#and a little hint of black pepper

[suntamer]

gently cups her face in my hands. i love you, my funky little lesbian.

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐨𝐡, 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲. ❞

┊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: after a particularly rough mission, bob is insistent on taking care of you — though, you’re better at taking care of one another, instead.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: robert reynolds (sentry) x fem!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.3K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: soft smut (mdni), mentions of past trauma/insecurities, mental health talk, tooth-rotting fluff/loving antics, sub!bob but he’s also a little assertive, body worship, bob has a praise kink, hair pulling, face-sitting, oral sex (fem!rec), cunnilingus, heavy kissing, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, descriptions of cum, cowgirl position, riding. heavy aftercare.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: I am so obsessed with him that it actively eats away at my brain. 😭 Anyway, I love Bob & I love writing for him even more! I hope that you guys enjoy! Thank you for your support! 🫶

Scalding columns of water douse you from above, the shower threatening to burn your flesh if you didn’t adjust the temperature.

In the aftermath of another Avengers operation, it’s as if pieces of yourself are chipped away, healing with time, a pang of exhaustion reverberating through your marrow.

Even with an inhuman durability, the pain is raw, indents of fists and flying rubble interlaced into your flesh.

Each bruise is muscle-deep, knots made by hostile hands, peppered against your ribcage, threading along your spine; even searing water offers little relief from the dull ache.

Steam wisps in damp clouds throughout your bathroom, tepid, but it clears your senses, as if it’s washing away the mission you’d recently returned from. Exhaustion hasn’t hit you yet, merely looming in the background, a patient spectator.

Lungs expand with a shallow inhale, droplets cascading over your body, carrying with it a trail of copper, swirling into the drain. A handful of cuts mar your flesh, dried blood scrubbed clean when the water blankets you.

Through furrowed brows, your gaze screws shut, content to marinate beneath the shower’s intense pressure, knees folded, tucked near your chest. Tresses are soaked, damp and sticking to your skull, oozing with warmth.

Soap suds have long since dissipated, swallowed by rivulets of water, trickling through the chrome grate. The drone of water hitting the floor provides a gentle ambiance, accompanied by your breath — steady, shallow.

Reaching for the knob, you turn it clockwise, the spout beginning to sputter as you shut off the shower. There’s a hush that follows, save for the idle hum of the fan, an occasional buzz of the lights that flicker, casting your bathroom in an orange glow.

A fluffy towel awaits you, strewn over black, metallic rungs that match the general aesthetic of your room. Valentina made everything neutral, mute — the distinct lack of color made for an eyesore, and you’d taken to decorating your quarters with a pop of vibrancy.

Drying off, you rid yourself of slick skin, finding some relief afterwards, crawling into one of Bob’s sweaters and your pajama shorts. It smells like him — parchment and sandalwood, hints of vanilla that you’ve rubbed off on him, the scent of home.

As you clean up, you nudge the door open, letting billowing steam drift into your bedroom, releasing the caged heat. Bare feet cross the threshold into your quarters, bed barely made, but everything else seems rather organized.

A golden sunset crests upon the horizon of the New York cityscape, visible from your window, bulletproof glass tinted to banish any onlookers. Waning rays of orange pool through, glittering over your quarters, catching flecks of dust.

With a huff, you collapse along your bed, mattress foamy, downy to cushion your battered body. Tension unfurls from you in one wave, bleeding out as you allow yourself to relax, cradled within the comforts of home.

Gentle raps at the door ensnare your attention, and from pattern alone, you know who it is.

“It’s open.” You call, perched along the edge of your mattress, index finger drawing slow circles around the sheets. The door panel slides open with a soft whirring, a momentary hum that fades away.

Bob is constantly anxious to see you, especially after a mission, gaze glittering with ardor, a sentiment as gentle as springtime, a warmth that extends into his features.

He’s in loungewear, plaid pajama pants with a mismatched sweater, brunette tresses a touch disheveled. There isn’t a need for him to ask to come inside — your relationship dissolved those barriers long ago.

“Hi.” His greeting is soothing, nervousness placated by your smile, a pearlescent, sparkling thing of beauty. The fumbling, awkward tension has evaporated between the both of you, making room for affection, for the feelings you openly share.

Slipping from your bed, your feet carry you with a sudden haste, arms slithering around his middle, hugging him as if he’d slip through your fingers. He’s warm, his own sun, an everlasting plane of heat that thaws your bones.

Beneath the collar of your sweater, Bob notices the cut there, brows creasing together. With every mission you complete, his worry grows, and the thought of you being injured is a discomforting one.

Despite the tenderness of your flesh, it doesn’t take an ounce of coaxing for Bob to reciprocate your hug, arms caging you in against him, cheek nestled atop your crown. You’re damp, but he’s unperturbed, cradling you close.

His embrace feels like home, comfortable and easy, a sanctuary that the two of you have forged together. He holds you as if he might lose you too, body curling around yours, able to hear the excitable tick of your breath.

Bob’s hands idly caress over your waist, over your spine, able to hear the audible exhale of relief that slips through your nose. Hands smooth wherever he can reach, reverent, each embrace always echoing with affection.

There’s a hush that falls between, a solemn silence that shatters when your voice hums against his chest. “I missed you,” You murmur, adjusting your head enough to stare at him, lips curling into a smile. “Missed you a lot.”

Bob preens at the softness of your confession, hand dragging along your spine until it shifts to cup your jaw. “I missed you too, so much,” He missed you terribly, gaze oozing with affection. “Are you hurt?” Through furrowed brows, he gestures to the cut lingering near your collar.

“Scrapes and bruises, but nothing serious,” Reassuring, you tilt forward, absorbing the heat that radiates from him, basking within it. “It was relatively routine for a mission.” You hum, feeling his lips press against your temples.

Affection is something he lavishes you in freely, though you pamper him enough, Bob knows when to take care of you, too. Dark blues shift to admire you, finding you to be so beautiful, the light of his life, sun piercing a veil of cloud.

He’s still somewhat shy whenever you become heated, dancing around the fringes of intimacy, getting close but not fully there. You don’t mind, content to take it as slow as he wanted, but there’s always a flicker of want that stirs within your chest.

“I’ll take care of you,” Bob murmurs, and the sentiment makes you preen with warmth. He’s good, the epitome of a devoted partner, the river you’re wading through. “I—If you want me to.” He clarifies, sheepish.

You’re often the one taking care of him, a role that you’ve seamlessly melded into without complaint. It’s never perturbed you, never crossed your mind that the roles could reverse for once, but you don’t want him to feel obligated.

He wants to, more than anything — you’re good to one another, ardor all-encompassing, and Bob is eager to let you settle, let him dote on you.

“I want you to,” Hands slip from spine to abdomen, palms flush against his ribs. “You’re never obligated, though.” Despite the gentle reminder, Bob nods, brown tresses stirring with each jostle of his head.

“I know, I just … You mean everything to me,” Bob sighs, allowing sentiment to blossom, flourish within the heat of your shared affections. He loves you, loves you gently, kindly — loves you more than anything else. “I want to.”

There is something wonderfully uncomplicated about the way he loves you, unconditional; judgment is nonexistent, and so is the fear of falling. Owlish hues bore into you, as if searching for your heart, but it’s on your sleeve, plain for him to see.

Fingers cradle your cheek, thumb lightly circling over the cut that’s settled along your jawbone, and you turn, lips kissing his palm. A stutter forms within his exhale, scarlet curling around his features, snaking toward his throat.

When he’d first met you in the underbelly of Valentina’s vault, he thought he’d seen an angel — you were aglow, framed by the hum of garish lights. He recalled your gaze, even now; kind and gentle, safeguarding him from harm.

It almost felt so long ago, seven months, but no amount of time with you was wasted, nor insignificant.

He’d grown in his healing journey, at a point to where things had become easier to manage, easier to navigate his trauma. Meditation and counseling were crucial, and sometimes you joined him, ensuring that he had support.

“You are so perfect, Bob,” Not perfect in the sense of ability or strength, but his heart — a tender thing, one that you had found your serenity in. His lips twitched into a smile, besotted, growing accustomed to hearing you say it. “How did I get so lucky?”

Lucky wasn’t a word he’d use, but he was working on his self-esteem, attempting to squash the malicious insecurities, the whispers of doubt. It was difficult to extinguish self-loathing, but he was making progress, day by day.

A keening chuckle slipped from his lips, followed by a glint of pearlescent teeth, perhaps a twinge of disbelief. “I ask myself that, too,” Bob confessed, fingertips grazing along your cheek, his touch loving, and never anything less. “Very lucky.”

Flattered, your nose crinkles slightly, digits smoothing over his sides as you tilt forward to press your chin against his chest. His physique is lean, cut muscle, stature taller than you, hovering above as he meets your gaze, seeping with affection.

Lashes flutter in their ardent appraisal of you, lips pressing against the bridge of your nose. For a man who holds the power of a thousand suns within his palm, he behaves shrewdly, as if his capabilities lie far beyond his reach.

“Little lower.” Through a velvety croon, you watch as Bob’s features burn with crimson, though he’s delighted to oblige you. His lips skim over your nose, finding your mouth with seamless ease, eagerness entangled with clumsiness.

His heartbeat climbs toward a quick rhythm, an excitable thrum that reverberates through his sternum, singing your name. Noses brush over one another, kisses often exploratory, slow — it makes for a sweeter experience.

In the brief seconds where lips part, he exhales, a warm sigh feathering over your visage, as if you’re absorbing the sun’s soft rays. Bob often overthinks whenever you’re physical, not of any fault of your own, he simply wants to be the best he can for you.

Even still, your presence soothed him, a wordless lullaby, ceasing his constant barrage of nerves. His hands are unhurried, mapping your body with familiarity, caressing until they’ve settled above your hips.

Thumbs circle patterns through the fleece of your sweater, his sweater, draped over your frame as the fabric brushes the middle of your thighs. Each kiss evokes a wave of yearning from you, soul to soul, wrapped up within his splendor.

Undaunted, Bob’s mouth melds with yours, two pieces seamlessly fitting together, hearts joined in-tandem. A furrow forms within his brow, that of concentration as he pours affection into his kisses, listening to the hitch in your breath.

Between parted lips, nudging aside to seize the air, your hands dance along his biceps, skirting lower, holding steadfastly to his forearms. “I love you.” You hum, three words that he never grows tired of hearing.

Bob said it first, a month ago — when it tumbled from his mouth, you thought he was teasing, or perhaps speaking out of-turn. His sincerity manifested in the form of tears and a wistful speech about how much he loved you.

You made it a point to tell him every day, heart growing warm with a muted buzz, an ardor that blossomed through your chest. He liked telling you how much he loved you, too; he had someone to protect, someone to cherish.

A warm, half-chuckle escapes him, the sound scratching pleasantly at the back of your mind. Still, his thoughts are shrouded by doubt, by a shadowy snarl that plagues him, taunting; Bob has gotten better at blocking it out.

Lips press sweetly to his jaw, beneath his eye, whatever you’re able to reach whilst stretching up upon your toes. Sunset stretches over his features, blanketing him in burnished orange, catching upon his dark blue hues.

“I love you too.” Bob murmurs, abashed by the doting affection you lavish him in, unable to stop himself from smiling.

Happiness wasn’t a prevalent theme in his life, but after he met you, it became a constant — he wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

Delighted, you crawl into bed, sprawled out upon your back, one arm tucked beneath your head. His sweater rides up along your hips, revealing the thin, cotton shorts that brush along your thighs.

Bob joins you, sitting criss-crossed at your side, tracing circles over your midriff. The soothing warmth of his touches makes your stomach surge with butterflies, chewing at the inside of your cheek.

“What are you thinking about?” A saccharine utterance slips past your lips, cadence tender as you tilt your head enough to peer up at him. Brunette tresses frame his face, chin bristling with a tiny hint of a growing stubble.

His mind is often a whirlwind — there’s plenty going on, from therapy and counseling to his own shadowed trauma, though his even days seem to eclipse the lows more often than not. Bob thinks about you the most, about your future together.

Sentry was supposed to be the pinnacle of good, the savior of citizens, the world’s mightiest hero; and part of him still wants it, to help, to be good. He wants to be a symbol of hope, of aspiration, of how brokenness can turn into something whole.

Though, with ascending the role, comes It, comes the darkness that haunts his silhouette, a penumbra of his innermost demons.

“A lot,” Bob confesses, noticing the twinge of perplexity that settles on your features. “Nothing bad, just … The future. Our future, my future.” He knows he can confide in you for anything — you’re his sanctuary.

“Our future?” Something hot snakes through your veins, an excitable heat that makes you preen. The fact that he’s given your relationship such consideration elates you.

