#ITS SO COZY THEY DESERVE TO BE HAPPY

[toodarling]

“𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝓈𝒶𝒻𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓂𝑒”

The first of many photos from our Mighty Nein Shoot 💛

Mollymauk- Me!

Yasha- @her-biness

Jester- @thatjessiwills

Beau- Tori Owens

Fjord- Donovan Hyland

Nott- Miss Ellie Honeybee

Photography Isaiah Walk

[chuluoyi]

✎ a birthday to remember

- gojo satoru x reader

what is the so-called grand surprise does your husband prepare for your birthday?

genre: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—massive fluff, comfort, pregnant!reader, (cough) pregnant sex

note: hi peeps it's been ages since i last wrote gojo :') and love entries on that matter *sobs* but here it is... my birthday has passed too but here's to any of you whose birthday is near!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

“Sensei— happy birthday!”

This year, your birthday happened to fall on a workday.

If it were up to you, you would have taken the day off. However, Satoru had been assigned to Osaka and wouldn’t be returning until weekend, so taking leave and staying at home would most likely make you feel lonely.

Not only that, with you entering the fifth month of pregnancy, you figured it was better to stay active. And by the end of the day—you didn’t regret coming in at all. The students were all so sweet, they even chimed in to get you a pretty maternity dress to wear. You couldn’t wait to tell Satoru about them tonight.

You skipped happily toward the parking lot, but right when you turned the corner, suddenly—

“Wifeeeey!”

“Oh my god!”

You let out a loud gasp and took a step back, taking in the view. A sea of colorful balloons, with a man in suit standing right in the middle of it—

Your husband. In flesh. You blinked once, twice— thrice.

“Satoru...?”

He poked his head out of the string of balloons, a beaming, million-dollar grin lit up his face at the sight of your shocked expression. “Wifeeey! Happy birthdaaaaay!”

Before you could even process his sudden appearance, he had you in a chokehold, engulfing you in a bear hug and nuzzling his face against yours with childlike enthusiasm, the faint scent of his cologne filling your senses.

“What are you doing here?!” you half-shrieked, the surprise spilling from your voice.

He pulled back, frowning dramatically. “Ehhh? You don’t want me to be back?”

“Yes—”

His eyes widened as if you’d just committed the gravest betrayal. “You big meanie!”

“No,” you quickly retracted, trying to hold back your own smile at how comically dejected he was. “I mean… aren’t you supposed to be back on Sunday?”

“Heh heh, nope! I lied~” Satoru chirped, his grin returning in full force. “It’s my wifey’s birthday—how could I not come back for you?”

In that moment, your heart fluttered. He was probably saying it for no reason, but the fact that he really did fly back from Osaka just to meet you for your birthday meant a lot to you.

His big, warm hand then gently caressed your visible baby bump, his grin widening when he got a kick. “Ah, right… Hello to you too, baby! Did I startle you too? Sorry~”

You rolled your eyes, retorting, “He is terrified.”

Satoru leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper directed at your belly. “Don’t worry, baby. Papa’s here now, and he’s got balloons. That makes everything better, right?”

“...how long have you been standing here with these balloons?”

“Hmmm, not long. About an hour, maybe?”

“You shithead—why didn’t you just come inside?”

Satoru’s gasp of mock offense made you laugh despite yourself. “And ruin the surprise? My wifey deserves the full dramatic effect!”

Being Gojo Satoru’s wife certainly came with its fair share of patience-testing episodes, and sometimes you wanted to return him to Yaga for additional lessons of discipline.

But it was candid, over-the-top acts like this that reminded you just how lucky you were to have him.

Satoru brought you to a high-end restaurant for your birthday dinner before the two of you finally returned home.

And the moment you opened the door, you were greeted by countless balloons floating on the ceiling and the ground, the fairy lights illuminating the room in a cozy glow.

You were taken aback, mesmerized by the sight. “When did you even have the time to decorate the house?”

He grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “I have many little helpers—”

“Don't tell me it's Ichiji and Nanami? Satoru, you—!”

“I promised Nanami I wouldn’t make him blow up balloons! Though I might have heard him grumble something about being above this…”

"You're unbelievable..." You let out a resigned sigh, yet still smiling as you stepped further into the living room, now bathed in the soft, golden glow.

Satoru observed you with a quiet smile. His pretty wife, and the small life within you. He adored you the most out of everyone else in this twisted world.

Click! Click!

"Huh?" You turned to him when you heard the distinct sound of a camera shutter.

Satoru was holding his phone, an amused glint in his eyes. “Just capturing the moment, you know. You, the lights, and baby. It's perfect.”

You giggled. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

He shrugged, that signature grin returning. “What can I say? You’re beautiful.”

Later, you'd find out that one of the photos would be his lock screen from now on. It would be the first thing he saw every time he unlocked his phone.

Satoru brought out the box he had prepared, handing it to you with a sly grin. “Look, sweets, before we go to bed, I have one more gift for you—and you have to wear it now.”

You arched an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, as you took the box from his hands. The moment you opened it and pulled out the contents, you froze.

“—?! Satoru!”

A scarlet lingerie set. The bra features intricate lace trim along the edges, and the matching panties are equally bold, with a sheer lace overlay. Your cheeks flushed as you glanced at Satoru, who was watching you with an winning grin, clearly pleased with his choice.

“What?” he challenged. “They'll suit you, c'mon.”

“You're absolutely shameless.”

“But you love me anyway~”

You let out a defeated sigh, glancing up at him, already realizing there was no way out of this now.

“You’re lucky I’ve hit my head somewhere and married you.”

. . .

He was right. It fit you perfectly.

The moment you got out of the bathroom, Satoru could feel himself getting hard already. You looked like a vision, the deep red seemed to highlight your every curve, turning you into an effortless seductress.

And not only that, you were adorable too— fiddling with your fingers and touching your rounded belly, barely hiding how self-conscious you were.

"Don't just stare at me..." you mumbled, glaring at him.

He reached out, gently brushing his fingers against your cheek, his touch tender despite the fire in his eyes. “You’re making it hard to look away, you know.”

His hands then trailed down, skimming the sides of your body, each touch lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch. It was almost as if he was unraveling you, piece by piece, and you weren’t sure whether to pull away or pull him closer.

And wait... was it just you or were the space between your legs indeed getting hotter and wetter?

As if reading your mind, suddenly two of his fingers touched your barely clad pussy, and you gasped. That's right— there is indeed a hole in this freaking lingerie!

"Are... we...?" you swallowed, your gaze meeting his.

"Can I?" he asked back, voice husky. His crystal clear eyes burning with lust as he assessed you— from your eyes, lips, and then the inviting sight of your cleavage.

Did you want this?

Of course you were. Your birthday was still far from over, and you missed him too.

In response, you pushed his already hovering fingers inside you, making you hold your breath. From that point on, Satoru knew what you wanted.

Without another word, he rubbed soft circles around your clit, and you let out an unabashed moan at the contact, clinging to his shoulders for support. "Ahh..."

He teased you for a while, before slowly entering his fingers into your throbbing folds, and you were close to collapsing if it weren't for his secure hold over you.

"You're so, so damn naughty..." he whispered lowly in your ear. It was taking everything he had not to lose it right then and there. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, but the sight of your writhing face and that baby bump was damn distracting and ignited the beast inside him.

He made you pregnant already, but there was just this primal desire— wanting to mark you more...

His fingers slowly pumped in and out of you, dragging them deep but just not deep enough—

"Please..." you scratched his back unwittingly, frustrated at his shirt that got in the way. "I-I... want... you..."

How sweet. Satoru relished in your titillating breaths and chuckled, vigorously continuing his dirty ministrations.

"Say it louder," he growled in your ears. "Can't hear you."

The bastard. You yanked his hair and made him catch your teary gaze. "I... want you..."

Sinful desire flared to life at your words. "Your wish is my command, missus."

Satoru suddenly pulled out his fingers—ignoring the whine you accidentally let out for being empty all of a sudden—and admired the sheen, sticky whiteness on them.

"I barely did anything and you're this wet already," he snorted, tasting it. "They're right about the pregnancy hormones."

He placed his hand on your waist, pressing a kiss on the firm skin of your belly, before undoing his belt and trousers and pulling out his hardened member.

The sight made you actually gulp, especially when he pumped it. He pulled you to his lap and guided his pride to your sopping entrance. The moment he inserted himself, he let out a groan of relief, while you arched your back and hissed, "Ngh!"

Satoru captured your lips, his hand pressing against your aching spine. He pulled you closer, urging you to take him completely.

"Ahh— ugh... mrgh!" you sighed against his neck as soon as you did, trying to even your breath. This was something you had done so many times before, but why was this time felt like an awakening of some sorts?

"Most beautiful," he breathed in your ear wickedly. "Don't worry, leave everything to me."

He rocked his hips against yours, one hand on your back and the other gripping your thigh. With each salacious thrust, you mewled and he panted, keeping you steady all the while.

He could feel your baby bump rubbing against as his toned abs, going along with the rhythm. Satoru grinned proudly, noticing how much it had grown over the past few months. The baby must be healthy in there, huh?

The relief somehow spurred him into pick up his pace, thrusting you more deeply than before. You almost squealed.

"You know what?" he grunted, mind hazed. He didn't really realize what he was saying to you, to be honest. "You're the prettiest when you're like this— round and full, with my kid."

You only caught the lewdness in his words, but you weren't able to ponder about it as he suddenly buried his face into your supple breasts.

"Look at them, getting bigger too— these days..." He sucked on the sensitive skin and you gasped in pleasure, crying out afterwards when he fondled them with both hands.

Your senses were overly heightened and you knew you wouldn't last long. Satoru too knew he was nearing his orgasm as he tore your new bra and sucked on the mound, furthering your never-ending moans, causing your eyes to roll back as the blinding pleasure overtook you— pushing you to cum right then and there.

In the next second, he pushed you into him impossibly deeper, and his hot release gushed inside your womb. You writhed at the sudden fullness, before getting limp and collapsed into him, not even realizing that you had squirted all over his lap and dress shirt.

Your husband glanced at you, in disbelief himself at the messy scene, but utterly satisfied as his bright eyes twinkled. "Heh..."

You were awoken at three in the morning, and the first thing you noticed was that you were in Satoru's warm embrace.

His arms were wrapped around you securely, holding you close as if he were protecting you even in his sleep. You must have passed out afterwards, as all you recalled was the numbing exhaustion.

Yet you knew for certain that Satoru had cleaned you up, dressed you in your pajamas, and even placed a heat pad on your hips to soothe you.

(He remembered the one time you woke up with cramps right after a raunchy night before)

Your husband was a cheeky shit, but for you, he was willing to go extra miles. It was an overlooked fact sometimes due to how unserious he was, but each time he did and you were reminded of it, your heart always soared.

Looking up, you found his peaceful sleeping face, and not for the first time, you couldn’t help but marvel at how truly handsome he was. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you gently caressed his face.

"Hmm...?" he frowned adorably, and you almost giggled. But when he cracked his eyes open, you almost regretted it—oh yes, he is a light sleeper.

"Sweets...? Can't sleep...?" He turned to you, voice thick with sleepiness. "Anything wrong?"

"No, I'm just watching you." You smiled, poking his cheek. "Go back to sleep."

"Really? Nothing's amiss?" His hand gently slid to your belly, giving it a reassuring rub. "You have to tell me if anything’s not right..."

"Hush, I'm fine."

After making sure you were indeed fine, Satoru tightened his arms over you and pressed his eyes shut. You wrapped your arms around his back in response, feeling his steady warmth. Right in this moment, you were overwhelmed with this gentle, soft feeling— love, the kind he gave you so freely and candidly.

Your birthday had passed, but if there was one wish only he could fulfill, surely you could still ask him, right?

"Satoru..." you muttered, feeling the cool breeze of the air conditioner lulling you back to sleep. "Will you stay with me... forever?"

A smile curled on his lips at your question, his eyes still closed. "Silly girl, it's your bedtime, so why ask that?"

You thought he wouldn't answer it as he didn't say anything more. But right before you drift into deep sleep, he pressed a sweet kiss to the crown of your head, giving you his promise— one that felt truer than anything else he had said to you before.

"I will... so you must stay with me too, got it?"

[beloveds-embrace]

Big eater Simon “Ghost” Riley who absolutely devours anything you put in front of him. He’s a big man with a ravenous appetite that rears its head the second he’s home and not deployed, no longer forced to choke down the bland, tasteless slop they serve at the base. His hunger isn’t just physical; it’s driven by months of enduring lukewarm rations and craving real food-especially yours. A big, ravenous appetite particularly for your cooking.

It means even more because you come from a culture with a rich cuisine. When you first started dating, you had braced yourself for disappointment, afraid yet resigned that he might react like your exes, coworkers, and so-called friends, who turned up their noses at your cooking and called it: “too smelly,” “too spicy,” “stinky,” “too much.”

But not him. No, Simon pulls up a chair, digs in like the starved man he is, and leaves not a single scrap behind. He polishes the plate clean. And then, with a gleam in his eyes, he goes for seconds. Sometimes even thirds. Always takes care of the cleaning afterwards because you already feed him so good and take care of the apartment when he’s not there, least he can do is wash up the dishes while you sit all nice and pretty and tell him of your days.

“Y’spoil me rotten, c’mere,” he murmurs, guiding you to the worn couch where you both sink into each other’s embrace. He stretches out, pulling you so you’re resting on his broad chest, your ear against the steady thrum of his heartbeat. His hand moves in slow, lazy circles on your back, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the contentment in every relaxed muscle under your body.

“Do I? But you deserve it, Si.” you grin, comfy and cozy,“My lovely man. So I was wondering… about the new oven…”

He chuckles, the sound a low rumble. “Already bought. Should be here in a couple o’ days,” he says, eyes closing but already imagining the happy expression on your face. “Don’t you think that pretty little head o’ yours anymore.” His lips brush your forehead, the faintest touch of a promise. “It’s time t��nap.”

And nap you do, curled in his arms and pure contentment radiating off both of you just like <33

(He’s also a big pussy muncher. Gotta show you how good he can clean more than just his plate.)

[rxmye]

" 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 — pristine and perfect, filled with grace and elegance, yet tainted with greed . . greed for you . .

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / slight religious themes?, I suppose it's a fictional religion, I'm still world-building / pathetic and submissive yandere / suggestive content? / he paints the reader as a source of comfort / stalking, which is conveniently described as 'adorable' and 'innocent' behavior /

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: ok so the person mentioned is supposed to be the God of this world, their introduction will also be out soon enough . . currently dropping hints here because world-building fun!!

Takamoto was an Arch-angel, one of the highest ranked angels in heaven—he was pure and truly the definition of elegance, he was never greedy, and he was almost always seen smiling or happy. For he, was truly contempt with his life, and position.

Takamoto was always someone who had truly been satisfied with all that he was given, he never craved more—he always thought and frankly believed, that he had received all that he deserved and that he should be contempt with what he has. He never really had any passion or desire for anything more—he was grateful with everything—he believed all his hardships had reasoning behind it, and that it will all eventually be solved. In fact a part of him believed he deserved any hardship he came by.

Many would believe he was naive for that sort of mindset, and many angels did truly believe him to be just that, yet against all odds he rose up the ranks fairly quickly for this sort of mindset, and of course his loyalty to his beliefs. Takamoto was sweet, he'd help everyone out, and would introduce new souls, and angels throughout the lands of heaven on his free time, he'd help guide souls and his fellow angels everywhere he could . . yet things slowly changed when he first met you . .

Takamoto was visiting, what could only be described as the countryside of heaven, with vast green fields, cozy homes, acres of farmland, etc . . He was checking in for this years harvest, as per high courts orders . . when he saw you, you were so graceful, your wings sparkled in the light, you were radiant, you're eyes glimmered as both of your eyes met for a brief moment . . he felt his heart skip a beat. . his face was heating up slightly, his face dusted with shades of bright pink.

His mouth hung slightly open, as his gaze lingered on you figure, taking in the sight—your wings were lovely, much smaller than his . . were you a new soul? Perhaps you were a lower ranked angel and hence why you both never quite met . . He wanted to know more about you—he need to know more about you—where were you going? . . . and before he knew it, he found himself following you, trailing behind you silently.

He found himself frequenting areas he last saw you, it was all so innocent at first, many of his fellow coworkers described him as a young schoolboy in love, teasing him for his oh so adorable behavior . .

Takamoto didn't notice how much you were invading his life, he hadn't even been able to hold a proper sentence with you yet . . . but even then his thoughts consumed of you, whenever he did paperwork, he'd doodle your face, his room was filled with various portraits of you . .

He found himself overtime growing desperate, impure thoughts flooding his mind, greed sinking its claws into his sensitive and naive hurt—he was the utter picture of perfection, just look at him, he was everything an angel . . a human, anyone should be!?!? Why aren't you looking his way!— . . he took deep breaths, his own fingers digging into his skin, as he tried calming himself.

Gold drips from his arm, the bruise left from his fingers still fresh—golden blood stained his pretty pale fingers—pupils dilating as he took deep breaths, a ruined portrait of your face on the aisle, paint splatters surrounded him, tainting his legs, as a mirror lay broken on the floor.

"Fuck", he cussed softly, tears threatening to spill, his usually well-kept hair was a mess . . "why can't I draw them . . ?", he asked, his voice hoarse, as he tried his best to contain the anger he felt at that moment, "why can't I fucking draw them??", his nails dig into the floor, as the door creaked open.

You need to love him, you need to see him. He had never craved someone's validation, he deserved this, he deserved you! He could offer you everything, he was perfect! Everyone he knows, envied that about him . . surely you'd notice, you have too . .

He turned to face the person at the door, tears now dripping down his cheek, he mumbled something under his breath, before he started begging, "Please, please, help me . . my lord"

want more, buy my limited time only advent calendar?

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[sugurusyndrome]

cw/tags: househusband!nanami, fluff, smut, fem!reader

— oh househusband!nanami my love…

househusband!nanami initially resisted the idea of being a stay at home husband when you first proposed it. aghast, he might even say. he couldn’t fathom the possibility of being dependent upon your income. not that his masculinity was threatened or anything of the sort. you were the one supposed to be spoiled while he does the hard work.

your husband was traditional in a quite endearing sense. bless his giant heart and his even bigger cock.

“darling, i want to do this. for us,” you had gently insisted. reaching forward, you took off his spectacles and brushed a hand around his cheek. “you deserve to be pampered, too.”

househusband!nanami was exhausted from the long hours over many years and he knew his wife was sorely aware of that fact. he leaned into your touch, hazel eyes slipping shut.

“alright, my love.”

it took some adjusting to his new role during the first few days. when your alarm rang, you swiftly silenced it so he wouldn’t wake up. looking over your shoulder, you find his side of the bed empty.

househusband!nanami had gotten dressed as usual before remembering he didn’t need to work anymore. instead of going back to bed, he whipped up a breakfast feast fit for a queen. he also sent you off to your big-shot job with a kiss and your lunch.

soon enough, this became a routine. a hearty breakfast followed by a “see you later” kiss—kento didn’t like saying goodbye, it’s always “see you later.” househusband!nanami wanted to bring a smile to your hectic days so he stuck an adorable note in his neat handwriting squarely on your lunchbox. he never ran out of words to express his love for you.

househusband!nanami was finally able to tackle the books that had accumulated on his side of the bedroom but never had the chance to read. you could only imagine how he looked like, all cozy. in the nook of the living room where the sun shone best, he had one leg tucked under his body with his glasses perched on his sharp nose.

when he was not devouring words, househusband!nanami was taking himself on a stroll in the neighbourhood with a cup of a pick-me-up coffee. once, he passed a park and sat at a bench watching the mothers playing with their children with a soft smile. however, he quickly walked away because he realized his presence as a sole man just lingering at the edge of the park might be a cause of concern for the mothers. you giggled later over dinner when he recounted his thoughts to you. what a thoughtful man you married.

you wanted to give him 10 children.

if not books or a stroll in the neighbourhood, househusband!nanami was doing his duty ever so happily between your legs.

"k-ken..." you whimpered, back arching gracefully while your nails scraped his undercut in a way that made him growl into your pussy. he knew how much you loved the vibrations as much as he went crazy for your nails on his scalp. "missed this pussy today....mmm...” he captured your clit in a wet, hungry kiss. “take tomorrow off for me, sweetheart.”

this part of the night quickly cemented its spot as his favourite. to absolutely neither of your surprises.

househusband!nanami became fast friends with the owners of your favourite bakery. they already knew him from his frequent visits after his long shifts to pick up something sweet for his wife but the more he hung out there, the closer he got with the bakers. you were particularly fond of the strawberry shortcake from there and what did he do? oh yes, he learned how to make it. everything was from scratch down to the syrup. by the end of it he was sticky but super excited to surprise you with it for your birthday.

"honey, those better be happy tears," he chuckled, drawing you into a tender hug. either that, or the cake turned out to be a disaster.

"of course they are, kento!" you blubbered in his chest. strawberry syrup and whipped cream was smeared around your mouth, mixing with your tears.

oh, how you adored this man to his bare bones. and he devotedly breathed in the very air you exhaled.

[hischierjustscored]

accidentally yours.・゜・quinn hughes

summary: you barely remembered putting quinn as your emergency contact until he showed up like the universe's idea of a bad joke

a/n: this is my contribution for the winter fic exchange 2k25 by @wyattjohnston for @hanaaishi 🧡 i still owe you forever for being patient and bearing with me on this!! seriously i mean it!! thank you both for making me a part of another amazing exchange which was my first one ever but i'm so happy that i was!! it was such an experience for me diving into all this and hope i was able to do some justice on my part 🧡 i got too carried away smoothing the final edges, hence the delay again, i also changed the idea we talked about a little but i hope it's all good in the end

update: very emotional about all the likes and sharings here, i can't say thank you enough it really means the world to me 🧡🧡🧡 love you all!!!!

warnings: mentions of injuries (light concussion, ankle sprain), hospital, parents pressure, overthinking, scratchin on the surface???, and i trusted myself to do a reader insert so bear with me once more

word count: 5.1k

You remember when you were 8 and took your brother’s bike to try out his self-made wood ramps in the garden, only to fall 6ft from the side and drop straight onto your left hip. That day you found out that grass wasn’t nearly as cushy as it looked but it was your mother’s “told you so” you never forget, lingering in your ears from where you sat in the backseat on the way to the hospital.

You also remember your best friend Lia leaving you in charge of booking an Airbnb for your first trip to Austria together, and you were proud of that cozy little place you found nestled in a mountain valley. But the "cozy" and "European" charms you both imagined left you searching desperately for a hotel in the middle of the holiday season instead, and Lia didn't have to say the words. You could hear the "I told you so" for really trusting someone with the username wanderlustgirl98.

And you remember moving to Vancouver a year ago after your studies, taking up your former professor's advice to follow one of its renowned urban development programs and put your "big-picture" skills to work. He didn’t have to try hard to convince you. You’d already been thinking about it for a long time until it felt like your chance to finally prove yourself. Perhaps even more to your parents. A naive part in you hoped you'd fit into their expectations for once. But if you really did, you'd reach out more than just on birthdays and festivities, maybe even give in to that other more vulnerable part in you and tell them how over your head you've been lately or that, deep down, they were probably right about all of this being a huge leap you still weren't ready for.

And you can only imagine…

Told you so.

It long replaced the loud ringing and the whole new level of woozines you felt an hour ago on the bus, as you watched the nurse adjust the brace on your right ankle, all black and chunky.

You sighed heavily for the 5th time in under 2 minutes, because what did you do to deserve all this?

Oh right, maybe being a chronic people pleaser, staying late at work to set other people's shit right. Fixing last-minute deadlines, cleaning up mistakes that weren’t yours, saying yes when you wanted to say no.

But you couldn't help it.

"It shouldn't take more than 3-6 weeks to heal completly, you're lucky it's just a moderate strain. Nothing that can't be fixed."

She looked up at you over the rim of her glasses, still perched hideously low, before she slowly swiveled back to her desk.

"Can I still work in that thing?", you tried testing out the waters, bending your feet just a little, then more until you sucked in a sharp breath when the pain hit.

"Honey, what do you think this is?", she drawled follwed by a low chuckle as if she couldn't quiet believe this being your first question.

“It’s meant for the healing, you have to keep it still completely and not put any weight on it. And that includes not working."

The last straw keeping you grounded right now is that this could have been much worse.

From the moment the bus driver hit the brakes like in that one Harry Potter scene, your new plateau sneakers giving out on you and your head bracing the inevitable fall on some window. Your initial hope bubble of no one noticing quickly busted as people came to your side, but you brushed them off mumbling that you were fine through the worst cringe of unwanted attention. Until you tried to balance yourself, only to realize you couldn't, and straightening up nearly made you sick.

You shifted, bracing your palms against the mattress to find a more comfortable position, minus flaring your ankle up again. You’d been in this bed for too long, it was driving you crazy.

"But how am I supposed to do that? Other than floating maybe..."

The mocking arch of her brows made the wrinkles on her forehood stand out more, but you couldn't care less, it was the pure frustration blurting out of you at this point you weren't even kidding about the last part. The last thing you needed on your mind was your boss' face to your sick call tomorrow morning. Not with the mayor visiting your office in 2 days, waiting to hear your thoughts on improving Vancouver's climate neutrality through sustainable architecture. And what you’ve worked tirelessly on, perfecting every detail from start to finish.

And you thought if all of this is some sort of reverse karma. Only for being hardworking. Is that a thing?

You were so lost in thought that you didn't notice the shuffling in the room until she came back with something that, if any shred of humor was left inside you, you would've laughed at. But instead, you just slumped back against the headrest, the wave of déjà vu taking you back to when you were 8 looking between the crutches in her hand.

Hardworking karma, reverse karma, just trying as hard as you can karma...

"I think you will be good with these", she offered, leaning them against your bed within reach, "maybe if you try hard enough you will actually float."

Her chumy tone you still couldn't quite feel yet, had your eyes roll back in an instant before closing them, grumbling to yourself, "Just great, really, really, great", but it was a mistake once you did as you fought off the urge to drift off completly.

A piece of mind for the first time in hours. Maybe for the first time in forever even.

The last months have been...immense to say the least, throwing yourself into anything that kept you running on autopilot, saying yes when you wanted to say no, but you needed it.

After the biggest "told you so" that was bound to happen eventually. 2 months from now or more, or perhaps between his work, your work, balancing on a life that went past deadlines and demands, between 2 people who have their own reasons to prove themselves to everything around them, you slipped out of each other’s reach.

But it’s not like there was ever an official you two.

It was just the version of the story you always liked best.

“Here you go, I was able to find one in the random stash we keep in our break room, but it should work though," a voice light and sweet snapped your attention back faster or not fast enough, you didn't know, blinking against the lights now.

For a second, you felt like you were back on the bus with the dizziness and nausea creeping in again.

But no. Just him. It was just the thought of Quinn.

Your weighted gaze shifted to the bubbly blonde next to you, then down to your forearm where she lightly nudged a charger against it, and you suddenly remembered how determined she was to get it for you when you realized your phone powered down.

You couldn’t even text Lia back in time, knowing you were already too late for the rare occassions of missing your daily Facetime calls, with her still being back home in Seattle. Not in a trillion years you expected to feel this way about her, but right now you're glad she is.

Because if she she'd see you like this, she'd already know the answers without you giving it to her, that you take on more than your chronic people pleasing heart could handle sometimes.

And he'd always know too. When to snap you out of it, when to just exist beside you with no words. He'd never have to ask.

"Oh yeah, thank you", you forced out in the most put-together tone you could pull off right now, hoping our smile was convincing enough to distract her from the way your clammy palms were rubbing against the mattress, or the rapid thumping of your heart that you’d see too on your chest if you dared to look down again.

"Just enough to call a Uber and you can take it back."

She gave you a simple half-shrug, taking your phone from your outstretched hand, "It's stuff patients leave behind soo..", and plugged it in for you. But before you could brush her answer off again, the low calling of your last name made you snap to a tall man in the doorway, and his two long strides toward you could either mean more bad or good news.

You held your breath as you listened to him in silence going over your completly normal labs and scans which only told you everyone was making a bigger deal out of this anyway. You were fine, biting the inside of your cheeks reluctantly when he added they'd be filling out a sick report too.

"-though we would like to monitor you here for a night just in case you develop more symptoms that can’t be ruled out from the hit, and given that you already experienced dizziness and nausea-"

No person or force on this earth could make you stay here for one minute longer.

You released your cheeks with a click of your tongue, cutting him off quickly, "Uhhh that's not necessary, I mean I feel way better now and you just said it too didn't you?", which finally made him look up from whatever, clearly taken aback, his suprise mirrowing your own for a different reason.

Plus, you knew your rights. They couldn't keep you hostage here, you were ready to remind him of their own policy.

"I'm glad you do, we just want to make sure that-"

But you barely registered his next words, lost beneath the familiar sound of your phone finally wrapping up in your hands, and you were as happy as a little kid seconds away from unwrapping the biggest gift under the Christmas as tree, just, it didn't ask you to press your thumb down to unlock it as it normally would but...

"Damn it."

The one time your phone decides to ask for your SIM card code, and you’re completely blank.

Hardworking karma, reverse karma, just trying as hard as you can karma...

Yes, you really believed now, you did everything wrong tonight and this was the real karma of it all.

Your thumbs brushed the screen, trying to remember 4 digits like your life depended on it with the only 3 attempts you had.

The day you bought it you scribbled it down, along with the backup code (of course), and put it on your fridge because your memory rivaled that of a goldfish sometimes.

Was it 5678 or 5679?, and you heart dropped as deep as the Marianna Trench when it said only 1 attempt left.

"...and with how things are right now, we wouldn't encourage you to leave on your own. Do you have someone you can call right now to pick you up? Someone safe?"

Was he still talking to you?

"Huh? What?", the phone nearly slid from your grip, your palms starting to clam up again, and he lowered his clipboard studying you with an expression you weren't sure you had the energy to fully read, but it felt too damn close to pity.

