just had to.  i literally have like three other chuuya drafts that i’m currently working on.  hopefully they turn out like i want and i can post them bc :| the chuuya tag is starving.  anyway i hope i can populate it just a tad.  thanks for reading bugs !

— SFW 

lemme start off by saying that he will treat yo ass RIGHT.  ON MY MOMMA.

not to bring his trauma into this already but :| my man has major abandonment issues.  he will not do anything to jeopardize your relationship, and he honestly just values your happiness above anything else

you just know how much he cares about the fellow members of the mafia– even though they don’t requite the same amount of love that he gives them, he still loves them wholeheartedly

even dazai

little shit

his love language is definitely touch and gift-giving.  no i don’t accept criticism because i’m right

you’re telling me he wouldn’t absolutely spoil you with expensive gifts ?? mans is a mafia executive– he’s making hella bank, and he is spending it all on you

he’s also definitely a pretty clingy significant other, but good luck trying to get him to admit that :|

his life is… well… yaknow

there’s always a lot going on there..... he’s stresst

he wants nothing more than to just hold you in his arms after a long day-- especially if he just came back from a hard day at work

times like this are when he’s most clingy-- he feels like he almost lost you, and now he never wants to let you go

many, many times he’s fallen asleep like this; you’re basically suffocating in his grip as his eyelids flutter closed, either on the couch or your bed

but of course you’re not going to complain

and he’s so glad you don’t

he’s also the type to almost never explicitly say that he loves you at first, it’s simply not something that comes naturally to him

instead he indulges in his love languages profusely, and he just hopes you get the message

he’s also afraid that you’ll leave him if he says something like that, so for a long time he doesn’t :(

so when you come home to a bottle of expensive wine wrapped in an exquisite red ribbon, you know he just wants to tell you how much he loves you

eventually, of course he’s comfortable with you enough to say it, and it comes completely natural

and since he’s such a romantic, he says it every morning when you wake up, and before you go to bed without fail

he’s definitely the type to show you off too

like, as he’s having a conversation with someone, he’ll suddenly get really loud when talking about you so everyone within a three-mile radius can hear

“well, you see i would go out drinking with you tonight, but i actually have a date.  with my partner.  you know them, right?  here’s a picture i took of them a few days ago, just look a-”

also: biggest hype man

you could open a jar of jam and he’d be like “holy shit, you go babe”

nakahara chuuya kiss me rn challenge

anyway, basically he’ll love and support you no matter what

like truly you’re like a walking ray of sunshine to him

anyway !!!! DATES !!!!!!!

dates with chuuya are planned.  always.

like i SAID he’s a hopeless ROMANTIC MY GOD

he absolutely loves picking you up at your doorstep and taking you for a ride around town on his motorcycle

speaking of which, your arms wrapping around his middle and squeezing him tight as he drives the bike is literally his favorite thing in the world.  oh my god you’re going to make him melt

and i know for a fact your first kiss with him was after he dropped you off at your door when your first date was at its end

it was almost completely perfect honestly, except when your faces were just mere inches from one another, his hat bumped into your forehead and fell to the ground

baby was so embarrassed-- he went bright red and picked up his hat, basically shielding his face

he just wanted the date to be completely perfect– and it was!! until that happened

but obviously you just let out a light giggle and pulled him against you, and he quickly closed the gap between your lips

also, chuuya sleeps in

he sleeps a lot <33

that being said he loves lazy mornings

it’s well past 11, but you’re still laying in his arms– who is he to get up?? and disturb the peace??????

he will not.

also!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i can’t even emphasize this enough, but please comb your fingers through his hair

there’s a chance he might melt into a puddle on the spot and never recover but still

on the rare occasion where he’s the little spoon--

(which, speaking of which, @dazai-centric​ has a headcannon that chuuya always insists on being the big spoon no matter what, but on rare occasions he lets himself be wrapped up in your arms and THEY’RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT.)

anyway, so on this rare occasion

where his head is basically buried in the junction between your shoulder and your neck, and you just rake your fingers through his hair softly

he dead.  dead as hell.

and ERRRRM.  kisses with him are just……… wow…………

naturally, he always wants to be the best at everything-- it’s just his personality

and kisses are no exception

he has to be the BEST

and he is

so, kisses are always so passionate and rough

okay hold on maybe this should go under the NSFW category 😐

ANYWAY!!!! 19472946/10 boyfriend

— NSFW

so rough sex is very common for y’all 😁

he likes to take his frustrations out from the day like this, and honestly you don’t complain

he definitely has a high sex drive so 😁

obviously you have an established safe-word and talk about everything before anything transpires because the LAST thing he wants is to hurt you in any way

but if you ask him to spank you he is definitely not gunna say no <3 chuuya said spanking kink

speaking of kinks

bondage xoxo

this goes both ways— he likes to tie your wrists to the headboard with rope and tie your legs down if you’re okay with it

for him, he likes his wrists cuffed to the bed

but he definitely doesn’t like all of his power stripped away by having him completely tied up

also he loves eye contact

that’s why missionary and mating press are his favorite positions <3

he likes to grab you by the jaw and make you look at him when he’s fucking you

“hey, hey, princess what did we say? if you want to cum, look me in the eyes when i fuck you, yeah?”

he loves praise and degradation equally

but if you’re degrading him don’t go too far :((

degrade slightly him while he’s on the bottom and he’s putty in your hands

now, if you praise him while he’s on top, get ready to not be able to walk for the next 3-5 business days because that’ll feed his ego a LOOOT

and he’ll just get lost in the moment because he loves you....... so much

he degrades you slightly, but only during foreplay

he calls you his little slut, or his whore

“aw, so wet for me and we’re barely getting started, doll.  such a little whore, aren’t you?”

when you actually get into it, it’s all praise from him

he wants you to know how important you are to him, how good you feel and just everything on his mind

he loses his filter in the moment awn god

“so fucking perfect, i only want you.  you’re mine.  god, you feel so fucking good.”

he loves to hear you too-- it really feeds his ego

but sometimes if he’s really had a rough day, he’ll make you gag on his finger or wrap his hand around your neck

he doesn’t squeeze too hard nor genuinely make you gag, he just likes the way your eyes are barely able to meet his because he’s making you feel so good

but ANYWAY pet names are a MUST with him

he calls you doll, sweetheart, princess, baby, dove, doll

basically every sweet name under the sun during sex

he likes you to call him sir 😁

this man has no shame when it comes to noise

like absolutely none

since he’s possessive, he wants people to know he’s fucking you, and how good he feels because of you

no one else can make him feel that way and he wants everyone to know

so he’s LOOOUUUDD,,,, especially in your ear

he likes leaning down and moaning in your ear, just to get a reaction out of you

he makes fun of you for it later on, and you have his full permission to smack that smug little smirk off his face

but the amount of times you had to stop mid-way because y’all got knocks on your door from your neighbours 😐 they’re so sick of y’all

on average, you have sex at least 4 times a week

that’s not including quickies tho

did i mention that chuuya loves quickies <3

especially when it’s in his office and he fucks you on his desk

and because he doesn’t care who hears him-- you bet your ass the entire Port Mafia has heard you

he likes to go down on you for quickies more than actual sex, and he will respectfully never decline a blowjob

because he’s a gentleman

anyway

sorry to any of y’all who have a breeding kink,,, but chuuya definitely does not

he’s so afraid of having kids

moving on

onto sub!chuuya

did somebody say SWITCH 🤨☝️

chuuya did <3

now for a long time he doesn’t really let his submissive side out because,,, it’s a really vulnerable part of him yaknow?

but after a while, and after he’s completely trusted you to take care of him like that

oh boy

bottom bitch <3

still loud as HELL

except it’s less of moaning and more of whining

he’s such a whiner

and a brat

mommy kink mommy kink mommy kink mommy kink mo

also i don’t really know how else to describe it but-- if you force him to look you in the eyes and use a stern tone

..........dead.  dead as hell.

now take this drabble as a tribute to sub!chuuya

“and why should i listen to you?  what are you gunna do?” chuuya furrowed his brows at you, as if he was challenging you.

“aw, baby,” you leaned down from your position of straddling him, caging his head between your arms.  “you still have so much to say even though your hands are handcuffed to the bed.  so bold, aren’t you?” you stroked his lower lip gently, and he whimpered lowly in response.

suddenly, you sat up, getting into a position to prepare to get up off of him completely, “but, you’re right.  what am i going to do?  i guess i’ll just leave you here for the rest of the night.  go-”

“WAIT!! NO- I-” he bit his lip to stop any more words from escaping him.

“’wait’?  is there something you wanna say, baby?” your legs trapped his once again.

“... please.”

he averted your gaze, and you reached down to grip his jaw sternly, moving his head to face you completely.

“please what?”

no answer.

“you know i can’t read your mind, baby.  you’re going to have to use your w-”

“please fuck me.” the words tumbled out of his mouth, almost too quickly to even be audible, still, your lips shifted into a gentle smile.

but you weren’t completely content with him yet.

“and what’s my name?”

“...mommy.”

“and you want mommy to fuck you, is that right?”

“...yes.  please...”

you planted a passionate kiss onto his lips, and upon breaking it, you shifted closer to his ear.