“Yeah,” His timbre is soothing to you, a lower rumble that seeps into your bones, makes you feel entirely at-ease. “It’s the most optimistic I’ve felt about something in years.” Bob admits, digits nonchalantly toying with the hem of your sweater.

Reaching for his hand, you caress his knuckles, fingers curling around his hand, flesh and blood, tethering you together. “Me too,” You smile, your heart nearly bursting from your chest with joy. “You might be stuck with me forever.”

Bob’s gaze is heartwarming, raw — the concept of being with you forever is more of a comfort, no inkling of despair or discontent. “I’d prefer it that way.” He utters, voice barely hovering above a whisper.

Fingers squeeze together, and the beam you give him elicits another blush, scarlet blanketing his countenance, as warm as an open flame. He presses a hand against his chin, somewhat reeling with disbelief; he never thought he’d have this again.

“What about your future?” Feather-light, your tone is inquiring yet tranquil, noninvasive. With a soft groan, you manage to sit up, sweater ruffled around your middle. Bruises sit heavy within your muscle, soreness stretching throughout your body.

Leg-to-leg with him, you feel his fingertips circle over the top of your thigh, innocent instead of amorous. “With my powers and everything,” Bob murmurs, struck by a sudden wave of emotion. “I just — I want to help people, and I feel like I can’t.”

There’s a melancholy that swirls within his gaze, a thinly-veiled desperation to be useful, to safeguard — what good is he if he can’t even protect you? Tears prick at his eyes, glistening with a wet sheen as he attempts to blink them away.

Bob’s still working through the process of healing, but with that, he’s reluctant to use his powers. They’re there, he feels them — like waves before an earthquake, subdued yet powerful. He’s afraid of it all crashing down on him again, and you, the team.

“Bob, it’s only been a couple of months,” You soothe, hand caressing along his forearm. “Sometimes, the healing process can take a long time. I think you’ll still be able to help people — you help the team now, just as you are now.”

It’s reassuring, but he still feels a twinge of desolation, wanting to talk it through before it catalyzes into something worse. “I know, I just want to be useful. I want to be someone that people can look to for help.”

“You’ve no idea how useful and important you are, Bob,” In your eyes, he’s everything — he’s your heart. “If it weren’t for you, this team might not even exist. What we’ve built, the family we’ve become — it all started with you.”

He’s never looked at it that way, feeling a tear tumble down his cheek, one that he hastily wipes away with the sleeve of his sweater. You’re staring at him as if he’s moved mountains, the center of your universe, a sun whose light you stand within, even if it wanes.

Reassurance is something you’re good at; you’re soft for Bob, incredibly supportive, but you’ve never babied him. He doesn’t enjoy being viewed as helpless, and you’ve made sure that it’s never the case with your relationship.

Sweetly, your hands finds his again, lifting it to your lips as you press a kiss over his knuckles. Bob’s heart lurches, threatening to soar from his chest, mouth parting to make room for a tremulous exhale.

“I love you,” Bob murmurs, pearlescent teeth splitting through his forlorn expression like sunlight through a gray cloud. You have an extraordinary gift for knowing what to say, knowing how to keep him grounded. “I love you so much.”

Nothing short of genuine, he draws you closer, muscled arms caging around you in a hug that’s akin to a furnace. His temperature is inhumanly warm, often running hotter, but you’ve grown to adore it, especially on cold nights.

Without an inkling of hesitation, your arms slip around his middle, palms splayed beside his spine, rubbing his back in slow caresses. Bob finds solace in your embrace, as if you lessen the sting, rip his pain away and throw it elsewhere.

A pang of guilt follows when he realizes that he should be taking care of you, embarrassment settling onto his visage. “Sorry, I … I didn’t mean to make everything —” He stops when you shake your head back and forth.

“Don’t apologize, Bob. I want you to get things off of your chest, and your feelings are valid,” As if to cement your words, you plant a kiss against his cheek, still keeping an arm strewn over his midsection. “I’m always here for you.”

Melancholy and despair subside, and shadows dissipate with it, slithering away as they retreat from the corners of his mind. His chest expands with a shallow, concentrated inhale, breathing deep as he regains composure.

A comfortable silence lingers between, filling the void with affectionate smiles and longing glances, his hand tangled with yours. It’s a brief meditative state that he’s fixated on, something that he’d learned in therapy to manage negative thoughts.

You breathe with him; steady, lungs inflated with crisp air, stretched before you exhale. The process repeats itself, tangled together within the hush of your quarters, blood-orange sunlight twinkling through, turning his brown tresses to caramel.

Bob’s stare is fixated on you, as if he’s glimpsed something beautiful for the very first time, doe-eyed and yearning. He’s been teased for it before, but in the privacy of your bedroom, he’s unabashedly in love with you — no veil conceals his affections.

Melting beneath his gaze, you offer him a gentle smile, as if he’s kissed by summertime, lost within a world of warmth. Bob smiles too, canting forward, lower until his forehead brushes over yours.

Noses graze over one another, a subtle invitation for a kiss, which he initiates this time. He’s often riddled with nerves, but they seem quiet now, and the hush is comforting.

Lips meld together, seamless, and you’re floating, hands shifting to gather at the nape of his neck, carding through his hair. He’s exceedingly gentle, heart bleeding into your mouth, devoted — and you begin to lean backwards.

As you lower yourself down, back flush to pressed sheets and a thin comforter, Bob follows, one leg nestled between yours. Shrouding you with his body, the kiss resumes as if it hadn’t been broken to begin with, and he tastes of ardor.

Hands splay on either side of your head, sweater billowing from his musculature, offering you a glimpse of his abdomen. The serum had altered his physicality drastically — Bob sometimes didn’t recognize his own skin when he looked in the mirror.

He’d grown accustomed to it though, the muscle, the durability, inhuman stamina — exhaustion didn’t feel the same as it used to. Each kiss seems to elongate, mouths barely inching away from one another, entanglement crackling with embers.

When your mouth begins to still, gathering wisps of air to fuel your lungs, Bob’s tresses hang down, tickling your cheeks. “Hey.” You giggle, nose wrinkling slightly as you pull a laugh from his chest, body quaking above you.

“Hi,” Bob whispers, fingers reaching to caress over your cheek, extending into your hairline as he clears his throat. “You’re so pretty.” His murmur is low, a touch husky, stomach churning with butterflies as he shifts, leg ghosting over your core.

A subtle shiver grips your spine, lips parting as a sigh inhabits your throat, preening in the wake of his sweet compliment. “Yeah?” Swallowing the slight lump within your throat, your hand reaches to cup his cheek, thumbing across his jaw.

It’s present, the tension; a familiar burning that seems to crawl between bodies, amorous and wanton, lacking the hunger of lust. It’s thirst he feels, as if you’re a body of water, the lifeblood he needs to survive, to exist.

Bob exhales, warmth feathering over your features, the noise wrought with exhilaration. There’s a swell of sentiment dancing within his eyes, an amalgamation of adoration and something more.

Dipping lower once more, his lips brush over yours, missing by a mere inch, teeth dryly clicking together, eliciting a laugh from you. It’s bubbly, bright; he murmurs an apology, sheepish, but you’re drawing him back in.

Kissing him feels effortless, no expectation of performance, anxiety having bled away into nothingness.

It’s comforting, allowing your vulnerability to show, heart on your sleeve for him. Soft digits trace over his nape, other hand splayed flat against his shoulder blade.

Sunlight drains from the skies, the atmosphere infused with shades of mauve, an inky-black chasing after it. The orange glow dissipates from your bedroom, and with the coming of nighttime, the nightlight above your headboard flickers on.

Legs tangle within one another, a knot of limbs as he kisses you with such compassion, perhaps a twinge of something fervent. It’s as if he wants something, afraid to ask for it — there’s a hint of restraint in his kiss, even still.

“Are you okay?” A soft murmur echoes against his mouth when lips fleetingly draw apart, prompting another owlish stare from him. He’s flushed, thinking about you — everything he wants, pent-up in some knot.

“Yeah, I just — I love you.” Bob blurts in an effort to distract from what he’s really contemplating, turning over his desires in his mind, his incessant yearning. His lips twitch into a smile, one that’s still dancing with nerves.

“I love you too,” With a whisper, your fingers drift to sweep brunette tresses away from his eyes. “What’s on your mind, Bob?” You prompt, noticing his growing embarrassment when you pose the question.

Bob swallows again, flustered, but he decides to come clean about how he’s feeling. “You,” Spoken through a low, pleasant husk, it turns your stomach, bones lurching with butterflies. “I want to be with you, but I … I haven’t done anything in a long time.”

You know what he’s referring to without elaboration, feeling a pang of anticipation twirl within your belly. A brief exhale parts your lips, warmth spreading over your flesh. “That’s okay,” You assure, hand tracing his jaw. “I haven’t, either.”

You’ve been intimate before, in smaller steps — touching one another, half-undressed, sighing names into kiss-swollen lips. This is different, this is more; but you want him, want to give him everything that you can.

His past experiences were often muddled by drug-use, a haze of limbs that felt meaningless, something to extinguish the isolation. This was love, adoration — with you, things were different; each touch meant something.

Bob seems somewhat reassured, shoulders lighter, visage no longer wrought with stress. He relaxes, still poised above you, wondering how to start, how to naturally progress into the next step.

It’s you who closes the gap and initiates, lips softly tangling with his own. Passion festers, an active participant the more your mouths meld together, seamlessly molding to one another.

A soft groan echoes within his throat, swallowed by your mouth as lips clamor. You’re everything, everywhere; his heart beats a rhythm that only you seem to understand, fingers treading toward the hem of his sweater.

Each kiss was bruising, tender — wrought with such adoration that it made your belly pulse with a familiar heat. Exhilarated, your hand continued to caress over his muscles, dancing along his abdomen.

Heat radiates from him, as if he’s his own splendid sun, warm to the touch. You treat him so well, especially when intimacy arose, ensuring that he was always taken care of — Bob wants to return the favor tenfold.

With gentle coaxing, you begin to sit up, guiding him toward the pillows, letting him sit as you politely crawl into his lap. Thighs pin against his hips on either side, a pliant cage, feeling Bob’s hands shyly trace over your legs.

Mesmerized is a mere understatement; he’s bewitched, gazing at you as if you’ve moved mountains, doe-eyed and wanton. Love oozes from every fiber of his being, and you can taste it in his kiss when his mouth meets yours again.

Bob’s throat jostles as he swallows, exhilaration tangled with enthusiasm welling up inside of him. It seems to squash his initial anxiousness about it all, but only slightly. He feels your fingers card through his tresses, unable to his smitten expression.

The hem of your sweater, his sweater, ghosts over his fingertips, prompting him to take a gentle fistful of the woolen fabric. “May I?” Bob always asks — it’s the same sweeter cadence accompanied by a longing look.

With a nod, you lift your arms, stifling a laugh when the collar momentarily snags on your chin, gooseflesh clinging to your spine as the garment is removed. He sets it aside, a scarlet pallor invading his features; you aren’t wearing anything underneath.

“You’re so beautiful,” Bob is constantly awestruck by you, as if he’s seeing your body for the first time all over again. He feels fortunate then, fortunate now; he wants you to have all of him. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

His low, husky compliment makes your bones lurch, shivering in spite of his praise, your hands searching for the hem of his sweater. “You’re so sweet to me.” You murmur, gaze roving over his countenance, prompting him to sigh with elation.

Bob smiles, scarlet-faced as he moves to cradle your jaw. He’s relaxed, more excitable than nervous, stomach still coiled into an excitable, anxious knot, flesh bristling as he kisses you again.

Bodies twine together, and you’re slotted in his lap, hips occasionally urging against his own. There’s friction present, hot and familiar; he’s infatuated by the sensation. He feels your hand drag from his torso to chest, hovering over his heart.

Between tender kisses, hands fumble together, working in-tandem to peel his sweater away, musculature firm beneath your palms. His physique is godlike; sturdy, muscled, impenetrable.

Mouths became immersed in a mutual heat, a dance of hearts — you succumb so very quickly to it all, one hand clamoring to hold fast against his nape. Bob is easily vexed, flustered as his hands gently settle against your hips.

Fingertips trace circles over your waist, lips slow and passionate, savoring every sweet entanglement as if it might be your last. Bob withdraws, only to kiss your jaw, mouth climbing along your throat as it elicits a soft moan from you.

Arousal warms between your thighs, belly rolling into taut coils of excitement, bodies flush, the space between all but nonexistent. He’s considerate, layering your neck in kisses, no inch of flesh safe from his mouth as he finds your collar.