"Or anyone we could call...?"

Quinn knew now that he could only trust Jack when it comes to discussing goodreads.com reader's favorites, ideas for lake house interior, and shooting pucks.

Not with anything close to dating. Or helping him out with that.

He was doing just fine. Thank you very much, but he knew Jack. Too much for his own good sometimes.

"Why do you act like you don't want it when you actually do. You need this. Get out of your head."

Sitting in this Italian restaurant that was a little too crowded for it being a secret "gem" as Jack said suggesting it to him, and he didn't even live here, listening to his date "soul-searching" trip to Bali was far from want and need.

He checked her Instagram highlights before, clicking on her profile Jack DM'd him. A friend of a friend. If overpriced veggie bowls and infinity pool thirst traps were anything soul-searching she's deluding both of them, and so was his thinking that maybe he should give this a shot. "Getting out his head", with the season already hitting him with flashbacks he wanted to forget for the sake of his sanity, and keeping away from anything that kept him running on autopilot.

"It just put everything into perspective", she chattered, her voice pulling him back just enough to realize he had no idea what she was talking about.

And he knew the moment he looked up from stirring the ice in his water with his straw for the past 5 minutes, there wouldn't be damn thing he'd remember about her either. She was beautiful, that much was obvious. The kind she knew and had probably been told her whole life, she didn't have to try too hard.

He preffered not trying at all. It was his favorite.

Probably ever since you took his drink at the coffee shop one day, the place too crowded for names to be called, just cups sliding across the counter and you didn't even look down at his name scribbled on the side in Sharpie when you slipped past him on the way out, not bothered to notice him either. The moment he should've said something, tap your shoulder, say anything when he just kept watching you move outside, tilting your head at street signs like they weren’t second nature yet, checking your phone every few seconds like you had somewhere important to be. Grabbing the wrong coffee without a second glance wasn’t his only hunch that you weren’t from here. Then, the sip. Too strong. Wholebean. Definitely not yours.

You turned back, ready to go back inside, but he already had yours in his hands on his way out to you when they started calling out names again, and no one responded to, except for him.

A moment, a pause, your cold fingers brushing against his warm ones, or when you laughed at your mistake all crinkly around your eyes, perharps for the first time in a while that day, that should have been it, but wasn't, because between all of it you just became a part of his routine.

“…And then, on the third day, we did this sunrise meditation hike just me and a few people from the retreat, barefoot, totally disconnected, away from everything."

She kept going, oblivious to the way his focus had disconnected, his mind already elsewhere, lost in the memory of the last time he wanted to get away from everything, and the cushion underneath him slid akwardly when he shifted in his seat.

I wasn't about overpriced veggie bowls or infinity pools. But his favorite place in Michigan. Always.

And he wanted to take you there.

It had been a vague idea, one that had come up in the quiet moments in betweeen road trips and late-night talks at his place that were too deep and glances that lingered too long to mean anything less than what he had already convinced himself was true about you. The same feeling hit him when you gave him that slight curve of your lips, the one that always told him you had him figured out when he told you about the days being slow and the nights nothing but still stars at the lake house.

"Hmm, that's not true stars are moving constantly, we just don't see it."

He laughed, quiet but warm,"Can you at least pretend to fall for it?" just to get stuck in his throat.

"It never is with you."

"What?"

"Pretending."

It never was with you either.

But it never became anything more than vague. Because there was always something else. Texts left on read for too long, you and your own world to keep up with just as much as he did with travel schedules that blurred weeks into months, not leaving room for things he didn't know how to hold onto. Or someone who didn't know either.

A low buzz from behind, easy to miss if it hadn’t lingered just long enough to jolt him back before he knows. He shifted again, and even though this was only ever one-sided, a genuine "Really sorry, I will turn it off" left his lips as he gawkly reached for his jacket over the backrest.

He hadn’t meant to look, a habit more than anything. But then his thumb hesitated mid-air, double-taking the number.

Unknown. Vancouver area code. Probably nothing. Probably something.

But always a red flag, especially for someone in his industry.

"Thought you were turning it off?", she mused, tipping her wine glasss to her lips, watching him over the rim and he forced a quick exhale, "Yeah, I-", but he didn't have a real answer with the buzzing still alive in his hand.

And he should've turned it off, ignore it, and sit through the night rest of the night pretending like he hadn't already made up his mind about this whole thing.

You need this.

But Jack was wrong.

He wasn't even sure what "this" was even supposed to be. Whatever, it never felt right since the start.

His phone buzzed again with the same caller, but now he thought about it being a perfect timing.

"I gotta take this...", he mumbled, barely shooting her a glance, and he swiped right before his mind could really caught up with it.

"Hello?"

A breath, a pause, nothing good he muses on it already, but he used it to press his index finger to his ear to drown out the noise, shifing again.

"Uhm, yeah, hello it's Vancouver General Hospital am I speaking to Quinn H?"

Well this was new.

"Depends, who is this?", ignoring the "H" making it sound like a witness protection program name. Not that he planned on correcting them. Or rather, a nurse as she introduced herself, surprisingly professional, enough to raise his interest and, slowly, his concerns too.

"Sir, we have your sister here, she was brought in with a mild concussion and a sprained ankle some hours ago. But don't worry, she is totally fine, she just needs someone to pick her up which is why we're calling."

His brows snapped together, head jerking back to the slightest bit like his brain needed an extra second to process.

"My what? Excuse me?"

Last time he checked it was just Jack and Luke. Their parents would never screw them over like that, no way the would forget an entire human being for twenty-something years. Right? Not even back when they first sat him down to tell him he’d be a big brother, and his two-year-old self, without hesitation, decided he wanted a sister. But by the time Luke came, he was bound to live with brothers. He wouldn't change that for the world now.

So when the nurse repeated the words that his sister listed him as her emergency contact Quinn could only stare blankly ahead, "Yeah, I still think you've got the wrong number..."

She is wasting her time on a call when this girl was really waiting to be picked up, and he was just about to put it in terms she’d finally grasp, until-

You.

The noise around him, muffled laughter and the hum of conversation, the restless tapping of manicured nails against the table cloth across him, faded into nothing. And if with his thoughts already going from 0 to 100, this is his breaking point.

Your name.

He cleared his throat, but his voice came out strained, throat too dry, "Come again?"

Of all the names, hitting his ears after all these months but thought more of than he'd ever admit. The name he'd seen on his screen too many times, resisting the urge to check, to ask, to do something.

Everything dropped, turned over, a slow ache pressing against his ribs, too overwhelming and far too familiar.

But his body moved before his mind could catch up, momentum taking over. Someone said his name. Maybe, he couldn't care less. Something about a drink next, about sitting back down, but he ignored it again.

Because you were still ringing in his head, louder than it had in months.

And he wasn’t about to ignore it now.

"He said he's already on his way, shouldn't take longer than 10 minutes."

It made your brows furrow in confusion, "He's in the area?", but you said it more to yourself than to her, not that she heard it either in the crowded waiting room you were sitting in now, your ankle on a cushioned chair they'd given you.

Turns out you had listed an emergency contact the last time you were here, one you didn’t even remember leaving behind. Apparently, hospital policy included holding onto records long enough to make you wait nearly an hour, because the name they had on file was your brother. And, of course, he was on a business trip in Abbotsford, 1 hour away. The only reasonable choice to put down when they’d asked back then. Then again, you barely remembered.

Except for the fact that it was your first public unveiling of a project you led. You had invited your parents, that small, hopeful part of you giving in, calling them, telling them you’d be happy if they came. You were almost surprised by their promising tone, as if, finally, they’d understand this wasn’t just about concepts and sketches but about your dream.

But they didn’t come, texting out of everything, with an excuse that felt too made up. And hours ago, when your stomach had already sunk from scanning the crowd for them every time a new group arrived, it sank further. This time with the mix of one bad shrimp and something stronger you’d used to numb the disappointment.

How could you forget when you really really wanted to.

"Is you brother like...famous or something? Because your records were pretty mysterious."

You looked up to the same bubbly blonde nurse, still standing in front of you with her lips pressed together,

"I think we're close enough he'd care to tell me or I would've found out sooner or later, but no, sorry to dissapoint you or anything", you corrected, hoping that was enough while you were already done processing the absurdity of it all. You slumped against the rigid backrest, sighing as the exhaustion crept in again, but rest was the last thing anyone was willing to grant you right now.

“Still”, she rambled on, not getting the memo, "kinda sounded familiar..."

One eye popped open, then another when you saw her crossing her arms now. This conversation slowly glided out of your hands, you just leaned forward, jerking your head to the side, silently urging her to make sense of whatever this was.

"Your record just said Quinn H. and nothing more. I had to call him Mr. H. the whole time, but I figured he prefers this kind of privacy and that's what you want for him too. He didn't tell me his last name though, sooo...it was pretty weird."

Your fingers now hoved near the cushioned stool, reaching for your calf to lift it off with more force than you should've and the sting was instant. But it was nothing compared to the irritation climbing its way up your throat where your heart already pounded in it.

Because not your brother was about to walk through that door. The person who should've been here.

No.

It will be Quinn Hughes.

And suddenly you were mid-fall again, right there on the bus, every last bit of control slipping past your grip. Nothing you could do.

Because drunk you put him down as your emergency contact that time. The one you barely remember.

"Wait, no", a breath left you, unsteady, "Call him again and tell him it's a big fucking mistake", your hands twitched in flight mode as you darted between her and the sliding doors open-mouthed, cause you remembered her saying he was only 10 minutes away. 5 even, if you're unlucky.

The same Quinn you stopped talking too, who if you looked into his eyes again, the same on that always made you wonder, if they could get any darker, any greener, would he notice?

That you mever meant for things to be this way? That it wasn't him, not really but your own mind, the way this new life kept pulling at you, and how you wanted to reach out when things calmed down. When you had space. When you could be the version of yourself that he deserved.

Maybe he was waiting for you. Maybe he thought you didn't care. It was only fair, but it didn't loosen the knot in your chest, nor how you blinked away the sting in your eyes that you told yourself was from the stuffy air with too many people breathing in here.

Because you did. You always did.

"Hey sis."

And in that instant, it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from the room, how else could you explain the way your lungs refused to function, as if they’d forgotten how, when you snapped your head to where he stood now inches away.

How long?

His navy blue shirt was barely visible under his coat, his hair grown out just enough for the ends to curl, for it to peek out from the beanie he held in his hand, looking too good even with his hair tousled still like he'd always did asking you if he looks okay, what you could see him doing in whatever thing you interruped him in before he got here,

It pressed in too heavy, you had to cut through it, and the faint hid of a smirk tugging at his mouth corner.

"Why are you here?"

"What happ-"

You barely felt the ache in your ankle over the blood rushing in your ears when you shifted your weight standing now, his gaze dropping to the crutches you stood up without, your brace, the subtle wince you thought you hid. And it was fucking with your heart that he wasn't just looking at you, but like he was piecing something back together.

He parted his lips, but his eyes flicked past yours first, toward the nurse behind you, when his fingers around his beanie, "You were brought in here", he hesistated, "Needed someone to pick you up."

That was the objective, something everyone would've done perhaps if they received such call, being a good or person, or the simple fact that he was your emergency contact.

You needed the subjective.

You huffed, shaking your head, "This is not what I meant. You could have said no."

"I didn't."

"You should have."

The words sounded sharper on your tongue than you wanted them to be, and you didn't know what hurt more, the way his expression barely shifted like he'd expected to be shut down again, because you were getting so good at it, or how your insides churned 360 degrees of how much you already regretted them.

"What do you want me to say? You're the one who put my name down I didn't even knew until now or let you bolt out of here with an concussion like they told me?"

Bolted. Floated. Whatever to get out of here finally.

"Well, neither was I, and I'm fine", you muttered fixing you gaze on the sterile floor instead, on anything but the way how he was fixing you, "but let's just drop it to the part where you go back to whatever you had going on before coming here I guess and me saying sorry for it."

The bittersweet taste in your mouth.

Only when the dull ache flared up in your good ankle did you realize you’d been standing without your crutches all this time. and before you even thought to reach for your crutches, he was already moving. Anticipating. The moment your balance gave out on you, he was already there, steady hands at your elbow and bicep, grounding you before gravity could do worse, and your pulse skipped how easy it was to sink into it.

His breath hitched, and so did yours, the warmth of his touch pooling through your fabric like you swallowed an ember, and his eyes, god his eyes, the darkest green, you don't even have to look up to be convinced about it again, all on you, as he murmured, barely a whisper.

"Don't be sorry, because it didn't mean anything."

Sitting in his car with the seat warmer already on like he remembered how easily cold you can get, watching as he pulled up your adress from his "saved" typing it into the console, it fucked with your heart all over again.

You should have protested, insisting you were fine enough to make it out on your own, scoffing when the nurse told Quinn, not you, that you needed monitoring, just in case.

But exhaustion had already settled too deep in your bones, that you were almost thankful for the silence settling between you since he helped walking you out and insisted to drive you home at least.

Almost.

You would’ve been the biggest fool alive if you let this slip again, like you always did, like you always regretted.

"I am sorry though."

"And I told you not to be."

The darkness in his eyes gave way to the streetlights flickering through them as you turned to face him, "You don’t get to tell me what I should and shouldn’t be sorry for, Hughes", you jested and Quinn huffed out something close to a laugh, shaking his head lightly. The soft glow from outside looked too good on him when you stopped at a right light, you swallowed hard, "What kind of brother would I be too?"

You groaned, rolling your eyes. "Oh my god, stop. I didn’t even mean to put you down as my contact."

"Keep it, I don't mind."

"You say that like you wouldn’t have blocked my number by now if you had the chance."

Quinn smirked, tilting his head against the headrest, his eyes flickering toward you. "Would’ve done it already if I wanted to."

Then, before either of you could think too much about it, his hand reached out, his pinky brushing against yours on the center console, like testing the waters, like answering more questions without words. It was enough.

He squeezed your hand once.

You squeezed back. An answer.

[piggycyberwarrior]

Task Force 141 with a Reader that grew up in a ‚be an independent woman and never rely on a man‘-household >>>>>>

They immediately love you- such a pretty thing, always working hard, beautiful smile on your lips and so so kind.

They have enough money (a reward for putting their life on line) so why not spend it on you? Of course their wallet gets lighter when your gaze lingers on an absurdly priced jewelry. How can't they shower you with gifts, when you deserve this and so much more?

Buying you this, that- things you threaten to kill them over if they buy you a $2000 purse- because thats just so absurd- yeah you liked the design, but thats too much money for a piece of leather.

Their cash is yours now- even though you do not accept that fact. Green paper traded for clothes, accessoires, food, shoes, lingerie- oh how they love to buy you lingerie…

Always paying for your meals- snacks, getting pouty when you give them the glare while pressing your card onto the terminal, a tad faster than them- paying the food.

You were raised like this- to pay for your own things- standing up for yourself, never rely on men and that you don't need any gifts from them. They know that but oh boy- they do not care. In the end- they shower you with money because they love you, not because they want you too love them.

Soap and Gaz are the ones who do it the sly way.

Let me explain.

They shop with you- making you try on all different kids of clothes- because you just look so pretty in them :( ... how can you not say yes to their begs and pleads.

pretty pretty please with sugar on top..?

Seeing how your eyes light up in the mirrow- Soap and Gaz share a glance- an unspoken promise. (One slowly getting up- making his way through the endless option of clothes- softly talking to an employee, pointing at your happy form- and everything you seemed to like is bought in a matter of seconds.)

"Are you serious??" "Aw- do nae be like tha', bonnie" Soap laughed quietly- carrying the shopping bags with such a proud smile. "Yeah, we had to buy you them, you looked so good, sugar" Gaz said- pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before his warm hand on your lower back pushed you foward gently. "But-" you tried to reason, being shut up with a tut from the two men. "Just accept it, baby, yeah?"

You don't even argue when it comes to Simon. He just buys it- and when you try to obliege- one of his intimidating looks is enough and you fold. You tried outsmarting him by not going shopping with him but the gifts just stack to the ceiling in your home so you stopped that aswell..

So when you did go outside with him you had to literally threathen him "Simon, I am going to staple your large intestine to your nose if you even think about buying me that" you growled while looking at some mannequins while strolling through the city.

"but do you like it?"

yes "No, its ugly"

He doesn't buy it then and there but again- he has enough money so why not spend it on you? yada yada yada- in the end you have some strange bag that you do not recognize on your bed- with that ugly pretty dress you saw while walking with Ghost.

Stubborn man

The worst one in the group must be price tho- he never and I mean neverrr lets you pay for anything. The others gift you many things, but this man? When he is around you don't even have to bring your wallet with you of course you do because fuck them (...please)

You‘re struggling to pay rent? Paid. Wanting to relax? Spa Appointment booked. Feeling hungry? Meal's already on the way. Flat not that cozy? Lets go shopping decor, love.

This man can read you so good- its creepy. And he won't accept a 'no'"

He randomly transfers money onto your bank account- "Luv, I have enough" "John.. I cannot accept that! Thats too much"

-

Oh yes you can. They will make you accept it all...

Everything.

!please do reblog!

My mutuallsssss ✨🌷: @stargirlstabber @cricricorner @captain-of-caption @enfppuff @missroro @peachy-aisha @thelrina @gaiagurl05

[borathae]

Rainy Mornings | Yoongi x f.Reader

"Relax, my love, this morning is all about you."

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, soft Smut

Warnings: subbish & sleepy!Yoongi, switch!Reader, neck kisses & bites, lots of touches, handjob, cuddly penetrative sex in cowgirl position, he cums very quickly <3, creampies, hints of breeding kink, this is just a sweet lil smut hehe <3

Wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: it rained the morning i wrote this and this is where my thoughts drifted off to. it's short and sweet and cozy <3 because this is what yoongi deserves <3

Yoongi wakes to gentle kisses on his neck and fingers dancing over his tummy. The relaxed little sighs of you as you kiss him, mix with the distant sound of morning rain. 

Yesterday you and he went on a date. You took a drive and went for a movie, then you ate and talked until the restaurant had to close. Yesterday was such a good day. Today is going to be a good day as well. This is the first thought which runs through his mind, followed by how much he loves waking up with you close to him.

Yoongi purrs, rolling his head to the side to stub you with his nose. He steals a kiss, smiling into it. You do as well, cradling his cheek and caressing his skin with your thumb.

“Mornin”, his voice is raspy from sleep and incredibly warm. 

“Morning”, your voice is a little deep still and filled with happiness.

“Up for long?”

“No, just a few minutes. Wanted to enjoy you”, you say and nudge his head back into its previous position so you can kiss his neck again.

Yoongi tingles, shivers running down his spine. 

“This feels good”, he sighs, keeping his eyes closed. 

“Mhm, enjoy. Wanna make you feel good.”

You dance your hand back to his tummy and let it disappear under his shirt. The blanket covers you as well, keeping your bodies warm as you share this intimate moment.

“It’s raining”, he talks quietly.

“I know. It’s nice, means we can stay in all day”, you talk quietly as well.

“So no rainy walks?” 

You smile against his neck. He knows you so well. You love rainy walks. 

“Maybe later. For now, I want to cherish you.” You nibble on his favourite spot. “And make you feel good.”

You dance your fingertips along his lower tummy, tracing the little dents his hip bones naturally create when he lies down and his tummy sinks in a little. He is incredibly soft there and also very sensitive. He can’t take your touches for long before he has to squirm and let out a shy chuckle. 

You give him a break, drawing hearts on his waist. 

“Ticklish?” 

“Yeah.”

“You’re so soft there. Couldn’t help myself.”

“Liked it. Just…sensitive.”

“Mhm, you’re perfect.”

Yoongi blushes, having to exhale shakily. He is perfect. He thinks that he is a lot of things, but perfect is definitely not one of them. To think that you see him like this makes him feel really good. And giddy. And shy. And loved. 

Yoongi feels really loved when he is with you.

“This is so nice”, he sighs, chasing your touch.

“Mhm, so nice”, you agree, swirling your fingers back to hip bones to trace them. Your lips explore his neck in the meantime, turning his sleepy brain a little foggy.  

If this is actually a dream, Yoongi hopes never to wake up. 

He was weird about being touched in the past, but when your fingers are on his body he doesn’t want it to stop. It is paradise. 

A warm, tingly paradise, which feels especially cozy this morning.

You kiss the shell of his ear, whispering in your sweetest voice. Yoongi shivers as an effect of it.

“Just tell me to stop, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

He knows what will happen, holding his breath for it. He wants this. So much so that heat shoots between his legs within seconds, surprising your fingers with a hard and needy length to play with. Yoongi normally sleeps in boxer shorts. Tonight’s pair is black with dark grey stripes and an elastic band at the hem. You don’t slip your hand under said hem, but slip it inside the slit in the front.

“Oh? Already?” your surprise excites him, making him throb.

“Yeah is…is nice.”

“Shit, that’s sexy”, you whisper and pull out his cock through the slit. You let go of it for a second so you can lick your fingers to wet them. You connect your tongue with his neck afterwards, tracing the sensitive spots while your wet fingers wrap around his cock. 

Yoongi furrows his brows at the touch. Electricity courses through him. 

You pick up a slow rhythm, lingering on his tip and upper inches most. The position and tranquillity of the morning asks for such a rhythm. You don’t want to jerk him, pump him or milk him dry. No, you want to explore him, make him fall so deep into pleasure that he doesn’t want to leave. This is meant to build up, to be something you can savour and later think back on with a tingly stomach. 

“Does this do something for you?” you ask him.

“Yeah, like, a lot”, he gets out, squirming his hips in a very slow rhythm. They flinch for a little moment whenever you linger on his tip and slow down again when you move to another spot. Your lips are soft on his neck and your tongue is really warm. Yoongi swears that it couldn’t get any better than this and then you bite him.

You goddamn bite his neck. 

And Yoongi is a goner. 

He gasps your name, arching his back and curling his toes. He is yours. He is entirely yours. 

You kiss the tender spot afterwards, playing with the droplets of precum on his flushed tip. 

“Was this good for you?” you ask him.

“Yeah…more”, he begs, rolling his head to the side. 

You fulfill his wish, biting him where it feels the best. And so it happens that Yoongi breaks the cozy morning silence with his first moan. Of course it makes your stomach tingle like crazy. His voice is made for sounds of pleasure. 

“God Yoongi, I love being with you”, you say, biting him again just so can hear him moan. You twist your fingers around his tip at the same time, applying pressure. You need him to moan again. It is all you crave. 

Yoongi gives it to you gladly and a little shakily. His cock leaks all over your fingers and his legs are like puddy. He feels a deep warmth radiate from his cock up to his stomach and down his legs.

“___ a-ah”, he chokes out, tensing his stomach. You are a little quicker in your movements and keep lingering on his tip. This is a lot to handle for his sleepy, droopy body.

“Yoongi, my love, god I just”, you trail off. You have no words, letting your body do the talking. 

You climb his lap and bush your shorts aside, sinking him into you while you swallow his surprised gasp. 

Your fingers bury themselves in his morning hair, ruffling it even more and tugging just enough to make him shiver. 

Your press your chest against his’, rocking back and forth on his cock.

“___.”

“Yoongi, my Yoongi. You feel so good inside me.”

“Good. You- ah- good. You feel good, ah. Too. Good too a-ah.”

Big hands come to grasp you, fingers dimpling your butt because they are desperate enough to do so. He doesn’t guide you, as a matter of fact, he doesn’t even meet your movements. He just lies there, taking the slow ride and thinking to himself that he is going to climax any second now. 

He feels so good. You are warm and perfectly heavy on top of him, you kiss him so well and play with his and your heart races and he gets hugged by your warm walls and, and, and. There are a million different reasons why Yoongi feels good and why he is close. 

He has to break the kiss and tell you.

“I’m close.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s…it’s fucking amazing, not gonna lie.”

You smile, dancing his lips to his ear.

“You’re a delight, my love”, you whisper and give him a glimpse of heaven by biting him right under his ear. 

“Ah!” Yoongi yelps and tries desperately to stop your hips. 

He is successful, but it comes too late. Yoongi is too far gone. It is already enough for him to simply be nestled in your soft walls. He paints your insides with his warm orgasm, clasping your butt for it while his mouth is agape in a soundless moan. 

You mewl his name, resting your lips against his neck as he pumps you full. You swear that you can feel each load he releases. It fills your tummy with so much warmth and makes you so wet. You don’t want it to stop, but of course it has to. Yoongi’s poor balls can only produce this much in the morning. They are still a little sleepy, forcing him to experience the last wave of ecstasy dry. 

Yoongi comes down with a shudder, pressing out your name before he has to gulp repeatedly. 

You lift your head, resting on your elbows and tracing his features. His eyes are closed, his cheeks are slightly flushed. You outline his forehead, his brows and closed lids. You trace his nose and his lips and caress his cheeks and chin. You end it by tugging strands of his black hair behind his ears and massaging his lobes. 

“I love you”, you whisper.

“I…love you…too. Ahmg”, he gulps again and exhales, finally opening his eyes.

You smile at him, cradling his cheeks.

“Sorry”, he mumbles.

“For what?”

“I tried to hold it, but-”

You silence him with a thumb against his lips. Yoongi makes puppy eyes at you, mouthing at your finger.

“Don’t apologise. This was perfect. I wanted this morning to be about you and it was.” You kiss his lips. next his nose. Lastly his forehead. “You deserved this after the amazing date yesterday.”

You meet his eyes and smile. Yoongi retorts it.

“Besides, I have a wish for today.”

"What  wish? Tell me, I’ll do anything.”

You snicker, “really? Anything?”

“Anything. After what you just did.”

“You’re cute. I think you’re gonna like my wish then.”

“Tell me.” 

“Wanna spend today slowly getting me more filled with you? You know, cum inside me and plug me and then at night you take it out and fuck me properly.”

“Woah princess, what the fuck? My cock just twitched.”

“I felt it.” You boop his nose. “Soo are you down?”

“Of course I am, fucking hell, you don’t gotta ask.”

“Awesome”, you lean in for a smiley kiss, one Yoongi eagerly retorts.

Truly, there is nothing better than rainy mornings with you.

[dreamersworldduh]

A MUCH NEEDED BREAK

• MECHANIC! TOM HOLLAND x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — Tom, a dedicated workaholic striving to save for a dream home for you both, often struggled to balance his demanding schedule with your relationship. Despite never losing your spark, the intimacy and connection you shared had been overshadowed by his relentless focus on work. So you plan a much-needed vacation with hopes that Tom would rediscover the importance of these moments together.

WARNING! 18+ MDNI. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing.

WORDS! 9.8k

AUTHOR'S NOTE! We all know Tom is a taken man, but a guy can sure dream—you see what I did there, heh?…okay sorrry—I have a few more works coming out today so be on the lookout. Happy reading😉✨

Vacations play a vital role in preserving and improving your mental well-being, acting as a much-needed pause from the demands of daily life. They serve as a true reset button, offering an opportunity to recharge, refocus, and restore balance to your mind and body. This belief has been a cornerstone of your personal philosophy, one you've adhered to faithfully since the moment you could finally afford to indulge in the luxury of stepping away from your routine. Whether it's the peaceful solitude of a mountain retreat, the invigorating energy of a bustling city, or the restorative calm of a beachside escape, you've come to recognize that these breaks are not just indulgences—they are essential investments in your overall health and happiness. Each trip reinforces the idea that taking time for yourself isn't a selfish act but a necessary one, providing the clarity and renewal needed to return to life's challenges with fresh perspective and vitality.

However, convincing your workaholic boyfriend, Tom Holland, to take a break is no easy task. In this universe, Tom is a dedicated mechanic, pouring his heart and soul into his craft. He spends countless hours working late into the night, his hands perpetually smeared with grease, his mind focused on perfecting his trade. His determination stems from a deeply personal goal—he's tirelessly saving up to buy the two of you a home, a place where you can finally start the next chapter of your lives together. For the past five years, the two of you have shared a cozy but cramped apartment, its worn furniture and limited space serving as both a testament to your love and a reminder of the life you're working so hard to build. Tom's commitment to making that dream a reality often leaves little room for leisure, and while his passion and ambition are admirable, they make the task of persuading him to step away from his tools and take a well-deserved break a monumental challenge. Yet, you know that even the most driven hearts need rest, and you're determined to show him that taking a moment to recharge won't just benefit him—it'll strengthen the bond you've built together.

As his boyfriend, you see it as your responsibility—and privilege—to take care of him, even though his stubborn nature often makes it a challenge. Tom is fiercely independent, always insisting he can handle everything on his own, whether it's working late into the night at the garage or pushing through exhaustion without so much as a second thought. He's the type of person who bottles up his stress, brushes off his fatigue, and says, "I'm fine," even when it's clear he's running on empty. But you know him better than anyone, and you've learned to read between the lines, catching the subtle signs of wear and tear he tries so hard to hide.

So, you take it upon yourself to step in where he won't. You make sure he eats proper meals, often sneaking into the garage to leave a container of his favorite food on his workbench when he's too focused to come home for dinner. You remind him to take breaks, offering a gentle touch on his shoulder or a softly spoken, "You've been at this for hours—come sit with me for a bit." When he comes home late, tired and quiet, you're there with a warm blanket, a cup of tea, and a patient ear, ready to listen if he feels like venting or simply offering him the comforting silence he sometimes needs.

Even when his stubbornness leads to little arguments—like when he refuses to rest because "there's too much to do"—you approach him with understanding, knowing his determination comes from a place of love and a desire to build a better life for the two of you. Taking care of him isn't always easy, but it's never a burden. For every moment you spend looking out for him, there's an unspoken bond of trust and affection, a quiet acknowledgment that while he may be strong and independent, he doesn't have to carry the weight of everything alone. That's what love is to you—being there for him, even when he's too stubborn to ask for it.