“well, i can’t say no since you asked so nicely, now can i?”

masterlist

[keanureevesisbae]

sugar sugar - the wedding

Summary: It's Becky and Henry's wedding day 🥰

Sugar Daddy!Henry Cavill x Becky Kim (asian OFC)

Warnings: Daddy kink, anal play, sex, mention of squirting, overstimulation (just what they usually do lol)

Wordcount: 2.4k

Masterlist // Sugar Sugar Masterlist // Sugar Sugar the wedding Masterlist // Previous chapter //

Today is the day. Henry is gonna marry the love of his life. When he kissed her for a short goodbye this morning, he was dragged away by Gino and Peter, who were gonna help him get ready.

Since Becky couldn’t decide who she wanted to be her maid of honor, both of her friends stepped up to the task, which caused Gino and Peter to share the duties of best men as well. He is standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for her to enter. He exchanges a look with Sehun, with whom he became good friends. He loves seeing Becky and her dad reconnect and she actually calls him a lot, even for tasks Henry himself can fix.

For example helping her with building a cabinet or something else she bought from Ikea. Normally she’d turn to Henry, but now she is quick to ask her dad for help and orders Henry , in case her dad asks, to pretend he is too busy with work to help her out.

The two of them are actively working on their bond and it warms his heart to see Becky hug her dad tightly, have their own little inside jokes and simply have the father-daughter relationship she always wanted.

The music changes and Henry looks up from Sehun, only to see Becky in her wedding dress. To describe her as breathtakingly perfect is not even enough. Her long black locks are slightly curled at the bottom of the strands, the dress hugs her in all the right places and the soft smile toying on her lips is enough to make him feel all sorts of things.

To make sure Genevieve wouldn’t nag his head off, he promised her that he would be slightly emotional when Becky would walk down the aisle, however now that she actually is walking towards him, the tears burn in his eyes. He feels the hot tear rolling over his cheek and he is quick to wipe it away.

She holds out her hand and he is quick to take it, helping her up the tiny stairs. ‘Wow,’ he says, ‘you’re gorgeous.’

‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘You look so handsome.’ She places her hand on his chest and smiles. ‘I love you,’ she mouths towards him.

‘I love you too.’

The two of them (and Genevieve) decided that the speech shouldn’t be too long, mostly because Becky said that she hates long speeches that seemed to never end. Henry barely listens anyway, because he is too enthralled, looking at his soon to be wife.

He sure is lucky.

When it’s time for the vows, Becky folds open her paper. She clears her throat a few times, looking up at him.

Oh, look at that, she’s nervous. Henry nods, a simple gesture to encourage her.

‘Growing up,’ she then says, ‘I missed out on a lot and though the dreams of meeting someone, get married and start a life together were what kept me going at the time, deep down I kinda knew it would never happen to me. No love, no care, no someone who would unconditionally show me what affection exactly entailed. Never in a million years did I think I would meet a guy like you.’

Henry squeezes in her hand as he notices the tears burning in her eyes.

‘You’re everything I ever wished for and even more than that. Henry, I know I tell you this a lot, but… Thank you for barging into my life, for completely changing it, for helping me to become a better version of myself, for believing in me and for always loving me. I don’t think I could say that I would be where I am now if it weren’t for you. I love you.’

He brings her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss on it, before grabbing his own piece of paper. Shit, he shouldn’t cry, but seeing the things he wants to say to her, is making him slightly teary. ‘Sweet Becky,’ he says, ‘believe it or not, but I accepted the fact that I would die a single man, however you changed my life for the better. I think it started with that sweet smile of yours, when I realized I never ever wanted to live another day without you. The fact it took so long before the two of us finally got together, is all my fault and I totally take the blame for that one.’

She chuckles.

‘I love you, Becky and I promise you I will take good care of you, love you forever and ever and try to be the best husband I can be for you, though you deserve so much better.’

They slide on the rings and when he finally hears the words: ‘You may kiss the bride,’ he doesn’t waste a second before pressing a loving kiss on her lips. Their first kiss as husband and wife.

‘I love you,’ he whispers against her lips. ‘I love you so much, Becky.’

‘I love you too, Henry,’ she says. ‘And I’ll forever do that.’

✤ ✤ ✤

Genevieve wouldn’t be Genevieve if she wouldn’t speech at the wedding reception. ‘Okay,’ she says, ‘if I can have your attention, please.’

The seventy guests they invited are all quiet and Genevieve gracefully thanks them.

‘I have known Becky for quite a few years now and let’s just say that she was hitting rock bottom at a very tender age.’

‘Gen,’ Becky says, frowning and pouting a little.

‘I promise you, it’ll be a lovely speech.’ Genevieve clears her throat and says: ‘She was always happy, but there was always this certain… How do I say this? Emptiness to it. Like her life didn’t have the right seasoning. But then this lady met Henry and lemme tell you: I was very jealous at first. Greg, honey, no offense, but damn, I was this close of leaving you.’

‘You and me both, baby,’ Greg chuckles.

‘The thing between these two, was that there was this spark, something they had yet to discover themselves. I mean, the two of them spend Christmas and the universe what other festive days together and didn’t confess their undying love for one another. How oblivious do you want it?’

Becky places her hand on Henry’s and with his thumb of his other hand, he caresses her wedding ring.

‘So, when these two finally admitted their love for each other, they are just disgusting as you can imagine. I hate it, but love it at the same time. You know, our sweet Becky deserves the world and Henry is the only one that comes even remotely close to what she deserves.’

‘Aw, that’s so sweet,’ Becky says.

‘Mister Sehun, kind sir, please cover your ears, because I’m gonna say something about your daughter you might not like.’

‘Gen, I swear to—’ Becky starts, while Sehun covers his ears and that’s when Genevieve says: ‘These two fuck like bunnies and honestly no one can tip to their sex life. I can know, I caught them once, but that’s all I’m gonna say about the matter.’

Becky looks over to Henry, who can’t hide his smirk, because it’s kinda funny. He presses a kiss on her temple and Genevieve gestures to Sehun to uncover his ears, as the rest of the crowd starts to laugh.

‘In conclusion, these two are everything every couple wants to be, but never will be. I’m so forever grateful that Becky found herself a good man and Henry should know that this woman is a once in a life opportunity. No matter how intense and intimidating he looks, I’ll make sure Greg will try and kick your delicious looking ass.’

Becky shakes her head, as she starts to laugh. ‘I appreciate it, Gen. Thank you.’

The afternoon turns into the night and after multiple dances, the married couple stands near the side, admiring the guests dance around. After it turned out that Sehun was a wonderful dancer, Gen and Viola pried him away from Becky to dance with him as well.

Henry wraps his arms around Becky’s waist, pressing a kiss on her temple as he gently sways her on the rhythm of the music. ‘Daddy can’t wait for all those people to go,’ Henry whispers in her ear.

‘And why is that?’ she asks, placing her hands on his.

‘Because I need to show you how much I love you, especially since you’re my wife now.’

‘Your wife,’ she says in a content tone. ‘Sounds amazing, you know?’

‘I can easily get used to it,’ he says. ‘Mrs. Cavill.’

✤ ✤ ✤

The door of their hotel suite has only shut for a second, when Henry says: ‘As gorgeous as you look in your wedding dress, I need you to take it off.’

Becky bats her eyes, as if she doesn’t understand why. ‘Why?’

‘Because you are my wife now and I need you.’ He takes off his tie and throws it to the corner of the room. ‘Fuck, baby, I need you so bad.’

‘Then you need to help me out of this thing, because I can’t reach the back.’

‘My pleasure.’ He unzips the dress and he presses a kiss on her bare shoulder. ‘I love you, baby girl.’

‘I love you too,’ she whispers. ‘I really do.’

Oh, does he love that tone. He turns her around as the dress slides down her body. ‘You’re not wearing a bra, baby girl?’

‘It has cups in it,’ she explains, as Henry explores her body with his hands. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Becky chuckles. ‘Honey, you’ve seen me naked before.’

‘I indeed do,’ he says, ‘but I haven’t seen you naked as my wife yet.’

‘Is it different?’

He nods. ‘In such a good way. I’m so in love with you and your beautiful body. Fuck,’ he mumbles, wrapping his fingers around the waistband of her underwear and pulls it down. ‘We’re married now, baby girl.’

‘I know,’ she chuckles. ‘Daddy, please make love to me.’

‘Make love?’ he asks with a chuckle. ‘I don’t know about that.’

She bites her bottom lip, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. ‘Well, let’s get you out of that suit first, okay?’

✤ ✤ ✤

Henry cannot help but completely worship Becky’s body, even as she shivers next to him on the bed. His chest is covered in her juices, as she squirted all over him as she was riding him. As she is on her stomach, her legs a little shaky and a thin layer of sweat on her back, he opens the bedside table. ‘I brought something, sweetheart.’

‘What is it?’ he hears her ask, while he pulls her up by her hips. She rests on her knees and knows exactly how to arch her back.

Shit, and this woman is his wife now.

‘It’s your favorite,’ he whispers, spreading her ass cheeks apart, brushing the cold tip over her puckered hole. She moans out loud as he slowly pushes it in. ‘Fuck, you take it so well.’ He smacks her bottom and not wasting anymore time, he thrusts his painfully hard member deep inside of her. Her hands clench into fists, as she holds on tightly on the sheets.

‘Daddy, you feel so good,’ he hears her whine. The room is filled with her moans, the nearly obscene sounds of her wet pussy and the slapping of skin against skin.