“Bob.” A moan is pulled from your throat, pitched with anticipation, your hand beginning to trail through his tresses. His arms cage you in, holding firm as he plants needy, wanton kisses over your chest.

There’s a sparkle in his eyes, softer, kind — he seems happy, less anxious than usual. His confidence is still shaky, leaning upon a cracked foundation, but there’s a progression in his self-esteem.

The heavy worry of disappointing you lingers still, a small constant within the back of his mind, but he pushes it aside as best he can. Bob continues to pepper kisses over your flesh, wherever he can reach, ending with your lips.

Tender hands roam his musculature, caressing him, ensuring that he’s doted upon. A warm scarlet invades his features, creeping over his skin like that of fire, stirring up inklings of arousal.

When Bob draws away, it’s to smile at you, predominantly sheepish, a boyish expression that oozes ardor. It’s his typical beam, one that you’ve grown to adore, pressing a chaste kiss to his brow, and then the corner of his mouth.

“I want to try something,” Bob murmurs, flushed at the mere fantasy of it. “If that’s alright.” Despite his lack of clarification, you are too curious for your own good, stomach churning with an excited anticipation.

“Of course,” Gooseflesh rakes over your spine when his fingers tease the waistband of your shorts, more assurance layered into his touch. Bob is still rather subservient, but he’s gotten better with initiating, too. “Want them off?”

Blushing, Bob’s head jostles in an eager nod, watching as you slip off of his lap in order to wriggle out of your shorts, socks coming with it. It leaves you in your panties, and you realize that this is the most exposed you’ve been.

With your back angled to him, his brows crease when he finds the scattered cuts laced into your flesh, the discoloration of skin. Wordlessly, he crawls closer, pressing a soft kiss to your spine.

The sensation makes you shiver, lips parting as a gasp splits through, feeling the warmth of his mouth kiss over a cut beneath your shoulder blade. Your body tingles with a pleasant ebbing, and you melt back into him.

Owlish hues bore into you, tracing along your form with a thinly-veiled appreciation, adoring, more like. Bob lets his back kiss the mattress, mussed tresses disheveled against the pillow, feeling you climb back into his lap.

Bending to kiss him, chests flush together, you feel his hands splay out along the small of your back, stroking your skin. Lips clamor together in another passionate collision, enough to draw a low groan from Bob’s throat.

His hands begin to drift lower, from the plush curve of your waist to your backside, gingerly kneading into the pliant flesh. He is cautious, painstakingly gentle as he lavishes kiss after kiss to your wanting lips.

It’s sweet, the way he touches you — always gentle, always loving. He marvels at you each time you part, as if he’s seeing you for the first time again, visibly enchanted. “You’re so pretty.” Bob murmurs, palm taut against your haunch.

“You are too — you’re perfect.” You whisper, managing a smitten smile as he huffs a light chuckle, fingertips brushing around the hem of your panties. He swallows thickly, as if silently asking for you to remove those, too.

With a nod, the exchange is left unspoken, but you understand what he wants through gaze alone. Your heart thrums violently beneath your breast, breath hitching within your throat as he helps you squirm from your underwear.

He’s getting nervous again, attempting to swallow it down as he appraises you in your entirety, awestruck. Bob’s hands relocate to your thighs, holding steadfastly to either, thumbs stroking circles into your delicate flesh.

Coaxing you closer, he inches you away from his lap, towards his chest; realization hits you, then. Before you can interject, Bob shakes his head back and forth, visibly flustered.

“I want to,” Insistent, his cadence oozed with warmth, a tranquility that eased your sudden bout of nerves. The both of you were anxious, wanting to expel that energy into one another. “I—I want to take care of you.” Bob murmurs, lips twitching into a placating smile.

Swallowing the lump within your throat, you’re abashed to confess that you want this terribly, palms steady against his shoulders. Even then, he’s holding you effortlessly, gazing up at you as if you’re the celestials themselves.

Bob doesn’t shy away, patient as ever, continuing to caress over your thighs. He’s done this before, a long time ago — it feels like some nonexistent memory, or one that he conjured up, but it’s there. His smile lingers, adoring, allowing you to move whenever you choose to.

“If you want to stop, just tap my thigh.” You murmur, belly churning with fire. You’ve never let someone do this to you before, but you trust Bob completely. He nods, waiting expectantly, unable to mask his growing excitement.

Shy, you inch forward, legs trembling beneath his touch as he gingerly nudges you closer, knees planted on either side of his head. Everything spins, the room spins, and you’re trying to steady yourself when his mouth warms your cunt.

Lips flush against your inner thigh, brief, drawing a shudder from your spine, feeling his mouth climb to the warmth oozing between your legs. His tongue raked embers across your cunt, nearly ripping the air from your lungs.

His ministrations are agonizingly gentle, rapturous, as if he might hurt you with enough pressure. Bob keens when you moan, the noise smothered within your throat as you try to keep from being too loud.

The tip of his nose brushes along your petals, tongue splitting deeper still, until he sluggishly laps at your core. Your taste permeates his mouth, a bittersweet ambrosia that draws him into some lovestruck haze.

“B—Bob,” His ministrations are wholly unexpected, thighs shaking, belly twisting into a heated coil as you press a palm against the wall. The other flies to the brunette crown nestled contentedly between your thighs. “Bob!” You squeak.

A myriad of moans shake your chest, fluttering through your diaphragm and into the cool air. The ministrations of his tongue are too good, as if this skill is something he’s practiced for some time.

Below, Bob is flushed, scarlet clinging to his features as he pleasures you, unperturbed by the lewd act. He loves it, and it’s making him squirm with how receptive you are to it, cock aching with a ceaseless throbbing.

The coil of taut heat within your stomach seems to tighten as Bob greedily laps at your cunt, like that of a man starved. A sharp groan blossoms throughout his sternum as you incessantly tug upon his curls, urging him closer.

Your hips accidentally jolt forward, and you sputter a swift apology, body feverishly hot as you attempt to regain your balance. Bob’s hands are holding steadfastly to your hips, caressing and molding to your curves.

Admittedly, he’s finding pleasure in this, wanting to seek some relief for himself, but he’s too absorbed in you, in all of you. The taste of your cunt permeates his tongue, and he wants more, lapping at your core as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

A tremor gripped your thighs, twitching around his head as your hips lurched forward. The friction that simmers between you both is more than enough to keep him wanting, chest reverberating with a myriad of throaty groans.

“G—God, you’re so good at this,” There is a noticeable pitch within your voice, higher, wrought with ecstasy. You’re moaning his name as if it’s some desperate prayer, a confession spilling from your tongue. “Please don’t stop.”

Bob groans again at the sensation of your fingers dragging through his hair, the feeling incredibly pleasant, mouth buried against your cunt. He kisses along your slit, gesture mingling with soft, passionate laps of his tongue.

It is then that he seeks the pearl of your cunt, pressing a string of wanton kisses to the sensitive clutch of nerves. A shiver of delight grips your spine, throat erupting with a moan as your back begins to arch.

Vocal, a string of whimpered praise tumbles from your mouth, legs shaking like leaves beneath his palms. Bob wants to whine, and the sound of you moaning his name is enough to set his body ablaze, bleeding with a radiant heat.

His name rolls from your tongue with such reverence, enough to bring him to heel. Another broad stroke of his tongue laps across your cunt, gathering with it a slew of your arousal.

With a twist of his mouth, he moves to the pearl of your cunt once more, pliant maw wrapping around it, stimulating you with his suckling. Everything feels fuzzy, as if you’re trapped in some white-hot haze, ecstasy burning through your bones.

Bob holds you aloft with an effortless strength, hands still smoothing over your thighs, caressing your warm flesh. Each brief urge of your hips into his mouth sends him reeling, wanting to be good for you, pleasure you in the way you deserve.

A rush of white-hot delight sears your bones, blanketing you in a wave of pleasure, stomach swirling with a violent heat. Dizzy from such overwhelming arousal, your body began to furl, a coil of heat pulled taut within your belly.

Again, he traveled to your clit, gently suckling upon the bundle of nerves. Your poor thighs rattled on either side of his head, twitching with throes of ecstasy as he toyed with your pearl.

In this state, you weren’t going to last much longer, crumbling through his fingertips as your release slammed into you with such intensity. Bob sighed into your core, content to stay there for an eternity if you allowed him to.

Slowly, you unraveled, having to ground yourself to any shred of composure, throat wracked with a choked sob. The coil of taut heat snapped violently, giving way to an overwhelming release, a white-hot tide of bliss.

His name rolled from your tongue several times over, spoken lovingly, body trembling from the blissful aftershocks. Admittedly, your thighs weren’t up to the challenge either, muscles burning as you stilled above him.

Even still, he unknowingly works you through your release, gently lapping over your cunt, the gestures feather-light. A neediness festers within him, still treating you to little jolts of pleasure in the aftermath.

Lungs expand and deflate with swift, shallow sighs, clawing for composure. Bob breaths with you, labored yet exhilarated, cheeks tinged with a permanent shade of pink. Lips seal themselves along your thighs, peppering over your soft skin.

Inching backward, you neatly untangle yourself from him, slotted within his lap again, flustered when you catch the glistening sheen of slick on his mouth. He seems elated, happy; it’s satisfying to know that he didn’t disappoint you with his ministrations.

“Was that good?” Bob inquires, brunette tresses disheveled, an earthy halo that forms around his visage. He sits up, propped back against one arm, musculature catching upon the dim illumination that spreads through your bedroom.

“That was amazing,” Admittedly, you are surprised by how vigorous he was with it, as if his shyness had been momentarily stripped away. He politely wipes his chin off with the heel of his palm, his smile doting. “You’re amazing.”

In the afterglow, your thighs continue to twitch, spiraling down from your orgasm as you trace your fingers across his abdomen. Bob is blushing, gaze half-lidded and adoring, though it’s fleeting when you shift atop his lap.

Something firm pulses against your backside, and you watch him writhe, neck taut with strain as he tries to alleviate some of the friction. “S—Sorry,” He fumbles, withholding a husky groan. “You’re so pretty.” His murmur makes you flustered.

“Don’t be,” You assure, heart nearly beating from your chest as gazes linger on one another, oozing with a thinly-veiled affection. “I love you so much, Bob.” The words are enough to make him shiver, hand shifting toward your hip.

Bob preens beneath your soft declaration, adjusting his position, erection shuffling against you once more. He’s nearly bursting at the seams, wanting to be inside of you, feel your body against his, listen to your heartbeat.

In a soft entanglement, you kiss him, able to taste yourself upon his tongue. He’s delicate, each caress, each touch born of adoration for you. Everything slows to a momentary crawl as your hands shift toward his pants.

“I love you,” Bob murmurs, as if it’s something sacred, a hush between old lovers. He shifts, breath hitching when your fingers skim along the waistband of his pajamas pants. “I want you.” He says it reverently, making you shiver.

There is something mildly assertive within his tone, as if he’s gaining a bit of confidence, hands caressing circles into your hips. His head jostles in an acknowledging nod, allowing you to take it further, prying fabric aside.

That is when you feel it, the proof of his arousal pressing into your lower belly, oozing with precum as he slowly ruts his hips into you. Bob shivers, flushed as he writhes, desperate to be inside of you.

To your surprise, he’s painfully well-endowed, a fact that he is acutely aware of. Your pupils expand, attempting to smother your twinge of nervousness, gaze fluttering elsewhere.

A sharp moan blossoms throughout your diaphragm, palms gathering at the nape of his neck as you coax him in for a searing kiss. Lips move in a tender dance, arousal coalescing between your legs.

A groan rippled through his throat, escaping into twined mouths as you moved against his erection, enough to nearly make him sputter. His lungs burn with want, needing you as one needed air.

Bob’s desperation bleeds into you with a blinding intensity, so poignant and so palpable that it makes your knees buckle. He can’t remember the last time he’d done something like this, and even then, he only wants to remember you.

“Are you sure?” His whisper is gentle, a strained timbre that sends shivers down your spine. Through kisses and the exhales between, he wants to make sure that you’re certain, as if you might change your mind.

Pressing another lingering kiss to his mouth, you answer with assurance. “Yes,” You sigh, lips curling into a gentle, placating smile. “More sure than I’ve ever been.” With that, Bob seems to relax, his breathing heavier, heady as you begin to shift.

Wandering hands smooth themselves over the swell of your hips, clutching at the pliant flesh, his erection pressing against your thigh. A sharp inhale passes through him as you gently adjust yourself, comfortable within his lap.

A taut coil of heat pulls tightly within his abdomen, making him squirm, a familiar heat licking over his flesh as the flushed tip prods against your cunt. He’s trying not to combust, afraid it all might be a short-lived affair.