When it came to planning your much-needed vacation, Tom always found a way to back out at the last minute. He'd come up with a list of reasons why he couldn't go—there was always too much work at the garage, or he couldn't afford to lose even a single day of income. He'd argue that the house fund was more important than a frivolous trip, or that he simply didn't have the time to take off. No matter how hard you tried to explain how important it was for both of you to get away and recharge, Tom's stubborn streak always seemed to win.

But this time, you weren't taking no for an answer. The two of you had been running on fumes lately, and you could see the toll it was taking on him—his late nights were getting later, his shoulders carried an almost permanent slump, and even his usual spark seemed dimmer than before. You knew he needed this break just as much as you did, even if he couldn't admit it to himself. So, you resolved to convince him, no matter how much effort it took.

You started small, casually dropping hints about how much you missed spending uninterrupted time together. Then, you tried tugging at his heartstrings by reminiscing about your last trip years ago, reminding him how happy and carefree you'd both been. When that didn't work, you brought out the big guns, printing out detailed itineraries, showing him pictures of the serene beaches or lush mountains you'd chosen as your destination, and emphasizing how affordable and manageable it would be. You even promised to handle all the planning, from booking the flights to packing his suitcase, so he wouldn't have to lift a finger.

Still, when his resolve didn't crack, you got creative. You started pointing out how a few days off could actually make him more productive in the long run, explaining that even the hardest workers needed to step away to recharge. You even enlisted a few allies—his coworkers, who teased him about being a workaholic, and mutual friends who told him how much they admired your determination to get him to relax. Slowly but surely, you chipped away at his excuses, all while reminding him how much this time together would mean to you.

By the end, you were ready to pull out every persuasive trick in the book if you had to. You weren't just fighting for a vacation—you were fighting for a chance to reconnect, to remind him (and yourself) that there's more to life than work. You loved him too much to let him keep running himself into the ground, and you were determined to prove that this getaway wasn't a luxury—it was a necessity.

As the two of you got ready for bed, you decided it was time to escalate your efforts to convince Tom. You had tried every rational argument, every heartfelt plea, but nothing had managed to crack his resolve. Now, standing there watching him pull off his shirt and climb into bed, looking both exhausted and irresistibly handsome, you realized it was time to deploy your ace in the hole—a very dirty trick.

Sliding under the covers, you waited until he settled in, propped up slightly against the headboard, flipping through his phone with that furrowed look of focus that never really left him. You shifted closer, the movement catching his attention. Before he could ask what you were up to, you straddled his lap, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his hips. Tom glanced up at you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, his hands instinctively moving to rest on your thighs.

"Babe," he started, his tone light but skeptical, "what are you—"

You cut him off with a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth, your arms slipping around his shoulders as you leaned in closer. His breath hitched slightly when your lips trailed down to his neck, brushing against his skin with a teasing gentleness. "Shh," you murmured, your voice low and sultry. "Just relax."

You could feel the tension in his body start to melt away under your touch as you peppered soft kisses along his neck, lingering in all the spots you knew drove him crazy. His hands tightened slightly on your thighs, and you smiled against his skin, knowing you had his full attention now. Tilting your head so your lips brushed his ear, you whispered, your voice dripping with seduction, "I've been thinking... We've been so busy lately, we haven't had time for ourselves. No time to unwind, no time to really... connect. Don't you think we deserve a little escape?"

His breathing grew heavier as your words sank in, your fingers tangling gently in the hair at the nape of his neck. "A few days away," you continued, your tone promising and tempting, "just you and me. No schedules, no distractions. Just us... making up for all the time we've missed. You know, we haven't had a night like that in weeks."

Tom let out a soft groan, his resolve clearly wavering as his hands slid to your waist. "You're not playing fair," he muttered, his voice low and tinged with a mixture of amusement and surrender.

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, giving him your most innocent smile, even as your fingers traced lazy circles against his shoulders. "I'm not trying to play fair," you admitted, leaning in to kiss him again, this time with more intent. "I'm trying to remind you how much we need this. How much you need this."

For a moment, he said nothing, his hands tightening around your waist as if debating whether to argue or give in. But as his lips found yours again, and the tension between you melted into something far more enticing, you knew your plan was working. This vacation wasn't just going to happen—it was going to be unforgettable.

After finally convincing Tom the night before, you wasted no time putting your plan into motion. By the time morning rolled around, the sun streaming faintly through the curtains, you were already perched at the edge of the bed with your laptop open, typing away with a victorious grin on your face. Tom, still half-asleep, shuffled around the room, pulling on his usual work clothes—his favorite pair of oil-stained jeans and a simple gray t-shirt—while glancing at you with a mix of amusement and resignation.

"You're really not wasting any time, are you?" he teased, his voice still a little raspy from sleep as he combed his fingers through his messy hair.

"Absolutely not," you replied, barely looking up from the screen. "If I wait too long, you might change your mind, and I am not letting that happen."

Tom chuckled softly, shaking his head as he reached for his boots. "I already said yes, didn't I? I'm not going back on it. Besides," he added, his tone softening as he glanced at you, "you're right. We could both use this."

That little admission only fueled your excitement. You scrolled through the options for flights, carefully comparing departure times and prices, wanting everything to be perfect. Within minutes, you had selected the ideal tickets—just enough time for him to take a few days off without feeling guilty, but long enough for the two of you to truly unwind. With a quick click, the flights were booked, and you moved on to the next task: excursions.

You could hear Tom moving around in the background, the faint clink of his belt buckle as he fastened it and the shuffle of his boots as he laced them up. Occasionally, he'd glance over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow at your excited mutterings about snorkeling tours, hiking trails, or couples' massages. "What are you looking at now?" he asked, grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair.

"Excursions," you said brightly, turning the screen toward him to show a list of options. "What do you think about ziplining? Or maybe a sunset dinner cruise?"

He smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple. "Whatever you want, babe. This is your thing—you're the planner."

You stuck your tongue out at him playfully but couldn't hide your excitement. "It's our thing, Tom. I want it to be perfect for both of us."

With that, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door, pausing just long enough to glance back at you. "Just don't forget to pack my stuff, okay? I'm trusting you to handle all this."

“Oh, don't worry," you called after him with a laugh. "I've got it all covered. You just focus on work, and I'll take care of the rest."

As the door closed behind him, you turned your attention back to the screen, your heart racing with anticipation. The flights were booked, the itinerary was coming together, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you and Tom had something to look forward to—something that was just for the two of you.

After carefully packing up your clothes and Tom's, you took a step back to survey the neatly arranged suitcases, making sure everything was perfectly in order. You'd spent the better part of the afternoon methodically folding and organizing, making sure no detail was overlooked. Tom's favorite worn flannels and comfortable jeans were folded neatly alongside the dressier outfits you'd picked for special evenings out. You even tucked in the t-shirts he always insisted on bringing, despite your protests that they weren't "vacation material."

Your own wardrobe was just as carefully selected, with outfits planned for every scenario—sun-drenched mornings, adventurous afternoons, and romantic dinners under the stars. Each piece was neatly rolled to maximize space, and you couldn't resist slipping in a couple of matching outfits for fun, imagining the two of you strolling together in perfect harmony.

Next to the clothes, you double-checked the small toiletry bag, making sure you'd packed everything from toothbrushes and deodorant to sunscreen and after-sun lotion. You even included a first-aid kit, knowing Tom would roll his eyes at the extra precaution but secretly appreciate your foresight if it came in handy.

In the side pockets of the suitcase, you stashed smaller essentials: chargers for your phones, Tom's favorite pair of earbuds, a paperback novel you'd been meaning to finish, and a travel-size bottle of cologne that always made your heart skip a beat when Tom wore it.

Finally, you zipped the bags closed and placed them by the door, double-checking your checklist to make sure nothing had been forgotten. Passports? Check. Plane tickets? Double check. Hotel reservation confirmation? Safely saved on your phone and printed out as a backup. You even made sure to tuck a surprise gift for Tom—a sleek pair of sunglasses you knew he'd love—into one of the outer pockets.

Standing back to admire your handiwork, you felt a wave of satisfaction wash over you. Everything was perfectly planned, packed, and ready to go. Now all that was left was to convince Tom to stop double-checking his work schedule and fully embrace the idea of relaxing for a few days. You smiled to yourself, knowing that once you got him on that plane, he'd realize you'd thought of everything—and you couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he finally let go and started enjoying the vacation you'd worked so hard to make special.

The plane ride to the island passed in a blur of excitement and anticipation. The steady hum of the engines blended with the soft chatter of other passengers, but your focus was entirely on Tom. Seated next to you, he had finally started to unwind, his gaze fixed on the view outside the small airplane window. The turquoise ocean stretched out endlessly below, dotted with tiny islands fringed by white sand beaches. You caught the way his lips curved into a faint smile as he took it all in, his shoulders relaxing just a little more with every passing mile.

By the time the plane touched down and you stepped onto the warm tarmac, the reality of your getaway began to sink in. The air was rich with the scent of salt and tropical flowers, and the cheerful sound of island music greeted you as you made your way to the car waiting to take you to the villa. Tom, ever curious, rolled down the window almost immediately as you drove, leaning out slightly to get a better view of the island. Palm trees swayed lazily in the breeze, and colorful markets flashed by, filled with locals selling fresh fruit and handmade crafts. You couldn't help but smile as you saw the light in his eyes—a rare moment where he wasn't thinking about work or responsibilities but was simply enjoying the moment.

When you finally pulled up to the villa, even you were struck by its beauty. Nestled in a secluded part of the island, it looked like something out of a dream. The villa's white walls gleamed in the sunlight, accented by soft blue shutters that mirrored the ocean beyond. A wraparound porch offered a breathtaking view of the private beach, and an infinity pool sparkled invitingly just steps away from the front door. Tom climbed out of the car, taking it all in with wide eyes, and for a moment, he seemed completely at a loss for words.

That moment didn't last long, though. As the driver helped unload your luggage, Tom turned to you, his brows furrowing slightly. "Okay, this place is amazing, but... how much did this cost?" he asked, his tone both curious and concerned, his practical nature kicking in as usual. "This doesn't exactly look budget-friendly."

You stepped closer to him, slipping your arms around his waist with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about that," you said softly, your voice steady and calm. "This is our time to relax, Tom. I've got it all covered, and I promise, it's worth every penny."

His expression wavered between skepticism and gratitude, but you could see him starting to soften. "Are you sure?" he asked, his tone quieter now.

“I'm absolutely sure," you said, squeezing his hand for emphasis. "You work so hard, and we deserve this. Let me take care of you for a change, okay?"

He finally nodded, letting out a small sigh as he pulled you into a hug. "You're too good to me," he murmured against your hair, and you could feel the tension starting to leave his body.

With his concerns temporarily set aside, you led him inside the villa, watching as his eyes lit up again at the sight of the spacious living area, the luxurious bedroom, and the stunning ocean views from every window. As he wandered out onto the porch to admire the beach, you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. This was exactly what you had envisioned—a chance for both of you to escape, recharge, and enjoy each other's company without a single worry in the world.

The day was warm and golden as you and Tom set out to explore the island, the excitement of being in such a beautiful place pulling both of you from the comfort of the villa. With a map in hand and a sense of adventure in your hearts, you set off, eager to see all the island had to offer. The winding paths led you past lush greenery and vibrant bursts of tropical flowers, their sweet scent hanging in the air. Birds sang softly in the trees, and every now and then, the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore reminded you that paradise was all around.

Your first stop was a charming village tucked away from the main tourist areas. The cobblestone streets were lined with colorful markets and cheerful vendors selling handmade jewelry, woven baskets, and fresh fruit that smelled so sweet and ripe you couldn't resist buying some. Tom was fascinated, picking up trinkets and asking the vendors questions about how they made their goods. You snapped candid pictures of him, capturing the way his face lit up when he tried on a handmade hat or laughed at his own attempts to haggle over a carved wooden figurine.

From there, the two of you ventured to a historical lighthouse perched high on a cliff, its weathered white facade standing proud against the bright blue sky. The climb to the top was steep, but the breathtaking view made every step worth it. The entire island spread out beneath you, a stunning mix of emerald greenery, sparkling turquoise waters, and soft sandy beaches. Tom couldn't stop snapping pictures, alternating between capturing the scenery and stealing moments to take photos of you when you weren't looking. "You're the real view here," he said with a wink, making you laugh and roll your eyes, though your cheeks warmed at his words.

As the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, you returned to the villa hand in hand, both of you pleasantly tired from the day's adventures. The scent of the ocean grew stronger as you walked up the path, the sound of waves lapping gently at the shore greeting you like an old friend. Inside, you both took a moment to rest, sipping cool water and scrolling through the pictures you'd taken, laughing at the silly ones and marveling at the more artistic shots Tom had managed to capture.

Then it was time to prepare for the evening—a romantic dinner that you'd been looking forward to all day. You showered first, letting the warm water wash away the salt and sand from your skin, while Tom lounged on the porch, enjoying the sunset. When it was his turn, you laid out his clothes—a crisp button-down shirt and lightweight slacks you'd packed specifically for the occasion—and slipped into your own outfit, something simple yet elegant that you knew he'd love.

By the time he emerged from the bathroom, hair damp and looking effortlessly handsome in the clothes you'd picked, you were ready, standing by the window and admiring the last rays of sunlight. His eyes swept over you, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "You look amazing," he said, his voice low and sincere, as he stepped closer to take your hand.

"And you clean up pretty well yourself," you teased, though the warmth in your voice betrayed just how much you meant it.

As evening fell, you and Tom made your way to the villa's elegant restaurant, a hidden gem nestled along the edge of the property with breathtaking views of the ocean. The path was softly lit by flickering lanterns, and the sound of waves gently crashing against the shore set the perfect backdrop for the night ahead. Tom held your hand as you walked, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin, a quiet smile on his face that matched the relaxed atmosphere you both felt after a day of exploring.

When you arrived, the hostess greeted you warmly and led you to a private table on the outdoor terrace. The table was beautifully arranged with a crisp white tablecloth, a centerpiece of tropical flowers, and candles that cast a soft, golden glow against the surrounding darkness. Overhead, the stars were scattered across the sky like diamonds, and the moon's silvery light reflected off the ocean, making it seem as if the water shimmered just for you.

Tom pulled out your chair for you, earning an affectionate laugh and a playful comment about how chivalrous he was tonight. He grinned as he took his seat across from you, his hazel eyes glowing in the candlelight. "Only the best for you," he said softly, his voice carrying that genuine warmth that always made your heart skip a beat.

The menu was exquisite, filled with fresh, locally sourced dishes that celebrated the island's flavors. You both took your time deciding, chatting about the highlights of the day as you sipped on chilled wine that the waiter had recommended. Tom couldn't stop talking about the view from the lighthouse, how beautiful it was, though he teased that it didn't compare to how you looked standing there in the sunset. You rolled your eyes at his cheesy remark, but the way he said it—completely sincere—left you smiling.

When the food arrived, it was nothing short of perfection. Tom had opted for a dish of freshly grilled fish, seasoned with island spices and served alongside roasted vegetables, while you chose a decadent seafood pasta with a rich, creamy sauce. The flavors were bold yet comforting, each bite better than the last. Between bites, you stole glances at Tom, marveling at how the soft candlelight accentuated the sharp lines of his face, the relaxed smile that hadn't left his lips all evening.

As the meal went on, the conversation shifted to lighter topics—dreams of future trips, funny moments from the day, and inside jokes that left you both laughing until your sides hurt. At one point, Tom reached across the table to take your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in that way that always made your heart flutter. "I'm really glad we're here," he said quietly, his voice low and full of emotion. "I didn't think I needed this, but... I did. Thank you."

His words melted any lingering doubts you'd had about convincing him to take this trip. You squeezed his hand, smiling back at him. "You deserve it, Tom. We both do."

For dessert, you shared a decadent chocolate mousse garnished with fresh berries, laughing as Tom tried to swipe an extra bite with his fork when you weren't looking. The night ended with another glass of wine, the two of you lingering at the table long after the other diners had left, simply enjoying the moment and each other's company. As you walked back to the villa hand in hand, the stars lighting your path, you couldn't help but feel like this night was a dream come true—one you'd never forget.

As you both stepped back into the villa, the warm, dim lighting of the space greeted you, creating a cozy and intimate atmosphere. The gentle sound of the ocean waves outside the windows mixed with the soft hum of the villa's ambiance, wrapping the moment in serenity. You barely had time to set your belongings down before Tom turned to you, his hazel eyes dark with a mix of affection and desire.

Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall carelessly to the back of a nearby chair. His hands, calloused but gentle, found your waist, pulling you closer. Before you could speak, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of featherlight kisses that sent a shiver down your spine. His touch was deliberate, slow, as though savoring every second.

"You looked so beautiful tonight," he murmured against your skin, his voice low and slightly husky. His words, combined with the warmth of his breath, made your heart race. His hands tightened slightly at your waist, anchoring you to him as he pressed another kiss to the sensitive spot just beneath your jawline.

"Tom," you whispered, your voice catching slightly, both a question and an invitation. He responded with a soft hum, the vibrations resonating against your skin as his lips continued their journey. The day's adventures, the romantic dinner, the playful teasing—all of it seemed to culminate in this moment, the world outside fading into nothingness.

His kisses grew more purposeful, and one hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, his fingers tangling gently in your hair. "I couldn't stop thinking about this all through dinner," he admitted softly, his tone laced with sincerity and want. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

A soft laugh escaped your lips, though it quickly dissolved into a quiet sigh as he continued his affectionate assault on your neck. Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. It was a moment of pure connection, his touch conveying everything words couldn't—love, passion, and the need to simply be close to you.

As his lips trailed upward, brushing against your ear before capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and electrifying, you felt yourself melting into him completely. The villa, the ocean, the stars outside—it all seemed to exist solely as a backdrop to this moment, a perfect evening shared with the person you loved more than anything.

Your fingers moved instinctively, sliding up to the buttons of his shirt as his lips lingered on yours. One by one, you undid them, the fabric parting to reveal his toned chest beneath. Your hands brushed against his warm skin, feeling the strength in his muscles, the subtle rise and fall of his breath quickening under your touch. Tom's eyes darkened with intensity as he pulled back just slightly, giving you a small, teasing smirk that sent a rush of heat through you.

The sound of shoes being kicked off echoed softly against the villa's polished floors as you both shed them without thought, too wrapped up in each other to care about anything else. The elegant space around you—the plush rug, the glow of soft lanterns, the gentle sound of the ocean beyond—seemed to blur into the background. All that mattered was him, his touch, and the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

Without breaking contact, Tom guided you backward, his hands firm yet gentle as they rested on your hips, keeping you close. The back of your knees hit the edge of the couch, and with a shared laugh at the sudden stumble, the two of you sank down together, the leather cool against your skin. Tom hovered over you for a moment, his shirt now hanging open, framing his perfectly sculpted body. His hair was slightly tousled, his lips slightly swollen from the kisses you'd shared, and he looked at you with a mix of mischief and unspoken adoration.

"You're absolutely irresistible, you know that?" he murmured, his voice low and gravelly as he leaned closer, one hand sliding up to cup your face while the other braced against the couch beside you.

Your heart raced as you met his gaze, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I could say the same about you," you replied, your hands wandering to his now-open shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. The fabric slipped down his arms, revealing the full expanse of his toned chest and strong shoulders, every inch of him a testament to the hours of hard work he put in at the garage. The shirt fell to the floor, forgotten, as he leaned in to kiss you again, his lips warm and insistent.

The couch became your world as the two of you moved together, the weight of the day melting away with every touch, every kiss. It wasn't just passion—it was love, the kind that made everything else seem insignificant compared to the connection you shared in this moment.

As Tom's lips found their way back to your neck, his kisses grew slower, deeper, and more purposeful. Each press of his lips sent waves of warmth coursing through you, making your breath hitch as he lingered on the sensitive spots he knew so well. His hands, warm and steady, moved to your waist, his fingers deftly working to unbuckle your pants. The soft click of the buckle and the gentle tug of the zipper echoed faintly in the quiet villa, the sound mingling with the distant crash of waves outside.

He pressed a kiss just beneath your jawline, his breath warm against your skin as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your briefs. His touch was firm yet deliberate, his fingers curling around your dick with a confidence that sent a shiver through your body. The sensation was electric, making your heart pound as his hand began to move in slow, measured strokes that left you breathless.

"Relax," Tom murmured against your neck, his voice low and filled with a mixture of affection and desire. His lips brushed against your ear as he added teasingly, "Let me take care of you."

His words, combined with the way his hand worked you with perfect rhythm, made it impossible to focus on anything else. You felt the tension leave your body as you melted into his touch, your hands finding their way to his back, clutching at the muscles beneath his warm skin. Every movement, every kiss, every touch was filled with a tenderness that reminded you just how deeply he cared for you.

As his lips continued their trail along your neck, and his hand skillfully worked you into a state of bliss, it became clear that tonight was about more than just passion—it was about love, connection, and the kind of intimacy that only the two of you could share.

Tom pulled away from your neck, his lips lingering for just a moment as his eyes met yours, dark with intent and desire. His hands slid down to your hips, tugging at the waistband of your pants and briefs in one smooth motion. The fabric slid down your thighs, cool air brushing against your now-exposed skin, heightening the electricity in the room.

He sat back slightly, his gaze traveling over you with a mixture of admiration and hunger, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. "You're gorgeous," he murmured, his voice low and thick with sincerity, as though the words couldn't stay unspoken.

Without breaking eye contact, he brought his hand to his mouth, his tongue slipping out to wet his palm. The deliberate motion sent a shiver through you, your breath hitching as anticipation coiled tightly in your stomach. His fingers glistened as he lathered his hand, the simple act so intimate and unhurried that it made your pulse race.

Tom leaned forward again, his hand finding its place against your dick, the warmth of his touch heightened by the slickness of his spit. His movements were slow at first, testing, teasing, his thumb brushing lightly over your sensitive tip before beginning a steady rhythm. "Better?" he asked softly, his voice carrying a playful edge, though his eyes held nothing but care and focus.

Your head tipped back against the couch, a soft sound escaping your lips as you surrendered completely to the sensation. Tom's free hand rested on your thigh, grounding you, while his touch continued to work its magic. Every stroke was deliberate, every movement sending waves of pleasure through you as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your shoulder, your collarbone, anywhere he could reach.

It wasn't just the physical sensation that had you trembling beneath him—it was the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, as if every moment was dedicated to showing you just how much he loved you.

Tom's hand slowed, his gaze flickering up to meet yours with a teasing glint in his eyes. Without a word, he leaned down, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of your length, his breath warm and tantalizing against you. His tongue darted out, delivering a slow, deliberate lick from the base to the tip, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through you.

The soft, wet heat of his mouth was almost too much to bear, and before you could stop yourself, a low, breathy moan of his name escaped your lips. Hearing it seemed to spur him on, his lips curving into a small, mischievous smile against your skin.

"You like that?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with playful confidence. He didn't wait for an answer, his tongue flicking over your tip in a way that made your fingers grip the couch beneath you. Every movement was precise, designed to elicit the sweetest sounds from you, and the way he watched your reactions—his eyes dark and full of affection—made it all the more intoxicating.

He took his time, savoring every inch of you, alternating between slow, teasing licks and firmer, more purposeful strokes of his tongue. His hands rested on your hips, steadying you as your body responded to him, every nerve alive with pleasure. With every flick of his tongue, every gentle kiss, he seemed determined to unravel you completely, his name falling from your lips in broken, breathless gasps.

Tom paused for a moment, looking up at you with a smug grin. "You're so responsive," he said, his voice filled with both admiration and amusement. "I could do this all night."

The promise in his words sent another wave of heat through you, leaving you completely at his mercy as he leaned down again, his lips and tongue returning to their task, drawing you closer and closer to the edge with every deliberate, loving movement.

Tom continued to work you with expert precision, his hand gliding along your dick in a rhythm that kept your body humming with pleasure. His lips occasionally brushed against you, teasing you with gentle kisses and flicks of his tongue, as if he was savoring every moment. The warmth of his touch, combined with the wet heat of his mouth, had you gripping the couch beneath you, your breathing uneven and shaky as you struggled to keep yourself grounded.

Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, Tom paused, his hand stilling for a moment as he leaned back slightly. His gaze locked onto yours, dark and intense, a small, knowing smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Don't worry," he said softly, his voice low and almost a purr. "I'm not done with you yet."

Without breaking eye contact, he lifted two fingers to his mouth, slipping them past his lips. His tongue swirled around them, coating them thoroughly with his saliva in a way that was deliberate and impossibly seductive. You watched, completely captivated, as he pulled them out slowly, the slick sound sending a shiver through you.

His free hand resting firmly on your thigh as he settled closer to you. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, his gaze steady, filled with affection and a hint of mischief. "Relax," he murmured softly, his voice low and soothing, a gentle reminder for you to trust him.

He traced his fingers teasingly against your hole, the sensation sending a shiver through your body. The cool slickness of his touch contrasted with the warmth of his hand on your thigh, grounding you in the moment. Slowly, carefully, he pressed forward, letting his first finger slip past the tight resistance. The sensation was intense at first, but his movements were patient and deliberate, giving you time to adjust.

"Doing okay?" Tom asked softly, his tone full of care as his thumb brushed against your skin in a comforting gesture. When you nodded, he smiled, his confidence growing as he gently moved his finger in and out, his motions slow and exploratory. It wasn't long before he added a second finger, the stretch a little more pronounced, but the way he worked you—gentle and methodical—helped ease the tension.

His movements grew more purposeful, his fingers curling slightly as he explored, searching for the spot that would send you over the edge. When he found it, the jolt of pleasure that shot through you was electric, your body arching involuntarily as a moan of his name escaped your lips. The sound made him grin, a soft chuckle escaping as he leaned down to kiss the corner of your mouth. "There it is," he murmured, his voice warm and teasing.

Tom's fingers continued to work you with precision, his touch filled with a mix of passion and tenderness. Every movement sent waves of pleasure through you, building steadily as he watched your reactions, his eyes filled with admiration and love. Each sound you made seemed to spur him on, his fingers pressing and curling just right, making it clear that his only goal was your complete and utter satisfaction.

His other hand moved to the waistband of his pants, and with a practiced ease, he began to push them down, his movements fluid and unhurried.

He shifted slightly, the fabric of his pants and boxers sliding down his hips and pooling at his ankles. The muscles in his toned body flexed with every motion, the candlelight from the villa catching on his skin, highlighting every sharp line and curve. Yet, even as he undressed, his fingers never faltered inside you, maintaining that perfect rhythm that had you teetering on the edge of bliss.

"Keep your eyes on me," Tom murmured, his voice low and rough with desire, his lips curling into a small, teasing smile. He stepped out of the discarded clothing, completely bare now, and the sight of him only added to the heat coursing through you. Every inch of him was breathtaking, from the sharp lines of his jaw to the strength in his frame, and the way his confidence radiated made it impossible to look anywhere else.

His free hand returned to your thigh, his touch grounding and warm as his fingers inside you pressed deeper, curling just right to hit that spot that made your vision blur and your breath catch. "You're so perfect," he whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your parted lips, his voice laced with adoration. "I could do this forever."

Tom's body hovered close to yours now, his bare skin warm against you as his fingers worked with a precision that left you breathless. The intimacy of the moment—the connection between you—was overwhelming in the best possible way, a perfect mix of passion and love that left no room for anything else but him.

Soon his fingers slowed their motion, his touch deliberate and teasing as he watched your face with a soft smile. He pressed one kiss onto your lips before pulling his fingers out carefully, leaving you with a mix of emptiness and anticipation that made your heart race. His hands moved to your hips, steadying you as he shifted his position, his body close and warm against yours.

His dick, already hard and flushed with arousal, brushed against you, sending sparks of heat through your body. He reached down to guide himself, the tip of his length pressing against your entrance with just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Relax," he murmured again, his voice low and soothing, his eyes locked onto yours. "I've got you."

Without hesitation, Tom pushed forward, sliding into you in one slow, fluid motion. The stretch was intense, a mix of pleasure and pressure that made your back arch and your breath hitch. He paused for a moment, giving you time to adjust, his hands tightening on your hips as if anchoring himself to you. His head dipped to your shoulder, and you could hear the low groan that escaped his lips, the sound vibrating against your skin as he fought to keep himself steady.

"God," he murmured, his voice husky and strained, "you feel incredible."

When he felt you relax beneath him, he began to move, pulling back slightly before pressing forward again, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one designed to build the pleasure between you. His hands roamed your body, one sliding up to cradle your face while the other held your hip, his grip firm but tender. "Look at me," he whispered, his voice full of affection and desire, as his eyes searched yours. "I want to see you."

The connection between you was electric, every movement drawing you closer to him, every sound he made sending another wave of pleasure through you. As his rhythm grew more confident, his thrusts deep and purposeful, it became impossible to think about anything but him—the way he filled you, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word was a testament to the love and passion you shared, the moment so intimate and consuming that the rest of the world seemed to fade away.

Suddenly, Tom shifted his position, his hands firm but gentle as he grabbed one of your legs, lifting it effortlessly to rest on his shoulder. The change in angle sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, pulling a gasp from your lips. He held your other leg securely with his free hand, steadying you as he pressed forward, his thrusts deeper and more deliberate now.

The new position intensified every sensation, the depth and rhythm of his movements driving you to the edge. Tom's lips brushed against the skin of your ankle resting on his shoulder, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. "You're amazing," he murmured, his voice thick with a mix of admiration and desire, his gaze fixed on you with unwavering intensity. "So perfect."

You couldn't help but laugh breathlessly, your hands gripping the couch beneath you as you adjusted to the stretch. "Guess all those yoga classes paid off," you teased, your voice catching between moans. You were grateful that flexibility was something you hadn't lost over the years, and now, in this moment, it felt like the best decision you'd ever made.

Tom grinned at your comment, his expression softening for just a moment before his focus returned to the connection between you. His thrusts grew more confident, his grip on your leg tightening as he leaned forward slightly, his body pressing closer to yours. Each movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, the stretch and the angle hitting spots that left you utterly undone.