‘You feel good too, baby girl. Fuck, you’re my wife now.’ He holds tightly onto her waist, before he pulls out and turns her over. He pushes some of her hair out of her face. ‘Mrs. Cavill,’ he says, placing his hand on her cheek.

She chuckles. ‘That’s me.’

‘You’re so beautiful.’ He spreads her legs and pushes himself back into her sensitive hole. Her velvet walls wrap around his hard member and he gives her a kiss.

The night seems endless, but definitely not in a bad way. He watches her fall apart over and over again and she takes shaky breaths, hoping to regulate a bit, as she shudders underneath him.

‘How many times have you cum, baby?’ he asks, stilling his movements, to press a kiss on her cheek. ‘Tell daddy.’

‘F- Fo- Four times.’

‘Want to make that five times,’ he starts, ‘before I fill you up?’

She lets out a dragged moan, pushing her nails in his arms. ‘Please, daddy,’ she begs.

Becky is on the verge of crying as he slowly builds up the speeds of his thrusts. He watches tears running over her cheeks, but he recognizes it. He knows she’s not in discomfort, merely being so sensitive and overstimulated. As long as she doesn’t safe word or he deems it necessary to stop, he will continue.

‘You’re doing so good for me, baby girl,’ he whispers, kissing the tears away. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ she whimpers. ‘You’re amazing.’ He pounds deep inside of her and her moans are becoming louder and more desperate. ‘I can’t anymore, daddy.’

‘Tell me the word and I’ll stop.’

She doesn’t. ‘I’m tired.’

‘That’s not the word.’

Becky wraps her arms around him and gives him a kiss. ‘Are you close, daddy?’

‘I am,’ he whispers. ‘Where do you want it? Still inside, darling?’

She nods, while her walls clench around him and that’s when he spills his seed. He buries his face in her neck, his lips salty as he kisses her sweaty skin, whilst riding out his high. He has stilled his movements and asks if she’s okay.

‘Just catching my breath,’ Becky chuckles, clinging against him.

‘Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth, sweetheart.’ She laughs and he gives her a kiss. ‘You did well. Daddy’s proud of you.’

✤ ✤ ✤

Genevieve: I think you two forgot I have the room below you in the hotel

Genevieve: Goodness me, how long were you at it?

Viola: Two hours and forty seven minutes

Viola: Yes, I timed, because I had a room above you and even I could hear it

Genevieve: Since we were in on the fun, you should at least give us the details

Becky: No

Genevieve: You’re no fun

Viola: I think this was just a preview of what they are gonna do on their honeymoon

Genevieve: Oh right, the honeymoon on the sex island

Becky: You guys…

Viola: The NAKED honeymoon on the sex island

✤ ✤ ✤

Becky’s wedding dress

[spideyspeaches]

Gold Rush ↬ t.h

Gif by @parkeraul :)

A/N: I'm in love with that song 🙈 also here's my super late contribution of professor!tom 😋 cause I've been procrastinating on the wandavision au (in my defence though, it's taking a lot of brainstorming 😂) anyway here you go-

Wc: 2.6k+

Warnings: lemme know if you find one :)

Summary: He taught British History and you chastise yourself for not auditing for that subject earlier.

Pairing: Professor!Tom x Student!Reader

Masterlist || Taglist

Waking up with a start, you groan at the shrill sound of your alarm. With a sigh that was more of a grunt of annoyance, you tried to reach for your phone at the side table, hissing when you felt the corner of your elbow hit the table, pain shooting up to your shoulder. 

Great, you weren't even up yet and your day was already going shitty. You just hoped that your professor won't be grumpy about you being late for the millionth time this semester. 

You hated cultural architecture. You had nothing against the course, but You hated your professor with a passion and wished that you could burn your textbooks for all you cared, right in front of your teacher's eyes, watch him writhe in fear as you banished the very existence of your material. 

You were being dramatic, but in your defence, your professor was an old bastard who never left an opportunity to reprimand you, going as far as letting you know how uneven your margins were on your latest project. 

He wore birkenstocks with a three piece. You wouldn't trust him with your assignments. 

Getting out of your dorm room was work, hard work. But you got out, brushed your teeth and wore what you hoped were presentable clothing. 

"You look hungover." Your roommate, Stacy, commented, spitting in the sink as you scowled at her. 

She was straightforward, outspoken and somehow managed to look like one of those Victoria secrets models that you loathed, even at seven in the morning. You hated her. 

(You didn't.)

"Thanks, I hope I smell too. Want that son of a bitch- what's his name, Wilson, to suffer for giving me that C minus on my thesis." You grumbled, rubbing your hands through your hair to flat them out. 

"You really hate him, don't you." She snickered, popping off her shirt. You tried not to look, not wanting to come off as a pervert, but damn, she was fit. You contemplated her words, frowning at your own reflection. 

You looked disheveled, the dark eye bags under your eyes very apparent as you tried to mask them with foundation, setting your hair for the millionth time. Oh well, you were presentable enough. Sweatpants would have to do for your only class today, you could binge Netflix after this wretched class. 

"I do. I hope his third wife divorces him and he loses his thermos of coffee in the subway." You said, adding your look finally before wearing your shoes. 

"That's cruel, didn't know you had it in you." She snickered, patting your back and following you as you closed the door, "Well I have to go to my boring science lectures now so, see you later hun." 

"Yeah, enjoy your chemistry period with your boyfriend!" You cheered sarcastically, rolling your eyes and hugging her to tell her that you were only joking. Your relationship was this, of jokes and hugs and kisses. You considered her your best friend. 

Rushing towards the gates of your university, you hastily tightened your loosening hair tie, adjusting the straps of your bags. You were pretty sure you had broken your record of being late to your class. You may hate the professor, but you actually enjoyed the subject. 

Wheezing as you ran past the late comers, you nodded at the receptionist, hastily signing yourself in. You would blame your clumsiness for what happened next, because one second you were fixing your sande on the foot of the fountain, and next thing you knew you were crashing into a firm body, your nose hitting the random stranger’s chest.

"I’m so sorry! I’m kinda late to class and I wasn’t looking and- whoa, ow.” You rushed your words, groaning when you felt blood rush from your head to toe, nose throbbing with double vision, a reminder of your clumsiness. 

“Whoa, hey calm down, it’s okay, I wasn’t looking either.” The stranger said, his thick South Western accent snapping you out of your self pity. 

You felt blood rush to your cheeks instead, not anticipating your face in a flush this early in the morning, when you got a good look at the stranger. He was good looking, in his black high turtleneck and brown checkered pants. He had a small leather satchel clutched in his hands, face looking as flushed as you felt when you realised that you had been gawking at him.

He was probably no older than his mid twenties, making you wonder what he was doing in your university. He was too old to be a student, and too young to be a professor. But then again, you wouldn't judge him for joining college late.

Right? 

"S-sorry, you um, you must be really late, you should go." He stuttered, your heart fluttering at his dimpled chin and thick accent. His eyes were gleaming in the morning sun, captivating in a way that left you in awe. 

"Um yeah, I am." You nodded, composing yourself, hoping that you didn't look too sleep deprived or disheveled, "where are you going, if you don't mind me asking."  

"Um, the architecture wing?" He said, unconsciously stepping besides you.

"Oh, I'm going that way. Is it your first time coming here? Haven't seen you around." You asked, trying not to stare at his sharp jawline and the way the morning sun hit him just right, illuminating and accentuating his curly brown hair. 

"Yeah, it's my first lecture, so um, looks like I'm late too." He smiled. It was infectious, you noticed as you mirrored his expression. 

"Oh, you're a student?" 

"Actually, I'm a professor. Just transferred from UCL." 

So you were right, he was a professor. He looks so young though. You thought, nodding at him, your thoughts interrupted by his laugh. Looking at him with confusion, you raised an eyebrow. 

"Yeah, everyone says that. I started right after finishing graduation so, I guess I'm not much older than you." He smiled, kicking the small pebbles littered around the set grassy ground. It had just rained, the smell of wet ground still fresh. 

"I said that out loud didn't I?" You smirked, ducking your head to hide. 

"You did." 

Entering the building, you realised that you hadn't asked which subject he taught, crossing your fingers and hoping that he would replace the old bastard that taught you cultural architecture. 

"I forgot to ask, which lecture do you teach?" You asked, looking for your class in the end. The hallways were empty, it was way past your first lecture and all the students were already in the auditorium. 

"Oh, uh, British History." He answered. You didn't let disappointment show too much on your face, smiling shyly before gesturing towards the class, "that's you." 

"Oh, um thank you." He smiled, pursing his thin lips together as he walked towards the class. You could hear screaming of the students as you both neared the classroom, you still standing by the door, "I didn't get your name." 

His question snapped you out of your disappointed gaze, 

"Oh, it's Y/n. Y/n L/n." You said with a smile. 

"Pleasure to meet you Y/n, I'm Thomas Holland, but you can call me Tom." He said awkwardly, before turning back to his class, who had yet to notice him.

"The pleasure's all mine Professor." 

For the first time in your college life, you didn't feel like tearing your hair off during your lecture, your thoughts wandering around. You wanted to berate yourself for not paying attention, but your thoughts kept going there. 

It was funny, how you met him not long ago and he was already taking up residence in your brain. You could not control your feelings after all. Something akin to nausea or excitement eased into your stomach when you pictured his smile, his black turtleneck that accentuated his biceps and pectorals. The little rebellious eyebrow and the tiny scar above it. 