Sluggishly, you sink yourself onto his cock, drawing a moan from your diaphragm and a breathy groan from his. Bob feels your forehead, flush to his own, hot breath pluming over his features as you continue downward.

The sensation of your hands skimming over his collar is intoxicating, eliciting another half-whimper from his throat. He clings steadfastly to your hips, thumbs tracing shaky circles into your skin as you allow the both of you time to adjust.

Your fingers thread into his hair, and he attempts to stifle a groan, eyes pleasantly half-lidded as your hips shift slightly. Everything hums, a muted buzz thrumming through his body, bliss warping into the fringes of ecstasy.

Scarlet paints his features, skin flushed with crimson, body brimming with pleasure; you’ve barely moved yet. His hands cradle you even still, and as you begin to move, he’s gentle in his assistance, holding you aloft.

“Bob,” You moan his name, dragging your hips up halfway before sinking down again, a push-and-pull that makes your muscles burn with exertion. Lips pepper themselves to his jaw, and you feel his grip tighten through trembling digits. “You feel so perfect.”

A myriad of throaty groans escaped him as you began to move, hips rocking forward, disarmingly gentle and sluggish. It was a perfect storm of sensations, between your hand in his tresses, lips beginning to trail toward his throat.

Your cunt clenched pathetically, snug around his length as you continued to ride him, his cock bottoming out within you. Bob moaned, arms caging you in as you showered his neck in kisses, body vibrating beneath you.

“Please,” He huffed, continuing to caress along your thighs, digits clamping down whenever your hips lifted and lowered. Bob knew he wasn’t going to make it very long like this, cock aching for release. “D—Don’t stop.”

Everything felt so raw and sensitive, nerves set ablaze, arousal gripping him tightly as you continued to ride his cock, ensuring that you were still gentle. Your pace never became rough, nor demanding.

He thoroughly enjoyed watching you move, cautious and mindful of him, lips agape and visage one of sheer bliss. Sighs of passion tangled together, hot and fervent, breathing in the sweet air of one another.

Prying your mouth away from his throat, he’s moving in for a kiss, whimpering when your hips fall flush against his, cock buried inside of you. The pleasure is almost overwhelming for him, enhanced by you, by how much he loves you.

His name feathers from your mouth like a sacrilegious oath, repetitive, ensuring that he knows how good he makes you feel. The remnants of your previous orgasm still cling to you, thighs shaking like leaves.

Bob kisses you as if you might slip through his fingers at any given moment, unable to fully commit through wanton groans. His chest burns with a string of needy sighs, holding you tightly, feeling your skin flush against his.

Neither of you would last long in this state — him, in particular. He was dizzy, rendered stupefied by such wanton desire, his cock throbbing inside of you with an incessant need.

Drowning within ecstasy, Bob knew that he couldn’t cling to restraint any longer, seeing stars, body oozing with heat. His digits gripped you tightly, a choked groan emerging into the hollow between your throat and shoulder.

It only took one more roll of your hips for him to fall apart completely, in shambles beneath you, cum spilling inside of you. The rush of warmth soon flooded your insides, his spend sticky between your thighs.

Bob was shaking, groaning your name, embarrassed that it all seemed to end so abruptly, but he hadn’t done it in years — it would take some adjusting.

Foreheads pressed together, lips soon finding one another, disarmingly gentle as he allowed one palm to cup your cheek. His thumb danced over your jaw, the gesture unusually sweet as your hips began to slow to a mere crawl.

“Are you okay?” Gentle, you pressed a kiss to his brow, feeling him tremble beneath you, an amalgamation of heat and limbs. Bob nodded, swallowing thickly as he felt you move from his lap.

“Yeah.” Bob’s lips twitched into a smile, feeling content in the afterglow, less pent-up. His limbs felt like molten liquid, body recovering from the vast amount of pleasure he experienced.

In the solace that followed, his feet carried him over cold marble, clamoring into your bathroom, retrieving a glass of water. His stamina remained entirely intact, superhuman — the same couldn’t be said for you.

Retrieving his sweater, your tepid skin writhes into the wool despite the perspiration, finding your underwear, thighs shaking as you pull them back on. Bob returns, half-dressed, his throat flushed where your mouth had been moments prior.

Lounging along the corner of your mattress, your features warm when he steps closer, smile sheepish. “Here.” He hums, a low, blissful sound that strips away your tension, coming to sit beside you.

With several greedy swigs of water, you’re beginning to climb down from your peak, nudging the glass onto your nightstand. It’s an unspoken thing as Bob holds you, the both of you a tangle of bodies, laying down together.

“Was that good?” Bob asks again, soft, nervous that it might’ve been too quick for you. Your head presses to his collarbone, fingertips tracing indecipherable patterns into his skin.

“It was perfect,” Pleasant tingles flow through your body, soothed by his palm, caressing circles over the small of your back. “You are perfect.” The sweetness of your cadence makes his breath hitch, lips smoothing over your forehead.

A smile seems glued to your face, no disappearing in-sight, feeling his heart stutter underneath your cheek. It’s hushed, but it’s comfortable, merely basking in the presence of one another, and he’s still reeling from the whole ordeal.

Bob smiles, doe-eyed, gazing at you as if you’re the sun, his center of gravity. Keeping one arm around you, as if to shield you, the other continues to caress along your sweater-clad frame.

“I love you.” He utters, brows furrowing as if he’s swearing an oath to you, bodies leaving no trace of space, legs tangling together. As Bob holds you close, you’re almost drifting, eyes growing heavy as you cling to him.

You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Daytrip.

Pairing: Yandere!Illumi x Reader (Hunter x Hunter).

Word Count: 5.6k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Prolonged Captivity, Mentions of Kidnapping, Mentions of Animal Death, Semi-Public Sex, Controlling Behavior, Deliberate Isolation, and Stalking.

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was, per usual, Illumi’s face.

His dark eyes wide and unblinking, his skin bloodlessly pale, his lips pulled into a thin, neutral line – and all of it no more than three inches away. You were too numb to his off-putting proximity to scream, but you flinched back into your pillow on instinct, and Illumi took the hint, lingering for another half second longer before drawing back. A few months ago, you might’ve scrambled away, barricaded yourself in the smallest corner of your lavish bedroom, but now, you only rolled onto your side, regarding him with the same exhausted resignation that you used to pay to your cat, when she woke you up three hours early for no other reason than her own selfish desire not to spend the small hours of the morning alone.

“What’s up?”

It might’ve been a little too casual of a greeting for your kidnapper, but he didn’t seem to mind. “There are clothes waiting for you on your vanity. The butlers will help you dress as soon as possible.”

 So this was going to be an out-of-bed thing, after all. Reluctantly, you started pushing yourself up. “Are we in a hurry for a reason, or…?”

There was a brief moment of consideration, then a resolute nod from Illumi. You let out an inward sigh. “Okay, whatever, that’s my fault. Why are we in a rush, ‘lumi?”

“I have something planned for the two of us.” If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought you saw his expression light up. “A daytrip, I believe.” And then, as if as an afterthought, “I’m very excited.”

Illumi’s excitement was normally something you tried to avoid, but your mind seemed to glaze over that and settle on the word ‘daytrip’ instead. Daytrips meant traveling. Daytrips meant activities.

Most pressingly, daytrips meant getting to leave the empty, lifeless, murderer-infested wasteland that was his family’s estate for the first time since he carried you through its gates. You knew better than to say that in as many words, though.

“And for this daytrip, we’ll be going…” You trailed off, gesturing in the direction you felt most strongly would lead back to civilization. “…out there?”

“We’ll be leaving the mountain, yes.”

“And we’ll be going place where other people are?”

“I suppose so, if it can’t be avoided.”

“And your family wasn’t involved with this at all?”

“They don’t think it’s right for you to be given so much freedom so quickly,” he explained. “I disagree. Even well-trained dogs have to be walked.”

For the first time ever, you had to resist the urge to kiss him.

Instead, you only let yourself smile, casting your sheets aside and settling for a brief but bone-crushing hug. “Thank you thank you thank you!” You pulled away abruptly, sliding off of the mattress. “I—I’ll get dressed!”

Illumi didn’t move, didn’t react, but his eyes followed you as you stumbled across the room – happier than you’d been in months.

~

A little less than an hour later, you were spread across Illumi’s lap in the back of a surprisingly conspicuous black car, the divider raised to block a faceless driver from view. It took a concerted amount of effort to keep your attention on anything but the window, but you managed, only sparing the occasional glance towards the passing scenery.

You watched the mountainside spiral downward as Illumi’s hands settled around your waist, measuring the widening gaps between dense patches of forestry as his mouth ghosted over the side of your neck. It’d always surprised you – how tactile he was, how someone so cold could be so fond of peppering feather-light kisses into your collarbones and groping at your thighs. It’d been weeks since the last time you tried to brush off his affection. As far as you were concerned, there were worse things he could do to you than mimic the behavior of a more conventional boyfriend.

(At some point, you’d come to think of Illumi as the unclimbable, unmovable, twenty-foot-tall wall that separated you from freedom. You didn’t like him, sure, but you had to recognize that on your own, you had no chance of getting past, over, or around him. If something happened to render him a little weaker, a little less tall, a little more susceptible to opening his gates, then things might change, but you couldn’t rely on elusive possibilities. The way you saw it, you could either waste your time trying to overcome an insurmountable obstacle, or you could save your energy and try to make things as pleasant on this side of the wall as was humanly possible, given your below-standard working conditions. Until you met someone willing to offer you a ladder, at least.)

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, and your eyes flitted back to the window. You were passing buildings, now – houses and apartments, people dotted in front of them blurred mannequins. “Can you tell me where we’re going, or am I not supposed to know?”

He seemed to think for a second, but answered quickly enough. “Brunch, first,” he said, not bothering to pull away from you. “The rest is a surprise.”

You pursed your lips. You used to like surprises, but Illumi had managed to change a lot of things about you. “Is ‘the rest’ something I’ll like?”

 “It’s something you’ve been known to enjoy.”

It took everything you had not to roll your eyes. You’d been ‘known to enjoy’ a lot of things, most of which Illumi had taken away from you.

There was one more open-mouthed kiss pressed into your collarbone, one more stolen glance of the outside world, and then, the vehicle was easing to a steady halt in front of a rustic, almost quaint building. A café, you realized, as Illumi stepped out in front of you, holding the door open while you stared wide-eyed at the perfectly idyllic, perfectly normal restaurant. The cute type, with a triangular roof and a greenery-laden front porch and chipped paint on either side of the front door.

Subconsciously, some part of you must’ve decided that you’d never see anything more charming or more homey than the lifeless grounds of Illumi’s estate again. You opted not to linger on that, as you stepped out of the car.

The interior was similarly fairytale-esque. There weren’t any other customers or wait-staff, which you’d expected, but string lights hung from the rafters, fresh wildflowers sitting in pitchers on each table. Illumi let you choose where to sit, and you shot for a spot closest to the front windows – bay-style and freshly cleaned, the kind of thing you might’ve stared longingly out of while nursing an overpriced latte for the better part of an hour. Suit-clad butlers stood guard on either side of the door, but if you were lucky, you’d still be able to catch the occasional pedestrian walking by. You would’ve given anything to sit in a room filled to bursting with other people, but since you couldn’t have that, you’d settle for being able to watch a handful from a distance.

“You’re staring.”

“So?” You responded to Illumi without looking away. “You stare at me all the time.”

“That’s different. I have a reason to look at you.”

“Which is?”

“I love you.”

It might’ve been easier to believe if he hadn’t said it with all the warmth and all the affection of a corpse, already given time to cool.

You changed the topic swiftly.

“It’s a little nostalgic, honestly. I used to come to places like this all the time, especially before I made any friends in the city. It was nice to feel lonely in a aloof-and-mysterious kind of way, instead of an anti-social-and-depressed sort of way.”

“Oh, you were never really alone.” You didn’t say anything, but you made the mistake of shifting your gaze onto him, of spurring him forward with the reward of your attention. “It was a guilty pleasure of mine – spending time with you before we met. I preferred it when you sat outside. It was easier to smell your perfume, in the open air.”

You grit your teeth. It wasn’t the most disturbing thing he’d ever admitted, but it definitely made the list. “…I think I would’ve remembered sitting next to someone like you.”

If he’d been more expressive, you could’ve imagined him smirking. “You would think so, wouldn’t you?”

There was a brief lapse, a moment of uncertainty on your part. Finally, you asked, “Did I smell… nice?”

“Very.” Illumi didn’t share your sense of trepidation. “Like cinnamon.”