"You feel so good," Tom groaned, his voice low and husky as his pace quickened, the intensity between you building with every motion. The sound of your name falling from his lips, mixed with the rhythm of his body moving against yours, was almost enough to send you over the edge. His free hand slid up your thigh, caressing your skin in a way that was both grounding and electrifying, keeping you completely lost in the moment.

Tom's movements slowed for just a moment, his grip on your leg tightening slightly as his forehead rested against your ankle. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling with the exertion, but his eyes found yours, soft and full of unspoken emotion. "I've missed this," he murmured, his voice low and husky, tinged with an honesty that made your heart ache. "I've missed you—this."

His confession sent a wave of warmth through you, the intimacy of the moment deepening in a way that made everything else fade away. You could see it in his expression, the longing, the love, the way he was holding on to every second as if trying to make up for lost time. Despite how strong your bond was, you both knew how his demanding work schedule often pulled him away, leaving precious little time for moments like this. And even though your spark had never dimmed, it was rare to have the space to truly reconnect—not just physically, but emotionally.

You reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your touch. "I've missed this too," you admitted softly, your voice filled with the same vulnerability. "Not just this... but being close to you like this."

Tom's lips curled into a small, wistful smile as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your calf, his hand caressing your thigh with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. "I hate how work takes so much time away from us," he said, his tone laced with regret. "I don't ever want you to feel like I'm not here for you. You mean everything to me."

Hearing those words, feeling the sincerity behind them, was enough to make tears well in your eyes. But before you could say anything, Tom leaned forward again, adjusting his position to press his body closer to yours, his thrusts resuming with a deliberate slowness that conveyed just how much this moment meant to him. Every movement was filled with purpose, a silent promise that he was here, with you, fully present.

As the rhythm between you built again, the connection deepened, every kiss, every touch, every whispered word reaffirming the love that had always been there. This wasn't just about intimacy—it was about remembering what mattered most, about finding each other again in the quiet space away from the world's distractions. It was a moment that neither of you would forget, a reminder that no matter how busy life got, your love would always bring you back to each other.

By the time you stirred awake, the afternoon sun was already pouring through the villa's large windows, casting warm golden light across the room. You stretched lazily, sinking deeper into the soft sheets as the unmistakable aroma of food wafted through the air. Something savory and buttery mixed with the faint sweetness of tropical fruit and the rich scent of coffee. Your stomach growled in response, and you smiled to yourself, savoring the peaceful quiet of the moment.

Glancing toward the open doorway, your curiosity was rewarded with the sight of Tom in the kitchen. He stood at the stove, dressed in nothing but his black briefs, his toned body on full display, glowing in the sunlight that streamed through the windows. His hair was slightly messy, still tousled from sleep, and he was humming quietly as he cooked.

But what really caught your attention was the way he moved—swaying his hips in time with a beat only he could hear, adding an occasional spin or exaggerated shoulder roll as he worked. His little dance was carefree and playful, a side of him that you didn't always get to see in the hustle of daily life. You bit back a laugh as he shuffled over to the counter, grabbing a bowl of something with an almost theatrical flourish, then turned back to the stove with an exaggerated spin that nearly caused him to drop the spatula.

Your soft laugh broke the silence, and his head shot up, his hazel eyes meeting yours. A slow, mischievous smirk spread across his face as he placed the spatula down on the counter. "Well, look who finally decided to join me," he teased, resting one hand on his hip as he gave you an amused once-over. "Good afternoon, sleepyhead."

Still half-buried in the sheets, you reached for your phone and glanced at the time. Your eyes widened when you realized it was late into the afternoon. "Wait... it's already this late?" you murmured, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. "I didn't realize how tired I was."

Tom chuckled as he turned back to the stove, expertly flipping something in the skillet. "I'm not surprised," he said over his shoulder. "After last night, I figured you'd need all the rest you could get." His voice was casual, but the cheeky tone underlying his words made your cheeks flush as memories of the previous evening came flooding back.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, wrapping yourself in a robe as you padded toward him. "And what's this?" you asked, nodding toward the spread of food on the counter—eggs, fresh fruit, toast, and even a small carafe of freshly brewed coffee. "You're cooking now?"

He glanced at you, his smirk widening as he turned off the burner and slid the contents of the skillet onto a plate. "I figured you deserved breakfast in paradise after last night," he said, his voice low and teasing as he set the plate down on the counter and stepped closer to you.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms in mock skepticism. "Breakfast? At two in the afternoon?"

Tom shrugged, leaning in slightly, the playful glint in his eyes impossible to miss. "Hey, good things take time. Besides," he added, brushing a quick kiss against your temple, "I'm not letting you lift a finger today. You're on vacation."

His words made you smile, and you shook your head fondly, leaning into him for a moment before glancing at the spread again. "Well, I could get used to this," you teased.

Tom laughed, giving you a wink as he grabbed a cup of coffee and handed it to you. "You'd better. It's not every day you get a shirtless chef who can cook and dance."

You couldn't help but laugh, the warmth of his affection and the ease of his teasing filling you with a contentment that made you feel truly spoiled. As the two of you settled down at the small dining table on the villa's porch, the world seemed to pause in serene perfection. The warm island breeze danced around you, carrying the soothing sounds of waves gently crashing on the shore and the occasional rustle of palm leaves swaying in rhythm. The view before you stretched out into endless turquoise waters that sparkled under the late-morning sun, creating a postcard-perfect backdrop for the intimate meal Tom had prepared.

The breakfast was simple yet thoughtfully crafted, a reflection of Tom's care for you. Fluffy scrambled eggs, golden and steaming, sat next to a plate of fresh tropical fruit—slices of juicy mango, sweet pineapple, and perfectly ripe papaya. The toast was lightly crisped, accompanied by a small pot of locally made jam that glistened like tiny jewels under the sunlight. In the center of the table, a pot of freshly brewed coffee sent up wisps of fragrant steam. Tom poured two cups, the dark liquid filling the mugs with comforting warmth, before taking his seat across from you. His movements were unhurried, his expression relaxed—a rare sight compared to the usual work-driven intensity he carried back home.

As he sat, the light seemed to catch on his features in a way that softened them further. His hair was a mess of waves, still slightly tousled from the bed, and his jaw held a faint scruff that added to his effortless charm. For a moment, you simply watched him, marveling at how different he seemed here—untethered from the constant demands of his job, entirely present in this peaceful moment with you.

Tom took a bite of his eggs, savoring the meal for a moment before setting down his fork and leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. His gaze met yours, steady and filled with a sincerity that made your chest tighten. "I meant everything I said last night," he began, his voice low but brimming with conviction. "I've missed this—missed us. And I hate that my schedule makes it so hard for us to have moments like this."

His words hung in the air, the honesty behind them striking a chord deep within you. Your fork paused mid-air as you absorbed what he was saying, your heart both warmed and heavy at the same time. Tom reached across the table, taking your hand in his own, his thumb tracing slow, grounding circles over your knuckles. "I know I get caught up in work," he continued, his tone tinged with a vulnerability he didn't often show. "I know I push myself too hard, and it takes me away from you—takes time I can't get back. But last night... it reminded me why I need to do better. I promise, I'm going to let up on my work schedule. I don't want to keep missing moments like this with you."

The weight of his words hit you fully, a blend of tenderness and regret woven into his every syllable. His eyes, warm and earnest, searched yours as though seeking reassurance. You could see the struggle in him—the balance between his overwhelming sense of responsibility and his love for you. Just as you felt the swell of emotions rise, Tom added, his voice quieter but no less determined, "But I also need you to understand... I'm not going to stop working toward our dream home. I know I can get a little obsessed with it, but I'm doing it for us. I just want to give you everything you deserve."

Your heart swelled with affection, even as a pang of concern struck you at how much pressure he placed on himself. Squeezing his hand, you let a soft smile curve your lips as you held his gaze. "Tom," you said gently, your voice steady but filled with emotion, "I don't need a dream house to be happy. I just need you. Moments like this—us, together—that's what matters most to me."

Tom's lips quirked into a small, sheepish smile, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I know," he said after a moment, his voice almost a whisper. "And I'm going to work on finding that balance. For you, for us."

The unspoken emotions between you lingered in the air as you returned to your meal, savoring the flavors and the quiet connection you shared. Tom's promise wasn't just empty words—it was the first step toward a future where your love and connection wouldn't have to compete with the weight of life's demands. The sound of the ocean played softly in the background, the breeze carrying the faint scent of salt and flowers, and as you sat there with the man you loved, sharing this rare and perfect moment, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[minkiverse]

PARK SEONGHWA FIC RECS

Poly!Ateez Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Kim Hongjoong - Jeong Yunho - Kang Yeosang - Choi San - Song Mingi - Jung Wooyoung - Choi Jongho

HWA TIME!! A man who is so earth shatteringly gorgeous of course gets written incredibly by atiny 😩 like this man is just art!! As always, I hope you enjoy and support these authors!!

Dividers by @iluvpooks

DISCLAIMER none of these works are mine and majority are MATURE 18+, please read all warnings before reading!!!

Key:

✨ - My Favs

🔥 - Smut (MINORS DNI)

⛈️ - Angst

💗 - Fluff

🍑 - Humor

SERIES

New Horizons - @fivestar-outlaw 🔥⛈️💗 Idol AU

this is just the cutest series!! like meeting him through animal crossing is the most adorable meet cute i want to cry 😭😭 we all deserve a lil bit of delusion as a treat asfgdssfgdf

The Way to His Heart - @edenesth ⛈️💗Joseon Period ✧ Arranged Marriage AU

im a big BIG fan of historical au's and i just loved reading hwa falling for the mc and then doing everything he can to destroy the people that hurt her 😩😩 that kind of devotion is just soooooooo attractive😍😍 it kinda reminds me of the anime My Happy Marriage (which i did not finish OTL) but if you enjoyed that i think you will love this~~

Wallflower pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 - @tenelkadjowrites 🔥⛈️💗 Office AU

seonghwa is mc's nerdy coworker but boy can he fuck 😩😩😩 the smut in this is 🤌🤌 but honestly this fic is so much more than that and how the mc changes and grows as a person because of hwa's influence is so enjoyable to read i just love them 🥹🥹

Sans - @songmingisthighs ⛈️💗🍑 SMAU ✧ Childhood Friends AU

this author really knows how to break my heart 😭😭😭 definitely be aware of trigger warnings for some chapters!!! but this fic was also so wholesome?? like i just love the mc and how they grow from the events of the story 🥹🥹 SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO SAN AND WOO!!!!

ONE SHOTS/DRABBLES/ETC

sycophant - @ncteez ✨🔥 Business AU

there will always be boss x employee fics BUT this take on it 🤌🤌🤌 hwa is just so attractively straight forward and him teaching the mc on how to dom him is truly just so fucking hot i could scream 😩😩

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Hybrid AU

The Thing About Pretty Boys - @wonusite ✨🔥 Friends to Lovers AU

never say seonghwa can't fuck.... or maybe do bcs this man goes fucking feral 😵‍💫😵‍💫 i had like a full body physical reaction to how hwa is written in this fic 😩😩 like this is so filthy in the hottest way possible

Dune - @hongism 🔥 Outlaw AU ✧ Biker AU

Untitled - @orgverse 🔥 Sci-fi AU

Warning Signs EP. 1: The Showman - @mphountitled 🔥Rebellion AU

Everyday at the Bus Stop - @tenelkadjowrites 🔥💗

persistent desire - @bro-atz 🔥 College AU

Untitled - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

Red Dress - @wooyoungiewritings ✨🔥⛈️💗 Enemies to Lovers AU

i love a holiday/winter themed fic ok sue me 🫵🫵 its just COZY and this hwa drives me up the wall 😩😩 he's such a charming lil shit and the banter is soooooo good 🫠🫠 i looooooooove this couple!!!!!!!

Scattered bunny!seonghwa thoughts - @thetypingpup 🔥 Hybrid AU

Morning sex with Seonghwa - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

Untitled - @sxcret-garden 🔥

realistic sex with seonghwa - @byuntrash101 🔥

VIP Access - @hwashotcheeto 🔥 Idol AU

multiple??? - @lomlhwa 🔥 Hybrid AU

I Can See You - @daemour 🔥⛈️💗 Single Father!Hwa

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Hybrid AU

heavy and sticky - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

Untitled - @cheollipop 🔥

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥

belong to me - @ateezscupid 🔥⛈️ Idol AU

Untiled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Dragon!Teez ✧ Sugar Mommy AU

Untitled - @bombuni 💗

Honest (But Happy) Accident - @ad0rechuu 💗College AU

amazing grace - @yoongiseesawmp3 🔥⛈️💗 Church Boy!Hwa

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Bad Boy!Hwa

paradigm - @yoongiseesawmp3 ✨🔥 Bartender AU

switch!hwa nuff said 🤤🤤🤤 no but how this author does banter is just so good like idk even know how explain it because it feels so natural and charming and the smut is so fucking good like im in love with hwa and the mc ?????

The Heart's Filthy Lesson - @tenelkadjowrites 🔥⛈️ Toxic BFF!Hwa

Untitled - @hee0soo 🔥

Damnation of a Saint - @byuntrash101 🔥 7 Deadly Sins AU

My Little Empress - @holybibly 🔥 Historical AU ✧ Arranged Marriage AU

the lamb and the wolf - @seonghwaddict 🔥💗 Hades!Hwa

Make Me Water - @bangtanintotheroom 🔥 Friends to Lovers AU

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Cyberpunk AU

mirror mirror on the wall, who's the filthiest of them all - @almightyddeonghwa 🔥 Idol AU

boyfriend texts - @beenbaanbuun 🍑

[lovebugism]

ok what about virgin!eddie x reader -- "when he wears THAT flannel" i just want to see him getting showered in compliments and fawning over the attention, he deserves it !!

thanks for ur request angel :D — eddie tries to wear something new and you can't stop ogling at him (established relationship, fluff, part of the tcar universe, 0.8k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie attempts to hang ghost lights on the ceiling of the living room. It’s made only slightly difficult by the rickety step stool he stands on. It’s damn near impossible with the thick flannel constricting his arms.

“Fuck…” he grumbles like a storm cloud, face scrunched in a subtle pout.

You squint up at him from where you untangle the string lights. You watch him rotate his shoulders in distant discomfort, still trying to get used to the new shirt Uncle Wayne bought him.

“You okay, Eds?”

“Yeah, it just… fits weird.”

He squirms in his skin again, and you bite back a laugh. 

Your gaze falls to his pale tummy when his arms raise to pin the lights to the wall. His skin is milky white, powder-soft. A tuft of chestnut hair peeks out from the hem of his sweatpants. It suddenly becomes dreadfully difficult to look away from his happy trail.

“I don’t know…” you hum, shrugging as your fingers work a knot from the tangled wire. “I think it fits perfect.”

His chocolate eyes narrow down at you. He playfully jerks at the inch of string lights you give him, tugging down the bottom of his flannel with his free hand. “Keep it in your pants, freak,” he mumbles, a crooked smile hinting at his lips.

You pull yours between your teeth to conceal its brightness.

Eddie keeps working but grows bitterly aware of the fabric weighing on his torso. He’s not used to wearing something so heavy, so dreadfully un-lived in. It’s thick and itchy, so overwhelmingly overstimulating that it’s almost impossible to move in.

Then he feels your eyes on him, and there’s nothing he loves more than your attention, but he still feels a bit like a teenage boy. He’s lanky and clumsy and insecure in just about every aspect, but especially in his body.

It’s weird to have someone who loves him and thinks he’s pretty. It’s good, amazing even, but weird nonetheless. It should make him feel better about himself, and it does a lot of the time, but it also makes him extremely hyperaware of what he looks like and how you must see him.

So when he lifts his arms too high and his pale, pudgy midriff flashes for a second, he huffs all dramatic and stomps down the ladder. “Alright, I’m gonna go change—”

“What? No,” you whine instantaneously, pouting more sincerely than he’s ever seen you. “You look so cute, Eds. Don’t take it off.”

“I look like a lumberjack,” the boy scoffs.

“A very sexy lumberjack,” you correct with a pretty smile.

Eddie grins back, all wide and rosy. He cups your face with warm, calloused palms. “You’re real cute when you lie to me, you know that?” he teases with a scrunched nose.

“I’m not lying! I wouldn’t tell you that if it wasn’t true!”

“No?”

“Nope,” you answer, popping the ‘p’ and shaking your head in his hands. “I’m obsessed with you, and I’m a terrible liar. So you’d definitely know if I wasn’t telling the truth.”

Eddie hopes his cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. “Fair enough,” he mumbles with a curt shrug.

“I, for one, think you look very, very handsome.” You grin and lean forward to kiss the very tip of his nose. It’s warm and pink like the rest of his crumbled-up face. 

“Thanks, mom…”

“And I think you look super cozy, too,” you confess, spreading your palms along his covered stomach.

“Cozy?”

“Yeah. You know, like soft— nostalgic. Like a house—”

His chin falls to his chest as he flashes you an incredulous, deadpanned look. “You’re saying I look like a house?”

“No, dummy! You don’t look like a house! You… I don’t know, you feel like a house,” you stammer, then inevitably start to ramble. “Like, you look like where I wanna come home after a long day at work and throw down my keys and take a nap, you know?”

You feel safe, is what you’re really telling him. You feel like where I wanna spend the rest of my life.

Eddie grins so brightly his blushed cheeks start to ache. He can’t help but tease you, anyway. “You got… all that… from a flannel?” he jokes slowly.

“No!” you scoff with the roll of your eyes, perhaps too quickly to be true. “…Not totally. But I do love the easy access, though.”

A tingle rushes up Eddie’s spine when your fingers migrate beneath his flannel. Your touch is soft and cold compared to the warmth of his belly. Your nails scratch at the sparse tuft of hair of his happy trail. He swears his vision goes white for a blink.

He doesn’t get the obsession you have — with his stomach or with him at all — but he revels in it, anyway. He feels like he should. Most people don’t get to find their soulmate, and he gets an entire lifetime with his.

“You’re crazy,” he says, shaking his head and beaming wide.

“For you,” you croon, lovesick and honeyed.

He laughs. “And cheesy."

You shrug and smile, his hands on your cheeks. “What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.”

And if this is the worst, Eddie can’t fucking wait for a lifetime of evil.

[slashersdaddy]

Hiii! How would slashers react if their usually soft s/o ask them to kill someone for whatever reason?

OOOOHH I LOVE this idea!! give me a sec to whip something up!! (Post production edit: I'm so sorry it took so long! I had a long spell of creative rut!)

VARIOUS SLASHERS WITH SOFT S/O ASKING THEIR PARTNER TO KILL SOMEONE FOR THEM!

Includes: Jason, Micheal, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Charles Lee Ray, Freddy Krueger

AS ALWAYS MDNI! I AM AN 18+ PAGE! THANK YOU!

Jason Voorhees:

Jason was confused to say the least- you WANTED him to kill someone? What did that bastard do?

When you first come to Jason, your usually cheerful face set in grim determination, and almost resignation- he feared the worst, that you wanted to leave him.

But when you uttered the question, when you asked him to kill someone- his already dead heart felt like it may break again- what did they do? Why did you feel the need for him to kill them?

Does he need to make them suffer? How badly did they hurt you?

It may be overwhelming how many questions he asks (signs) you.

Of course in the end he will of course kill the person- if for nothing else than because he cares for you and your mental health.

He will set you up all cozy before he leaves to do the deed, leaving you with blankets and movies and hot cocoa.

Michael Myers:

No questions asked- he is out the door.

dont even expect to be able to explain WHY you want this guy/girl dead- he will already be grabbing his weapon and heading for the door.

Of course he will make it especially painful- they hurt his S/O after all.

But once its done, he'll slink home, wrapping his arms around you from behind and burying his face in your neck, still bloodied from the asshat who DARED make you upset.

And of course he would cuddle you close, silently holding you and stroking your tummy, low growls are expected if you try to get up at all.

he probably will keep you home for the next few weeks- for your 'protection'

and he does mean it!!!

he wants you safe!!

Even in his own fucked up way <3

Vincent Sinclair:

Vincent will pause- eyes scanning you- thinking perhaps it was a joke

you HAD to be joking right?

but when he realized you weren't his stomach turned-

what the hell had this bastard done? clearly he didn't DESERVE to be immortalized- so of course Vincent wouldn't use him at all in his art

rather making Lester 'dispose' of the body quietly

he would make it painful- violent; much more than usual

Once the deed is done he will coddle you, showing you little sculptures, or if you are interested in art- draw and paint with you, his watchful gaze never leaving you- you were his messiah, his god/dess you were his everything-

he would make sure you were safe.

even though he would usually leave this to his brother, it's personal now

Lester Sinclair

Now Lester, he's taken off gaurd by this request, you his sweet lil angel cakes are asking him to off someone?

But of course he won't tell you no.

He will make sure to get his Bowie knife all ready to 'take ojt the trash'

He will ask how painful it should to be

If your crying when you ask, even more reason for him to make that bastard suffer worse than they made you suffer.

Bo Sinclair

Bo doesn't ask anymore questions.

All he needs to know is when where and who.

Of course he will make it painful

And of course he will make the fucker suffer, maybe he will even remove a few fingers to torture them.

He wants his partner happy, so hearing you ask him to kill someone sent him off the fucking rails.

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba sees red

Why would you of all people want someone dead?

Unless they hurt you real bad.

That makes him really angry

He doesn't like the idea of you being hurt, let alone someone else hurting you so bad you don't want them alive anymore.

It will be painful

And slow

He knows how to kill fast, so it stands to reason if he doesn't hit vital points he can make them suffer longer

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy sees red, very similar to bubba

Except he will put on a full on manhunt for the fucker

Using more phycological methods first, stalking them like prey

Before snatching them up and ending them brutally

Charles Lee ray

An excuse to kill some sad mother fucker? Gladly.

But when he sees the tears in your eyes, the way you are shaking, it's personal.

It isn't any longer something to waste time.

This fucker hurt his partner.

This bastard dated touch what was his.

Honestly he will probably fillet the fucker

Freddy Krueger

He won't make it easy.

He will torment the bastard for weeks in their dreams before finally striking.

And of course he won't let you forget that you asked him to kill someone

Of course he is worried, he doesn't fully grasp what the sudden change was about, but he doesn't mind killing for you.

[vyzz-undercover]

someone left my cage open quick

[cato/f!ambassador]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(8,800ish words) (holy fucking kill me mate)

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•not dubcon? [omg they've grown guys]

•hints of size kink

•vaginal fingering [on herself]

•(so i guess) masturbation

•oral [m receiving]

•intercourse [M/F]

•discussions on contraception

•discussions on pregnancy

•mild possessive behaviour

•hint of slapping (he deserves it)

•mild horror themes [warp ptsd]

•tumblr's cancerous fucking formatting as always

———————————————————————————————————

hi guys :3 guess what i got you all good im not dead,,, the gods have let me live another fateful fortnight (fortnite) also i love you all so so so much pls enjoy!!!! @moodymisty, @lemon-russ, @bispecsual, @the-raven-lady, @egrets-not-regrets, @pluvio-tea, @kit-williams, @thevoidscreams, @mothiir, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sinistermojo, @beckyninja, @passionofthesith, @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond, @allergymoose, @scriberye, @yestheantichrist, @ma1dmer, @cucunot!!! if anyone wants off or on taglist lmk!!! im more than happy to adjust this in post OK BYE ILY ALL AGAINNNN!!!

———————————————————————————————————

There should be higher security in this wing, Cato notes.

But compared to the rest of the vessel, it's safe—as in, there's senior Admech's leaving their doors open while they buff out the scratches in their mechadendrites sort of safe. He bets seeing a mouse around here would cause a stir. Honestly, he can fully render the pict in his mind of some haughty Seneschal turning their nose up to his Primarch because of that.

Cato can imagine the exact following happening, 'eugh, why doesn't Lord Guilliman virus bomb the pipes? That's what I had done on my pissy little rowboat of a void ship!' in that nasally, all too predictable tone that every single bloody one of them seems to have bar maybe a few.

Cato grits his teeth at the thought alone.

But it is safe. You're safe, here. He trusts his Primarch to ensure that for you. Being so cozy to Guilliman as a baseline certainly has its benefits. This place is good for you, unlike the bowels of the ship—where even Cato avoids going.

Not for any risk to his persons, of course. But simply because of the tightness of the hallways. And the stink of baseline sweat and oil that practically sticks to his senses for days afterward.

It's most certainly not because the low lumen count sends his mind wandering. And the flickering—damn those flickering lights—they make him uneasy. The impossible chance they'll flicker out and reveal a reality awash with fleshed decking is completely unrealistic. But still, down in those depths, he feels like he's stuck in a dying vessel, cracked at the bottom like a broken vase, leaking. Adrift, on a storm laden sea with the blackness pouring in—where within that black there is a barely perceptible colour in infinite abundance, like the phosphenes behind closed eyes—and there are eyes in that ocean—so, so many eyes, fixed with the glowing, molten hues of the warp itself; their shades a melted tapestry, a solvent thing, ever-changing.

Eyes and screaming. It sometimes returns to Cato like a bad case of tinnitus, ringing and shrill—but the mind crafts horror that pale reality in comparison, and in that wretched plane of existence those mental horrors bore real talons, and real hooves and real thought—and the caterwauling of its victims—his brothers—ever came from maws heaving and frothing in agony.

Cato hears himself stumble and slam a palm into the side wall to steady himself, but doesn't feel it. He feels like he's in free-fall, as if the ground has opened up and swallowed him hale and whole.

All time in that abominable realm was rendered simply nonexistent, without matter nor meaning to behold to any living creature. Naught but the notion of being practically alone and how chilling it was spiralling down the depthless lake of energy remained. No resistance of air lent to the sensation of plummeting, but he was sure he was for reason beyond any form of tongue. The distance was irrelevant and utterly unmeasurable. But the warp had no edge, no limit; and as it lacked a limit, the depth of him sinking was surely unbounded—just as it was eerily silent. A merciless wall of mute, dark unknown which swallowed all whole under it's cresting wave of solitude. Mute except the wailing, like song—song of sheer coincidence, where so many voices in unison chances harmony by mathematics beyond comprehension.

The sour taste on his tongue drags him loose of the claws about his mind.

He blinks, and sees and feels steel.

Cold, unforgiving steel walling like a soothing downpour on his nerves.

Cato groans as he rights himself, shaking his head, and then rolls his tongue around his mouth; gagging a little at the bitter, acrid aftertaste of his Betcher's gland acting on instinct.

He'd thought himself largely past this now. It had been so long since it happened, and Cato tries, he tries so painfully hard not to imagine the same thing happening here, because he's okay, you're okay—nothing would try to take this ship.

The vile taste on his tongue annoys him, because he'd scrubbed his teeth raw in an effort to seem as polished as he could; and now his tongue probably stinks like an empty las cartridge.

He spits on the floor and straightens up, it's fine—at least that's what he tells himself. You're close, and you're safe and that's all the encouragement he needs to fall back into step.

Cato takes a few strides down the corridor towards your quarters before realising something rather important.

He reaches into the folds of his rest attire and practically yanks out a sheathed knife.

It'd be closer to a dagger to you, and he doubts you know how to use it, but—but—

He wants to give it to you.

It's what he'd like to receive, at least. After all, it is what he was given, once.

The smith on Talassar is long dead, from age or sickness, but it matters little. All that matters is that Cato had received it ages ago when he'd yet to make anything of himself and he wants your hands to know its weight. You never carry weapons to diplomatic ventures in the past, and you've told him as much, but he gathers it's because there's never been place for you to put them on your persons in those stupid outfits of yours.

It's a little bit brutish of a gift, yes, he's well aware. But there's no possibility of bringing any sort of cliche boon to your door, like flowers, or something of the sort. Or whatever those waifs of yore would demand as a courting gift.

He doesn't even realise he's continued walking until he's stopped and standing outside your chamber like a kicked hound.

Cato stuffs the dagger back against his breast.

He's not sure if he should knock.

Maybe barging in is a more logical approach.

He knows the universal override to all the input pads, but there's something seemingly rooting him to the spot.

The nervousness hesitation he feels regarding seeing you is a lingering problem—the longer he stays beyond the confides of your room only adds to the chances of being caught. And he's not about to wait for hours outside for a hint you're actually in there. He has right to suspect you are, but the possibility of a serf being there instead of you is unrealistic but present. Actually no, he's sure that a cleaning serf would not lock the door.

So, finally, he raps a knuckle against the door and sets his footing to a martial stance.

The door clicks, then slides open a minute later.

There's a clear surprise that paints across your face as he stares down at you, before it dissolves into a small, flustered smile.

His hands twitch where they hang by his sides, itching to reach for the dagger he wants to give you. He had planned how he'd do this on the way here. Thought it through and prepared, rolling it over and over in his head. And yet, actually having you before him throws any precedent out the nearest air-lock.

You're not in any sort of prim and proper way—you're in bedding clothes, more than anything: pants and a top.

The trousers are a light shade of cyan, loose around your calves but more form fitting around your thighs. Your hips seeming to be the only thing holding the pants up from showing the warm, smooth skin beneath; that, and a small thread tied in a crude bow. Your tunic is more of a inched stola, low necked enough that he can sort of see the top of your breasts.

"I didn't.. uh," you mumble. "I didn't expect you so soon."

He knows he's earlier than he promised, but he grunts in answer and looks over your shoulder.

You blink, "What?"

"Am I to wait out here all cycle, then?"

A small 'oh, right—sorry' from you is all he receives before you take a step back to allow him entrance.

When the door slides shut and locks behind him, Cato notes the lack on downlight activated. Everything is hazed in a moody, misty (hi) sort of warm, amber glow from the candles you've left burning. He thankfully wrestles down the urge to stand there scenting the air with his lip curled up like a beast. Trying not to linger on the abundant stink of you, you, you on everything, pervading every sense he has. Promising himself he won't smother into your pillows and start humping them like a rabid dog.