It made your heart flutter, everything seemingly seemed to stop around you. It scared you a bit, how You had managed to envision the little details of his face in your brain after such a short duration. 

You didn't realise that you were smiling until you felt a nudge on your side, making you nearly jump on your seat. 

"What?!" You hissed, scowling at your classmate. 

"Who're you thinking about?" She asked, wiggling her eyebrows as she leaned towards you. You had known her long enough to know her name but never bothered learning, and you were too scared to ask now. 

"It's none of your business." You muttered, glancing up to see your professor scowling at a student as they stood up. 

"Well okay, but did you hear about the hot new professor? Apparently he's teaching British History, I regret not taking that as a subject now." She said, her cheeks flushed with excitement. You furrowed your brows, feeling a pang in your chest at the realisation that you were probably just another girl with a stupid crush on the hot professor, that there were already girls who would die to feel his touch. 

"How do you know about him?" You asked, raising an eyebrow as you try to act nonchalant. You weren't being subtle, apparently, because you could see her snapping her bubblegum with a smirk, leaning forward as if trading secrets. 

"You kidding right? Everyone knows about him, you got a crush on him or something?" She suggested, scooting close enough to make you squirm. 

"I literally just met him, and ew, he's a professor, why would I see him that way?" You whisper, willing your heart to stop palpitating at the thought of said professor, your gut twisting in anticipation. 

"I don't know girl, he's hot and young and so much better than this bastard." She sighed, leaning on her palm with a fake dreamy expression. 

You went back to ignoring her after that, noticing how her notebook said 'Eloise'. At least you didn't have to ask her her name now. 

Your class went surprisingly well, or maybe it was because you weren't paying attention and thinking about him again. You really needed to get a grip on yourself. 

Walking out of your class, you decided to go to the cafeteria, your stomach begging for your attention.

Setting your things on a table, you took out your phone to scroll through Instagram, before switching it off and looking around the cafeteria. You didn't know what you were expecting to see, but your stomach was gurgling with hunger and nothing made sense when you were hungry. 

Walking to grab something to eat, you pick up your bag, hanging it over one of your shoulders before getting in the line. 

Just as you were about to turn with your bun and cup of coffee, you crashed into someone for the second time that day. Cursing your clumsiness, you heard a familiar British accent curse not very colourful words, making you stumble over as you tried to wipe off the hot coffee off his shirt.

"Hey, it's okay." He said, stopping your frantic gestures by holding your wrist with his to cease any movements.

"Professor Holland! I'm so sorry, it's like, I'm just clumsy. I have no excuse." You sighed in resignation, mentally facepalming at spilling your coffee at the hot professor. 

"It's okay darling, I've had much worse spilled on me." He smirked, his hand still holding on to yours. You had started walking away from the location, and yet his hand didn't let go, "You know, I used to babysit during my college days." 

"Oh, babysitting, right of course." You chuckled awkwardly, chest heaving with the sudden close proximity with the professor, dissipating the not quite PG thought that just occurred in your mind at his words.. 

"Sorry for-" You said in unison with him, chuckling. 

"You go first." He said.

"I'm sorry for spilling coffee on You, it must have hurt and I ruined your shirt and now there's a big splotch of coffee right in the middle!" You said, circling your fingers around your palm as you walked with your back to the exit as you walked out of the cafeteria, food forgotten and him following your pace. 

Before you could continue your awkward blabber, you were standing in the garden outside, leaning against a pillar with the garden in your view looking golden in the setting sun. He was standing in your view, the shadows around his jaw making it look sharp enough to cut glass. 

Taking a breath, you looked up at his smiling form with confusion when he didn't answer, instead leant onto the pillar next to you.

"You were... gonna say something?" You reminded, smiling awkwardly as you fiddled with your fingers.

"Oh? Oh! Oh yes yes, You know, I was kind of disappointed that you weren't in my class, Mister Wilson talks very highly of you." He said, folding his arms on his chest, it made his biceps bulge. 

"He does?" You looked at him with surprise, guilt panging in your chest when you remembered yourself bad mouthing the professor not long ago. 

"Yes, says you're a bright student with a bright future." He answered, leaning his head back so that his neck was exposed, Adam's Apple bobbing as he gulped, his hair falling into place perfectly against his forehead. The arch of his neck was beautiful, tracing it with your eyeballs as you imagined which other curves of his were as beautiful, immediately dismissing those thoughts, chastising yourself for thinking such a way of a professor. 

"That's… sweet of him. I've never heard him compliment me once in the two and half years I've been in his class." You chuckle, leaning your elbow on the pillar to get a better look at his side profile. 

"Hmm, he says he's hard on you because he wants you to do your best..." 

You stopped listening past that, your breath growing more erratic the more he talked, his smooth voice washing over you like warm honey with a squeeze of lemon. Swallowing a sudden lump in your throat, your heart leaping, leaving you nauseous and in a dream like trance. 

Tom noticed immediately, noticing your slouched posture as you stared at him with a small smile, the upturn of your lips so inviting that he almost dived in, wanting to know the feeling of them what they felt like against his. 

He wasn't the kind to date his students, in fact, he rarely dated after joining uni and becoming a professor. 

He strictly believed that student/teacher relationships should end in only a professional non romantic set up. That was all up until he crashed into you that morning. 

You had been in his mind all day, stirring him crazy as he imagined your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your subject of interest, the say your fingers fiddled with the ring you wore on your index finger. 

He wondered if this feeling would last forever or become a vague memory, an attraction of hearts that didn't last but felt good till it did. If he was rushing, or if you even felt the same way. 

He was smart, of course that's how he became a teacher, but he still couldn't place your feelings. 

So when he saw you staring at him, his heart leaping in his throat at your adorable smile, the only logical answer his brain gave was that you liked him too. Temporary attraction or not, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in it's mouth. 

Next thing he knew your lips were crashing onto his, your chest pressed against his firmly as your hands reached up to the base of his neck. 

Your fingers were soft, tongue swishing against his as he opened his mouth to let you enter. His hands automatically reach for your waist, holding onto firmly as he slammed you against the pillar. 

The sun was nearly down, the last of the rays hitting the garden, lighting you both up in a golden glow that left you breathless with a fire raging in your souls. 

"What do you say that I audit for British history? I'd like to learn more lessons from you, Professor Holland." You said, breathless against his chest, hiding your nose against his sternum, blood rushing to your ears as his warm hand burned against the bare skin underneath your shirt. 

"That would be great darling, anything to see your pretty smile every morning." 

A/N: let me know what you think! :)

[everybodyscupoftea]

maybank drunkenness scale

frat jj x reader

picture originally posted by @rudths​

words: 1429

warnings: alcohol and cursing as usual, implied sexual content (pretty vague though), this is just Soft

synopsis: jj is a touchy drunk + a bit of tailgating and football game shenanigans (scale idea based on santiago drunkenness scale from brooklyn 99)

JJ was always touchier when drunk. It was a habit you picked up on very quickly into your relationship, and you had it down to a science.

One drink JJ was goofy, constantly tugging at your hair and curling it around his finger, or booping your nose. It was hard to hold conversations with other people when he was like this, you were always batting his hand away. He liked to have your attention, but you definitely didn’t mind giving it to him.

Two drink JJ bumped into you. He followed you around like a lost puppy, sometimes even walking so close that he was stepping on the backs of your shoes. You pretended to be annoyed, normally pushing him away with an eyeroll, but you actually liked having his full focus.

Three drink JJ liked to hold your hand. No matter how, fingers linked together or just him grasping your palm, JJ refused to let go of your hand that wasn’t holding your drink. Sometimes he linked thumbs and stroked the skin on the back of your hand, he would tipsily mumble about how soft your skin was. It tickled and you giggled a lot at three drink JJ.

Four drink JJ had his arm around you at all times. It could be draped over your shoulder, hand still holding yours with your fingers clasped tightly, or it could be wrapped around your stomach, keeping you pulled tightly to his chest. Normally you liked your personal space, but JJ was warm and you didn’t mind it too much.

Five drink JJ’s hands wandered. One was tucked in your back pocket or wrapped around your waist, fingers playing with your waistband. He would rest his head on your shoulder, lips occasionally catching the skin of your neck. You never let it get too far, but if five drink JJ could get you alone and in private, you’d let him have his way.

Six drink JJ demanded your full attention. Leaning against you, making you hold most of his weight, cracking jokes in your ear with the end goal to make you laugh. He didn’t want you to talk to anyone else, but your whole focus was normally on keeping him upright anyway.

You’d never made it past six drink JJ, and you weren’t really sure you wanted to. His ability to stand straight and still and be relatively understood when he spoke was pretty shot, and frankly, any more dead weight and you’d have to call Pope or John B to come help drag him back home.

During football season, four drink JJ thrived. The two of you tailgated together, you arriving later than him, and he was already two drinks in.

“Babe,” he called out when you walked up to Sigma’s tent, “come sit.” There wasn’t actually a chair for you and you had to sit on his thigh after grabbing a drink of your own. One of the senior brothers brought a TV and hooked it up to show other conference games playing while they all drank and shot the shit.

JJ only let you up to get a plate of food, and you knew he’d try to eat stuff off it, so you made sure to get extra. His hand rested on your thigh, thumb stroking higher and higher, slowly pushing your shorts up.