You hummed, and as if by magic, a waitress appeared from the door to an unseen kitchen – white knuckling her pen with one hand and driving her nails into her notepad with the other. She took your orders with a terrified sort of professionalism, and before you left, you convinced Illumi to give you all the cash he was carrying at the moment (a sum that easily added up to half a year’s worth of rent, handed over without so much as a passing question) and left it on the table for her to find.

~

Your second stop was as surprising as Illumi had promised. If anything, he’d undersold it.

If the quaintness of the café had been enough to throw you into a stupor, then the sheer scale of the building in front of you could’ve sent you to an early grave. A mall – a nice mall, either recently built or nestled so far into the upper-class shopping district that you never would’ve come across it organically, the type with glass where there should’ve been walls and a fountain without any coins at the bottom. You were tempted to try and pester loose change off of one of the butlers flanking you, but decided against it. The café, you could’ve stumbled into on your own, without Illumi’s intervention. It just didn’t feel right to leave a mark where you so obviously didn’t belong.

More similarly to the café, though, the inside of the shopping complex was startlingly empty. Butlers and hired security were posed in front of exits, but other than that, it wasn’t hard to believe that you and Illumi were the only people on the property. As soon as you were past the initial entryway, you ducked into the closest store – a high-end cosmetics retailer. The door was unlocked, but there was no cashier at the register. Like someone had already come through and cleared it out.

“This is some backrooms shit,” you mumbled to yourself, and then, to Illumi, ever-hovering just over your shoulder. “You didn’t… you know, do what you normally do to people you don’t like, right?”

“Are you asking me if I killed everyone in this shopping complex prior to our arrival?”

“Well, not everyone,” you clarified. “Maybe just the employees?”

He didn’t laugh, but the corner of his mouth turned ever-so-slightly upward, as if you’d said something funny. “No, that would’ve taken far too much time.” The unnecessary loss of life went unacknowledged. “The building’s rented out, and the stock’s been purchased in advance. You’re only deciding what you’d like to keep.”

Huh.

One day, you were going to sit him down and have a long, long talk about class privilege and resource waste. If you were feeling generous, you might even throw generational wealth onto the lecture, just to make sure he got the full picture.

One day, but not today.

“The third floor always has the best stores,” you said, turning on your heel and grabbing Illumi’s hand, too distracted to think anything of the gesture. “Let’s start there.”

You weaved in and out of stores with reckless abandon, hyper-aware that you had no one’s time to waste but your own. Essentials were overlooked entirely, makeup and self-care supplies limited to eyeshadow pallets with no less than several dozen eye bleeding colors and bath-bombs that were more glitter than pigment, and clothes made up the bulk of your adoration. Everything that wasn’t in your size had already been removed – something as worrying as it was convenient. The only thing you refused to try on was loungewear. It would’ve been practical, sure, but you didn’t need to be reminded that this was likely the last time you’d ever leave Illumi’s sprawling home.

“You know,” you called from a dressing room, pulling a gingham dress over your head. You couldn’t see Illumi, but you were sure he wasn’t far. He didn’t seem to have much of an interest in shopping, but his favorite hobby was looming over your shoulder like some blank-eyed, haphazardly domesticated bird of prey, so it balanced out. “If this had been our first date, I probably would’ve married you.

You heard him hum as a weight settled against the dressing room door. “I enjoyed our first date. It was endearing – how long you rested your head in my lap.”

“Well, yeah. The paralytics you used were so strong, I couldn’t move for three days.” You’d still lose feeling in your left arm, if you held it at the wrong angle. It reminded you a little of your cat, after she first came around to the idea of sitting in your lap. You’d been so afraid of scaring her off, you’d let your legs fall asleep before you so much as thought about moving her. “I just meant that the whole ‘kidnapping’ thing probably wouldn’t have been necessary, y’know? I wasn’t exactly in a place to be picky when it came to creepy rich men.”

There was a brief lapse of silence, and you finally managed to drag the bodice of the dress into place. “I never considered that.”

It shouldn’t have surprised you to hear that Illumi wasn’t the dating type, and yet, you let out a breath of a laugh. “You never thought about asking me out? Not even once?”

“…no, I didn’t.” If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought he sounded shy. “It was hard to be practical. I was distracted. You were perfect, and contained, and I thought touching you would be—” For the first time, his voice seemed to dip, to grow just a little quieter. “—vulgar. It would’ve changed you, to know I was there.”

The skirt was layered, and you bit back the urge to curse as you smoothed over the layers of cotton and lace. “I think being abducted might’ve changed me, too.”

“It was the better option. Something would’ve fallen out of place eventually, but like this, I could save you. Only your environment had to be altered.”

He made it sound like he’d sealed you behind glass, rather than underneath a mansion occupied by the world’s most dangerous killers. You’d known better than to hope he’d be able to come up with a selfless reason for your prolonged captivity, but still. Hearing that you were miserable because he needed a ballerina to decorate his music box with stung more than you would’ve liked to admit.

“…it’s unlocked. You can come in, if you want.” Immediately, you heard the dressing room door creak open, and turned your attention towards your reflection. Out of the countless you’d tried on, there was a reason you’d saved this dress for last. You used to fantasize about being able to afford something so wonderfully needless, something you wouldn’t have had to justify with things as joyless as ‘function’ and ‘practicality’. Even now, the puffiness of the sleeves and the lace detailing around the collar and the tiny, almost impossible-to-see hearts printed onto the checked pattern felt exorbitant – borderline garish. You still didn’t have any reason to wear it, any place you could’ve gone to show it off, but then again, you didn’t have much of a reason to do much of anything when you were with Illumi. You guessed, in a roundabout kind of way, that meant you got to do whatever you wanted to.

Illumi came to stand behind you, and you leaned back, kissing his cheek gingerly. “I’ll add it to the pile. Thanks for this, ‘lumi.”

His hands found their way to your hips, settling there as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Keep it on. It suits you.”

You tried to laugh, but fell short – your smile falling into something more strained. You really shouldn’t have said anything, but you were talking before you could stop yourself, before you could think better of it. “The cinnamon,” you started, speaking against the dryness in your throat. “When I first moved to the city, the only apartment I could afford was flat above a bakery. The ventilation was awful, and the landlord was impossible to get a hold of, and everything I owned smelled like sugar and cinnamon and bread. I couldn’t touch anything sweet for months, after I moved out.”

It was all you could do to bite down on your tongue and force yourself to stop, to shut up, to remember who you were talking to. Illumi’s response was less dramatic – as instantaneous as it was muted.

“How fitting,” he said, with a chime of a laugh. “Sweet things belong in sweet places.”

…

You could only be mad at yourself, really. What else were expecting? It wasn’t like he was going to get down on his knees and apologize, for fuck’s sake.

You sighed, melting into Illumi’s chest. Of course, he welcomed you with open arms.

~

You didn’t end up keeping any other dresses. A few other articles of clothing, a couple pairs of shoes, a small fortune’s worth of little luxuries that’d help you pass the time when you were returned, kicking and screaming, to solitary confinement, but no dresses. Well, aside from the one you were wearing, of course.

It wasn’t long before Illumi started gently ushering you to the nearest exit, and already thoroughly defeated, you didn’t try to resist. You only got distracted once on your way out, and not for very long. Illumi made sure of that.

It was kiosk-type stand – the glass cabinets filled with high-end pet toys and animal-themed tchotchkes. You couldn’t stop yourself, gasping as you broke away from Illumi and darted to the first thing that caught your eye: a bright pink collar with silver spikes, adorable and cliché and so, so cute. It was clearly meant for a dog, but it could’ve fit a cat. Or, you probably would’ve tried to make it fit a cat, rather.  

Illumi appeared at your side, as always, and you started talking without looking up. “I’m sorry, I know we’re in a rush, but it just—” You paused, trying and failing to bite back a smile. “I had this cat before you took me – her name was Ghost. She used to be the neighborhood stray, but she was getting pretty old, and I think other cats were picking on her. Eventually, I just started letting her in, and after a while, she stopped leaving. She would’ve hated something like this.” You held up the collar, gesturing dismissively before forcing yourself to set it back down. “She never really liked me. Whoever took her in shouldn’t have had too much trouble winning her over, after I disappeared.”

“Ghost,” he repeated. “Was she a black cat?”

“Yeah, that’s where her name came from. I couldn’t see her at all at night, and she could knock over anything that wasn’t nailed down. It was like living with a poltergeist.”

“She’s dead.”

You felt something small and vital tear open and start to bleed. “…excuse me?”

“You two were quite close. Had she been given the time, she would’ve woken you up the night I came to get you. I didn’t want that.” It took an embarrassing amount of time for you to make the connection, to form the link, to realize why the pain in your chest was quickly becoming so unbearable. “We can get another, if you’re upset. As a couple.”

The shock was numb, if there was any shock to be had at all. “It’s fine,” you managed, eventually, and despite the strain behind your voice, Illumi didn’t argue.

Instead, he glanced towards the nearest glass wall, to where the sun was just beginning to set over the horizon. “We should go.”

“I didn’t realize we were on a schedule.”

“You weren’t supposed to. I told you earlier – the last stop is a surprise.” This time, he was the one to take your hand, squeezing gently as he laced his fingers with yours.

It might’ve been a nice gesture, if his touch hadn’t been cold enough to burn.

~

You weren’t really sure what the third and final stop was supposed to be, at first.

An old sort of a dream knotted and coiled in your chest as his driver ferried you out of the city, metropolis shuttering into mountain backwoods. You’d never really been afraid of Illumi killing you (not when there were so many things that were so, so much worse than death), but as the car eased to a stop on the side of single-lane road, it was hard to imagine why else he would’ve taken you so far from the nearest scrap of civilization, another reason for him to wear such a bright expression as he ushered you outside - the most impatient he’d been all day. It wasn’t until you saw the trailhead – unmarked save for a wooden post and break in the foliage – that you started to relax.

“Oh,” you mumbled, your relief audible. “I’m not really dressed for hiking, ‘lumi.”

“It isn’t far.” And then, taking your hand in his, “I can carry you.”

It sounded more like a matter-of-fact statement than an offer, but you shook your head, edging forward. He was right, in the end. It couldn’t have been more than half a mile of level ground, Illumi holding your hand all the while. It wasn’t like you weren’t allowed outside on Illumi’s estate, but you spent so much time in the woods that surrounded his mansion and his mother’s gardens – it would’ve been impossible not to go numb to the absence of bird song, the treacherous slope of his mountain, how little sunlight managed to break through the dense canopy of tangled branches and leaves that seemed to lie a little closer to black than green. It was nice to be somewhere else, somewhere with humming insects and a gentleness to the landscape and just enough dappled sunlight to make you forget who you were with. You kept your head on a swivel, quietly eager to soak in as much of it as you could. If you were lucky, you’d actually get to see some life – a deer, or a wildcat, or—

Something caught in your throat, and your head lulled forward, eyes dropping to your feet. You stared at the ground for the rest of the walk.

Your destination was, similarly, storybook levels of idyllic. The forest thinned and fell away entirely, breaking into a lake that stretched on as far as the eye could see and glittered pink in the light of the setting sun. Stretched over the lake’s shore was a blanket piled with platters of chocolate-covered fruit, breads and cheese, bottles of wine with a matching pair of glasses for each option – everything you might’ve once drunkenly listed off to a friend while fantasizing about your perfect, fairytale date. You glanced around you, looking for the butlers who must’ve only just finished setting up, but Illumi was quick to call your attention back to him. You felt him let go of your hand, your body shift before you could process why you were moving, and then, you were no longer on the ground; one of Illumi’s arms hooked under your knees and the other behind your back, your side pulled against his chest in an effortless bridal carry. You made a passing attempt to squirm, but Illumi didn’t seem to mind – keeping you tucked against him as he made his way to the only unoccupied corner of the blanket and all-but dropped to the ground, leaving you splayed across his lap and safely caged within his arms.  It was hard to tell if he was trying to be romantic in his own, blank, heartless sort of way, or if he’d simply decided you weren’t moving quickly enough. For your own sake, you leaned towards the former.

“It’s awful,” you muttered, and then, correcting yourself, “Not the picnic, I mean – that’s perfect. It’s just, I can never tell what you’re thinking.”

He seemed to consider that, for a moment. A chocolate-covered strawberry was plucked out of the nearest bowl and held to your lips, and to appease him, you bit into it. Your throat still felt too knotted for you to actually enjoy eating, but it was good to keep Illumi happy. “Most of the time, I think about you,” he admitted, any hint of shame absent from his voice. “It’s an issue. It doesn’t affect my work, but it’ll start to if left unchecked.”

He thought about you while cutting down innocent civilians. Great. “And you’re not going to fix that by drowning me in a lake, right?”

“No, I’m not.” Like your question, his answer was too sincere for comfort. The way his free hand toyed with the hem of your skirt did little to ease your nerves, either. “I’ve tried keeping an amount of distance between you and I, but that hasn’t yielded much progress either.”