He distracts himself by cataloguing his surroundings. Cato has consistently focused on utilitarianism over all else, and it shows in his room. His room is accessorised in the style befitting of his many years and achievements; with walls lined with trophies and weaponry made by the best of the Imperium. It contains just the basic necessities required: a work area, a seat, a couple of lights, an agreeably Astartes-sized cot at the middle, and close to it, a dependable incense holder.

Your room is much smaller—but the ensuite appears the same, though. Which Cato doesn't know how to feel about. He surmises it was likely a converted Captain's quarters. It's not standard issue, and neither are the copious amounts of, for lack of a better word, trinkets. But he supposes being the Primarch's favourite little diplomat-bookkeeper-pet-thing is a title full of unseemly rewards. His Father has a strange, uncouth way of interacting with baselines, and he doesn't dare linger on the hypocrisy behind that thought coming from him standing in your private quarters.

Be as that may, he still feels enormous standing there in the cramped space between you, the bed, and the desk behind you, unimpressed at the amount of clothing bundled near his feet.

You stand in your own mess without any hint of shame. A silent Ambassador is typically a welcomed novelty, but a silent you makes Cato jumpy.

You near and try to urge him to lean down, clearly trying to coax a kiss from him.

"Water," he says abruptly.

You don't seem to be listening, just looking at him with a distracted sort of fascination—then the request clicks, and you stumble into the bathroom and run the tap.

He hears the glass he's to be drinking from clink with the hardware before it fills, and them you step out and close to him to hand it over.

He takes a big gulp and swishes it around his mouth before swallowing, and gladly the wretched sourness of lingering acid is gone.

With the threat of burning your little nagging trap gone—and you none the wiser to the fact he's an Ultramarine who can, in-fact, spit acid—he rears down and gives you what you'd sought.

A slow kiss, nice and sweet and gentle; and he closes his eyes this time, in preparation.

You grin against his mouth and pull back after, and he smiles a tiny bit at the way your lips are a little redder.

Cato huffs in satisfaction and straightens back up, going in for another draught of water.

"I am surprised you live in squalor, despite all the benefits of your station," he murmurs offhandedly, looking aside the rim at the room once more between sculling down the rest of the cup.

You frown, and glance about the room, "It's not that bad."

"It looks like a drop zone," Cato grumbles, holding out the empty glass—and you take it, while he's fixed on staring disapprovingly at the messy stacks of data-slates stacked and leaning like two great spires. "Have you no discipline? No self-respect?"

"Clearly not," you mumble and glare at him, eyeing him up, then down, then up again with a judgmental leer. Suddenly, something about the situation is amusing to you—and you snort.

Cato scowls, crossing his dense arms over his chest, "And what's that suppose to mean?"

"Nothing," you huff.

He glares back at you in silence as you turn and set the glass upon the desk—what little free space there is, in that shitstorm bundle of random work.

"I just think it's funny that you say that," you start again abruptly, rounding about to look at him. "Given the circumstances."

The scoff that leaves him is nigh a bark, "Exceptional circumstances."

You snort amusedly, "So where's your discipline and self-respect?"

"Somewhere between your thighs," he says, and prides in the begrudgingly fought-back smile he earns out of you with it.

He sits himself down on the side of the bed and continues priding to himself at the wit of the remark he made.

Cato relishes in the moment, simple as it is—you're oblivious to his own troubles and there's a sweet, lulling sense of comfort in that.

"You're a real class act," You pout, manoeuvring your rear up onto the desk inelegantly. Something tumbles to the floor to accommodate, but you're evidently unbothered. Your pants ride down at the change just enough that it put the part where your hip met leg on display. Just the temptation has him fiending off an insidious amount of lust.

He wonders if it'll hold up against an Astartes fucking you on it. But it's not bolted down, so he doubts that.

The bed will hold, though. And even if it doesn't, he'll still manage—he's sure he'll take every bit of you he can, on every surface he can manage. It's just a matter of time before he goes down the checklist, really.

Cato, understandably, groans long and low at the thought.

"Something the matter, Commander?" You intone with an annoyingly obvious faux-stupidity, crossing your legs and tilting your head a little.

"No," he rasps, and tears his gaze from your hip.

You eye him, "You look a little stiff."

He grumbles, and reaches into the breast of his robes.

The sheathed dagger looks flimsy in his muscle and callous laced palm, and when he holds it out to you, you look bemused.

Your brow arches up and you scowl a little, "What's that for?"

"You," he harrumphs, and turns away. Then Cato cannot, for the life of him, look back at your eyes—so he fixes his stare at your sandals set by one another at the door frame.

A little giddy huff leaves you as he watches you scoot off the desk top and reach for the weapon in his peripheral vision.

"You didn't have to," you coo, wrapping your small fingers around the hilt and freeing the blade from its casing. A little kiss hits his cheek and then he hears the gleam of it being loosed—he'd polished the time-dulled filigree to a mirror finish in preparation for gifting you, and even sharpened it back to a killing edge.

Your sweet hum of fascination as he sees the reflected candlelight dancing off the steel has him finally look back at you.

There's a big smile on your face, and your cheeks are a little red—and it's exactly the reaction he was after.

Cato tips his chin up, noble in his smugness, and smiles back.

"It's lovely, but—" you say, "I remember having told you before I can't wear weapons."

He pouts, and then he's sour again, "There's a belt loop on this one so that you can."

"I don't wear them for a reason," you digress.

"What reason?"

"Because it looks bad for a diplomat to do so."

Cato huffs petulantly, "That's not good enough."

"Yes, it is," you huff back.

"It's just one knife," He grunts, and gestures at you vaguely. "Why not put it on the inside of your thigh?"

And for some reason a few neurones misfire in his head at the thought of his dagger being so, so close to your—

"Do me a favour, Sicarius," you simper abruptly, as if there's a hidden punchline to the entire conversation he's yet to discover, "Look under the bed."

Cato scowls, but ultimately allows the request, putting one big palm on the duvet to leer down.

Oh, that's—that's a small fortune of ceremonial weaponry.

"Throne, woman," he starts, still looking and a bit stunned. "Why? Do you just collect all these? You don't hang them up, or anything?"

"I don't collect them willingly," you mumble, "They're just... handed to me, most of the time. Sometimes by dignitaries, a few by other Astartes. I don't understand it much, either."

Cato arches lower and reaches his free hand out to the gilded sheath of a curved sword, blue and gold and embossed with jewels. It's crusade-era levels of ancient—and Cato swears he'd seen it upon the lobby wall before the broad doors of Guilliman's chambers. That, and the hundreds of other favoured tools of war his Primarch so loved to display. Some hadn't been touched since the heresy, but still. Their nostalgic sentiments held strong. He supposes age does that to someone. Even for someone as noble and mindful as his Father.

Cato purses his lips as he lays a hand on the sword and tugs it free from the pile with ease.

He holds it up as he rights himself back on the bed and scowls, "This is—"

"I know," you sigh, and your hand braces against the side of your neck as you tut, "He insisted."

"He insisted?"

"He insisted," you grumble, and Cato tries hard not to find the embarrassed colour on your cheeks painfully endearing. "I said I wouldn't wear it, but he said it'd be a good thing to keep 'incase of emergencies', or something."

"Guilliman is right," Cato says sourly, placing the sword back on the ground and using his heel to shuck it backwards back under the bed. "You're easily assailable."

"You're the fifth Astartes to say that to me," Your face scrunches up, "I feel like it's an insult at this point."

"It's a valid observation," he shoots back. "You may as well be held together with silk and ribbons—like some spoilt little princess. You should expect the fanfare with that behaviour."

You leave his dagger on the desk behind you and take a few bold steps closer to him, crossing your arms over your chest; scowling as you say, "Oh, so you're the knight in shining armour here, then?"

Cato scoffs, "I always have been."

"And that is so terribly hard?"

He raises a brow and straightens up a bit, "Yes—yes, it is."

He likes the haughty attitude you get when you're subtly seething, he likes the little scowl you wear, and the tiny crease that forms on your nose. It gets his blood up, and warp damn him if he doesn't thrill at the slightest chance to have you gratifying his antics.

"Well, you got a pretty good reward for your troubles."

He frowns sourly, "What did I get?"

"Laid," you snark.

Cato huffs, "You were desperate for it."

Your brow quirks sourly, and you cross your arms over your chest.

"Groxshit," you grumble.

Ah, so it's time for lying now. You weren't desperate, no—you haven't ever raised your ass to let him mount you, you haven't groped his cock—you most certainly haven't ridden him like an unruly beast, taking your pleasure—letting him fuck your tight cunt full, time and time again.

He ought to remind you, he ought to get you flushed with the words—because he knows you'll squirm, dithering, bright red in the face and aching between the thighs.

Instead, he snorts loudly, "Shut up and come here."

"I don't think so," you laugh.

Cato growls and rolls his eyes, "Suit yourself."

Still sitting, he lifts the folds of his robes aside and works his arms out of the sleeves, baring himself aside from the underclothes hanging on his hips.

With another huff, Cato shuffles himself back up against the headboard, settling into the pillows. He locks his fingers together, raising them above his head, stretching tall and taut; huge chest bulging as a strained groan slips free from his throat, earning a chain of muted cracks from his back in reward of his efforts.

Your eyes trace his torso where you stand aside the bed. Studying the ports and ancient scars that draw up from his hips in mirrored pathways, linear and geometrically precise—utterly surgical. Their routes turned up the sides of his ribs, stopping high on his serratus anterior, dodging his pectorals and wrapping around to his deltoids; where your gaze stayed—eyeing the tattoo of an inverted omega he had gotten so very, very long ago. It's faded a little, but the upside down Ω is still well defined.

He's got your attention now.

You shuffle forward, half on the edge of the bed; and lean close, flickering your eyes up to his—as if seeking some sort of allowance.

"Disgustingly predictable," He scoffs, cocking his head and relaxing a bit.

Seeing an Astartes out of their armour always was something to behold for baselines. Ever eye-catching even to those who'd seen it a thousand times over. It garnered awe and fear; but that was the reason the Emperor made them so large in the first place. Aside from the practical benefits of throwing their weight around, their presence alone was intended to be physically intimidating as a means to dissuade the uncooperative from resisting and to scare off contest.

To you though, his bared form is a source of lust. The stink of it in the air has him toey and eager.

But it is, afterall, the first time you've had a good, close look at him in his entirety.

Cato preens at the flush he earns when he smirks at you.

"I won't stop you, you know."

"I hope not," You muse and lay a hand on his sternum, kneeling onto the bed and scooting close as your fingers graze over the dark spread of hair dusting across his chest.

You scan from the tops of his broad shoulders down the definition of muscle to the interfaces on his fused ribs; your eyes trailing for a brief second to his dense abdomen where the hair went even lower. Arrowing down his under-cloth. His entire body was marked with brutal scars of every kind. Some raised and old, others raw and sunken.

He'd indulge a question or two about their origins if asked—or well, if asked nicely.

Oh, that meagre cicatrix below his left pectoral? That was a Carnifex he had fought. It was five of them all at once single handedly, actually—and he only had his great Talassarian Tempest blade. It was a lucky mark from the beast. It died seconds later. He's just that good—he's Cato Sicarius, afterall. You made the right choice letting him have you, please tell him that he's the right choice.

Instead, you sink down against him and lie against his side, tracing the ports on his chest.

Arguably, this is just as satisfying to Cato as gloating waxing on and on about his many successes. Your warm little body tucked against his like a perfect fit, and the feel of your fingers around the thinner skin rimming his interfacing ports isn't bad, either. It feels strange, yes, but it's a different sort of sensation. It's acutely sensitive. He almost feels like he's about to shiver at it.

But then your attention shifts to raking against the grain of the hair on his chest.

"I usually have it burned away," he says abruptly, because he's somewhat bemused by your fascination. Still, he puffs his chest out a little. "To allow greater synergy with my body-glove."

"Really?" You laugh, and it's a prettier sound than carillon bells to Cato's ears—all the while pawing at a thick hunk of his pectoral, "They toast you?"

"Only a single passing," Cato admits, "It doesn't hurt—stinks though. And then it's all hosed off."

You hum in acknowledgement and let your hand wander down his middle, following the trail of fluffy, coarse hair.

"Interesting," you hum, fingers tracing the path, stopping only when you're grazing just shy of the top wrap of his undercloth. "You feel a bit like a fur rug here."

Cato breathes in slowly, "Don't test your luck."

"It's an entirely valid statement, how am I testing my luck?" You grumble, glowering at him as you pull away.

"You ought to be reprimanded for insubordination," He says with a steely, disciplinary intonation, but the threat's hollow and you're seemingly well aware of that. He leans in and pulls you close again as his touch sweeps down your legs. His nose buries into your hair, big hands appraising groping.

You set about kissing his cheek, smothering yourself against him.

The airy gasp that leaves you when he squeezes your ass makes you bold, apparently, because the next words you choose to say are; "Do you accept bribes?"

Cato's immediate theoretical response is a snarky 'No,' but then the heel of your palm is sliding up the side of his cock through the wrapped linen.

So, pointedly, he eagerly groans out, "Yes."

You simper up at him, before fussing with the fabric. Exposing the dense plain of his hip, tugging and un-pleating a little more until he's bared from the navel down.

His cock's so hard it nearly bats you across the cheek as it springs free. To which Cato snorts, not even trying to hide his amusement.

You flinch a little in surprise, a hint flustered, and eye the hard length of him as if it's personally affronted you.

He sits a little more upright, thighs spreading, presenting himself. Offering his big, sturdy quads as a cushion to lean on as you slowly pump him in a steady motion.

"Well?" Cato snarks, "Get on with the bribery then."

You pout at him, glancing back—and huff, "You smell like an apothecarium."

Cato grumbles to himself, slow to gather his words as he watches you ogle him, "If I had... known that you wanted to get that damn snout of yours so close, I wouldn't've used such harsh soaps."

You raise an eyebrow and pout, "Wonder if they're toxic to ingest."

"I doubt it," he starts, "But I guess there's only one way to find out."

Your fingers glide over his big thighs, dodging his ports and smoothing upwards to trace the old paths of his surgeries.

And even with all his stoic, anally neurotic merit, Cato can't stifle the small subvocal hum that escapes him as you flatten your tongue, licking a warm stripe up the side of his cock.

The feeling of it is staggeringly new, and he's absolutely elated at the view. It's half the appeal, even if there's no way you're getting anywhere near as much cock in you as your cunt allows.

You wrap your lips around the fat tip, keeping it in your mouth as you stroke the thick base of him with a grip that can't even meet around the width; balancing yourself better on your knees by putting the other hand on his thigh—the sleeve of your top slipping down your arm.

"This may be a better use for your mouth than diplomacy," He says as he lets out a low sigh, hips jerking forward with shallow movements in time to the bobbing of your mouth.

When you pull off to swipe away the glaze of spit and pre-cum accumulating on your chin, you lap your bottom lip and huff, "You are a prick, you know that?"

Despite being enamoured by the sight of you disheveled, he grumbles petulantly and says, "And you had to take your tongue off mine to say that."

You frown at him, then acquiesce with a petulant little grunt.

Then your mouth descends on him once more, rocking back and forth, letting gravity angle him in. All Cato can do is relish in the sensation, finding no room in his brain for anything else. Just the feeling of the wet heat of your mouth swallowing around him, and the swirling counterpoint of your tongue—eagerness in your gaze as it flicks up to find his again—Throne, that makes him groan straight away.

You hum around his length in response, the vibrations ricocheting through his nerves and up his spine blindingly. His other palm is suddenly against his forehead, a bit stunned from the bombardment of new pleasure.

Your little fingers dig fruitlessly into his thigh, making him hyperaware, sending him grinding forward a bit only to be rewarded with another lurching buzz of ecstasy. The hand pumping the base of him shifts away, and then small nails rake across his navel, then his hip, tracing a port; and he buries his face into the crook of his elbow to stifle a heavy moan. They're only meagre claws, yet the pressure is strangely comforting as you lap at the blood flushed underside of his glans.

Cato's aware his voice catches as he keens aloud, pulling his arm away from his face to rest his forearm on his hairline. He's simply just enjoying the soft, hot drag your mouth around his tip again.

But a reedy little whine snags his attention, catching him unaware that he had even closed his eyes in the first place.

When he finally opens them, he swoons. Hard. Your cheeks are a stunning maroon, and your previously focused gaze now looks hazy and desperate, utterly lost in the act. He hadn't been cognisant he'd put his hand on your head, either. But watching you sink down around him again and again is intoxicating. How your pink tongue peeks out to lathe over a raised vein when you pull off for air has him dizzy. Your other hand's drifted down your pants and between your thighs at some point when he'd been lost in his own pleasure, fingers curling inside yourself. A deep inhale makes it clear you're absolutely soaking. And he's well aware that it is a meagre substitute—still, the eagerness of you is adorable lurid.

Distantly, he wonders just how many times you've had that hand there in this bed. It's the scene of the crime, really. You'd already admitted to it—and he ought to make sure you're full of his fingers to keep yours where there should be. That is, if he could move. He can't find the will to even sit up higher, let alone move the hand he's been using to keep your head steady. But, he does have the mind to comb his fingers through your tresses, at least.

You seem to realise he's realised what you're doing and you whine again, forcing yourself to take his cock further.

Cato lets out an approving moan and hisses out a feckless string of curses, thighs tensing sharply as his senses stagger at the heat that suffuses his belly.

The sick temptation to spend himself in your sweet vile maw is nigh all consuming, but it's nothing compared to the fact he's far more convinced on dumping it in your womb. Anywhere else feels like an injustice to the fact he's able to fill you—because just like some fang-toothed warp-spawn abomination, you've opened the door and invited him in, so he can make as much of a wreck of you as he likes, or as much as you like.

He yanks you off him by the reigns he's made of your hair and you choke a little.

The small groan at the messy handling of the situation is a testament to how badly you're after his end, "Wh-why...?" you rasp, the efforts having made your voice a little rough; the mix of your drool and his precum giving your chin and lips a wet, glossy sheen.

"Because—" he starts, and he's surprised by how ragged he sounds to his own ears. "Because, there's better holes to empty it in."

The little disappointed sigh that escapes you as you lick your slick bottom lip makes him immediately change his mind.

"Have it your way then," he heaves, and shoves your head back down—instinctively chasing the rising tide and rocking forward into your quickly opening mouth.

His hand is tight in your hair now, fist tangling the strands in his grip as you let him thrust freely. Your own hand grabs the side of his hip as his tempo stutters. By the Emperor, his father would kill him if he could see this. But, damn—the sight of you like this is sin. He's so much bigger than you it looks obscene with you servicing him like this. You're a mess, gagging and tearing up, but making no attempt to pull away. It's depraved, but if you're so desperate for a load down your throat, who's Cato to say no? He's more than happy to give you exactly that—and just on time, he feels his balls tighten up—static rising out up his spine as a groan tears from his throat. Caught daft not a millisecond later by a bodily shudder blinding him in a hot rush.

Cato pants as the shivers subside in heavy throbs, filling your mouth. He pets your head as you swallow, at first—and then the pockets of your cheeks puff out. And suddenly you're cringing and scrambling off of him and into the ensuite. The tap starts up, then you do, and all he hears spitting and sputtering.

You stumble out looking like you'd eaten something sour, swiping your hand across your lips before saying, "That tasted horrible."

"You wanted it," Cato growls.

A bright, wry smile plasters itself on your features, "And?"

"And, if you want more," he begins, eyeing you. "You'll have to lose the rags, woman."

You straighten, eager—and promptly start to wrestle your top over your head, just to throw it at his face.

Cato grumbles at the rudeness periodically, before he starts sniffing the article. Vomeronasal organ having a momentary frenzy. It smells of warm you, and a little bit of sleep. Like an embrace, and—fuck, his spent cock twitches back to life. He really shouldn't behave like this. It makes him assume he looks savage. Even he feels strange. So he wretches your top off himself and tosses it somewhere to the left.

Watching you suddenly appear on the bed, fighting your way out of your pants is much more entertaining.

He likes the way you shimmy onto your back and fuss yourself free; and the way you practically lunge back close to him when you're finally bare.

You lean over him and grin, and Cato appreciatively drags a hand down your back, palming your ass.

Promptly, he rolls himself and drags you along. He groans theatrically as if you're fifty times the effort to move than you are, simply because he can. And the shifting of his bulk makes the bed shake enough that the stack of slates on the table across the room falter, and tumble to the floor in a loud clatter of sound.

On your back under him, he preens at the flushed surprise on your face.

"That was too loud—you're too loud," you heave.

"I'm too loud?" He grumbles, pinning your far smaller shape down. "Says you."

That stirs a groan out of you, at least, squirming while Cato drags his tongue up the side of your neck.

"Someone can still pass by and hear," you whine, "We shouldn't make that much—"

"I doubt it," he grunts, cutting you off as he slides off the mattress and drags you to the lip of it. "We have a bed all to ourselves. Your bed—in your quarters, with six inches of steel in the way, might I add. They'd have to stand at the door to listen."

He flips you over, pressing you front down—slumping against you on his knees to grant a rough grind or two to make sure you're hyperaware of his thick erection plastered against your ass. Your legs kick out and you wriggle, a series of ragged gasps leaving you as you endure the onslaught. A small lick here, a small lick there—huffing and panting to stir an empathic response. Winding you up to writhe and flush as he groans next to your ear, only to start chuffing out mean spirited laughter when you moan back.

"See, you don't really care about anyone hearing, do you?" He rasps out against your throat before sucking the skin over a thudding little artery. "You're not sworn to chastity. They might just think, 'oh, the Ambassador's found another poor soul to suck the semen out of, shame,' or the likes."

"I don't know how you do it," You scoff, breathing hard into the covers as he pulls away and grabs you by the hips to hoist your rear up into that perfect taunting arch he remembers so well from the cabin. Aptly presenting yourself on your knees at mounting-height while he stands.

"Do what?"

You laugh, "Manage to find the worst possible thing to say every time."

Cato sneers haughtily, "Decades of practice."

Taking himself in hand, he angles the tip of his cock to kiss the soft rim of your entrance. And Throne, Cato's ecstatic. He finally gets to fill in the gaps of what he should've seen back in the cabin the first time. The theatrics you'd hidden under rags and your own embarrassment.

He hears the cartilage in your gullet click when you swallow dryly and grumble, "Fine then, but don't say I didn't—"

You're rudely interrupted by your own shuddering moan when he starts sliding into you, and Cato's never been happier to shut you up.

He bottoms out in you in one smooth thrust, and the sound you make next is a stellar thing. An eager, warbling 'Sicarius–' as his cockhead jars right up against your cervix. Warm, fluttering muscles around his length and the mewling of a whorish little Ambassador are ever a perfect combination.

But he wants to be closer—so, so much closer; he wants you pressed to his front, so he can absolutely smother himself against you. He wants to burn the feeling of you and him into his edict memory, so nothing can untangle it from him.

Cato has to bend himself at an awkward angle to manage it, but he's well aware of the fact he can manage a free hand to draw lethargic circles on your belly.

"And if they can hear, it's not like anyone will believe them," he pants, a little chuff of laughter chasing his words, looking down at your face buried in the sheets. "They'll think you're a busted piston, or maybe a whining pipe."

"You're such a—" you start as his hand slides slowly down your navel, and your voice tapers off, "You're a-ah..." he dips his fingers between your thighs, and you moan, "Thro—oh—ne..."

His pointer and ring finger spread the hooded peak of your folds, then the middle moves in and rolls over your clit again and again and again. Your smaller, folded body strains back from the new attention. Mewling at the stretch, and the hot, heavy press of trans-human dick inside you. It's just how he likes it. He's got you all to himself, his bulky hips flush to your ass, and his pleased rumbling beside your head. He's genuinely content, if not for the constant paranoia—but content is a feeling he never really appreciated before the warp everything went to shit. But that paranoia is inconsequential compared to the sheer amount of joy he feels with you near and receptive to his affections marauding.

"That's it," he rasps, and he has to swallow down how much he's raring to just blindly rut into you like a savage. "Now, be a good little whore—and say 'Cato, harder please,' for me."

The request falls on deaf... or rather, cock-drunk ears. You simply moan in answer and squeeze, over-eager for him to keep practically putting a dent your womb. It catches Cato by surprise when you climax all too suddenly, high-strung, and fuck, everything in that moment is absolutely perfect—Cato would gladly suffer for an eternity to stay, just like this, for as long as the accursed galaxy will allow. Your body reduced to a juddering wreck, arching forwards and suffering even more touch to your abused clit; your insides twitching in time around him with each passing graze of his finger over that sensitive nerve.

Rearing back isn't a safe choice either, because you end up getting even more of him in your cunt—unable to escape his efforts to hound you over the edge as soon as possible again.

"I c-can't, I-I—" you whine, and in response, like any reasonable Astartes, he keeps pounding until you're compliant.

"Say it," he pants.

"Ca—ah–Cato, h-harder, please—" you start crying as you shake underneath him.

His ears practically perk up at you finally using his first name; it was only quick and garbled, but he's so glad to hear it—he's already addicted to it, impropriety damned, because fuck does it sound good. It's always been Commander, and only recently had it been Sicarius—but now you're finally giving him the validation of crying out for Cato—for him, just him.

You can be louder, and clearer than smothered against the covers. So Cato acts on the brilliant idea to hoist you upright on your knees while he slams into you.

You're struggling erratically against the big hands holding you up, making the sound of a dying animal, now.

He fucks you right through your struggles, one hand keeping your head up under your jaw so he can arch down to tuck his chin on your shoulder. The mixed sound of your little rear making contact with his hips is a rushed, degenerate beat—Throne, the poor headboard of your cot against the wall too, it's almost like sabatons on steel, a rhythmic clank clank clank. And oh, then you make the sweetest little overstuffed sob, isn't that cute. Aren't you adorable.

He's only just started again and he's already liable to empty himself in you.

Suddenly, there's a scream of his name—and a quick, warm-wet splash from you that drips down his balls. Then you've apparently been struck daft and limp in his hold, sniffling out a wrecked little cry as you slacken. It's an entirely new phenomenon. It seems to be a good thing, seeing as you're squeezing on him like it's another orgasm—so he takes it at face value.

He keeps you upright and lets you cinch down around him, staying still—riding out the aftershocks of your finish and keeping his cock nice and warm and snug.

Cato is honestly surprised when you regain enough sense to weakly buck backwards and fuck yourself on him.

"Please... p-please," you slur, and it seems like all you needed was the incitement to be reduced to begging now; "Cato, in me, i-in me..."

Cato's completely enthralled, and he's never been more willing to follow an order faster. He'd walk right into an orbital barrage if you asked, right now.

He shifts his weight into the next thrust and meets your meagre attempts to get him to rut into you.

The loud, wet plap of him bucking forward is almost deafening.

His eyes roll back at the searing burr of pleasure that chases up his spine, panting through a clenched jaw, "So eager to be f-full of Astartes cum, huh?"

"Please, C-Cato—" You can barely even get the sentence around the pace of him practically rearranging your uterus into your stomach.

Fuck, he knows he's so beyond defective it's not even arguable, because he's practically feral for any hint of validation you'll give. And if you want to have your insides painted so badly, why should he deny you?

"I know," he pants, "I-I know."

You whine, well beyond words.

He's about as robbed of verbal sense as you are now, and he groans, your cries becoming hiccups.

He swears he almost blacks out for a moment when he actually finishes. His arrhythmic, choppy sighs chase each thrust. So suddenly seized by his end he slumps forward, pushing you with him, feeling half-dead and gritting his teeth as shudder after shudder wracks him. Persisting, his hips still keep pumping without a hint of respite, pinning you with his bulk while emptying himself inside you, just how you wanted. The subsequent leaking of his spend from you turns the pace of him still rutting into an even stickier cacophony of lewd wet sound. Hand splayed out beside your head supporting his weight, huffing and puffing to himself like a pissed-off bull as he works himself into overstimulation.

He stops at last with a long, trying sigh and pulls his slick and spent-wet fingers out from between your legs; dragging them across the sheets somewhere to the right before letting his palm splay on your hip, dry.

You're bent ass up under him, with your cunt still full of his cock, plus a thick load; moaning so lowly and continuously it's almost a purr.

Cato groans tiredly, rocking his hips a little for good measure despite the ache of it. "Does having me finish inside you feel that good to your little animal brain?"

Your voice is a fucked-out mumble as you say, "Well... 's not like... y'going to get me pregnant or anything."

Cato stays quiet, considering.

And that quiet seemingly sends you asking, "Are—are A-Astartes... sterile?"

"I'm actually not too sure," Cato huffs, and finally grows the spine to pull himself out.

Your gasp at his exit and subsequent little exhuasted 'hmm' is curiously without any hint of fear-smell.

He scowls, "And you're not at all concerned by that?"

A soft groan from you answers, "Got an i-implant... after the first t-time, just incase."

He doesn't have the balls energy to even begin to comment on the fact you'd correctly anticipated him trying after you again. Is he that predictable?

Cato rears back and makes an affirmative sound, groping at your ass, big thumb pulling one of your labia aside to ogle the fat pearls of cum dripping from you. You'd take another load, too. And if you ask him nicely enough, he might do just that right now—or have your mouth again. But he likes spending himself in your warm cunt far more. The way you squirm and squeeze on him when he's in you is intoxicating. Maybe later, given your exhaustion. You both have all cycle—or at least, whatever remains of his rest hours. Regardless, it's a genuine wonder the device hasn't succumbed to the stress of stonewalling an Astartes' draining his balls in you so many times these last few months.

He makes a soft tutting sound as his big palm smooths down your sides; his warm breath dancing across your inner thighs.

No better than some slavering beast, Cato gives into the urge sent by his hindbrain and licks a wide band from clit to taint in one smooth motion, and pulls away, seemingly briefly appeased.