“J,” you mumbled, grabbing his hand to stop its climb.

He just grinned at you cheekily, and pulled his hand away to reach for the juul tucked in his pocket. After he took a few hits and put it away, his hand went right back to your thigh. The pattern repeated over and over again until it was time to actually go into the stadium for the game.

JJ wrapped an arm around you as the two of you moved slowly to the student entrance. His movements were sluggish and lackadaisical, and his hat was knocked askew. You played with his fingers as the two of you stood in line to go through the metal detectors, and he ducked his head, rubbing his cheek against yours like a cat.

You gently butted his head with yours, and he huffed out a laugh, shifting slightly away from you. John B, Kie, and Pope stood in front of you, holding a conversation that they occasionally brought you into. JJ didn’t pay even a little bit of attention.

He decided he was hungry as soon as you made it into the stadium and detoured to the concession stand for a slice of pizza. You ordered a bottle of water for him. JJ decided to sit behind you, draping his arms around your shoulders, and you leaned back against his legs, getting as comfortable as possible in the hot, metal bleachers.

JJ didn’t really care too much about football, but he liked the atmosphere. It was electrifying, and in his lax state, he liked to soak in the energy. You didn’t care about the school spirit aspect, but you loved football. JJ mimicked you, cheering when you cheered and booing when you booed.

He ate his pizza really slowly, almost forgetting about it between bites. At one point, during a TV timeout, he held it up, offering you a bite.

“No dairy, J, thanks though.”

JJ looked down at his pizza, betrayed, and tugged some of the cheese off, offering it to you again. It was incredibly endearing, and while you weren’t particularly hungry, you took the bite anyway. He smiled at you and poked your cheek, “How’s it?”

“You’ve been eating it too, don’t you know?”

“But I eat it with cheese, totally different experience.”

Which was true you guessed. You shrugged, “It was okay, not the best pizza I’ve ever eaten, but not the worst.”

“Gonna get you some good pizza after the game,” JJ promised, sounding way more serious than the situation warranted.

“It’s okay, J, I promise. But, hey, can you lean back so I can pull my hair up, it’s sticking to my neck.”

JJ perked up, “Lemme.”

He put the slice of pizza in his mouth and gently tugged the scrunchie off your wrist. Gathering your hair slowly in his hands, he did the best he could in his drunken state to tie it back. JJ nudged you with his knee when your laughing made him drop a piece of hair, and you laughed harder, causing him to drop the rest.

Kie watched him with an amused smile and held up her phone. She called out over the crowed, “JJ!”

He looked over and saw the camera, grinning around the pizza in his mouth. You glanced over your shoulder and laughed at the dopey expression on his face. Looking down at you, JJ quickly refocused and tied your hair back.

“All done,” he told you proudly before leaning forward to wrap his arms around you again.

At halftime, John B called over, “Yo, J, you going out after the game?”

You leaned your head back, resting it on his knee, and looked at him, waiting for his answer. He finally shrugged, “I don’t know. Babe, you wanna go?”

“Meh, not feeling it tonight, kind of just want to watch a movie and sleep.”

JJ drummed his fingers against your collarbone, “Nah, I’m going to stay in too, JB.”

John B nodded and looked down at his phone, likely trying to coordinate a group. You sighed, kind of ready to leave, it was a blowout game and not really exciting, and JJ could tell your energy was quickly waning.

“Ready to go?” he asked before you could bring it up to him.

You stood up, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” he mimicked with a laugh.

With a groan, you followed him up the bleachers and out of the stadium, his hand tightly grasping yours as he pulled you through the crowd. Your dorms were near the football field, so the two of you walked there fairly quickly.

JJ collapsed onto your bed with a groan and you looked over, “Hey, shoes off on the bed.”

He sighed and gave you a bratty look, “Fine.”

Tugging his shoes off, JJ laid back down, knocking his hat totally off in the process. You changed out of your clothes into something more comfortable before joining him in bed. He wrapped himself completely around you as you turned the TV on and pulled up It’s Always Sunny to have on in the background.

“Hey babe,” he broke the silence.

You hummed to show you were listening.

“Did we win today.”

[writing-fool]

mlqc | sunday morning

I recently (well~like three months ago) got into this game called Mr Love: Queen’s Choice, and after doing some ‘research’ aka gaming, I felt confident enough to write something. So, here’s a little headcanon about a blissful Sunday morning with the boys~

Warning(s): ever so slightly NSFW (insinuations of a dirty-minded author), profanity/swearwords

Victor

Victor’s quite the workaholic, as we all know

like this man will be working 60-70 hours a week, often bringing work home with him 

you’ll be on the couch in pajamas and acting like a total bum while he’s literally next to you wearing glasses and breezing through 50 reports and documents

you steal his laptop and glasses when he starts criticising your report 

“Victor noooooooo~work mode OFF!” as you zoom past him with his prescription glasses (he got them fancy glasses with the blue light filter because he’s A WORKAHOLIC and he’s always staring at a computer)

needless to say, this man doesn’t usually have time to spare

sunday mornings are yours though

Victor doesn’t necessarily take the entire day off, but after a certain dummy’s whining, he has agreed to try and have a lie-in on sundays

he *usually* still wakes up before you, because he functions on like 5 hours of sleep (lemme tell y’all, it’s a curse and a blessing in one) 

Vic’s a total tsundere, but these moments definitely show off his #SoftCEO side

his little lovebug is sleeping peacefully, wearing one of his pyjama shirts (I bless you with the headcanon that Victor sleeps in silk pyjama pants sans shirt because he runs HOT)

actually, you’re drooling a little bit but even though Victor’s going to pretend he’s annoyed, he never is

oOOhh, also canon that this man is the big spoon in sleeping positions. he naturally gravitates towards you and holds you tight because he’s NEEDY

sometimes you’ll sleep facing each other. Victor holds you against his chest and just cradles your body in his like his life depends on it

100% will entangle his long ass legs with yours

strokes your hair and presses kisses on the crown of your head to wake you up in a gentle way (despite his demeanour, he’s actually remarkably gentle y’all see why i call him #SoftCEO?)

as you wake up, he’ll mock your bedhead with this incredibly fond look in his eyes baby boy these words don’t match your actions

you guys actually get up rather soon after, cos you are both busy people...

fun times in the bathroom not like tHAT well actually kinda~ but for legal reasons everything you do is PG, please spare author-nim who’s still ~barely~ underage

you take a shower and belt your favourite song that’s playing from the built-in speaker (did Victor get a built-in speaker because you thought it was cool? yep. did you ask? nope. did he do it anyways? yehep.) while he goes through his simple morning routine

you probably have more steps in your skincare routine, but he uses a serum, cleanser, moisturizer and some eye cream on the daily

has given you permission to do his skincare at night whenever you both have time

to reciprocate, he dries your hair after your shower you guys HAVE listened to the Right Beside You ASMR, right? ...it’s on YT for free because we’re poor, i know

also canon, blowing raspberries on Victor’s bare back while he’s brushing his teeth will make him choke on toothpaste. tested and approved by MC

“Dummy. What on earth are you doing?”

he hangs around and waits for you to get ready if he’s already done, you do the same. time is something Victor knows all too well, so the precious time he has, he wants to spend with you.

you guys DON’T shower together in the morning because really you’re not getting cleaner ahhh author-nim should really stop

afterwards, you get dressed in some relatively casual clothes (i’m talking a dress shirt without a tie or a polo shirt because no way that this man owns actual t-shirts) and have a simple breakfast

he cooks, obviously. 

always makes a balanced, Chinese breakfast (congee or wonton, noodles, tofu pudding, etc.) because he wants you two to start the day well, even on a slow sunday

also, he travels a lot, so he likes eating Chinese food whenever he’s home

ahh...waking up with Victor just sounds like a dream

Lucien

i’m a bit biased on this bitch because he was my first favourite in the game so this might get long. might not. just,,,we’ll see

Lucien is a bit like Victor, where he doesn’t sleep much and works a lot

On the other hand, his work is...ehem...shadier, so he usually works in his office when he’s at home

you’ll both have your own space to do whatever you need to do

days off for Lucien are rare. he usually powers through until he drops

for someone who constantly reminds you to take care of yourself, he’s mediocre at doing exactly that

after getting to know him better, which wasn’t an easy feat because damn this man has more layers than an onion he’ll also make you cry more bUUT we’re not ready to unpack that suitcase, you start noticing when he needs a day off. often even before he notices

you lock his office door and force him to take the FULL day off at least

he could technically open his office again, but he loves you and he’ll humour your attempts

Lucien wakes up before you. always. you’ve seen him asleep like 3 times in your entire relationship. 