If he’d ever tried to keep himself away from you, you hadn’t been able to tell. His hand slipped under your skirt properly, and you twisted, reaching for the neared wine bottle. “There’s so much food here, we should really—”

“It can wait.”

It was awful, just how even his voice was. For the first time, you were tempted to give him a reason to raise it.

You’d never resisted Illumi, but he’d never tried to—tried to do this, either. There’d always been an unspoken barrier when it came to sex – your resounding horror shadowed comfortable within his apparent disinterest. Now, though, he didn’t seem very disinterested, and your lingering terror was brushed neatly to the side as his fingers grazed over your thighs, your hip, before slipping underneath the thin, silken fabric. You wanted to thrash, to bolt, but you were suddenly unable to move; paralyzed save for the reflex to clench your legs shut and sink that much deeper into Illumi’s chest. The former was undone with only as much effort as it took him to ease your thighs apart with his knee, though, and the latter only seemed to bring a soft smile to his lips – just barely prominent enough to feel as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. If you’d been in your right mind, you might’ve thought to look for his butlers, to worry about passing hikers or concerned locals he wouldn’t think not to hurt, but Illumi had done his job well. It was impossible not to consider yourself wholly and entirely alone in the world, when you were with him.

He was less clinical than you would’ve expected. Illumi did most things with surgical precision, but touching you seemed to call for a more experimental skillset. His chin came to rest on your shoulder as his long fingers spread and explored underneath your panties, the tautness of the fabric ensuring that he always moved against you, rather than over or around. Undressing you never seemed to cross his mind; instead, his attention was trained on dragging the pad of his thumb over your clit, on using his ring and middle fingers to trace the slit of your cunt. You weren’t turned on – who could be, with their stoic kidnapper fondling them like a child learning to handle their first doll? – but your body and your mind were on two different tracks, one eager to make the best of a bad situation and the other too distraught to stop it. It wasn’t long before you could feel yourself dripping around him, your arousal adding a damp heat to your already claustrophobic point of connection. Illumi hummed. “You’re sensitive.”

You opened your mouth, but anything you might’ve said was drowned out by a hitched gasp as he thrust two digits inside of you with a wet click. “Tight, too,” he muttered, almost absentmindedly, immediately falling into a pattern of pumping and scissoring; spreading you open and pulling back only to fuck his fingers that much deeper. When he paused, it was only to curl against something particularly sensitive inside of you, to leave you shrinking that much further into his chest. “Is this uncomfortable?”

The practicality of the question caught you off-guard. You couldn’t call it considerate, but it was more than you’d expected, more than you ever would’ve hoped for. Unable to speak, you nodded furiously, and Illumi clicked his tongue. “You’ll be alright,” And then, slightly softer, “It couldn’t be any worse than what I had to deal with, waiting for you.”

There was no bitterness, no remorse, no pity; just Illumi’s cold rationality and the feeling of his palm grinding into your clit. The only warmth you could feel was the ghost of his breath on the side of your throat, the dip of your shoulder – not quite panting, but a world apart from his usual absence of expression. You tried to steel yourself, to think about anything aside from Illumi’s presence where it draped across you like a funeral shroud, but it’d been months since the last time you so much as thought about touching yourself, and for all his apathy, you could feel heat pooling in your core and recognize that your attempts to stave off the inevitable were only prolonging the insufferable. Still, it would’ve been impossible not to try and choke back your whimpers as that heat brewed and solidified into something more tense, something more breakable; as Illumi’s cheek pressed into the curve of your neck and his fingers curled against something soft and unprotected inside of you. Your climax was drawn out of you slowly, painfully, with a ragged whine in place of a moan. You kept your face buried in Illumi’s chest, your hands balled around the bodice of your dress. It felt like an eternity passed before it was over, before Illumi’s hand drew back, but no relief accompanied the distance.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to hate Illumi for it, not really. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel much of anything. The only thing you could think, as hard as you tried not to think at all, was that you missed your dead cat.

It was pathetic, honestly. A sob tore past your lips as he pulled you away from his chest and lowered you onto your back, tears burning twin tracks down your face. You couldn’t remember the last time he’d made you cry, and this shouldn’t have been your tipping point – not Ghost, not your awful shoebox apartment, not the fact that you could hear fabric tearing as he pulled your dress apart, too impatient to so much as consider a less destructive solution. You were in hysterics by the time he glanced up, the faintest possible frown coaxing the corners of his lips downward. “You’re crying.” And then, when your only response was another jagged cry, “Why?”

You opened your mouth, but only managed to force out another incoherent sob. Illumi softened, leaning over you, his dark hair forming a curtain that seemed to replace the rest of the world with unending void. Eventually, you managed to scrap up the only thing you could, even if it wasn’t what you really meant. “I—I want to go home, Illumi.”

He cocked his head to the side, staring down at you with a sort of blank focus. A moment passed, then another, before his expression brightened. “Oh.”

He leaned down, and you felt his lips brush over your forehead. His smile bit into your skin like a blade.

“We will, love.” He pulled back. You heard fabric shift, felt something hot and terrible slot against your cunt. “Just not yet.”

 You moved to respond, but gave up quickly. His mouth crashed into yours as he thrust into you and your blood ran cold.

~

Later on, in the dark, things became bearable again. Illumi was cruel, psychotic, delusional, but he was dutiful, too, and with the most beautiful dress you’d ever seen reduced to scraps, he wrapped you in his jacket and gathered you in his arms. The picnic was untouched, the breath-taking view painted over by night. None of it mattered, of course. You were too exhausted to keep your eyes open, and a bottomless pit occupied the space your stomach used to. You wouldn’t mind going the rest of your life without taking anything of the filthy, unfeeling outside world inside of you ever again, but you knew better than to swear off eating because of Illumi. Or, at least, you hoped you’d know better in the morning.

You were only half-conscious of him pulling you against his chest and starting back into the forest, following the same path you had an eternity ago. It was a stupid question, but you found yourself asking anyway, your voice low and hoarse. “Are we… Are we going somewhere?”

“Of course.” Illumi bowed his head, kissing the top of yours. “We’re going home.”

He didn’t know he was lying, but he was. He might’ve been, but you weren’t.

Slowly and with no small amount of effort, you managed to nod, slumping against his chest. No sooner had you went slack in his arms than the final tether to consciousness thinned and fell away, leaving you to be consumed by the darkness.

[levigarden999]

flustered ۶ৎ megumi x reader

⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ theme : you are crushing on megumi , while being sure he doesn't like you back. however, things change once you see him get flustered for the first time.

⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ words : 1,6 k

⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ chars : megumi , yuji , nobara

ever since you started hanging out with yuji and nobara, the fourth guy of your small friend group caught your attention. megumi.

megumi was someone who didn’t show much emotion or compassion towards anyone, yet you still felt like he was experiencing more feelings and thoughts than anyone else. he just probably didn’t feel the need to express them to anyone and besides, he always showed his love for his friends through action rather than words.

your little crush on him wasn’t exactly subtle, at least in yuji’s or nobara’s opinion.

”you’ve planned your whole wedding together, haven’t you? names of kids too, right?” nobara teased.

”you should just tell him how you feel! megu is like the last person who’d make fun of you” yuji urged as he shook you by the shoulders.

you knew yuji was right, but you were scared nonetheless. megumi didn’t seem like the person who’d enjoy a relationship, and on top of all, he was probably the only one who didn’t realize how badly you were crushing on him.

megumi and you were currently walking through the mall, to find some gift for nobara for her birthday. yuji wasn’t with you today, since he had some sort of a meeting with your teacher, gojo.

”how about this? she’s into fashion, isn’t she?” you suggested as you picked a fashion magazine where there was a picture of some beautiful yet confident looking woman on the cover, wearing a leather jacket and shades.

megumi was standing next to you with his white button up shirt, the long sleeves rolled up to his elbows. he leaned in slightly closer to inspect the cover, which resulted shivers on your skin from the sudden close proximity you two had.

”i think it’s a little boring” he shrugged casually, with that same stoic and nearly bored tone. you tilted your head back to look at him, and you were met with his dark blue eyes staring down at you.

”you’re not helpful, megu” you huffed and threw the magazine back into the stack.

he shoved his hands into the pockets of his black slacks and sighed a little.

”how about we grab something to eat? you’re getting hangry and i can’t deal with you like that” he stated bluntly, but his voice carried nothing actually offending or angry. megumi just was like that – honest, blunt and straight forward. and it was one of the main reasons you liked him so much.

”idiot” you grumbled and pouted, a slight blush creeping on your cheeks. ”i’m not hangry”

”right. sure”

however you two decided to head to a small diner that was in the lower floor of the mall. you often visited this certain place with your friend group, since it had all sorts of snacks in their selection.

you decided to order a smoothie with a bagel, while megumi ordered a simple coffee and an omelette. on top of all, he asked the waitress to remove the tomatoes and red onion from it, meaning it was basically an omelette with only salt and pepper in it now.

you took a sip from your smoothie as you watched megumi cut his omelette into pieces. even though you and him had your quiet moments where neither of you spoke, you weren’t bothered by it. in fact, the quietness between you two was always peaceful and it felt safe.

”how about some makeup? like a lipstick or, i don’t know, eyeshadow?” you suggested next, mouth full of bagel.

megumi looked up at you, his thick lashes nearly reaching his eyebrows.

”that could do. i saw her wearing orange eyeshadow the other day” he commented, a hint of curiosity peeking into his tone.

of course he did. he fucking noticed everything.

you chuckled as you took another bite of the bagel, a few pieces of feta falling on the plate from the stuffed bagel.  there were only a few customers in the restaurant currently, all of them enjoying their meals in the red booths.

”eyeshadow palette it is, then. congrats, you’re finally helpful” you teased, a smirk playing on your lips.

megumi rolled his eyes playfully, a hint of a smirk appearing on him as well.

”i’m helpful when i feel like it”

after you two had finished your meals, the waitress came up to you again. she was an older lady with red lips and a wide friendly smile.

”so, you two are ready, i assume? any dessert for the young couple?”

at that word, you felt like your heart exploded and the blood from it rushed straight to your face and ears. you practically physically felt how your cheeks flushed with bright red and uncomfortable sweat formed inside your shirt, probably on your forehead as well.

you glanced up at megumi, assuming he would say something to the waitress since he was usually the one who handled the talking. however, it seemed like he wasn’t capable of talking either – his usually pale cheeks had pink blush plastered on them as well.

it was probably the first time ever you had seen megumi flustered. speechless, eyes wide, staring at the waitress as if he had been caught of doing something illegal.

it shocked you.

”um, n-no thanks! we’ll pay” you managed to stutter out with an awkward laugh.

the waitress nodded with a smile and left.

you turned to look at megumi, and you saw him awkwardly scratching the back of his messy raven hair.

”unless, y-you would had wanted dessert?” you tried to ask as casually as possible, silently thinking about ice cubes and winter so the hot blush on your face would disappear or at least ease down.

”no thanks. i don’t like sweet that much” megumi grumbled, the blush on his cheeks slowly disappearing. but you noticed how he was still avoiding your eye contact, as if he was afraid to face you.

megumi was flustered and awkward… around you? could this mean what you thought it could?

you had to tell nobara and yuji about this as soon as you could.

the rest of your shopping trip went normally, despite the fact your energies were now changed.

somehow it felt like there was an underlying tension between the two of you now. as you walked through the mall, the subtle space between your arms felt almost electrifying. of course, you had wanted to touch and be close to megumi for a while now, but now it felt different. as if everything about megumi’s presence was practically pulling you closer to him, as if the air around you was forcing your auras to emerge. you couldn’t understand how a single interaction with a third party member could change the situation this much.

but of course, the self doubt inside of you still wasn’t sure what this was. you didn’t know if you were just imagining things, because every time you glanced at megumi’s face, it seemed like he was just as casual and calm before. like nothing had changed after all.

but fuck, you weren’t imagining earlier when the pretty pink blush practically washed through his face. how his usually half lidded eyes were wide and he was unable to speak.

that was why you had to have a meeting with yuji and nobara alone, asap.

later that same night you fell onto your bed and texted the two to come into your dorm right away. both of them knew what it was about, since you told them not to invite megumi.

nobara and yuji crashed into your dorm the second you opened the door for them.

yuji jumped onto your bed and immediately sprawled his limbs cockily, while nobara grabbed one of his legs and yanked him down on the floor with a thump.

”get off, idiot!” she exclaimed and took his place. 

”ouch! you could’ve killed me!” yuji whined from the floor, rubbing the back of his head with a pouty look.