Your squeal is priceless, but—eugh, his cum does taste foul. Nutrient gruel be damned, he needs to fix that somehow.

Sputtering as quietly as he can to avoid dignifying your similar reaction earlier, he grumbles to himself—still pawing and groping at your ass.

"You've ruined m-my sheets," you manage to say.

Cato grunts, "You're the one who decided to piss on them."

He says that, but knows it wasn't. It didn't smell like it—it smelt like satisfaction, and slick, and 'harder, please—please, Cato, harder.'

The sudden shiver that runs up his spine thinking about it surely isn't born of a vaguely possessive thrill.

Abruptly you roll onto your back and sit up, grimacing at him.

"That's n-not what that was," you hiss, flustered enough that you're stammering. "T-That was..."

Cato raises an eyebrow, "What was it, hm?"

Hook, line, sinker—

You dither, red in the face as you mumble, "It–it was nothing."

—and ta-da, he reels in an Ambassador.

"Oh, that's right," he grins and leans over you, "It was you finishing so hard you screamed my name."

Something bold rears it's head in you then, eyeing him petulantly; because you start swatting at him—and Cato's never had you actively physically retaliate for any jabs—so he just freezes, bemused.

They're barely even pats to his sturdy form, and it amuses him to no end that you're so small but still trying to annoy him.

So, he acquiesces; and starts using his own strength on you. He keeps it in check, of course; because you're still a twig of a baseline, even as grating as you are. He's practically tossing you around on the bed with minimal actual effort. Big hands stroking and kneading, rolling you around, pinning you beneath him and trying to annoy you back.

The efforts yield an entirely different result. You're laughing, hyperventilating, and every rough grope earns him a shrill little keen of excitement.

"Throne, you're a degenerate," Cato hums, giving you a wry look before reeling you back under him. "Getting off on being tossed around, are you?"

And with a yelp, you're made to watch him maraud his way up your body again.

You start grinning then, and it's not the typical sweet, coy smile of you luring him in; rather, it's one of a mad thing, feral and giddy.

You snigger sharply, a little breathless from struggling. "You say that like t-there's any downsides."

Cato scoffs, and rolls onto his back, pouting. "So anything that can rough you up will do, then?"

"I, unfortunately, have a very singular preference," you chuff, and snuggle up against him; tucking your chin against his neck, humming softly to yourself.

"Is that so?" He grunts, "And what would that be?"

The kiss to his jaw is heartachingly soft, and you snort a little when he turns to look down at you and your cheek is grated by his stubble.

Your big eyes are locked on his, half-lidded and lazy, and there's that familiar, honeyed look in them again. The soft, heady fixation of focused affection.

Cato feels like he's about to start weeping out of sheer joy. You're all his, your time, your gaze, your adoration—everything.

He's practically vibrating from elation.

"Despite your profession, you are terrible at hiding your emotions," he snarls, despite himself.

"Look at the time—aren't you expected somewhere, Commander Sicarius?" You ask sourly, but the warmth in your eyes stays the same.

Cato wonders if his expression betrays any of that sort of softness. If there's any residual capacity to show affection left in his face after all he's been through. He's sure there's something going on there that's got you looking at him with that sweet gaze. Or maybe you've gotten a good read on what's going on in his head now. He certainly feels as if he's been figured out. As if you've got him pried and nailed open like a xenos corpse in some creaking admech's lair. The prospect isn't anywhere near as daunting as it should be.

Still, he plays along.

"Probably, but you don't seem to really be complaining, Lady Ambassador," Cato quips low in his throat as he leans in close, only to pull away and sneer. Your lips part slightly as you swallow your words instead of speaking, clearly captivated. That said, he is also still a little breathless from teasing you so it was no surprise you seem dazed at his own attempt.

"No, I am—you've just more muscle than brain," you bite out with a flash of snark a second late, taunting him further by sticking your tongue out.

Retaliating immediately, he snares your mouth against his own; sliding his own tongue with yours and drinking in the soft moan that slips free. You nip his bottom lip vengefully, making him stifle a growl and lean away as he hisses, "Don't tempt me for a third."

It's no lie, because fuck, he probably could go for one more. Especially with the treatment he's receiving now.

"Why not?" you say in a tone that's so sweet one of his hearts aches.

"You want more already?" He drawls as he licks your jaw, your throat, everywhere and anywhere his mouth can reach. Tasting the salt of your sweat, and practically suffocating himself in the smell of you. Basking in his victory—Cato makes a sound like a great big feline, somewhere between a chuff and a growl against your neck; lazily entertaining himself by mouthing a bevy of bruises there. You almost immediately let him do as he pleases, your mouth hanging open, eyes half lidded and face flushed. Cato tries—and fails—to restrain the sudden amusement edging his tone at how easily you fall to your lusts. "You're going to overload that implant and end up gravid, woman."

"Throne, yes—" You slur, wriggling against him as he lathes his tongue across the top of one of your tits.

"What?" Cato barks.

Your face reddens, "What?"

Cato glares at you, and raises a brow. You're pretending you hadn't said anything and he's stunned you think he's stupid enough to miss it, "Baseline ducal protocol likely dictates... I would have to carry you off to be wed if that happened," he says, rushed. "Or... something of the likes, I suppose."

"R-Right," You fake a cough and avert your eyes, and you're breathing a little heavy.

"Within the context, of..." Cato backpedals, suddenly hyperaware of himself. "Of... that theoretical scenario."

You harrumph meekly, and then mumble, "Oh, of course... I agree, in that hypothetical situation."

He blinks, flabbergasted, "...really?"

You clear your throat and nod stuffily, only to tuck closer against him.

There's an entire subsector's worth of unpacking those statements need; you agree, but is that you saying it's a distant assurance? That you'd let him, one day, or is it merely conjecture? The primitive satisfaction of that base biological imperative is a heady one. Dangerous, too. If there is a chance of knocking you up, it would require significant subterfuge to keep hidden. Astartes can smell that sort of thing—and fuck, a Primarch could probably tell who's it was when given a source sample. He's got no litmus test for how easy you both would be caught. Maybe if you're suddenly on leave, for say, nine-months? That's one solution.

But where would you go—oh, Throne, he's thinking about Talassar again, and you in a pretty little slip, or in his rest robes, lying next to him notating; maybe resting against his chest in the crook of his arm—the fantasy is mundane, and domestic, and anathema to his status as High Suzerain of Ultramar, but still his cock throbs and his cheeks heat at the idea of calling you Lady Sicarius.

Your hands card through his hair abruptly, combing and petting him, and hm... that's nice, why are you looking at him like that—

"What do you think you've doing?" He growls, ever the hypocrite—his face doesn't feel hot at all, shut up.

You harrumph, "Stop pretending you don't like it."

"Whatever," Cato scoffs, and leans into your touch—not before mumbling; "Cunt."

Self-admittedly, he entirely deserves the feisty little smack he cops to the snout the very next second.

"Don't call me that," you pout.

The laugh it earns from him is just as genuine.

He's having you a third time just because of that, for sure.

[yelenasdiary]

Readers birthday is around xmas and Wanda makes sure to keep it separate from the xmas celebration to ensure that reader knows how loved she is ❤️🎄

The Best Birthday Ever

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem! Reader

Summary: It's your birthday and Wanda makes sure that your birthday is separate from xmas celebrations, letting you know how loved you are.

Fluff, Teeny Tiny Angst

Warnings: None, if I missed any, please let me know | 1.3K

AC: This one is for all you December babies! I hope you all have a wonderful birthday!! x

Holiday Special Masterlist

The air in the cozy little cottage that you and Wanda called home was filled with the warm scent of cinnamon and pine, setting the perfect feel for the holiday season. However, as much as you liked all the fun things that came with Christmas, December was also the month of your birthday, not that it ever truly felt like your birthday. 

Since a kid, you grew used to people not making a big deal about your birthday, especially now that it was so close to Christmas. Your parents always did their best to try and make it separate from Christmas, but nothing ever truly felt like it was a special day just for you. 

As the days leading up to Christmas went by, you didn’t bother to think about making plans for your day. You took each day like it was any other normal day, expecting there to be Christmas decorations everywhere you looked. Wanda, being Jewish, didn’t make the house explode with traditional decorations this year, no, this year she was set on making sure you knew that your birthday was just as important as a worldwide holiday. 

The sun began to rise and bathe the bedroom in its warm light as Wanda slipped out of bed, careful not to wake you as she tipped toed into the kitchen where she put her favorite playlist on ever so softly while she began to turn the spotless kitchen into a baking mess. She’d been planning the perfect little surprise for you for weeks now, her mind crystal clear on what she wanted to do for you. 

After putting the cake batter into the oven, she moved into the living room to hang up the decorations she had hidden in storage. Fairy lights around the room, the coffee table set out perfectly with your favorite snacks while she sets the dining table for breakfast. A large ‘Happy Birthday’ banner hung proudly above the doorway of the living room, your presents placed on the dining table for you to rip into after breakfast. 

The smell of French toast would be the reason you stirred, your eyes slowly opening to greet the brightness of the sun peeking through the window. Your stomach growled at the thought of breakfast as you slipped out of bed and grabbed your warm, fluffy robe before making your way to investigate the smell that drove you to the kitchen,

“Happy Birthday my love!!!” Wanda beamed with a soft smile. 

It took you a few seconds to register what was going on, your eyes noticing the decorations in the dining room along with the set table just waiting for you and Wanda to take a seat. 

“You did all this for me?” You looked back at her, trying not to tear up at the kindness of your girlfriend’s surprise. 

“Of course,” she said softly, walking up to you, wrapping her arms softly around you. 

“You didn’t have to do that Wands” you replied, naturally your arms wrapping around her, embracing her into a tight hug. Wanda smiled softly to herself as she held you, “I wanted too” she said in an almost whisper, “you deserve to be celebrated, not just as part of the holiday but for being the amazing and beautiful person you are” she added. 

“Thank you” you whispered, hugging her for a few more precious moments before letting her free. “I made all your favourites for breakfast and don’t be pressure to eat all of it! I may have gone a little overboard” Wanda informed you. 

“Everything smells amazing” you complimented, your stomach reminding you once more just how hungry you were as you walked towards the table full of goodness. Wanda pulled a chair out for you, “Wands, this is incredible!” You exclaimed, your eyes full of happiness. 

“Just like you” Wanda said, placing a kiss on your cheek as you took your seat. 

After breakfast, Wanda placed your presents in front of you, all wrapped in birthday themed wrapping paper. “Baby, I said not to worry about gifts this year” you said, looking up at your girlfriend. “You do know that request is never going to actually happen, right?” She cocked a brow at you, “besides you need one of these for later” she added. 

Playfully, you shook your head before your hands landed on the large, soft gift. You opened it with care to see a thick, warm fluff throw blanket in your favorite color. “This is the one I almost brought last week!!” You said, looking at Wanda once more. 

“I know, this is why I had to tell you we had too many blankets already!” She chuckled, “I brought it for you weeks ago!” 

“Thank you darling!! I love it!” You beamed before reaching for the slightly smaller gift. It was heavy and felt hard. Excitement took over you as you ripped into the gift to find a photo album with a photo of you and Wanda on the cover. Your eyes softened as you carefully looked through the album full of photos and memories of your relationship over the years. 

“I want you to always remind just how much you mean to me, baby” Wanda said, taking a seat next to you as you took in every little detail that was inside the album, your eyes beginning to fill with tears. “I love everything, every little thing about you, about us…and I don’t want you to forget that” she added. You turned to her, “I could never forget” you said with a soft smile before crashing your lips onto hers, kissing her deeply to show her just how much she meant to you. “You’re not supposed to cry on your special day” Wanda said, her cheeks red with love. 

“That’s on you!” You replied, chuckling as you wiped your tears and reached for the final gift, a small box. As you opened it, a bracelet sat patiently waiting for you. “That I designed and made personally for you” Wanda said as you admired the customized jewelry. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” You asked, looking at her once more, “you’re perfect, thank you for all of this” you added with a soft smile. 

“I’d do anything for you darling, anything” she assured you, looking deeply into your eyes before you carefully put the bracelet on. “Now, today isn’t over” She smiled, “grab your blanket, it’s a movie marathon time” added Wanda. 

As the evening approached, Wanda had one last surprise up her sleeve. She ordered your favorite take-out without you knowing and waited for it to be delivered before she led you outside where a small fire pit crackled softly. The pit was surrounded by blankets and pillows all set up for the night.

“I heard tonight you can see the northern lights, so I thought we could watch them together and enjoy some birthday cake” 

“Wands, you have outdone yourself!” You wrapped your arms around her, hugging her tightly once again. “Happy Birthday beautiful” the brunette whispered, sinking into your hold. 

“This is the best birthday ever!” You replied. 

As you and Wanda were comfortable, snuggled up to each other enjoying the sight of the night sky while picking at your birthday cake, not a moment of the day felt like December was for Christmas, the thought of Christmas didn’t even cross your mind. You couldn’t ask for a better way to spend your day than doing some of your favorite things with your favorite person. 

“It’s like the world knew today was your special day” Wanda commented, admiring the way the lights gently danced across the horizon. A smile spreading across your face at her words, “I guess it did” you said before gently resting your head on Wanda’s shoulder. The world faded around you as you admired the show above you, the warmth of your girlfriend had no effect on the snowflakes that began to fall. Tonight marked a beautiful new chapter in your life, no more worrying about this time of year being only about the holidays.

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[sweetblossomsss]

Into you || Jeong Yunho

Synopsis: Your husband, who was a deceitful piece of shit, unfortunately is someone who is high of status which means danger comes easily. But when Yunho was hired as your bodyguard, you felt something inside of you change. You were fighting with fire trying to explore what this relationship with Yunho could be.

WARNINGS: nsfw, swearing, reader’s husband gets physical by grabbing her face, drinking, crying, yelling, angst, happy ending, unprotected sex, smut, The character Jae is based on no one, just picked that name, toxic relationship with husband, divorce, throwing a object, tbh I’m sure I’m missing some just lmk.

Word Count: 40K. (If I remember correctly)

Blossom’s Notes: Hello my petals! I definitely had a blast writing this story. As I was watching Ariana Grande’s Into You music video it inspired me to write something similar to it. This is a long one so cozy up, grab a drink and popcorn and enjoy your read. Let’s get into it.

Started: May 29, 2024. Finished: July 28, 2024.

“And I just want to say, thank you to my beautiful wife.” Your husband, Jae, says as he smiles at you. The light shining on you, giving you a spot light. You smile back. “Without you, I don’t know where I would be right now. I love you so much.” He says as he sniffs those crocodile tears up.

You’ve gotten use to his bullshit and lies. The whole banquets clapped for your husband as he smiled for the cameras holding up his plaque. He’s a renowned technology entrepreneur, who is known for his innovative software solutions. His company, a major tech company, is getting recognized for its ground breaking achievements tonight.

He walks down the stage, shaking people’s hands, thanking them as he walks to you. He gives you a kiss on the lips, hugging you. “Show some more affection, would you?” He whispers in your ear, making it seem like he whispered sweet nothings to you. You smiled, as you held his cheek, trying to make it a sweet moment for the cameras.

How badly you wanted to slap him and clean the floor with his ass. You two sat down, thanking the people in your table for their compliments. You couldn’t wait to get home, get out this tight dress, and take the night off with a nice hot bath and alcohol.

“So Y/N,” An older woman says, catching your attention, “You must be very proud of your husband.” She smiles at you two as you reached over and placed your hand over Jae’s, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. “Words truly can’t describe how proud I am of him. He deserves it all.” You said smiling at him. Ugh, please.

Jae cleared this throat. “I’m truly a lucky man. I meant what I said when I said I don’t know where I would be if it wasn’t for her. She’s been my everything through all the hardships.” The way he looks at you and speaks which such love about you tugs a bit on your heart strings.

You won’t lie, this has been rough. Even then that’s an understatement. You both started this journey with not even able to afford a bed frame. Jae was putting hours in and out for his company, busting his ass to get to where he’s at now. It is true that you kept him sane and composed throughout it all. He leaned on you every time he let his frustration consume him and wanted to throw everything away.

Sometimes you fantasize about the what if. What if you did let him give up? Maybe all the money, glory, and fame wouldn’t get to his head. Something within him switched and you could never figure out why or when it did. If you’re wondering why you stay, well, truthfully speaking even you don’t know yourself. Maybe a part of you is holding on to the what use to be. Hoping Jae goes back to how he was.

“It’s beautiful to see a relationship like this.” The woman said. She dabbed her mouth with a napkin after she had a sip of her champagne, “Pardon if this is wrong of me to ask,” You felt the mood change within the table. “But I saw those threats online. How are you both feeling?”

Oh my mistake, did I forget to mention that you have been receiving threats? Due to your relationship with Jae, you have become a target for people who are against Jae’s business, along with some fans of Jae who aren’t too fond that your his wife. But what has your loving husband done with this information every time you bring it up? Nothing.

The other people in the table agreed talking amongst themselves whispering how they were terrified for you or were worried something bad would happen. “Oh, trust me, we aren’t taking the threats lightly,” Jae said, reassuring the people at the table.

You could’ve sworn you hurt your neck from how fast you snapped to his direction wondering who the fuck is “we” and why “we” all of sudden started caring. “We are currently trying to find the culprits as well as hiring a bodyguard for Y/N.”

Your mouth dropped. You were in shock. For MONTHS you’ve been begging and pleading for some form of protection but he always dismissed your feelings. Guess when other people speak he will do anything to save face his reputation.

He gives you a small face signaling to fix yours. “Oh-Oh, I’m just so shocked,” you said as you put a hand on your chest, “I- um- I didn’t know he was getting me a bodyguard.” You fumbled with your words, giving a small smile to the people at the table to save your reaction.

“Oh, what a good man you have,” the woman said. She grabs her champagne raising it in front of her. “A toast,” she says as everyone, including you two, raise your glass. “To the newly renowned entrepreneur.” Clinking with Jae before you downed that drink knowing you’re in for a long night. You can’t wait to get home.

_______

Finally you two arrived home, no one saying a word to one another. Jae loosening up his tie and taking his jacket off as he walks to the bar. You closed the door, walking to lean on the wall as you take off your heels. You carried them in your hands as you headed up the stairs.

“It would be nice if my wife would give a fuck about my award.” He spat in venom as he poured himself a drink, watching your figure go up the stairs.

You stopped half way on the stairs, making a creaking sound on the wood as you turned around. “Are you serious?” You scoffed. “Your wife is exhausted of playing pretend tonight, husband. I’m going to bed.” You turn around, wanting to just get comfortable and out of his presence.

He slams the cup down, liquor spilling out. You roll your eyes. Oh, here we go again. “Pretend? Are you fucking kidding me? After all I fucking do for you? For us? You’re gonna treat to me like this?” He yells as he spreads his arms out in front of him, leaning on the counter top, glaring at you.

You let out a laugh, slowly going down the stairs, staring at him with a smirk. “For us?” You asked tilting your head to the side in amusement, dropping your heels. “No, Jae, just for you. You’re just a self absorbed arrogant piece of shit.”

That set him off because he was coming in heavy steps, flaring his nostrils, eyes full of anger as he walked up to you grabbing your face. You yelped in shock, digging your nails into his wrist. “You don’t get to speak to me like that.” He spat at you, tightening the grip.

“Admit it. You don’t give a fuck about me. All you care about is your status and how you look on the outside to others.” You said breathing heavy as you try clawing his arm away from you.

“That’s not true. You know I care for you.” He said. His actions obviously say otherwise. You finally shoved him off of you. He stumbled a bit trying to find his balance. There was a moment of silence looking at each other before you spoke.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Why does it take for other people to speak up about what’s happening to me in order for you to do something? You listen to them instead of me?” You felt tears dwelling up as you fumbled taking off your engagement ring and throwing it at him. “Your wife?”

The ring hit him on the chest, bouncing at bit as it made impact with the floor, not that he cares about it either way. “You know that I was caught up with work, business meetings-“

“Everything but me. You just needed to hear other people talking about the threats to validate my feelings, huh?” You cut him off with tears streaming down your face. You were just fed up with all his excuses.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “I was making sure that you weren’t just you being paranoid!” He yells.

You scoffed in disbelief, is he serious right now? “Paranoid? You think I’m being paranoid? You think it’s great living in fear?” You asked him, watching him walk to the bar.

He pours another drink, giving his back to you. “We are doing it now so what’s the matter.” He says nonchalantly.

You sniffed as you wiped the fallen tears. “What matters is that my own husband who vowed to love and protect me doesn’t do anything of the sort.” You said as you shook your head in disappointment and anger. Seeing that he just gave up on this conversation, you just left and went upstairs.

Jae isn’t even phased one bit. He doesn’t bother looking back at you as you leave, not even feeling a tad bit remorse. He just leans his body over the counter, entertaining himself with the cup moving the liquor around, hearing the ice cubes clank against the glass.

He then suddenly feels a vibration in his pocket. He takes his phone out to see someone texted him what he was doing tonight. He chugs the rest of the drink, grabbing his car keys and slamming the door shut as he heads out.

As you’re getting undressed in the bathroom, you turned your head to the sound of the door closing. You sniffed as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand. You’re not stupid, you know he’s probably off to go party and screw some woman. Not the first nor the last.

You watched as the hot steam fogged up the room. Turning to the mirror, you wiped it as you stared at yourself. This isn’t you. You deserve better. You touched your face as you see the tiredness in your eyes, stress written all over your face. Soon the mirror would be fogging again causing you to look at your reflection fading.

You walked to the tub sighing in delight, feeling the slight burning sensation of the water relaxing your muscles as you stepped in. You slowly got in, letting your body adjust to the temperature. You leaned your back on the tub, closing your eyes letting the bullshit of night get out of your system into a peace of mind.

________

A few days have passed and tension still lingers between you and Jae. But here you are, standing in his spacious, sleek office, gazing out the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the city getting ready to meet this so called bodyguard Jae has hired.

When he told you he had found someone, you felt the weight of the world come off your chest. Finally, you get to breathe and not have to constantly be looking over your shoulder anymore. The sounds of Jae’s rhythmic typing filled your ears as you stared at your wedding ring, wearing it just for display for photos. You sighed as your attention turned to the view before you.

Suddenly a knock on the door caught your thoughts as you turned around to see who it was. “Come in.” Jae said not even bothering to look up. “Sir,” the receptionist said as she peaked in, “Mr. Jeong has arrived.” Jae looked up at her pausing mid-type, nodding his head as he stood up. “Bring him in.”

You walked and stood next to Jae as he is straightening his clothes, buttoning up his suit, preparing to meet him. “Let me do the talking,” he says, adjusting his tie. “Maybe now I won’t have to worrying about your safety every second.”

“Since when have you ever been worried about my safety to begin with?” You shot back at him with anger in your eyes.

Right when he was about to say something the door opens. Everything went silent when this tall man walked in. You were momentarily stunned at how handsome he was. He was just oozing with quiet confidence in every step as he approached you both. “Good evening, I’m Jeong Yunho.” He greets himself, deep voice ringing in your ears. Wow.

Yunho extends his hand out to Jae and he returns it with a firm shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jae and this,” he wraps his arm around you, “is my wife, Y/N.” He smiles at Yunho.

The urge of breaking his arm off of you is hard to fight but you push through it. “It’s very nice to meet you Mr. Jeong. Thank you so much for coming in today.” Although you feel irritated towards Jae, you gave a genuine smile to Yunho.

He extends his arm out to you. “Please, the pleasure is all mine. And please call me Yunho.” He gave you a small smile as he shook your hand. Wow, he is very handsome. Not just that, but the energy he was radiating when he walked captivated you in some sense.

Jae clears his throat putting his hands in his pockets, noticing your longing stare. “Yunho comes highly recommended. He will make sure you’re safe now.” He said in a serious tone.

“Im sure I will be.” Your tone coming off a little sarcastic as you smiled at Jae causing him to force a smile as his eyes sent daggers to you. “It really means a lot that you’re here Yunho.” You turned your attention back to him.

He nodded, giving a small smile. “Of course. It’s my job. We’ll go over your daily routine and set up a security plan tailored to whatever you need.” He said putting his hands behind his back as he spoke.

“Just make sure she’s protected.” Jae said with slight attitude towards Yunho. You gave him a look that said shut-up. “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing Jae.” You spat back at him.

Yunho sensed the tension between the two of you. He was eying your body language. Keeping a keen eye at the way Jae held your arm and you trying to remove it from his grip as he harshly whispers something into your ear causing your expression to turn angry.

“It’s alright. I understand where he’s coming from,” Yunho said calmly, trying to ease the tension. “My only goal is to protect you without intruding on your personal space. Whatever you need, just let me know.”

You nodded at Yunho’s words. “Well, if you excuse me,” Jae said as he looked at his watch, completely ignoring what Yunho said. “I have a meeting to get to. Make sure she gets home safe.” Jae said as left the room, but not before looking Yunho and up and down as if he’s a threat.

Once you hear the door close, you let out a sigh trying to release the frustration within you. “Yunho, I’m so sorry about Jae. He’s just very… difficult.” You apologized.

Yunho shook his head, giving you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it. My focus is on you, not him.” He told you. Oh, what was that? Did my heart skip a beat?

You feel a rush of warmth covering your heart with his words, feeling your heart do a leap. It was the way his words spewed sincerity with his intense gaze throwing you off guard. It felt like it stirred up something in you and it was just the first time meeting him.

But besides that, you kind of felt overwhelmed, but in a good way. Feeling some tears creeping in, you sniffed a bit, “Sorry, it’s just- It’s been a long time coming. Ive been waiting for this for a while. You have no idea how clear I can breathe now.”

Yunho looks at you with compassion, “I know it’s a lot to take in, but I promise I’m going to be here for you at every step.” He reassures you as he pulls out a handkerchief for you to dry up your tears. You thanked him as you grabbed it from him, patting your face dry.

“Why don’t we go over your daily routine? The more I know, the better I can protect you.” He said smiling slightly at you, trying to take your mind off of the overwhelming thoughts. You let out a soft okay as you two sat down at the sofa.

You two spent an about an hour or two going over the entire outline of your routine. The places where you like to eat, favorite places to shop, like to hang out, just the usual places. He listens intently as he takes notes, asking questions to clarify some details, nodding his head as you kept talking. “And, well, that’s pretty much it,” you chuckled nervously, “sorry it’s that’s a lot of information.”

He shakes his head, “Not at all. It helps me to know as much as I can to ensure your safety.” He closes his notebook tucking it inside his suit pocket, standing up. “Well then, let’s get you home, yeah?” He asks as he extends a hand out to help you stand from the sofa.

You take his hand as you stand up looking at him. “Yeah, let’s go.” And with that you lead the way out the office and out the building. Because of the news of Jae winning an award, paparazzi were outside his building wanting to take photos and ask questions. And of course he would eat up all that attention.

As soon as you stepped outside, you were bombarded with questions, crowd closing up on you. You covered your face with your hand as flashing lights from the cameras were blinding you from seeing where you were going. Yunho had brought you closer to his chest, shoving people out the way, yelling at them to move.

He held a finger to his ear piece. “Prepare the car.” He said as he held you tightly. When the crowd opens up a way to the car, you see more security guards creating a barricade for you to get in the car. Yunho opens the door for you and helps you inside closing the door quickly.

He rushes to the other side of the car and gets inside. “Let’s go.” He tells the driver as he taps the driver seat. The driver books it out of there as you stared out the window, watching as you get further and further away from the paparazzi. You leaned your head back and close your eyes, feeling at ease. Something you haven’t felt in a long time.

_______

To say you were happy beyond words is an understatement. Yunho has been there at your beckoning call, very attentive when people are in your surroundings, he can read you like an open book at this point. It felt good getting some normalcy back. However one thing is still unresolved, your marriage.

Yunho has definitely seen the bad and the ugly when it comes to you two. The screaming matches, the silence between one another, you name it he saw it. You felt so ashamed and embarrassed to be doing all that in front of Yunho, but he always reassured you that it was okay and that he was here for you.

And tonight just so happens to be one of those nights. Tonight is an important conference for Jae and as always, he’s on edge. He had a drink in his hand, tapping his foot impatiently as he looked at his watch.

“Y/N, we have to go. Come on!” You heard Jae yelling from downstairs. You roll your eyes, applying the final touches to your makeup. You stepped back, admiring yourself as you spritz yourself with perfume.

You set it down and ran your hands down your dress, turning a bit to the side to see how you looked from behind. You smirked at yourself, Damn I look good.

You took a deep breath and let it out as you started walking down the stairs. The creaking of the stairs caused Jae and Yunho to look at your direction causing them to freeze up at your presence. You just looked so breathtaking. Yunho eyes never once left you as he walked towards you to help you down the last couple of steps.

“You look beautiful, Ms. Y/N.” Yunho complimented as you stepped in front of him, turning so he can help you with your silk shawl. You gave him a small thank you, adjusting your shawl around you.

Jae looked at you up and down before finishing his drink. “Let’s go.” He said, placing his cup down as he walked to the door. “We are going to be late.”

____

Arriving to the conference, as soon as you stepped in servers with drinks on a silver tray offered you champagne. You happily took one while Jae went off on his own to the bar to get something else to drink. Yunho just declined by raising his hand and followed you to the reserved table.

Once you spotted your name, he helped remove your shawl. The mixture of his slight touch mixed with the fresh cool air hitting your exposed skin gave a chill down your spine. He took out the chair for you,“If you need me, I’ll be right over there, okay?” He leaned down, whispering in your ear as he pushed the chair in for you.

The hot breath you felt in your ear gave you goosebumps all over, making the little hairs stand at your neck. “Okay.” You said softly as you nodded at him, clearing your throat. Feel like a little hot all of a sudden.

You watched him walk away as you bite your lower lip. Why am I feeling like this? But soon the devil himself would take you out of your thoughts as he got into your view taking a seat next to you. “Remember, act happy and don’t look so miserable.” Jae reminded you for the 20th time that night.