Luci sleeps like 8 hours,,,a week.

he watches you sleep i feel like that makes too much sense for his character. we love a creepy boy. and wholeheartedly feels at rest with your sleeping figure by his side

in his sleep, Lucien lies on his back, holding you by the waist as you sleep on top of him. your leg is often slung around his middle, so you’re enveloping him. he likes the weight of you on top of him; it keeps him grounded and he likes feeling like he’s yours as much as you are his.

on another note, Lucifer—ah whoops—sleeps butt naked. i honestly can’t imagine him wearing clothes in bed. he’s not shy about his body and feels absolutely no need to cover up for his significant other. 

you, however, don’t usually sleep naked. well...nowadays you end up sleeping naked more often than not because alright author-nim’s horrible. can’t help it, he’s a fucking scorpio?

because you guys take a day off, Lucien’s content with waiting and watching until you wake up

he feels you stir on his chest and honestly your drowsy eyes make him swoon

“Already awake, my beautiful butterfly?”

his slightly husky morning voice *really* does things to a person tbh

you guys stay in bed for a good half hour after you wake up, just cuddling and talking, also sneaking in a kiss here and there

you have the same habit of tracing each other’s bodies with your fingertips

his fingers flutter over your waist, you trace his chest or hands with your index again, it’s a very grounding experience to Lucien

when you do get up and head to the bathroom, first thing you do is shower together

he likes washing your hair

bathroom bits might happen, but surprisingly, it’s not a thing that happens a lot so don’t come at me. we’re being wholesome

Lucien’s incredibly intimate and his love language is touch. Yes, he has a way with words but he’s also a really good manipulator

he’s used his words for evil too often and therefore can’t trust words anymore. so he uses physical intimacy as a way to show love.

Lucien has a skincare routine of dermatologically approved products. a double cleanse, serum, essence and moisturizer. he uses anti-age sometimes to prevent later wrinkles.

they’re also one of the reasons why he smells clean and fresh

will tickle you when you’re rinsing your mouth. you’ve sprayed water all over the bathroom mirror before. he loves the reaction. 

if you’re having a day off, you’ll probably just wear sweatpants and a t-shirt or a sweater. Lucien’s closet is relatively plain but clean. he has the best cable-knit sweaters/cardigans though.

your breakfast consists of western things like yogurt or oatmeal. Lucien likes having fruit at the start of the day

the rest of the day is spent relaxing and lounging, walking in the park, biking, reading, drawing, whatever you’d like

maaan...i wish i had more days off

Gavin

Gavin’s actually a decently laid-back person on weekends

like, sure he has to work a lot, but his job doesn’t necessarily force him to work from home, so you pretty much have his full attention at home but also he can’t bear to not give you his full attention so what are we expecting

the nasty thing about Gavin being a police officer is that sometimes, he gets called up and needs to work at unconventional hours

also, he gets injured. most of his injuries are minor, but that doesn’t stop you from worrying.

but anyways, he’s not a total busy bee when he’s at home, and relaxing isn’t exceptional

sunday mornings are...well...active. Birdcop goes on a run/hits the gym every morning, so he’s awake by 6am. what did y’all think i was going to write

afterwards, he takes a quick shower and joins you in bed again. 

Gavin sleeps in a pair of basketball shorts and a singlet. he’s somewhat shy about sleeping shirtless, and god forbid he sleep naked. but it’s all good and he respects your boundaries. besides, he’s comfortable in his sleep and that’s all that matters.

you spoon in your sleep. sometimes, he’s the big spoon because he likes being able to ‘protect’ you in his sleep. other times, he relishes in the comfort of being the little spoon and feeling you pressed up against his back. 

very important headcanon! you’ve learnt to sleep with the bedroom window open. on workdays, Gavin gets home late and jumps right into the bedroom. it’s become a typical habit for you two, although you used to be grumpy about not being able to sleep with the noises of traffic. 

you’re usually awoken by the sound of the shower and Gavin’s humming it’s canon that he hums now, bitches. also I bet his singing voice is amazing

so it’s less ‘sleeping in’ and more ‘lounging in bed like the lazy bastards you are’ i’m kiDDING

if he’s able to, Gavin might convince you to go on a run with him....but let’s be honest, you rarely agree

Gavin’s a total cuddlebug though, so be prepared to spend the next forty-five minutes in the tightest hug ever (to be fair, you’re not complaining)

he’s completely soft for you and you’ll have to wrestle out of his grip to get to the bathroom

you don’t shower in the morning, so everything’s pretty quick

Gavin doesn’t actually have a good skincare regiment tbh...he’ll slap on some cream and that’s it. probably washes his face in the shower with body wash...AND HIS SKIN STILL LOOKS AMAZING

you like making funny faces in the mirror while brushing your teeth and making Gavin laugh while he’s watching you in the doorway. he loves how you just make his day with the smallest things.

you guys both dress in really casual clothing, like hoodies and shorts/sweatpants/pj pants unless you’re going somewhere

Gavin has them grey sweatpants, if you know what I mean okay I’ll chill, sorry~

you wear his shirts a lot because they’re super big on you and Gavin secretly not-so-secretly thinks you’re adorable in them (a good thing about Gavin is that he’s easy to read; he blushes rather quickly)

“Ahh...it’s just—you look so tiny and cute.” guess he’s not the only one blushing now

i see Gavin as a ‘bun for breakfast’ kind of person. he picks them up at the stall a couple of miles away when he heads home. sometimes he does so running, other times...well he’s not called Birdcop for nothing

you guys have 2 buns each for breakfast because they’re delicious 

lounge time is often spent gaming or cleaning the house (you’re both busy people and Gavin tends to get messy because he just chucks clothes on the floor after a hard workday)

you make the most out of your sunday, hoping Gavin doesn’t get called in

who wouldn’t like being domestic with Gavin?

Kiro

Kiro, unsurprisingly, has an incredibly busy schedule

one that, similar to Gavin, isn’t really decided by himself

i suppose his situation is a tad bit worse than Birdcop’s, since his workdays don’t even actually end when he gets home. he constantly practices choreos, singing, etc. at home

so, full days off are few and very, very far between

this makes them extra precious

it helps to have a lazy morning once in a while though (in Kiro’s case, lazy sundays are most likely a bi-weekly thing)

you wake up first! Kiro needs his beauty sleep, and damn this boy can knock in 16 hours of sleep if need be

you’ll probably lay in bed for a while and then attempt to get up and ready for the day

until...you feel Kiro’s arm tugging you back

for a skinny, lithe boy, he’s remarkably strong. he pulls you back to bed with the groggiest, cutest sleep-laced voice EVER 

“Mmm, Miss Chips, it’s not time to wake up yet, is it?” 

he snuggles into you and refuses to wake up unless you give him kisses

during the night, Kiro sleeps in actual pyjamas with cute characters on them. when he feels lazy, he’ll probably just slip on a t-shirt and some boxer shorts, but he likes putting in the effort to wear matching couple pyjamas

Kiro cuddles with you 24/7, and sleep makes little difference here. he’s often the little spoon because he does like feeling your presence and your grip on him. he moves around when sleeping, so you might end up out of each other’s embrace, but Kiro subconsciously always touches you in some way or form, like holding hands or intertwining legs. he’s a man with many identities and needs your presence as a reassurance that he’s still the man that you love

he loves to pepper your face with kisses after getting home from rehearsals/concerts, claiming that it gives him energy

you do the same in the morning, anything to hear that sweet giggle of his

he’s deceptively cute though, and innocent morning kisses tend to spiral into...something more let’s just be honest, his stamina is something else entirely i’M SORRY 

morning exercise? check. Hotel? Trivago. non-sponsored~

you guys don’t shower in the morning. Kiro’s used to showering after practice, which is late at night, and you shower in the evenings to help you relax

however, on a rare occasion, you’ll draw a nice bath together and play around with bubbles and scented bath bombs so fun and relaxing

Kiro totally has a 14-step skincare regiment. you don’t get that beautiful baby-smooth skin without some effort.

he has the best ‘mid-range to high-end’ products on the market, and loves sweet and floral scents for his skincare and makeup. you guys try to line up each other’s routines to be able to do them together every morning.

Kiro also has a huge bedhead in the morning! it’s your job to get this sleepyhead styled for a fun day

even Kiro’s casual loungewear is top-notch hip and trendy. he has fun sweatpants with chains, belts, patches, you name it. he likes holding a little fashion show with you, no matter what you two are wearing

old jeans? strut it. thrifted shirt? vogue, honey.

Kiro’s on a strict diet, so usually he has a smoothie and some tofu pudding for breakfast. on occasion, you’ll indulge him in something decadent, like French toast or pancakes. on moments like these, you swear he loves you juuuuuust a little more but don’t tell Savin!

you guys are a relatively active couple, so unless you’re inside gaming or busy working, you’ll spend some time in thrift stores or karaoke bars, arcades, fun fairs,...

just thinking about Kiro brightens my day...

As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this! I’ll try to bring out more content for K-Pop idols, otome characters and anime characters during the holidays. Requests are still open, so don’t be afraid to send a little message in my ask-box!

Love,

R.

[sing-against-the-sky]

Poems, Prayers and Promises

🏜🌒🌾

Summary: cowboy/ homestead AU soft!Jake Kiszka fic that is entirely self indulgent. Slowish burn hurt/comfort.

Warnings: Blood and injury trigger warning.

Notes: tried formatting this in tumblr a few times but it still looks weird to me lol. So fuck it I’m posting anyway. I’ve written more if anyone is interested in it ♥️

Thank you @ageofsewingmachine for your help😊

🌙1

There was someone beating on her door. She startled and jumped out of her chair, the book in her lap tumbling to the ground, Kip barked and stared at the door. She stepped to the hearth and quickly tugged the shotgun off where it sat on the mantle. The sun had been down for an hour at least, there should be no one at her door.

The banging came again.

And a voice.