”cry about it” nobara smirked and crossed her arms.

you snickered as you closed the door, not even a tiny bit surprised by the way they acted.

once the atmosphere had calmed down, you explained them the whole thing that happened back in the diner, all the way from megumi’s blushing to the energy change between the two of you.

”he blushed?!” nobara practically screamed, big eyes blinking from disbelief. you nodded.

”furiously” you confirmed.

she and yuji glanced at each other, both equally dumbfounded as if they had heard something life changing. to be honest, it was life changing.

”i’ve never seen the dude blushing, seriously. the last time i even saw him smile was when he petted his divine dogs and that happened like, what, two weeks ago?” yuji continued.

you remembered that sight very well, as well. megumi crouched down, smiling gently as his large hands rubbed the soft fur of his dear dogs.

”exactly! so the conclusion is that he’s crazy about you, girl. that’s no coincidence!” nobara said proudly.

you blushed a little and sighed, still not convinced by them. ”i don’t know, it could just be that he’s awkward in situations like that where girls are mentioned. like, he’s not used to thinking about relationships and all that” you tried to reason, with a desperate tone.

nobara immediately laughed and shook her head. ”nope, that’s not true. i witnessed first hand when megumi was asked about his type in women, and he was completely cool and unbothered by the question. it’s just you, girl, who’s making him flustered” she smirked knowingly.

you bit your lip in thought, and a glimpse of hope swelled in your chest. could it really be that megumi would like you back? seriously?

a couple hours later when you tried to get sleep, the thoughts of megumi lingered in your mind. the depth of blue in his soft yet stoic eyes, his perfect sharp nose and those long, boney fingers. it all drove you nearly insane, your heart almost bursting to the idea of having him here next to you. his fresh, clean natural scent brought you so much comfort you couldn’t even explain it. if only, you’d have a chance to somehow confront him without actually exposing your feelings for him.

though, little did you know, nobara and yuji as mischievous bastards, were planning to set you and megumi up.

part 2 here 𐙚

[2neaky]

Black orchid & patchouli has been in the air ever since the bathroom door opened. Sure, it’s died down some. Yet, still, the source of the smell is present.

Just a foot or two away from him.

She’s in her own world, listening only to her thoughts. 

He knows.

He remembers when she told him that getting dressed is her favorite part of the day. It’s during that time she usually turns her brain off, and allows her body to move on autopilot.

It’s the perfect chance to just simply exist for her.

It’s very calming, he understands.

She looks so at peace as she moves. So lost in her own head that she never really realizes that he’s staring.

He always does.

She doesn’t even know that his favorite part of the day is watching her get ready.

Her limbs move with grace; A true vision when she drops her fluffy, white towel to the bed, baring her body to the privacy of this room.

Their bedroom.

When it comes to moisturizing, her routine is always the same: arms first, abdomen, legs, then feet. Being that they’re just reaching the end of winter, gourmand and cozy scents have her preference as of late.

The scent of today is different, however; light, floral, and warm.

He can’t quite catch the notes—maybe there’s a hint of pepper. But, it isn’t offending. Actually, it works just perfectly on her; an added bit of spice to her sweetness.

So entranced by the smell, he doesn’t even realize how long he’s been pondering on it. He’ll have to ask her about that one, he thinks as he recenters his focus.

She’s moved to her stomach, rubbing the body butter into her skin. Off-white slowly melts into warm brown skin as she takes her time to massage it in.

Her palms, flat against her body, keep going in circles. Circling, circling, circling her lower tummy—right below her navel. So tender, gently pressing into the relaxed muscles of her stomach.

The first thought that pops into his head: a baby. 

He almost laughs out loud, it’s so stupid. So ridiculous how such a simple act—his woman taking care of herself—can get him to think of something so intense. So life changing.

It’s scary, the idea of having a family of his own. But … with her? 

That alone settles him. 

If anyone has the potential to be the perfect mother, it’s her. He believes in her. So much.

“Terry?”

Her voice is pure silk. He almost doesn’t hear it.

“Yeah, baby?”

Taking up the small tub of body butter, she outstretches her hand to him. Its sparkling scent fills the air, it’s all he smells.

“Help me, please?”

He looks up from the swirled butter in the tub to warm brown eyes, staring back at him over a shoulder. 

Her back is presented to him. The divot of her spine runs down its middle, tailed by twin dimples at the small of her back.

Below the left dimple, closer to her hip rather than directly under it, is his name in scripted black ink: 𝑹𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒅. 

It’s so tiny, that his thumb covers it every time he holds her there.

And below that is an ass that he feels blessed to see every day. It sits up, the brown skin smooth and unmarred. She’s got subtle hip dips that give way to wide thighs, granting the prettiest pear-shape. 

He can hardly resist the urge to take a bite every time he sees her this way.

“You never ask me for help,” he smirks, scooting towards the bed’s edge to get closer.

“I know, but … I decided to be a little lazy today,” she smiles. 

And he loves when she does. The way the corners of her eyes crinkle up, adding a comforting sense of familiarity and warmth to the expression.

He feels lucky that’s it’s the first thing he sees when he wakes up, and the last thing he sees when he goes to sleep. That’s a smile he’d love for his child to see, growing up.

He’s not letting this one go, huh?

Wordlessly, he sets the tub down in his lap and scoops a dollop up with a finger. Spreading it over his palm, he then rubs both hands together. The smooth butter warms quickly in his hands.

He starts at her shoulder blades, dragging his hands down her skin. He’s careful, trying to mimic her tenderness. It comes so natural to her, evident in the way her body languidly moves. 

He wonders if she can tell that it isn’t the same for him? The pressure he applies is uneven—unsure. His hands move with the weight of his past, one of a former Marine.

Hands trained to be a weapon, now being used to massage lotion into the tender skin of his love.

They’ve been together for so long. These hands have touched every part of her body, more times than he can even think to count. He knows her body so well, yet still feels as though it’s a privilege that she’s allowed him to be apart of her regimen. Her favorite part of her day.

He takes more crème into his hands; this time his hands run down the spout of her spine, fingers molding to the contours of her body. He makes sure to get her sides, too. Can’t leave those dry.

Then he finally gets to the bottom. His fingers start at the small of her back before they slow spread out. His fingers curl ‘round the bones of her hips, thumbs massaging whatever’s left of the crème into her skin.

His hands do one last pass down her back, then he has to pull them away. 

Standing between his legs, she slowly spins, now presenting her front to him. He swallows. 

First, his eyes fall between her legs to fat lips thinly veiled by a trimmed bed of dark curls. Then, they slowly lift to the basin of her stomach, up her torso, through the valley of her breasts, and finally, to her round face.

A grateful smile is on her full lips, the apples of her cheeks lifted, too.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

She smiles at him, still, yet in her eyes there’s contemplation. Her thoughts are rolling over in her head, he can tell. And that’s why he doesn’t pull away—only stays in place, waiting on her next few words.

“You can help me some more, if you want.”

This time, he’s the one smiling, though it’s nowhere near as innocent as hers. Without any objection, he dips a finger back in the tub of lotion and rubs some between his hands.

“Turn around,” he mumbles, matching her quiet volume. 

Each careful step she takes in turning her back to him makes her ass jiggle. And when it’s presented to him once again, he wastes no time making the wide surface shine.

Like a sculptor whose hands mold and shape the clay before them, he kneads the fat with a renewed sense of expertise. He makes sure to cover the fronts of her hips to the flanks of her ass. 

And when he gets those parts, his hands encase her hips and lays two, quick taps to the side of her left cheek. He lets himself smirk, watching the fat ripple.

“Turn around.”

She does it wordlessly, carefully raising her forearms to avoid hitting his head. When they face each other again, he pulls her in close by her waist. Letting temptation win, he presses a smooch right above her belly button.

“Terry,” she giggles.

Wordlessly, he smirks, more so to himself as he sets the tub of lotion to the side.

He gathers more crème onto his hands before they snake behind her, diving for the underside of her bottom. He’s taking his job serious, making sure to moisturize every crevice of skin hidden by a fold—he even lifts it if he has to.

So concentrated on the task, the gentle weight of hands on his shoulders slips by his notice. But, he does realize they’re there when her fingers press into his skin—just as he’s pulls her cheeks apart.

His head cranes up, finding those chocolate brown eyes lower than usual. Much less focused, too.

This time, when he does it again, he doesn’t look away. His fingers reach just a little further, the tips of them barely grazing between her cheeks. His grip gets a little tighter, too, and his hands pull them just a little bit further apart.

For a moment, he holds her open. As the warm air of the room hits her newly exposed parts, her hole clenches. Her pussy even flutters. The reactions her body makes are thoughtless.

And so is the movement of his hand when he swipes a middle finger up her crack, stopping it just over her puckered hole. 

He taps it once. Twice. 

The little thing winks beneath the pad of his finger. His gaze falls to the globes of fat he holds in his big hands. 

“When’s the last time we played back here?”

Shyness bleeds onto her face. She tries to hide it with a lifted shoulder, though the corners of her spreading lips can’t be concealed. 

“A while,” she mumbles.

The sweet sound of a hum made in agreement resounds. Circles of hazel flick upwards to meet her gaze again.

“Yeah … s’been a while, huh? You cleaned good?”

Her heart stammers behind her rib cage. It leaves her almost breathless. 

“Terry,” she warns.

His finger had never moved from that spot. It circles the taught skin. “What? You busy today?”

Her eyes flutter. One of her hands on his shoulders drops to his bicep, giving it a weak squeeze. “Y-yes.”

“Yes to both? And with what?”

As her mouth opens, her words get caught in her throat. That finger applies a soft pressure that sends her pussy into a frenzy.

“Yes, and g-groceries, Terry.” She had almost whined out.

“Aldis not going nowhere.” He smirks up at her.

She shivers, feeling that finger angling to press its tip right at her hole. “The—I don’t want t-to be there when it’s c-crowded.”

He half-shrugs with a clueless frown. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, which only makes him more determined. It seems he hasn’t fully convinced her to abandon her responsibilities, something he’s been too comfortable doing himself since he met her.

“Remember how wet you got last time?” He leans in closer, face just centimeters away from her pussy as he lowers his voice for her to only hear. “I didn’t even touch her.”

The corners of his mouth raise even higher as he looks into her eyes, seeing them glaze over in real-time as her brain replays the distant memory.

“All I did, was play with—“ His finger double-taps at her un-stretched hole again. “You made such a mess. You think you could do that again?”

She dismisses a whimper as she remembers how she felt like a leaking faucet that night. Beneath her, the sheet was a mess, soaked. Her thighs only trembled as her pussy dribbled, globs of slick rolling down its inner-sides.

Her breath hitches, feeling the rough pad of that finger slide back and forth over her. It’s like a splash of cold water, bringing her back to focus.

The gentle musk of her arousal hits his nose. It mixes deliciously with the scent of her crème.

“I’ll get the groceries this week.”

Her eyes almost cross as that finger presses harder against her hole.

“Just lemme do this.”

‘Yes’ and ‘no’ become a blur in her mind. She doesn’t even hear herself when she mumbles the one beginning with ‘y.’

She didn’t think twice about it when he told her to get on the bed, face down and ass to the sky. The position’s got her open and needy. While the water runs distantly in the background, her brain is fuzzy.

All it can do is conjure up thoughts of how far he’ll go this time. There’s only been one time she took his dick through the back, all other times it was his hand. 

She hopes they can turn that one time into two. The thought almost makes her drool into the pillow.

She doesn’t hear when the bathroom faucet squeaks as it’s closed. Or when Terry emerges from the bathroom, muttering about having to fix that later.

Just feet away from the bed, he admires the picture before him: a gift, all spread out and open for him.

“Now, ain’t you a sight?”

His voice brings her from her reverie. The only response she gives is to reach behind and pull those shiny, smooth cheeks apart to show him how her body yearns for his touch.

Both holes clench. Beads of slick glisten through the hair closest to the opening of her cunt.

He takes slow steps towards her. “Look at the mess I created.” He chuckles to himself, barely shaking his head. “Guess I gotta clean it up, huh?”

Dumbly, her face pressed to the sheets, she nods. 

When he’s finally behind her, his hands take their treasured spots over her hips—left thumb covering his name, as always.

“How should I clean it up, baby?”

Her eyes falls closed as she tries to focus on speaking her thoughts.

“Hm?”

“U-use your tongue, first.”

His face brightens with a toothy smile. “First? Oh, there’s more,” he laughs.

He can’t tell if it’s a hum or a moan she makes, maybe it’s both. But he does understand when she nods.

“Well how you want me to finish the job, when I’m done using my tongue?”

She can hear the amusement in his voice, the smirk on his lips. Quite frankly, she’s too horny to be timid about it.