“Oh, sweetie, how can I when I’m with you?” You gave him a fake smile to which he returned one to you. When people started arriving at your table, his focus immediately shifted to them. You gave a small talk and smiles as the night when on.

As Jae was chatting up amongst the people at the table, you sighed in boredom. You grabbed your champagne taking small sips, your eyes roaming around the room. But you know who you were looking for. Your heart stopped when you saw those eyes were already looking at you.

It just felt like it was just you and him in this large crowded room. The dimmed light casting a mysterious look on him. You felt yourself getting lost looking at him. You can hear your heart beating with curiosity and excitement. Something in the way he looks at you makes you feel giddy inside.

He raised his eyebrow, almost asking if anything was wrong. You saw how was getting ready to walk but you smiled and shook your head. You placed the champagne down, turning your attention back to the table getting ready to play husband and wife when you heard Jae call for your attention.

______

Time has passed but the function is still going on. Jae and you stand amongst fellow CEOs, talking about their respective companies as Jae has a possessive grip around your waist. You try your best to hide your discomfort as you try to keep up with the conversation.

“So gentleman, as you can see,” Jae says as he takes a sip of his drink. “NexTech has been known for its unprecedented growth. Plus with our innovative strategies and unmatched resources, we will be dominating like no one has before.”

“Very impressive, Jae. The vision for your company is quite ambitious.” A CEO nods in approval. Jae chuckles as he grips you tighter. You slightly wince at the touch, knowing he’s getting drunk and can’t control himself.

“But of course it is. After all, I wouldn’t settle for anything less.” He said in an arrogant tone, chuckling.

You tried shifting away from him, but it was no use. He had a death grip on you. “Yes, Jae has always been ambitious.” You forced a laugh. You gave Jae a pointed look, signaling for him to loosen up the pressure.

But of course, he ignores you. All his attention is on the CEOs in-front of him. “Oh and who’s the lovely lady? Is she your assistant?” Someone asks, eyeing you with curiosity. Really man? You fought the urge to not roll your eyes.

“Oh no, she’s way more than that,” Jae chuckles, “This is my partner, Y/N, in every sense of the word. Although, between us, she’s not much help when it comes to the business side. Just a pretty face to show around.”

You look at him with widen eyes, feeling shock and humiliation. You can sense the mixture of pity and amusement from the CEOs as they look at you. In that moment you felt so small. You cleared your throat, “Excuse me.” You said as you removed yourself from his grasp, quickly walking away from them.

“Women, right? Can’t take a joke.” Jae sarcastically says as he takes a sip causing a laughter amongst the group.

______

Shoving the door of the banquet open, the loud noise of the chatter and music from the room fades away as the door closes behind you. Your heels echoed in the hallway as you desperately tried to find some sort of exit, feeling suffocated and humiliated.

After turning down some halls, you came across this French door that upon opening revealed to be a beautiful roof top garden. You sniffed as you sat down on the stone bench that was there, running a hand through your hair as you sobbed.

You shouldn’t be shocked at this point, you know that. But you just can’t help how you feel. Why must he be such an asshole. You sat there replaying the moment in your head. “I feel so stupid..” you said as you leaned your face into your hands as you cried.

Meanwhile back in the banquet, Yunho whose eyes never left your sight, saw you running away. He exchanged a look with Jae that was full of disappointment but quite frankly Jae could give a fuck about it. Yunho just knows that Jae did something to fuck this up.

As Yunho stepped out of the room, he looked all over for you. He was jogging down the hall but stopped in his steps once he saw that some doors were open and as he got closer he heard someone crying. When he stepped out, he saw you in your broken state.

As he approached you, the gravel under his feet made some noise but you were too caught up in your emotions that you didn’t hear foot steps approaching you. “Y/N?” He crouched down in front of you.

You jumped a bit not expecting to see anyone. “Oh my- Yunho, I’m so sorry,” you sniffed, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “I just- I- I’m sorry.” You sighed in defeat. “I don’t mean for you to see me in such state.” You said you turned to the side trying to compose yourself.

He doesn’t say anything as he stands up and takes his jacket off and he wraps it around you. You look up at him with puffy eyes and watched as he turns to the side and plucks a beautiful bloomed rose. “Here’s a flower for the woman whose beauty outshines any garden there is in life.” He says as he sits down next to you, tucking it gently in your hair.

You let out a small chuckle, touching the flower in your hair, “Thank you Yunho, that’s very sweet of you.” You say slightly nasally from the crying as you looked down. Feeling shy and embarrassed because you’re sure you look like a hot mess with your makeup all messed up.

“I mean it.” He says softly. He takes a minute then sighs. “May I ask a personal question? And apologies in advance if I have overstepped.” He asks you as he stares at your sadden state. You nodded, not even looking at him. “Why do you stay with a man who treats you like this?”

You take a deep breath, looking at him. “It’s complicated… We have been together for so long.” You sniffed, your voice was barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t always like this. He use to be so different.”

“But now?” Yunho asks as he listened intently, his expression softened at the sight of you.

“But now… I don’t know,” you looked down as you gripped Yunho’s jacket around you. “I think part of me stays because I hope he returns to being the guy he used to be to. Plus there’s so many other factors to it. Leaving isn’t as simple as it sounds.”

Yunho nodded in understanding. “While I do understand you, I just think you deserve someone who will treat you like the woman you are. It’s not worth crying over him.” He said turning your head to face him as he wipes your tears. The words he spoke ached your heart because it was the truth.

“You sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself, huh?” You chuckled at him causing him to laugh as well. His laugh was like music to your ears. He barely showed any emotions but when he did, it was a sight to see.

“Just doing my job,” he smiles. “But in all seriousness, you’re stronger than you think you are.” He says standing up, having the moonlight shine on his figure giving him that mysterious look from earlier.

You stood up as well, “Thank you for your kind words Yunho.” You said looking up at him. Suddenly the wind picked up a bit, causing you shiver. “Let’s go home, I’m sure his drunken self won’t even notice I’m gone.”

He nodded as he held his arm out for you to grab. You happily took it, feeling a bit tipsy from all the champagne you drank. Plus the crying didn’t help much. And with that you two left the building and headed home.

_____

You leaned your head against the window, watching the city lights has Yunho drove you both home. The drive was nice and quiet. You had told Yunho to take a different route because you honestly just didn’t want to go home.

But good things come to an end and here you are pulling into your driveway. You sat up in a surprise, feeling your heart quicken when you saw that Jae was home. “He’s home.” You muttered.

Yunho gave you a concerned look, “You want me to stay?” He asked seeing a bit of fear coming into your expression.

You nodded. “Yes. But I’ll handle it first, if anything happens I’ll call you.” When Jae had too much to drink, he was just so unbearable. You just know he was angry with you leaving so this combination of anger and liquor forms a knot in your stomach. But you were a strong woman who takes shit from no one.

You entered the house as saw no other than Jae sitting on the sofa, with a drink in his hand glaring at you. “Where the hell were you?” He slurred as he took a sip.

Yunho helped take off his jacket you still had on. “Yunho please give my husband and I a moment to talk.” You sarcastically said as Yunho nodded and left the room. You stood there arms crossed staring at him.

“Im going to ask you once more,” Jae said placing his drink down and walking to you. “Where the fuck were you?” He demanded.

You scoffed, your eyes turning icy, “Why? Afraid you couldn’t play pretend husband and wife? Afraid you couldn’t embarrass me to make yourself feel good about yourself?”

“Oh please,” Jae spat. “Again you go making it about your damn self. You embarrassed me with your dramatic walk out. Everyone asking what happened or where you went. You know tonight was important for me but no, you had to act like a damn bitch.” He yelled as he got way too close to comfort but you didn’t back down.

You pursed your lips, “You humiliated me Jae. Degrading me and saying I have done anything for this company when you know that’s completely bullshit. I’m fucking sick of you!” You yelled at him.

He let his anger take over as he grabs your neck and the his hand on your arm. “You don’t get to speak to me like that. You think you’re so much better than me? You wouldn’t last a day in my world.” He tighten the grip on both hands.

You were struggling to breathe as you dug your nails into his arm. “I know enough to understand that I deserve better than you.”

He laughed. “You need me. You never find anyone else. No one will ever want you, Y/N.” He spat with venom.

“Jae,” you said trying to remove his hand. “Jae you’re hurting me. Let go of me!” You yelled out in desperation.

He titled his head in fake sympathy, “Oh, why? You’re afraid? Scared even?” He taunted you.

It all happened so fast. Suddenly you felt like you can breathe again. You hunched over, hand on your neck as you coughed trying to regain your consciousness. When you looked up, you saw Yunho with his hand around Jae’s neck. His eyes were filled with rage, as if he has had enough of Jae’s bullshit.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” Yunho’s deep voice rang in the room. Jae was getting a taste of his own medicine as Yunho tightened the grip. “What a sad excuse of a man you are to be laying your hands on a woman.” He spat at him.

Jae stumbled trying to gain his balance as he tried his best to remove Yunho’s grip. “Stay the fuck out this,” he struggled to protest. “This is between my wife and I.”

Yunho towered over him, getting up close to his face. “Not when you’re hurting her.” He said watching Jae’s face turn red as he shoved him to a wall nearby.

“Let go of me!” He yelled at him. Yunho let him go, still standing close watching him fall to the floor, breathing heavy. Jae looks up at anger getting up to shove Yunho, “You think I’m fucking scared of you?!” He yells at him, chest heaving heavily.

“Touch her again and I’ll make you regret it.” Yunho said glaring into Jae’s eyes. Jae will never admit it, but deep down, he was scared of Yunho. He fucked around and found out right quick.

You grabbed Yunho’s arm. “Yunho, it’s okay.” You say weakly, still feeling the pain in your throat. But he didn’t budge at all eyes remaining on Jae. Jae just laughed bitterly, “Yeah, Yunho it’s okay,” he mocked you. “You better watch yourself, bodyguard.”

“Is that a threat?” Yunho asked, his voice was low and menacing getting closer to Jae who walked back causing him to bump into the wall.

Jae tsked and glared at Yunho. “Move,” he shoved Yunho as he walked to the stairs. “This isn’t over Y/N.” Throwing one last spiteful comment before heading up the stairs.

Watching his go up the stairs as you felt tears coming in. When you heard the door close you closed your eyes letting the tears stream down. Yunho put his finger under your chin gently tilting your head up examining your neck. “Are you okay?” He asks.

“That piece of shit.” You whispered as you felt on the verge of sobbing. “I’m so sorry Yunho.” You said, you looked down at the ground. You couldn’t help but feel remorse. Maybe you shouldn’t never brought up security, you could’ve saved Yunho his time.

Yunho cups your face, lifting your face to look at him. “Stop saying sorry.” He said firmly but kindly. “I’m here to protect you. No matter what.” You nodded as you sniffed, “Thank you Yunho.”

Jae never once laid a hand on you. But once the drinking and high status got into his head, there was no telling what he was capable of. He had gotten handsy with you, but you were always quick to fight back. You never thought you would need protection from your own husband.

“Of course. I’ll always be here for you.” He said giving you eyes of compassion. You couldn’t help but to hug him. If it wasn’t for him, who knows how else this night would’ve turned out. Yunho took a moment but eventually wrapped his arms around you, figuring that you needed someone to lean on right now.

____

The conference was a blessing in disguise because Jae had gotten the approval to open another location in a different state which means he will out of town for a while. Good riddance, you thought. Prior to leaving he was busy with meetings for the preparation of the new building, rarely seeing him after the dispute.

When you walked into the kitchen you saw a huge bouquet of flowers in the island. Grabbing the little note on the flowers, ‘I’m sorry for everything. Love, Jae.’ Feeling anger seeping in, you ripped the card to pieces throwing his half ass apology away. Staring at the flowers, you decided to keep them. Why should nature be thrown away when it wasn’t even its fault, it was his.

Now that Jae is gone, the sun is shining brighter, your smile lasts a little longer, the air feels clearer. It’s a good time to be alive. During this time you have been able to do the activities you enjoy in peace. Which naturally has gotten you and Yunho a bit closer.

One activity was shopping. When you walked into the store, your eyes sparkled with excitement as you saw the variety of clothes that was before you. Yunho, who had a serious expression the whole time, followed you around with a mountain of clothes that just kept piling up as you saw something that you wanted to try on.

When it came time to trying the clothes on, you would ask for his opinion and you can tell he was taking it serious and you couldn’t help but burst out into laughter. You stepped out the dressing room, seeing Yunho who was sitting on the sofa, legs spread open with his arms crossed waiting for you, looking to the side waiting for you.

Oh shit. He looked absolutely fine. Shaking your head, getting out of your thoughts you cleared your throat. “What do you think about this one Yunho?” You asked as you did dramatic modeling poses laughing a bit, doing a little twirl to look at the dress fully.

He sits up straight, his arm propped on his leg as he leans his chin on his head, eyebrows furrowed. Oh, he’s really thinking about it. “It’s not giving.” He said serious.

You stopped looking at yourself in the mirror and turned to face him with a playful look on your face, “It’s not what?” You asked, on the verge of laughing.

“It’s not giving…” he pauses, struggling to find a word to describe what he means. “I don’t think this on brings you out well. I think you should try on another dress.” He said as he turns to pick out a different dress handing it to you.

When he notices you staring at him with a smile on your face he shrugs. “What is it? What?”

You laugh as you grabbed the dress and headed to the dressing room. “I didn’t think you were a fashionista.” You smiled at him before closing the curtain. Little did you know, he smiled in secret enjoying this time with you. So this is how it is when you’re happy.

Another activity was when you went to the grocery store and just arm swiped a whole shelf of cookies into the cart Yunho was pushing. “Oh, the ice cream!” You said as you went to the frozen aisle. Yunho sighed as you went back forgetting something yet again. You wanted to pig out as you watched cringey cheesy movies which was right up your alley, Yunho not so much.

“Oh my god, why would she do that!” You yelled at the TV as you covered your face feeling second hand embarrassment from the actress in the movie. You sighed grabbing a spoon full of ice cream and eating it, “She messed up.”

“Yeah she did.” Yunho said flatly dreading that he agreed to watch these movies with you as he had his arms crossed. But you didn’t care as you tapped his arm pointing to the cookies near him, your eyes never leaving tv. “Pass the cookies please.” He sighed as he grabbed and passed them to you.

But honestly, although the hates the movies you have been binge watching, he stares at you in admiration as you are fully invested in the films. You’re too blinded by the films to feel his stares as he smiles at you slapping your forehead in defeat.

To also having him help you in working out which you were dreading now. He had suggested for you two have a nice morning run. But damn, you were huffing and puffing as your arms were leaning on your thighs trying to catch your breath. You hated yourself for agreeing to this.

He saw you falling behind and jogged back to you, “Come on. Don’t you want to burn off those cookies and ice cream?” He asked you jogging in place to keep his body warm.

“Shut the fuck up.” You said through your heavy breathing causing him to laugh at you. “I hate you.” You said getting back up and jogging ahead of him. He followed suit giving you words of motivation which caused you to grunt in annoyance. “I’ll throw up on you!”

To having Yunho stay at nights since you’re alone now, worried if anything happens to you in the middle of the night. As he walks past the living room, he sees that you fell asleep on the sofa. He smirks as he quietly walks to you, covering you with the blanket, tucking some hair behind your ear getting it out your face. He stops and stares at you for a bit, taking in how much you look in peace, something he was grateful for. He leaves, dimming the lights a bit and looking at you before leaving to another room.

_______

Time has passed and one thing stands out. These feelings for Yunho have grown no matter how much you try to push it back and deny it. You just tell yourself that this is just his job, you’re confusing his actions and your feelings.

You two are sitting on the sofa talking and laughing about random stuff. The way the afternoon sunlight hits Yunho’s face has you mesmerized, highlighting his features. The way the sun shines in his eyes as he looked at you got you in a trance. After the laugher subsided, he noticed that you went quiet. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Mm? Oh it’s nothing. Nothing.” You chuckled nervously. Damn, was it that obvious you went deep in thought?

But his gaze remained at yours as he asked again, not letting you dismiss your feelings quickly. “You know you can tell me anything right? You can tell me what’s on your mind.” He says.

You gave him a weak smile, “I don’t know if I can.” Your emotions sit heavy in your heart. You don’t think you can keep bottling up these feelings for him.

“Why can’t you?” He asks you. “It won’t change my judgement on you. You know you can talk to me.”

“You don’t know that.” You said, feeling a bit worried. “I don’t want to risk what we have.” You looked down, playing with a loose thread on your jacket.

“Why would you even think that?” He says softly as he gets a bit closer to you, wanting to get a better view of you.

You felt your heart pounding up to your ears. Feeling your palms sweaty. “I, um,” you started off, still looking down. You took in a deep breath, looking up into his eyes. “I’m in love with you…“ your voice trembling with vulnerability.

There was silence as you two stared at one another. Your heart was sinking, feeling regret settling in. You removed the blanket off you and stood up, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” You should’ve just stayed silent.

“Y/N, wait,” Yunho said in a low and urgent voice as he stood up and grabbed your arm. He turned you to face him and saw unshed tears in your eyes. He cupped your face and leaned his forehead onto yours.

He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but he too can’t control his urges anymore. Without another word he leaned in and kissed you passionately. You held onto his wrists as you returned the kiss back. My god, you felt like time had stopped. You couldn’t believe this.

He breaks the kiss, panting a bit to catch his breath. “Y/N,” he says as he wiped your tears. “I love you too. So, so much. I’ve been wanting to tell you for so long.” He said in between pants, staring into your eyes.

“Yeah?” You whispered in shock. He kisses your hands as he nodded. “Yeah.”

It’s as if time had froze around you two, when you gently shoved Yunho to sit back down on the sofa. His eyes looking up at you with desire as you stand in front of him. “Come here.” He said to you, tapping his thigh, leaning back.

As soon as you straddled him, Yunho’s hands went behind your back, pulling you closer to him until there was no space between you. This kiss soon went from passion to hunger, wanting to express a different way to show how you feel for one another.

Yunho grabbed handful of your hair, tugging your head back as he peppered kiss down your neck, sucking on your skin leaving hickeys. You moaned in delight as you bit your bottom lip, enjoying this sensation.

And before you know it, you two are skin to skin, feeling the hot sweaty sticky bodies colliding perfectly. Electricity coursing through you body with every touch Yunho gives you. The way shivers went down your spine as he stretched you out when you first sat on him, letting you give him a high pitched moan.

The way your bodies melted into one another ignited a fire. The mixture of moans was melody to your ears. His hands were on your ass, helping you to quicken the pace of your hips, “Oh, oh Yunho,” you furrowed your eyebrows and threw your head back in pleasure, hands on his shoulders for support. “Fuckkk, you feel s-so good.”

Yunho stands up, carrying you as he’s still inside you to flip positions. He lays you down on your back and caresses your legs that are wrapped around him. “Fuck, keep doing that baby.” He grunts as he feels you clenching around him. He moves his hands between your chest and up to your neck, “Can I?” He asks for permission. “Yes, please.” you moaned as you arched your back throwing your head back.

He gave your throat a nice squeeze as he started pounding into you causing you to do some deep breathing techniques, because this man was spreading you out like never before. You threw your hands back, gripping the arm chair for dear life. “You like that baby? Who’s making you feel like this?” He asks you. Fuck, that was hot.

He lifts your legs up to get a deep angle, “Answer me.” He demands as he goes faster. You tried gripping the sides of the sofa or just something to hold on to, “Y-Yes, Yunho, you a-are.” You moaned loudly. He was taking you cloud 9, making you see stars, the whole nine yards.

He flips you around on to all fours. You leaned on the arm rest with your arms supporting you as Yunho grabbed your hair back making your arch your back. He wasted no time going back in, his free hand rubbing your clit, giving you the friction you needed to cum.

“You want to cum on my dick, baby?” He asked you lowly in your ear. You nodded frantically, “Yes please, please.” You begged as he bit your ear. He let go of your hair and flips you for the last time. He wants to see your face when you release on him.

“Cum for me then.” He says as he moves at a rapid speed. You bit your lip in the overwhelming pleasure you’re feeling. He had leaned down and sucked on your nipple, but looked up when he heard your muffled moans, “Scream for me, don’t be quiet.”

You gripped onto his arms, feeling yourself inching closer and closer to your release. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Yunho I’m gonna cum.” You yelled out, breathing heavy. He lets go of your nipple and hovers over you, “Do it baby, cum on my cock, cum.”

Just like that the knot was undone. He kissed you as you moaned into his mouth. You felt like you had traveled to another universe from how good that orgasm was. A few seconds later Yunho was right behind you, cumming inside of you. He rode out both of your highs and then laid on top of you.

Feeling each other fasten heart beats as you both catch your breath. He looks up at you and smiles to which your return as you ran your hand through his sweaty hair, “I love you.” He said, closing his eyes enjoying your sweet touch.

“I love you too.” You said as you just laid there for a moment, taking it what just happened. Internally you were doing cartwheels and backflips. You were happy knowing he felt the same way you did.

______

All good things must come to a because Jae has returned, along with his bullshit. What was once peace is now back to being a war zone of arguments and anger. Something else was for certain, he definitely has sensed something was going on between you and Yunho and it was eating him up alive.

And from the way the front door was slammed shut, it seems like he was going to get his answer today. “You. Leave. Now.” He says sternly to Yunho as he entered the room.

Yunho glanced at you, but you nodded in return signaling that it was okay. He started to walk out, giving you one last protective glance before disappearing. Jae’s eyes followed him out before looking back at you. “Y/N, tell me what the hell has been going on between you two.” He demanded.

You rolled your eyes, flipping through the magazine not bothering to look up at him. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.” You said coldly, your tone unwavering.

“I know something happened while I was gone so just fucking tell me.” Jae yells at you, his fist clenching at his sides.

You looked up at him, “and if something did?” You shrugged “You think it gives you the right to be angry with me, given everything you have done?” You said with attitude as you went back to your magazine.

Jae’s face contorted with rage, shaking his head. “This isn’t about me. This about you, my wife” He says coming up close to you. There he goes with that wife word.

You chuckled, throwing the magazine to the side standing up. “Only when it’s convenient for you Jae. Why? Scared of losing control of this whole fake facade?” You walked past him, over this argument.

He grabs the vase that held the flowers he gifted you and threw it to the wall. You jumped at the sound, turning to face him with widen eyes. His back was still facing you as Jae looked down. From your corner you saw Yunho coming but you put your arm out for him to wait.

“Fucking tell me and don’t lie to me Y/N.” Jae said as he turned around with rage in his eyes. Knowing that Yunho was here in the house, he kept his distance from you as he was terrified of him.

“I’m in love with Yunho.” You finally said after some silence. He shook his head and scoffed at you, “How fucking could you? You would this to me?”

You scoffed at his stupidity. “Oh, so now you want to act like a victim? How many times have you cheated on me behind my back Jae? How many woman? So when the tables turn, it’s an issue all of a sudden.” You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow.

He gets closer to you, trying to intimidate you. “So what? You’re just going to leave me and be with the bodyguard? Do you honestly think he can give you what I can’t? You think you can just walk away from me? After everything I have done for you?”

You laughed in his face. “For me? For me?” You started off, “You mean your own personal punching bag? Where I’m constantly disrespected and treated like an accessory? Where I’m always ignored and you go screw some bitch? The only thing you have done was to teach me to never be with someone like you.”

“If you think you’re going to work out with some cheap fling then you’re more delusional than I thought.” He spat at you as you walked away from him.

“Cheap fling? Yunho is more of a man than you will ever be. He’s been everything and more to me than you ever were.” You stopped in your steps, facing him.

You looked down at your rings and take it off. This caused Jae to die a little inside. “I want a divorce.” You chucked it at his feet, leaving the room. Jae looked down at his feet and stared at the rings causing anger to boil inside him to the point he punched the wall.

As you passed the hallway, Yunho, who was ready to jump in at anytime, follows behind you. “Let’s go.” You told him as you grabbed your car keys and walked out the door.

Asking no questions, just focused on you, he opens the door for you and just as you are about to get in, you hear Jae yelling in frustration, telling you to get back inside as he starts breaking stuff. You rolled your eyes as you got into seat. Yunho walked to the driver side and drove off.

———-

The car ride was silent, only noise was the AC that was on low. You looked out the window, watching the cars passing by. “I’m getting a divorce.” You said out loud breaking the silence.

“Wow,” you said in awe of yourself. “I’m getting a divorce.” You couldn’t believe that it’s taken you this long and that you finally did it.

“How are you feeling? Are you okay?” Yunho asks as he takes a quick glance at you. He really can’t read your expression and words clearly right now.

“I think I am?” You said unsure, giving him a shrug. “I don’t know, I feel like I should be but I’m just so overwhelmed. Like, there were so many times I told myself I was done, but never did anything. And now I just- I think I feel free.”

Yunho stops a red light and reaches over to grab your hand. He raised it to his lips as he gave a gentle kiss on the back of it. “I’m really proud of you Y/N. Whatever you do next, I’ll be there every step of the way supporting you.”

The way you were blushing like a school girl at his gesture. You smiled at him, “Thank you Yunho. Thank you for showing me what love is.” You caressed his cheek as you leaned in for a kiss.

______

One thing is certain for Jae, he can rot in hell. He didn’t not waste any time in spreading the news about the divorce publicly. It spread like wildfire throughout the media as it was plastered on magazines, spoken on drama news TV channels, on social apps. You name it, it was there.

The headlines painted the picture of the split, highlighting the scandalous nature of the breakup. And Jae, being a beloved figure, wanting to keep the good man persona in the people’s eye, threw all the blame on you.

You were under so much intense scrutiny, that it became suffocating. You were portrayed as the villain in this whole chaos while Jae was viewed as the innocent victim. As if he could stoop any lower than before, he definitely broke a new record.

At first, you just tried toughing it out. Trying to ignore the whispers and gossip. The harsh looks when you went out. Paparazzi was so far up your ass you couldn’t move without them knowing. But it was hard to escape from the public’s judgement.

One evening, you were at Yunho’s place, which is where you have been staying, skimming through a magazine that had a featured about another headline of you. Yunho who had sense your distress, quickly takes the magazine out of your hands. “Y/N, look at me,” he says he sits on the coffee table, grabbing your hands. “You don’t have to let this get to you. They don’t know the true.”

You looked up at him with sadness in your eyes. “It’s not just about the truth Yunho. It’s about everything!” You stand up as you walked back and forth, “it’s about how this guy who I thought I knew and spent the majority of my life with is out to ruin my life. It’s about everyone quickly believing his lies… I didn’t ask for this. I can’t take this anymore.”

Yunho sighs as he walks up to you, cupping your face. “Listen to me, please,” he leans his forehead, “You’re a strong woman. You have been through hell and back. You have never backed down from a fight. You never once let Jae’s manipulation and bullshit break you, and you’re not going to let this either.” He said as he watched you close your eyes as tears fall down.

You sniffed. “How can I fight this?” You whispered. You honestly felt so lost and broken, you don’t even know what to do or where to start.

“You’re not alone in this. Out in the public you can put a mask of fierceness, show the world you aren’t afraid of what Jae is doing. Show them just how strong and unbreakable you are.” He gives you a tender kiss. “But when we’re behind closed doors, baby, you don’t have to keep the facade. You can lean on me. We can do this.” He says as he hugs you.

You felt like sobbing. Is this what true love is? Throughout this whole darkness, Yunho has been your rock and you honestly don’t know how you would be if you were alone. You’re so thankful for him. “Yunho, thank you. Thank you for being in my life.” You looked up to him as he leaned down and kissed you once more.

______

If Jae wants to play like this, then you can play this game too. After the conversation with Yunho, you felt a fire ignited within you. That conversation helped you remember who the fuck you were and there was no way in hell Jae was going to go out like this.

For the next few weeks you laid low. Out of sight out of mind with the public. Your divorce lawyer, who was sent by the Gods by a miracle, told you to gather all information on your part as she does some digging on her side. Today you were meeting with her and not gonna lie you were sweating bullets.

Who knows what she has found. Did she even find anything? Will she be able to clear your name and reveal who Jae really was? This was also one of the few times you left the house so you just know you were going to be bombarded with questions and cameras in your face.

As the car pulls up, you looked out the window and saw reporters spread all over the place, waiting for you. You then felt Yunho’s hand over yours, causing you to snap out your thoughts. “It’s going to be okay.” He reassures you as you nod. He steps out the car and heads to the other side to open your door.

You can do this, you thought yourself as you put on your shades. Show Jae that you are that bitch. As soon as Yunho opened the door, everyone came flooding in asking a bunch of questions.

You just kept a serious face, purse hanging on your arm as you walked up the stairs while Yunho and other guards of his were making way for you. You tried your best to not react at the stupid questions they asked you.

“Y/N, how does it feel to know that you ruined your marriage?” One asked.

“Was it worth it to you? Care to comment?” One said shoving a microphone in your face.

“Have you spoken to Jae?” Another asked.

Oh and let us not forget the special, special fans of Jae who were also surrounding you were throwing nasty comments at you.

“Don’t you know how to keep your legs closed?” One screamed in your face. You bit down on your tongue, trying not to answer.

“Such a slut. Did all those years mean nothing to you?” One went to jump on you but Yunho shoved her off.

“Have you no shame in bringing him here? Have you no shame in being in public with him? Stupid bitch.” Another one said speaking about Yunho.

You finally reached the door and headed straight to the elevator. When it binged open, you and Yunho stepped in and turned to face the crowd before you. Seeing the flashing lights of the cameras and crazed fans pounding on the glass, their yells being muffled. As soon as the doors closed, you turned and hugged Yunho.

You felt the world crushing in on you in that moment. You had a mixture of overwhelming emotions clouding up your head. Anger, sadness, frustration. You just wanted to cry in silence and thankfully Yunho understood.