It was loud enough to understand clearly but she could hear it was strained. “Please. I’m sorry to intrude on your home. My horse threw me down three miles back towards the gorge. I saw your light after the sun had set and thanked my stars. I’m hurt worse than I thought...” His voice trailed off for a moment, she could hear him breathing hard.

She stepped towards the door and put a hand on the lock bar. She looked at Kip again at her feet. He stood alert looking at the door, but his hackles hadn’t risen at the sound of the man’s voice. She took it as a good sign and spoke loud enough to be heard through the door. “Are you armed traveller?”

She could hear the relief in his voice when he spoke again. “Yes ma’am. But my rifle and ammo are on my horse. She’s at the trough by the tree. I have a knife but you can hold onto it for me.” His answer more than satisfied her.

She propped the shotgun on the wall and pushed the lock bar out of place.

The stranger practically fell into her home and she caught him by the shoulders. He wasn’t much taller than her and she was able to keep him on his feet. He held his left side with his hand, blood making his dusty blue shirt dark between his long fingers. She used his momentum to get him the two steps to the chair and turned to quickly close the door. Kip sniffed the man’s fingers but stayed close to her skirts.

When she turned back the man was leaning on the chair and offering his hunting knife and sheath to her with his unbloodied hand. He looked at her from under the brim of his hat as she took it. “You’re kind to take a stranger in at night ma’am. I’m in your debt”

She slid the sheathed knife into her big petticoat pocket and moved to get her shoulder under his arm as he started sliding down the back of the chair. “Don’t thank me yet, traveller. I haven’t fixed that hole in you yet.” He let out a small chuckle, which quickly turned to a pained cough. His face was close to hers as she moved him to sit on the couch across from the fire and his breath stirred the strands of hair around her face. It smelled like juniper berries.

He lay back, breathing harder now and roughly pulled the hat from his head. His long brown hair fell across the pillows she had embroidered in the dark snowy months of last winter. The red birds in the corners echoing the red blood streaked on his hands.

She knelt beside him to inspect his wound. He looked at her over his high cheekbones without lifting his head up. “I’m sorry if I bleed on your nice furniture ma’am”

She tisked her tongue at him “You’ll be a lot sorrier if I have to move your dead body out of here. Just focus on breathing deep. Lemme see what happened” The corners of his lips almost smiled before he grimaced in pain as she lifted his hand off his bloody side and pulled the sticky shirt out of the way. He had been holding a now soaked kerchief to the wound. She was almost relieved when she saw it wasn’t a bullet hole seeping blood. There was a deep gash just above his left hipbone, bits of wood still clinging to the edges and two big splinters still in him. It was ringed by a deep purple bruise that stretched up his side. She quickly assessed the wound and placed the kerchief back over it, putting his hand back on top. “Keep good pressure on it, like you were before. I’ll be right back” He nodded his chin at her as she stood went to gather supplies.

She was back in a few short minutes with a basin of water, clean strips of cloth and a big glass jug half full of a clear liquid. She moved the kerosene lamp from the side table it had been on and set it next to her.

Her hands were steady when she sowed up her ripped work clothes or helped bring a new lamb into the world, she hoped they would be with a man, bloody and in pain, at the end of her fingers.

She held the glass jug out to him. “Sorry if it’s not your taste. I make it myself. But it’ll do the trick. I’m going to put this blanket under you so you’ll need to sit up for just a moment.” He nodded again as he took the jug from her and took a deep swig. He sucked air hard through his teeth and handed it back. She bent over him as he rolled a little to the side and quickly tucked the blanket under his back. When he lay back she could see the kerchief under his hand was totally soaked.

Now was the time to act.

She knelt again, looking over him. She met his eyes and she could see sweat beading on his forehead and the pain lacing across his face. It didn’t look right on that face. She knew it would get worse before it could get better.

“Are you ready? I have to clean it and tie it tight. You’ve already bled a lot and it needs to stop.” He nodded again and she could see him stealing himself.

“Can I have another drink before you start?” His voice came out raspy, like it caught in his throat. She handed him the jug and pulled the kerchief from off her neck to hand him as well.

“Bite down on this. And yell if you need to. It’s gonna hurt like a son of a bitch” He bunched it up and put the fabric between her teeth. His deep brown eyes locked on hers and he nodded for her to begin. She lifted his hand off the bloody wound and got to work.

An hour later she was putting the red-stained rags in a bucket and quietly cleaning up her makeshift surgery. He was asleep now, he had fainted from pain when she pulled the last big splinter from his side, but his breathing was steady and she had got the bleeding to stop. A bandage was wrapped tight around his middle, but he still wore his dirty shirt, pushed up under his arms. She softly undid the last few buttons so he could easily slip out of it if he wanted. She stood and decided to take his boots off before seeing to his horse and settling in for the night.

You can tell a lot about a man from his boots. His were were a light tan leather, simple and quality, but well worn. There were flecks of river mud on them and the silky seed pods of canyon grass still clung in places. She liked what the boots told her about the stranger in her home. He had been honest since he got here. She could feel the weight of his knife against her leg. She looked at his sleeping face once more before she and Kip slipped outside to take the strangers horse to the barn.

🌙 2

The sky was just turning the dusty purple of dawn when he opened his eyes. It took him a moment to remember where he was. He was under a soft wool blanket with pillows holding up his head. The piercing pain in his side took no time reminding him of the night before. He looked around, his eyes falling on the woman across from him almost immediately. She was sleeping in the chair by the fire, her faced cradled in her hand, propped up under her chin. Her hair was messy and the morning light made the stray hairs glow like a halo around her head. There was a finger smudge of his blood across her cheek. He wasn’t quite sure she was real. He lay there quietly for a moment, just breathing slowly through the pain in his side, not wanting to wake her. Movement caught his eye as the dog laying at her feet shifted and stretched. It was lean and medium-sized, its coat a dusty yellow, with little folded ears. It blinked its dark eyes at him as it sat up. When he looked back up at the woman’s face she was looking back at him.

“Glad to see you made it through the night”

He smiled at her. “Glad I did too. You did fine work fixing me up. I can’t thank you enough ma’am.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “You don’t have to keep calling me ma’am. I don’t like blushing three times a conversation. My name is Ida”

His smile widened. “It’s nice to meet you Ida. I’m Jacob.”

She smiled back at him. “How’s your side?” He shifted his torso a bit, testing, and grimaced as the pain shot through him. “Hurts”

Her lips pursed in a tight line and she stood and came across the room to him. She gently flipped the blanket down and looked at the bandages. There was one small circle of blood showing through the white strips. She seemed relatively pleased. “I’ll need to change these in a few more hours. And I don’t think you’ll be off this couch for a few more days.” He nodded and offered her kerchief back. She shook her head and pushed his fingers closed around it. “Yours was ruined. I have others I can use. Keep it.” Her fingers were soft on his. She looked over his makeshift cot. “I wish I could move you but it’ll make you bleed again so we won’t risk it til we have to. But if you get a fever you’re going to the bed.” She deftly leaned over him and gave a few subtle knocks on the carved wood of the back of the couch. He smiled to himself, watching her. Her skirts brushed his bare shoulder. They smelled like lavender soap and hay dust. In a moment she was turning away again, on her way to whatever task was next. He lay back into the pillows. Lady Luck had smiled at him when he saw this house’s light, glimmering in the night.

🌙3

When Ida came back in from morning chores Jacob was asleep again. His face was pale under his tan. She softly touched his forehead with her hand as she passed. He wasn’t burning. But he wasn’t cool either. Her brow creased with worry. She had to be prepared in case of the worst. She had to be prepared for anything. She went to make more bandages. All she could do was be ready. And hope those warm brown eyes kept opening to look up at her.

[onfreckledwings]

hoping you’ll see (what your love means to me)

15x20 fix-it songfic. shameless feel-good fluff. because our babies deserved the world.

When Dean dies on a Thursday in November, Cas is there to welcome him at the proverbial pearly gates. Sort of.

He can’t really even call it a gate. It’s blue skies, sloping mountains, pine trees, and open fields. The sun shines more brilliantly and warmer here.

The air breathes cleaner; the breeze is cool and languid.

He doesn’t realize he’d been walking until he comes to a stop, dirt swirling around his legs. Nothing hurt: not his hip, not his knees, his back, or chest.

Nothing.

“Well at least I made it to Heaven,” Dean murmurs to himself. In the next moment, Harvelle’s appears a few yards away.

“No way.”

He walks the short distance before standing in front of the bar, and he’s smiling so wide and he can feel his laugh lines on his cheeks and the crinkles of his eyes.

Harvelle’s Roadhouse

The same neon lights in the windows, the same sign. Everything is exactly the same.

“Hell yeah,” and then he’s walking up the porch and has a palm on the door before he stills.

Dean shuts his eyes briefly before opening them with a silent chuckle. He knows who’s there. Even before he turns his head.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean turns around to see Castiel standing a few yards away.

He feels his face cracking from smiling so wide, and he feels his eyes stinging with tears behind them. He faces Cas fully now, hands shoved into his pockets, and begins to walk towards him.

He ducks his head, almost shy, and glances up at him through his eyelashes. “Castiel,” he greets with pressed lips, eyes gleaming.

Heaven is strange, he thinks. He feels no sense of unease here. No nerves, no jitters. He only feels contentment. Peace. Joy.

Cas tilts his head in that fucking adorable way he does, and Dean can feel something behind his ribs melt. He stops when they are a few inches apart.

Cas’s eyes are bluer than Dean has ever seen them. Moss green and ethereal blue.

Sky and Earth.

The wind gusts gently around them. The blades of grass dance.

Cas lifts a hand and places it on Dean’s left shoulder. Cas’s shoulder. Dean smiles a small, watery thing.

“Are you...real? How-” and Dean trails off. He somehow already knows the answer. Cas squeezes his shoulder and smiles.

“Yes. It’s me.”

Dean’s eyes well up and his nose starts to tickle. He looks up to the sky and wets his lips in that way he does to hold tears at bay, before meeting blue again.

Dean reaches between them and grips Cas’s always-crooked tie. Cas looks confused at first, maybe even a little scared. But when Dean’s free hand comes to cradle the side of Cas’s neck and lets his fingers brush the strands of thick hair at its nape, Cas’s face smooths out and he stands a little taller.

One lone tear breaks free from the corner of Dean’s eye, and Cas’s thumb is there to catch it as he sweeps it over his cheekbone before cupping his jaw.

Dean tugs him close before snaking his arms around Cas’s waist under his trench coat and hugs him close, face buried in the angel’s shoulder. He melts when Cas envelopes him, cheek resting against his crown, hands rubbing soothing patterns against Dean’s back.

“You’re early,” Castiel whispers.

Dean gives a small chuckle. “Yeah, well...I’m a dumbass.” And then he’s inhaling slow and deep against Cas’s skin. Cas smells like sweet summer rain, the crisp air of fall.

He smells like Cas.

“And I missed you,” he murmurs against the warm swath of exposed skin on the angel’s neck before pressing a feather-light kiss there.

Cas seems to melt at the contact and grips Dean tighter. Dean feels fingers card through the short strands of his hair and Cas’s other hand comes up to cup the back of Dean’s head.

“I missed you too.”

Something occurs to Dean then, and he lifts his head to meet Cas’s eyes. His hands travel up Cas’s arms until they rest on his shoulders.

“Hang on...how did you get out? How did you get here?”

Cas simply smiles and gives Dean a knowing look. “Jack may have had something to do with it.”

Dean unfurls a bark of laughter from his chest before grasping that tie again.

“That’s our boy.”

Cas smiles again, and Dean thinks he’ll never ever tire of seeing it.

His eyes flit between Cas’s and his lips and back again, and he flattens his free palm on Cas’s chest, just over where his heart would be.

“Cas,” he begins, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “about what you said..before you left-”

“You don’t have to say anything, Dean,” Cas offers quietly. “I don’t expect-”

“Well that’s good,” he cuts Cas off, “‘cause I wasn’t really plannin’ on talkin’. I’m shit with words.”

Cas blinks quizzically. “Wha-” but he trails off when Dean grazes the stubble of his cheeks with the soft pads of his thumbs.

Dean starts to tremble slightly when he cups either side of Cas’s jaw again.

He dives in.

Their mouths slot together perfectly; Cas’s is warm and soft and pliant, and Dean brushes his tongue against the crease of Cas’s lips, and Cas lets him in.

Dean knows then that he’s in Heaven.

*

Everyone’s here.

Dean’s eyes scan the entire barroom from the table where he and Cas sit: at the bar, there’s Ellen, Jo, Ash, Bobby, and Karen discussing their hunting glory days. Charlie and Kevin are huddled with their laptops at one of the booths (because there’s WiFi in Heaven, apparently), and are probably discussing the latest sci-fi series or some other nerdy thing.

John and Mary are sitting at one of the candle-lit tables, holding hands and murmuring in each other’s ears that is always met with soft laughter.

Rufus is there too with Aretha at one end of the bar, Johnnie Walker Blue in hand. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever seen the man smile the way he is right now, so earnest and genuine.

Missouri and Pamela sit at the table nearest to Dean and Cas, talking about when Pamela séance’d Cas after Dean was rescued from Hell.

“I think he was just trying to show off in front of his boyfriend,” Pamela teases with a laugh as Missouri drops her face in one hand.

“Good Lord,” she marvels. “Some first impression there, Castiel. Burning out a woman’s eyes? Oh!”

Cas ducks his head. “It was an accident, I assure you,” and Dean can’t help but feel a little bad for the guy.

Pamela pats Cas on the back. “All in the past, sweetie. No harm done. Well, no permanent damage anyway,” and then tilts her head back in laughter. Dean can’t help but snicker.

Everything is fucking perfect.

Contentedness blooms in his belly, warming his insides until he feels like his body is humming. Everybody he has ever loved and lost in one room.

Sam, Eileen, and the others will be along, Bobby had said. And he feels complete peace knowing that Sam is in good hands, and that they will take care of each other until their times come.

Dean sits back in his chair, glass of wine in hand. They’re a bottle and a half in, celebrating Dean’s arrival, and his head is buzzing in the best possible way.

He glances at Cas from across the table through his eyelashes.

His trench coat, suit jacket, and tie are all draped on the backrest of the chair, because we gotta get you out of this holy tax accountant get up, man, and if he’s honest, Dean wants to feast his eyes a little.

Cas’s white shirt is unbuttoned at the neck, and Dean’s mouth goes a little dry at the naked dip of his collar bone. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and Dean marvels at the ripples of muscle and bone in the angel’s forearms, his fingers itching to touch.

Dean smiles. His cheeks are warm, and something curious blossoms behind his ribs.

“Dean?”

He snaps out of his trance and meets Cas’s eyes. “Hmm?”

“Are you alright?” Cas asks, and Dean realizes that he’s been caught staring.

Dean smirks. “Mhm. Jus’ enjoyin’ the view.”

Dean almost dies (again) when Cas blushes and ducks his chin with a roll of his eyes.

Yeah, he can get used to this.

The jukebox in the corner starts playing a new song, and Dean straightens in his chair with a wild grin.

“Oh hell yes,” he shouts with a slap to the table, wine bottles and glasses clattering. “I love this song. C’mon Cas, you’re dancin’ with me.” He stands and reaches for Cas with an outstretched hand.

Horror flashes across the angel’s face. “Dean, no. I’m a terrible dancer. I couldn’t-”

“Well, that makes two of us then” he says and grabs Cas’s hand and pulls him to his feet. “Come on. My ‘got-dead’ party, my rules.”

Cas groans and throws his head back with a grimace as he lets Dean guide him to the dance floor. “‘Got-dead’ party? Really?”

“Yeah, yeah, shhh,” Dean smirks as he turns to face Cas. “Here, lemme lead.”

Dean clasps Cas’s hand with his own and draws them to his chest, his other hand wrapping around his waist coming to rest on his back. Cas’s free arm mimics Dean’s.

Attached at the...everything.

Their mouths are inches apart, and Dean’s bowed legs go a little weak as he stares into Cas’s eyes. The lighting in the bar changes to ambient, almost candle-like glow.

Lying beside you, here in the dark,

Feeling your heartbeat with mine.

Softly you whisper, you're so sincere;

How could our love be so blind?

They sway somewhat in tune with the rhythm, but Dean’s a little wine drunk and accidentally steps on Cas’s toes. More than once.

“Sorry,” Dean giggles—giggles?— and lets all of his weight lean into Cas, who accepts it willingly. Dean’s lips press against his temple, and Cas hums appreciatively as Dean starts to sing low into Cas’s ear.

We sailed on together,

We drifted apart,

And here you are, by my side.

So now I come to you with open arms,

Nothing to hide, believe what I say.

So here I am, with open arms,

Hoping you'll see what your love means to me,

Open arms.

“‘s how I feel about you, you know,” Dean murmurs as he nuzzles the bolt of Castiel’s jaw. “I’m not good with words, but..,” Dean slurs and sucks a gentle kiss into his neck. “This could totally be our song.”

“Dean…” and Dean pulls back slightly at the crack in Cas’s voice. Tears spill over from those cobalt blues, and Dean’s thumbs are quick to catch them as he frames Cas’s face.

“Hey, hey. None of that,” he says through a smile, licking his lips. “You’ve got me. You always have. And I’ve got you, so…” he smiles and presses the softest of kisses to Castiel’s mouth before resting their foreheads together.

They never stop dancing.

Living without you, living alone,

This empty house seems so cold.

Wanting to hold you,

Wanting you near,

How much I wanted you home.

Now that you've come back,

Turned night into day,

I need you to stay.

“I love you,” Castiel says, and he brings their joint hands to his lips and presses a kiss to Dean’s knuckles.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and nods knowingly. It may be a little easier to accept love up here, but sometimes old habits die hard. Even in death.

“Me too,” he murmurs, and he wraps his free arm even tighter around the soft, curved line of Cas’s waist for emphasis.

So now I come to you with open arms,

Nothing to hide, believe what I say,

So here I am, with open arms;

Hoping you'll see what your love means to me,

Open arms.

As the song ends, Dean thinks maybe this could be his forever. Surrounded by family, both given and chosen; blissful in his angel’s arms. The love of his life. The one who has saved him more times than Dean can count. At utter peace knowing that Eileen will take good care of Sam, and he looks forward to the day when they can all be together once again.

Until then, he’ll take this. The life he’s always dreamed of but was too scared to hope for. A life of love, warmth, comfort, and peace.

A life after death.

And he’ll think, maybe, just maybe, he deserves it.

fin.

@blacklightguidesnic tortured me this morning and put this incredibly soft scene in my head. here you go ♥️