You then backed up and wiped your tears, taking in a deep breath. Yunho lifted your chin with his finger as he gave you a soft kiss on your lips. “You got this.” He whispered and you nodded.

The elevator dinged, signaling that you have arrived to the top floor. You straighten up your posture, keeping your head high as you walked the halls. “Stay here.” You told Yunho who nodded and stood next to the door putting his arms behind his back.

You walked in and was greeted by Jina. “Y/N,” she says standing up and shaking your hand, smiling to which you returned. “Welcome. Thank you for coming.”

You shook your head. “No please, I am the one who should be thankful.” She gestures you to sit down. “So tell me, what have you found?”

She wasted no time in take out files and spreading out copies of documentation and photos of Jae with other business men, “Jae’s time of looking like a saint is over. We have found evidence to that showcases all of the cheating and unethical practices within his company,” she starts off as she goes through each paper, describing to you all the horrible practices he has done.

You sat there in shock, taking in the information. You couldn’t believe this was happening everyday behind closed doors. Jae gets scummier and scummier by the minute. You leaned back into your seat letting out a scoff as you scan the papers. Jina then takes out a paper and hands it to you, “What’s this?” You asked her as you take it from her hand.

Jina smirks as she crossed her leg over the other, leaning back crossing her arms. “Signed affidavits of several woman who have confirmed that they have had affairs with Jae while he was married to you.” You looked at her with widen eyes. The devil works hard, but Jina works harder. “Look in that folder.” She points to one near your left arm.

You gasped looking at photos that had Jae partying or going out with women. You see his drunk self doing body shots on girls as well as inappropriate gestures to them. Ugh, you could throw up. Jina nodded as you looked through the pictures, feeling a bit proud of herself.

“And the Cherry on top?” There’s more? “We also have evidence from Jae’s company, NexTech, has been doing fraud, bribery, and exploitation of employees. Let’s just say he has been cutting some corners and violating labor laws to maximize his profits.” She finished off.

You shook your head, just flabbergasted at everything you’re finding out. “Jina,” you said after a moment of silence. “There are no words to describe how thankful I am. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” You said feeling a sense of hope rising in your chest.

She leans over the desk, placing a hand on top of yours. “Of course.” She smiles. “It’s only a matter of time before everything is unraveled. Everyone will know the real truth.”

______

It was later on in the night. You were pacing in Yunho’s living room with gnawing on your thumb in nerves. “Y/N,” Yunho called to you as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Relax. Everything will be okay.” He says trying to calm you down.

You were just caught up in your mind that you didn’t even hear him. Jina told you she was going to release the information tonight and honestly, you were shitting bricks wondering what the out come will be. You felt arms being wrapped around your waist, causing you get out of your thoughts.

“Y/N,” Yunho says as he leans down and kisses your neck. “Why don’t we go relax, mmh? You had a stressful day.” Peppering kisses up and down your neck.

You closed your eyes as you bit your lip, swaying a bit, lifting your hand to caress his head. “Okay. Let’s relax.” You sighed softly. He takes your hand gives you a little twirl, causing you to chuckle, before leading the way to the bathroom.

Steam was swirling in the bathroom as you two passionately kissed under the water. Both of your bodies lathered up with soap, foaming at the little friction you two created. You bit his lower lip, opening your eyes in a haze to look at his face scrunch a bit from the pain. You felt your heart race a bit when he opened his lustful eyes to look at you.

He glided his up your back, tugging your hair gently back causing you to moan in his mouth. Your arms over his shoulders, feeling the warm water slide down your arms and onto Yunho’s body. His free hand slides to down to cup your ass, giving it a squeeze.

In a swift movement, he presses you up against the foggy glass. Your hand prints and pressed up breast showcasing on the glass, turning your head to the side looking at Yunho stroking himself through your peripheral. You bit your lip, feeling your pussy throbbing, impatiently wanting to feel him again.

He placed his hand above yours as his other one guides him inside you. You gasped as the sensation of the stretch, leading more on the glass as the feeling takes over you. His free had placed on your hip as he starts thrusting into you.

The sound of the water clashing between you two intensifies as Yunho starts going faster. The bathroom is filled with the sounds of skin slapping and the moans of pleasure. “You feel so good baby.” Yunho said in his deep voice. “Just for me, right?” He grabs your hair, pulling you back so he can see your fucked out face.

You swallowed, feeling your throat dry from the heavy breathing you’re doing. “Ye-Yes,” you said, feeling your hands slip, trying to catch yourself from falling. “Just for you.”

He smirked as your struggle. “Good girl.” His deep voice made you clench on him, making him moan as letting go of your hair to your clit as he rubbed it. You caught yourself before hitting the glass as you started screaming in pleasure. You started whimpering from the rapid speed he was going. “Cum baby, I know you want to.” He tells you.

You fogged and defogged a spot on the glass that was near your mouth as you tried catching your breath with Yunho shoving your face into it. You shut your eyes tightly as you were nearing your high. “I’m clo-close.” You managed to moaned out. At the same time you and Yunho came, feeling stars as he rode out the highs. “That’s right baby, scream for me. Let everyone know who’s making you feel like this.” He grunts out.

When you two calmed down, you turned around and leaned on the glass, not caring how cold it was. He smiled at you, “Feel better?” He asked you and you playfully hit his chest. “Shut up.” You told him as you both laughed. He put his hands next to your face on the glass and he went for a kiss.

When you actually finished showering, you stepped out scrunching your hair and wrapping a towel around your body, tucking the excess at the top to stop it from falling. From the corner of your eye you saw your phone light up. ‘Turn on Channel 2’, read Jina’s text message.

You gasped with widen eyes as you ran out to the living room, feeling the goosebumps rise on your skin as soon as the cold hits your skin. You grabbed the remote flipping through channels not caring about the droplets of water that were falling from your hair were landing on your arms.

“In recent news, Jae’s public image continues to crumble as more details emerge about his affairs and the unethical practices at his company. It is confirmed that these allegations are supported by fundamental evidence,” the reporter says as the screen shows Jae shoving cameras out his face as he is trying to enter a building. He starts yelling at them to get out his face.

“Former employees have provided detailed accounts of the harsh working conditions along with the illegal activities at Jae’s company.” The documents being shown on the screen explain detail per detail on how things were being run.

“Furthermore, details of Jae’s extramarital affairs have also been revealed,” she says as the same photos you saw in the office appeared on the screen too. Your heart is pounding out of your chest. “Multiple woman have come forward and shared evidence along with sources who can confirm his involvement in said acts.”

The reporter finished off by saying, “Legal experts believe this is going to be leading to very serious repercussions for both his business and personal life. As of right now, this is all we have. Stay tune for future updates.” You watch as the screen changes to commercials.

“Y/N?” Yunho who was there behind you the whole time watching everything unfold breaks the silence. “Are you okay?” He asks you.

You turned to him, smiling. “It’s over. I’m free.” You said feeling tears of joy coming in. He extends his hand out and you happily grab it as he pulls you to him. “I’m proud of you. I told you that you could do it.”

“Thank you for being by my side every step of the way, Yunho. I love you.” You say as you kissed him. He smiles into the kiss, “I love you more.”

“Now come on, let’s celebrate.” He says he breaks the kiss. You tilt your head, “Where we going?” You asked him. He smirked as he picks you up bridal style, “It’s best if I show you.”

Oh yeah, you can get use to this.

THE END

[bg-brainrot]

Failed Every Insight Check and Fell all the Harder (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Companion piece to: Failed a Dex Save and Fell for You

Summary: After a few months of traveling together, Astarion has begun to experience some new feelings around you. After one fateful day in Moonrise Towers, he finally figures out what those feelings are.

Tags: Astarion POV, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Awkward Fluff, tw: mentions of astarion's past and all that comes with it, tw: mentions of araj scene, Feelings Realization, Jealousy

A/N: here comes the awkward, fluffy Astarion figuring out his feelings Valentine’s special. He’s a hot mess, of course. (happy Early Valentine’s because I will be busy on Valentine’s) And thanks to everyone who voted for this one!

Word count: ~4.8k

Ever since your group entered the Shadowlands, something has been bothering Astarion. He hadn't noticed at first– or rather, had tried his best to ignore it. But, as time goes on, he’s finding it more and more difficult to brush aside.

It had started out small. An odd pain in the pit of his stomach.

What was that? he'd thought, holding a hand to his abdomen in concern. Perhaps he was just hungry, but it certainly didn’t feel like the ever-present hunger in his belly. No, that was a dull, continuous ache. This? This felt like something was weighing him down. Maybe I’m ill. I shouldn’t mention it to anyone, lest Lae’zel slit my throat in my sleep.

Besides, the pain didn’t happen often. He noticed it a distinct few times.

Once, when you first entered the Shadowlands. He’d just watched you bend down, hands plucking at something off the side of the cursed lands’ road. He thought momentarily that he ought to stop you, that none of you knew what could be lurking in its magical darkness. But that tinge of worry was promptly replaced by that same gods awful pit in his stomach. 

Because there you were, presenting your party’s cleric with your spoils. You were gifting Shadowheart a night orchid– had remembered that she mentioned loving them. You bore the woman’s wretched joke with a smile. Disgusting, Astarion thought. No wonder my stomach feels uncomfortable, what a pathetic little exchange.

Like everything that had bothered him in the last couple of months since finding himself free of Cazador, he decided to forget the feeling. Life is his to take full advantage now, why let something like that affect him?

Or so he thought until the next time the feeling made its return.

You had just arrived at the Last Light Inn as a group, found shelter through the Harpers’ well-established safe haven. Astarion was quite happy to be rid of the shadows, content to cozy up in an inn. He figured, if he played his cards right, you may even let him partake in your blood or ask for a bit of fun.

Then your party found Dammon. Equipped with Infernal Iron and one blazing hot barbarian, Dammon made magic happen in a matter of moments. 

Astarion was glad. As much as the group was a bit much at times, he understood Karlach’s struggle with her body all too well. She deserved this small victory in reclaiming her body. 

His feelings of genuine sympathy were short-lived though because a moment later you were wrapping your arms around the tiefling’s body. It was a test, of course, to see if Dammon’s fusing had worked. But there it was again, the feeling in his stomach. This time it felt twice as heavy, a lead ball in his guts. Maybe I should let someone know, he thought. This can’t be good.

But the sensation was soon forgotten as your group settled into the Last Light Inn. Old allies were in some miserable new states�� requiring even more help, gods– and new acquaintances were made. It was all rather dull for Astarion.

The one time Astarion perked up was when you went head-to-head with the head Harper. He chuckled under his breath when you outsmarted the old crone, Jaheira. That’s right, Harper. Don’t mess with my protector.

Your first night at the inn was capped off with a bit of revelry: a game of Truth or Dare. 

Astarion could sense your reluctance to play. You’d been acting odd all day, stiff and awkward around him. He saw this as the perfect opportunity to tease you to the high celestial plane– in fact, he already knew what he wanted to ask you. “You are going to regret this so much," he'd said to you from across the table.

Then the game began, and the deep, uncomfortable feeling never left his core.

Each and every companion received your attention throughout the game, in one way or another. Even that damned smith, Dammon, was given a dare from you. And Astarion just sat there, not even earning a glance, his mood growing more and more sour.

When, at last, he was able to taunt you with his question, you were far too in your cups to give a proper response. He sat on your lap, placed there from one of Shadowheart’s dares, staring into your surprised, open eyes, wishing that he'd thought of an easier question for an inebriated version of you.

The group had shooed you both out of the game upon seeing your state, though Astarion didn't mind. He'd much rather leave the lot of them and tease you by himself.

Once you were alone, you answered his question. That he, Astarion, was your favorite and for all manner of incredulous, unbelievable reasons. He’d expected you to say him. He’d asked to hear your praise, confirm your attachment in the name of his plan to seduce you. All the same he was left uncomfortable, juggling the sudden and unabashed flattery. Being praised for his looks was one thing but for being… himself?

The feeling in his stomach grew. Suddenly his lungs felt it, his undead heart felt it. What in the sweet hells is the matter with me? he thought, as he helped lay your drunken, passed out form to bed later that night. He hadn’t felt a sensation like this before– he hated it. 

Then you reached out to him in your sleep, and he froze. Something about the touch quietened the pain under his ribs, and so he extended his fingers, gently touching your brow as you fell asleep. See? I’m fine, he assured himself. I truly am just ravenous.

__

He continued this way for several days in the Shadowcursed lands.

One moment, he was perfectly fine, hacking and slashing at a Shambling Mound with abandon. The next, he would look over at you, see you laughing at something Karlach said, and it felt like an iron ingot had made its way into his insides.

Damned tiefling woman. I’m far funnier than her, you know, he thinks, resheathing his knives with a little too much gusto. The sound of your laughter rang in his head for the rest of the evening, as if he were being driven to insanity by it.

The next day, you had fought a horde of Meazels. At first, Astarion thought the fight was delightful fun– the tiefling woman and the cleric kept getting teleported against their will and after his recent annoyance with both of them, he found it quite amusing. That is, until you found yourself garrotted, teleported as far away from him as possible.

He was on you in mere moments, ripping the creature off of you with his blades. It was almost as if he’d reacted instinctively and, as someone whose instincts typically led him away from danger, he found the sensation quite off-putting. Nevertheless, he'd freed you, asking, “Are you alright, darling?”

Astarion couldn’t remember what you’d even said because once he saw the marks the creatures left on you, the pit in his stomach dropped. Where there had been a heavy pressure before, there was now a sharp feeling. His eyes carefully trailed over your injuries, trying his best to focus on you and not the phantom pain building inside him.

You had been fine, nothing that a quick heal from Shadowheart couldn’t fix, but that feeling stayed in his stomach the rest of the day. It’s simply the Shadowlands, he'd thought. They not only play tricks on the mind, clearly they’re playing tricks on my body.

It was a few days later, as you helped the Harper’s deal with their lantern problem that the sensation shifted again.

Astarion watched, eyes glued to your form, as you dispatched the hideous drider, your twin blades piercing the creature in its most vulnerable spots. He’d seen you kill many monsters before, hundreds likely at this point. But something about the way your body moved in the Moonlantern’s glow, the way your face lit up as the creature’s body crumpled to the floor, caused the vampire to stop and watch.

This time, he’d felt the heavy sensation move up, somewhere just below his throat. He tried against all odds to gulp it away, but nothing seemed to work. We need to finish our business here and get out as soon as possible, he thought now, convinced it was the shadows warping his senses…

But as your travel continues, the feelings never go away. 

It’s a different pressure, it builds, it ebbs, it flows between his heart, his stomach, his torso– and each time he brushes it off. Stewing in these uncomfortable feelings, Astarion spends the week in a hazy mire, not unlike the shadows that surround you all.

Then your group finally infiltrates Moonrise.

__

Moonrise Towers, the seat of the Absolute and a once grand fortress. 

Now, Astarion can’t help but think it seems rather underutilized. Your group is walking along the empty parapets outside, which are woefully missing any sense of grandeur or ornamentation. “Darling,” he says, leaning into you slightly. “Don’t you think we ought to just kill everyone now and take the place for ourselves. Might be quite fun.”

You bark out a laugh, which he feels proud to have produced, and reply, “Maybe later. This is an infiltration mission only. Besides, once we defeat the Absolute, I’m sure there will be a vacancy.”

Astarion laughs back at you. Gods, he enjoys this. The way that he can say something that others would balk at and you will miraculously not only appreciate it, but also play along with it. Having fun with them is so easy, he thinks. And look, I’m still wearing all of my clothes! What a novel idea.

The thought is cut short when your group walks through an outside doorway into a room that can only be described as grotesque. Whoever works here clearly has some knowledge of arcana, if the ingredients and alchemical tools are anything to go by, but it smells utterly foul to Astarion.

It’s when you spot the drow woman hunched over a table in the corner that he realizes where the stench is coming from. Hells below, that woman reeks of something truly awful, he thinks, recoiling. He’d grown used to following behind you closely, but as you step forward to speak to the woman, he finds himself taking a step back instead.

The woman introduces herself as Araj Oblodra, a trader of blood– a rather poor trader, by the smell of it. She takes note of Astarion, who shuffles back instinctively, before you and her go about some kind of business with your blood. Astarion contemplates speaking up, shooing you away from her, but decides to stay back, as far away as he can remain without arousing suspicion. They can handle themselves.

Then, after the woman looks back toward him one too many times, he hears you snap, “And why are you so interested in my pale friend?” 

“Ah, yes. Perhaps there’s one more thing we could discuss,” she begins, her voice a dangerous drawl. “He’s a vampire, no? Or one of their spawn at least.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Astarion says, all-too-ready to fill his role. “We’re all friends under the Absolute. I won’t bite.”

“Oh, I’d prefer if you did,” she’s quick to respond. Her eagerness picks at Astarion’s nerves, and he raises an eyebrow at her. Araj doesn’t deign to give him another moment’s look though, as she turns back to you. “I assume he belongs to you?”

“Excuse me?” Your voice sounds offended– on his behalf, Astarion wonders? “He’s his own person.” Your words cause the feeling in Astarion’s stomach to flip, and, as much as he wants to come to his own defense, he finds himself quite content to hear you do it for him.

“I’m sure he really believes that. How utterly adorable,” she says with a snide chuckle. 

Adorable? he thinks, but he’s unable to interject before the woman continues to barrel forward.

The blood trader turns back to Astarion, face wrinkled with distaste as her tone changes to something a bit more confrontational, “Do you have a name, spawn?”

Her sudden shift in attitude, the proud tilt to her head, it all throws the vampire off balance as he goes to answer, “Astarion, b-but hold on!” Astarion holds up a hand to try to slow this woman’s tirade, all to no avail.

“Good. Now, Astarion, I’ve dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl,” Araj begins, laying out the scene for her request.

Too bad that the scene sounds quite ridiculous to Astarion. Surely he heard her incorrectly? “I’m sorry, you want to be bitten?”

The woman goes on a new insane diatribe– something about dancing with death– but Astarion can hardly be bothered. All he needs to know is that she’s offering some measly potion for being bitten and, gods, does he not want to bite this woman’s disgusting neck. Or wrist. Or really any part of her. “I will have to decline,” he says, with a gracious little bow. Your group is still infiltrating the towers, it wouldn’t do to tell Araj exactly how horrid she smells.

It’s entirely more grace than she deserved, that much is clear because she presses him again. Again, he refuses. “I gave you my answer.”

The drow scoffs, turning back to you once more, “Can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?”

You, for your part, look confused. There’s a line of concern in your forehead as you look between the woman and Astarion, wondering what it is that you’re missing. “I’m surprised, Astarion. I thought you’d enjoy an opportunity like this.”

What?! he thinks, a sudden, sharp spike of anger shooting through him. He tempers his immediate rage and speaks to Araj with that same, false pleasantry she doesn’t deserve, “I’m sorry, but could you excuse us a moment?”

Astarion, not waiting for her response, pulls you aside, away from the drow’s nosy eyes and ears. Once you’re alone, he turns to you, his voice a hiss, “Are you actually asking me to do this? Trading me for some-some-some potion?”

“What’s the matter? Why would she be different from any other enemy?” you ask, leaning toward him.

Your voice is full of genuine worry, and some of his anger abates as he meets your eyes. Of course, they don’t know what they’re asking. How could they know? “Because there’s something wrong with her blood. I can smell it from here. Ugh, it’s rank.”

Now your brows furrow, and a sharp edge enters your eyes as you ask your next question, “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her blood?”

“I can’t say. It just smells… wrong. Unnatural.” His words sound pathetic to his own ears. 

Of course that’s not an excuse, Astarion laments. What am I even thinking? The potion is clearly useful. They are going to make me do this, and I may as well prepare myself. I’ve put up with worse after all.

So, he stands straight once more, ready to put on the performance of a lifetime. His tone takes on a resigned tone as he continues, “Drinking it wouldn’t kill me, but it would not be pleasant.”

You both hear a sigh from behind you. “I don’t have all day, True Soul,” Araj calls, impatiently.

Your eyes remain focused entirely on him, ignoring the woman’s irritated sigh, her entitled words. “Astarion,” you begin, and he takes a breath in preparation for your other foot to drop. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do. And if she refuses to take no for an answer again, we’ll simply have to start our assault on the towers a bit early.”

The breath leaves him.

"Alright. Uh, thank you,” he says, feeling the tension drop from his shoulders. He’d been prepared to acquiesce, to do exactly what you’d asked of him. But this? This is something he hadn’t been prepared for. 

In a daze, Astarion makes his way back to Araj, putting on as polite of a facade as he’s still capable of making, “It's still a ‘no’, I’m afraid.”

“How very disappointing,” the blood trader says, shooting you both a disgusted look. She turns away in a huff, leaving your group alone to recover from the exchange. And leaving Astarion floundering in another new sensation.

Because once more, the feeling in the pit of his stomach has reared its ugly head– only this time it shoots through him like a bolt of lightning. He's not sure what it is, but it's stunned him into slipping off his carefully crafted mask. He turns to you once more, voice soft around its usual edges, "Thank you. I… appreciated that.”

"You have no need to thank me. It was always your choice, Astarion."

Huh.

The feeling sinks into him, settling deeper and deeper as you continue through Moonrise.

__

That night, you go to bed in your own bedroll, leaving Astarion to his meditations with a smile and a wave. It has been a long day for all of you, and it's clear from the way you take a glance back that you're worried about him.

Gods, he's worried about him.

After dealing with that vile drow woman, you'd all continued about the tower, ingratiating yourselves with even the most repugnant of creatures to appear faithful to the Absolute. But Astarion paid attention to almost none of it.

He'd stabbed when you told him it was time to stab, he'd joined your side when you called him to you, but his mind had been wholly preoccupied.

They didn't make me do it, he'd thought, as he unlocked some chest.

Well, isn't this exactly what I wanted? he'd thought, following you down some stairs.

Clearly they just fell for my charms, my masterful seduction, he'd thought, flanking a prison guard for you.

So why do I feel like this? he'd thought, staring at your back as you led the way before him.

Now, he lays here in his tent, staring at the fold of its ceiling in a rapt fascination he doesn't feel. The feeling in his stomach has stayed all day, tethering him to his thoughts with its continuous pressure.

When did I get to the point where I would follow them anywhere? Is their lack of self-preservation contagious? he asks himself, eyes narrowing in frustration. I shouldn't have gone into that horrendous tower in the first place. Then I wouldn't feel like this.

But he had.

And you'd not forced him to do so.

You'd not forced him to do anything.

They're a fool, an utter fool. I could have bitten that drow, as easy as breathing, he thinks, rolling his eyes at the thought. Close your eyes and push through, that's what I always say.

But did you want to? something in the back of his mind asks. 

Of course not, but when has what I wanted ever mattered– 

It may not have mattered under Cazador's grip, but it has always mattered to you. You're nothing like that evil man. You'd always been there for him, had managed to find trust in your heart for him, and had been genuinely kind to him.

The now-familiar feeling in his stomach seems to spread to the rest of his body, a warmth that doesn't quite feel warm. It bleeds all the way to his face and his lips curl up into an involuntary smile at the thought of you.

You– you, who had only ever been meant to play a bit role in the tragedy that is Astarion’s life. You, who had transcended your part, leaving Astarion contemplating every aspect of you in the stark solitude of his tent. 

Your beauty when you're covered in blood after a battle, the mischievous glint in your eye when you're teaching a child a sleight of hand trick– even when anger pulls your brows together and you're yelling at him for saying something particularly naughty. Each and every one makes his smile grow wider.

You, his chosen protector, are so much more than just that.

They are incredible. The thought comes to him unprompted, truly as easy as breathing.

His eyes widen in alarm, staring blankly at the tent above him.

The feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t an illness. Nor was it hunger. No. It was guilt. It was jealousy. It was…

Oh fuck, Astarion curses to himself. Am I in love?

Now that he has a word to the sensation, that the feeling is in his grasp, he knows he's right. He doesn't have a lot of experience with love, if any– he'd never had the luxury under Cazador's cruel gaze and he can't recall much from before that– but he knows he's right.

And hells does he wish he could crush the feeling in his hands right here and now.

Gods, you complete and utter imbecile, he thinks, hitting his head against the floor. You have things to do, goals to accomplish. They were only supposed to be a means to those goals, not a – a–

Astarion’s mind blanks as he thinks of you again, your charm, your wit, your damnable caring.

Not a companion. Not a friend. Not a lover. When did those late night trysts turn from an obligation, a part of his simple, perfect plan, into something more?

Even now, as he thinks of those nights, he brings a hand to his lips, recalling a night where you had simply stayed in his bedroll. You had kept all of your clothes on, as had he, and simply held each other as you fell asleep. Their kiss that night was delectable, he recalls, tracing the line of his lips, as if he could still feel the ghost of yours on them.

Fuck, he thinks again, dropping his hand in frustration. How could I have been so blind? How did I not nip this in the bud before it got to this disgusting pining?

But he hasn’t nipped it in the bud. The feeling has grown, unfettered, quick as a druidic plant growth, all unbeknownst to him. It has been nurtured by your attention. It has been watered by your kindness. It has become unruly in the safety of your arms.

Now what? he thinks to himself bitterly, wiping a hand across his face with a sigh. What use are these feelings when everything they were built upon is a lie? You are, after all, still playing the role he set out for you.

He considers overlooking the feelings, just as he has inadvertently done in his ignorance. It wouldn’t be of any use to tell you, of course. You could hardly feel the same way about him as he does you, and he’d rather not add another nuisance in the fight against the Absolute.

Besides, if he told you, he would have to fess up, explain his entire plan to you. What would even be left of the two of you after that?

But, he thinks to himself. Let’s say I did tell them. What could they possibly say…

“I was pretending all along too.” – gods, that would break him. That much is all too apparent from the way his undead heart aches at the thought, with a pain he couldn’t possibly feel.

“I like you, but not like that.” – maybe this was worse. Actually, it was definitely worse. He may never recover. His ego would certainly never recover.

“I have someone else that I love.” – honestly, reasonable. What did he have to offer you after all? A bloodthirsty master and the occasional snarky comment? He wouldn’t be surprised to find you in Karlach’s tent at this very moment…

“I hate you.” – he might be able to take this the best. You should hate him. He’d done nothing but lie and manipulate his way into your bedroll. Hate, well, that he understood.

“I love you, but…” – every single 'but' cut like a different, jagged blade. But we’re in danger every day? An excuse, surely. But you come with too much baggage? True, but not something he would be able to resolve. But I don’t want to be with a monster? Again, reasonable, but out of his control.

Astarion runs through scenario after scenario, each one playing with his own emotions in a new and horrendous way. In the end, he all but slaps himself out of it.

No, I cannot tell them. I absolutely must take this to my second grave, he determines, shaking the thoughts away with a few hard blinks.

But the feeling in his chest is more persistent than ever. As if giving it a name and meaning has given it a new, annoying life. He laments to himself aloud, "I may never feel like myself again.”

If this is what love does to a person, he wants no part of it.

__

The vampire didn't have a restful night's reverie, that much is apparent. His mood is foul, his body tense, and his eyes are trying their damnedest to avoid yours. 

No way, he thinks as you all set off for the day. I spun myself into a frenzy last night. Clearly. I feel absolutely nothing–

Then you turn back to him, concern lining your eyes as you address him. What had you just said? He had found himself somehow lost in your eyes, your lips, the turn of your nose… 

Shit, he thinks to himself. No, get back in control. You have only just reclaimed yourself, you can't lose yourself to something as cruel as love.

But, try as he might, his eyes can’t avoid you. 

All morning, he continues to sneak glances your way. Despite his roguish nature, he finds hiding his stares to be impossible. After all, you are the group’s leader. You are at the front, you are at his side, gods, you are everywhere. This feels like some kind of divine punishment…

You catch him looking, of course. And each time, he curses himself, gods, you idiot. You may as well broadcast your feelings to the world. And hells, how long have you felt this way?

Astarion tries futilely to act normal. This is just another day with the group in the Shadowlands. He’s not thinking about holding your hand in his. He’s not thinking about the way you look when you sleep. And, above all else, he is not thinking of your lips or the way that they move when you say his name.

Despite his inner turmoil, the world moves on. You lead the group through the Mason’s Guild, and you all manage to clear the place out easily enough.

The vampire thinks he’s finally reaching some sort of peace. Yes, this routine work he can do. No problem at all.

Then, you say something kind to Karlach, that infernally charming woman, who continues to support you at your side. Who, for all intents and purposes, should be the person who warms your bedroll at night, now that you can touch her. Not him, the man who can only make your bedroll colder. Who, even now, is avoiding your every glance.

Oh hells, he thinks, face dropping. The realization that he’s right is too much for him to bear.

Astarion stalks off, annoyed at himself and his thoughts, needing a moment to recollect himself. I can do this, he thinks. I can do this. I can–

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath once he knows he’s alone. “You’re supposed to get over this, you stupid fool. Shit. Gods dammit.”

He hears your familiar footfalls approaching and freezes, his shoulders tense with anticipation.

You find him in a pool of shadows away from the others, and he can’t help but feel like a beast that’s been cornered. He’s certain his face reflects that, reflects every bit of emotion he’s feeling as plain as could be, but your patience with him has apparently worn thin for the day. Your voice is less kind than usual when you say, “Do you need to talk?”

Seeing the anger in your face, the way that your hands are placed on your hips in annoyance, he knows he can’t keep his feelings to himself. He’ll only continue to push you away, into the strong, red arms of another.

No, he thinks, in a panic. I should– I need to–

He needs to do something about his feelings, unwanted or not. Really, he needs to tell you, regardless of what your response may be. If not, he may regret it for the rest of his undying life.

Now that he is in control of his own choices, he supposes that means all of them, for better or worse. That means even the most difficult ones. This is one of those difficult ones, isn’t it?

So Astarion swallows his pride, his anxieties, his insecurities, and settles his fate.

“Later,” he says, barely getting the words out. He blinks, and tries again, pleading with you with his eyes, “Please, just come by my tent later.”

Later, I will tell them. Everything.