“Your dick—“

He almost blanches at her boldness. But his shock gives way to a new wave of arousal.

“Want it, Terry,” she speaks breathlessly. “Wanna feel—“ she reaches back again to spread herself again. “—feel full.”

His fingers sink further into the fat of her hips as he gathers all the moisture he can in his mouth. There’s a quick shift of his jaw, then a bullet of spit shoots past his puckered lips and hits his target dead-center.

Her body twitches from the impact. “Oh…” she moans softly.

The translucent, bubbly glob of spit rolls over the tight ring, making it shine. It dribbles down further, slipping down the slide of her crack and finding its way into her shallow bed of curls.

He catches her pussy do a little flutter. The tiny reaction prompts him to lift a hand from a hip, only to slam it back down against her right cheek.

Her back bows inward, a quiet mewl coming from her.

“Yeaah, keep it just like that… Just like … that.”

She hadn’t even heard the shift of his body—only felt his soft, warm, velvety tongue lave against her hole.

A gasp—she almost inches forward before remembering not to run from such pleasure. Terry’s never liked that.

“Mmh…”

There’s a tenderness that spreads throughout her cunt as his hum provides a soft vibration for her. Every time her body bears down, there’s an ache in her core.

He laps against her one more time before pulling the taut skin into his mouth to suck on. There’s hardly any give, but he doesn’t stop. His hands keep her spread apart as he continues burying his face in her ass. 

Terry’s never been a man too scared to get messy, especially when it counts. And when it comes to his woman, trust that it counts.

Slobbing her down, his own spit coats the lower half of his face as he tongues her hole down without coming up for air. The wide, wet muscle is putting in overtime to work her open. 

Her moans goad him on, even if they are muffled by the sheets.

“Mh … mmh,” he groans, eyes closed as he devours her like a meal. 

One hand lifts, immediately falling back down against the plump skin of her asscheek. The spank is sharp, it echoes in her ears.

“Shit,” she hisses, face screwing up as his tongue breaks past her rim.

He pulls back, if only to admire his work so far. In between her cheeks glisten. And, what’s more, is that she’s dripping onto the bed.

Just like last time.

“You like that?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yess, baby, yes.”

Wordlessly, he dives back in. The same hand he used to smack her earlier, leaves its spot once again. 

She anticipates another slap, catches herself almost begging for it, actually. However, she gets a better surprise:

His hand, warm and soft, slides over her pussy with ease to cup it from underneath. She flinches when his fingers barely rub over her swollen clit.

That doesn’t last too long; Terry’s hand retreats, fingers poised just at the opening of her drooling cunt.

With too much ease, both middle and ring fingers slip in.

She whimpers.

They sink right in with wet suction, her pussy spurting around them. His heavy fingers settle comfortably in a familiar spot within her tight and slippery heat as her body seems to instantly mold around them.

Every time Terry’s in it, he almost swears she’s truly an endless portal into ecstasy. 

And while his mind finds itself caught on the wonders of her pussy, his mouth still wrecks her even tighter hole; His tongue digs into her, his fingers are pressing into her G-spot—it all stuns her. She can hardly breathe, feeling him push and prod. 

One particularly loud slurp of his makes her eyes roll back. Her pussy flutters, feeling a glob of his spit roll down her crack.

“Wanna fuck you. Fuck you with my tongue—“

She moans in agreement. The guttural sound transcends past the thick sheets.

“Hold it open.”

Although his voice is low, she still hears every word Terry mutters.

With an abundance of eagerness that her body can barely contain, she reaches back to hold herself open for him. 

As Terry remains knuckles deep within her, aiding in the escape of her sticky sap from her cunt, he pushes his tongue back into her ass.

She sloshes as he fucks his fingers up into her. Milky white and almost frothy cream runs down the palm of his hand to his wrist.

He doesn’t move his head, too desperate for her body to pull away. Instead, he tires himself with fucking into her by dragging his tongue in and out, his pace quickening. The ache of his jaw and the burn of the overworked muscle does nothing to dissuade him. 

One must work for their pleasure, he knows that.

“Oh … ohh … ah—aauhh!”

Her whines work alongside the tightening of her body. He doesn’t stop—doesn’t let up or slow down.

In fact, he receives her orgasm with an open palm, letting her pussy spill into it. Her squirt splashes against his forearm and the bed. And still, his hand never stops.

“Y’know … I was thinking about how much … how much I wanna make you a mom.”

His words come out airy and light, but that doesn’t diminish their effect. Her body responds, clamping tighter around his fingers.

A deep chuckle rises out of him. “You like that?”

Her only response is an incoherent moan as she pushes her hips back on his hand.

“Want me to make you a mommy?”

“Yes,” her voice waivers.

When he pulls his hand out of her, it’s like a great loss. Suddenly, her world is empty without him. She wants to cry.

“Yeah, me too.”

When Terry finally pulls his dick out, he’s got more than enough of her cum on-hand to lube himself up. The creamy mess of her cunt is more than enough material to get him rock hard—not that he wasn’t already.

Taking himself in hand, he slowly lifts his heavy cock and drops it right between her ass cheeks. 

About two inches wide starting at the tip, his dick only gets slightly wider towards the base. Its underside has got that one vein running along it. She always licks at it when presented with such an opportunity.

A heated tint of flushed pink blossoms over the bulbous tip, dying down to a darker shade of brown along his shaft. It curves just to the left, the perfect angle that always seemed to knock against her walls perfectly.

Pulling his hips backward, he watches his dick drag against her supple skin, falling closer towards her center. When it’s just his tip left touching her, he takes ahold of himself at the base and slowly pushes forward.

He slips against her underside, burrowing into her thin bed of curls. The head knocks against her clit, triggering a stronger quake in her thighs.

Terry puckers his lips to spit another thick loogey, watching it land on her puckered rim. It winks back at him.

She can’t tell what goes in first, his thumb or his dick. All she knows is that he’s about nine inches deep in her cunt, and that there’s a thumb sinking into her ass.

There’s a delay before a long-winded, singular moan falls out of her mouth. All of her breath is caught in her chest. Her body is tense.

“Breath, baby. Breathe,” he reminds her.

Her brain buzzes. His words really only get through to her once his hand washes over her back like a cool rag.

That’s all it takes for her body to relax—somewhat at least. Her shoulders relax and her back even sinks inward.

A softer, much shorter moan leaves her, and the arching of her back accentuates the ache caused by his dick pressing against her walls. If either of them would look, they’ll see the outline of him, poking through her lower tummy in a small bulge.

Her pussy, stretched to its capacity, flutters around him, almost like it’s trying to swallow more than it can handle.

“S-so heavy,” she mumbles, gripping the sheets.

“But you like it,” he smiles. “I could tell, hm?”

Terry pushes in the last inch, taking too much joy in the broken whimper that leaves her. She’s suffocating, squeezing him and bathing him in wetness all the same. In this deep, he feels a soft, spongy wall pressing against his tip. 

“What’s that?” He shifts inside, nudging at that wall.

It’s a good thing she doesn’t look back, face too screwed up to see the horrific smile on his face.

“Huh?”

She almost wails out. Her hands twitch, itching to reach for her stomach. To cradle it as the deep ache within her reaches new heights.

“C’mon, talk to me.” 

The rest of his fingers splay out over the small of her back as he pushes his thumb deeper into her ass. The thin stretch of muscle separating the two pleasure zones allows him to feel the curvature of himself, sitting deep in her walls.

“I’m in your stomach?”

Teeth gritted, she nods her head as fast as she can.

“You so quiet already.” Gentle and slow, he pulls out some inches, granting her relief. “I don’t like that.”

He slides his hips back in, pushing his dick right up against her cervix.

“GOD—“

“Yeah, like that.” He pulls out again, only to give her yet another deep stroke. “Keep doing that. Keep talking to me—”

“H-ooh—T-Terry!”

“Yes, baby,” he groans out over the sound of his hips meeting her ass. “Tell me, tell me how good it feels.”

“Ffuuuck!”

She writhes beneath him, shouting out ragged moans as he’s digging her out. 

Every time he pulls out, his dick is wetter and wetter. It goes from shining with her juices to caked in her crème in just a few strokes. 

Around her stretched hole is a mess, covered in her frothy release. It all builds up to the point that some of it sludges down between her legs and falls to the bed.

“Oh … shii—aaugh!”

Her resolve breaks, finally allowing her to press a hand to her stomach. Under her palm, she feels the repeating wave of his dick punching her guts beneath the wall of muscle.

She hisses, feeling his thumb fuck her ass as he pulls her back against his. With every plop of their body’s meeting, her cream splatters against his pelvis. Tiny beads of white fly, landing against his sweat-sheathed skin.

“Gonna need another shower after this, huh?” 

Even as Terry tries to remain cocky, his upper lip twitches as his body starts to react to this pleasure.

“Making a mess.” His stomach clenches. “Th-thought I was s’posed to be cleaning up.” 

He chokes out a bit of laughter, trying to conceal a moan of his own. His words start to blend as the pleasure overtakes him:

“You … creamin’ all over … mmh—“

His eyes threaten to roll back. But just as fast, Terry seems to regain a bit of composure. Enough to lock back in.

Rolling his lips into his mouth, his focus straightens and he gives repeated strokes. They’re dead-on, sharp, and heavy.

She screams out a profanity—he can’t even tell which one because she’s so out of it. But, her body is granted a moment of relief as he stops.

Carefully, he pulls his thumb out of her butt. It shines with her slick. When he looks at her barely stretched hole, clenching around nothing, it’s covered in her cream. 

The sight has him twitching inside of her, causing her body to give him a couple of extra squeezes in response.

“You look so good like this,” he mumbles. As his body starts to weaken, he sways a little. “M’sorry I had to mess you up like this, baby.”

Her only response is a mewl as she tries to fix herself.

Taking the hand he had used previously, he holds himself at the base to pull out of her. And when he’s finally out, it’s like there’s a dick-shaped hole in her stomach. She swears he left an impression inside of her.

Her pussy feels so tender and swollen, clit overly sensitive. And yet, the pain of it all is too good. She misses it. She misses him.

And he can tell, seeing her hole flutter around nothing, stretched out. But she doesn’t have to worry for too long, because he’ll fix that.

Peering down at himself, Terry is marveled at all of the mess between them. His dick, still hard, is a creamy, sticky mess—practically dripping in her release.

At the base is where there’s the most build-up. Loopy off of all the testosterone running through him, he gets an idea that has him swiping up some of the mess with his middle and ring finger. 

With no hesitation, Terry presses the two fingers to her ass. They slide in with ease, even causing a very loud squish.

“Ooouuhh,” she groans. 

Turning her head to the side, Terry’s finally able to see how pleasure contorts her face. Eyes low and unfocused, heavy bottom lip pulled between both rows of teeth, as she begins to slowly rock back and forth. So desperate, she fucks herself on his fingers.

“Just like that … take it, baby. Take it—”

“Oouuh shit, Terry.”

“C’mon.”

“Ooh, fuck—“

Pfffffft.

The sharp sound of air expelling from her cunt as Terry pushes back in, punctuates her sentence. Her mouth drops open, her neck craning against the sheets.

He’s speechless, too. Seeing the way her pussy blows a raspberry around his thick dick, spitting out dribblets of cream against his lower stomach. Some even dribbles out of her.

“Hnnnh,” she whines, pathetically.

Curling his fingers inside of her, he plays with her ass. Throughout this all, his other hand had never left her left hip, thumb still covering his name.

He pulls out halfway, only to push his dick back in.

“Fuck, I love it when she talks to me,” he laughs, breathlessly, throwing his head back. It’s music to his ears, hearing her pussy squirt and fart around him.

So lost in the sound, he doesn’t even notice the way her shoulders twitch as her orgasm crashes into her. It’s not until he feels water hit his pelvis that he looks down.

Around his dick, she squirts. It’s a heavy enough stream. He watches it trickles down both of their thighs, completely drenching the already soaked through sheets.

Without a word, he pulls his fingers out before placing the other hand on her hip. His grip tightens around her.

Leaning more of his weight forward, Terry pushes her arch deeper. “Really gonna … make you a mommy like this—“

She gets no prep as he fucks the arch out of her back and puts her into the mattress. The clap of her ass against his pelvis is almost deafening. 

Her hips are barely off of the bed. Behind them, her legs raise, toes curling tightly as she wails out.

“Keep squeezing me,” he pants, teeth gritted. “Keep fuckin’ … fu-uck—“

He buries his face into her neck, groaning. His ears ring as he shoots off a heavy load in her.

For minutes, they stay connected as Terry tries to regain his breath. His orgasm lasts much longer than he thought it would, filling her to the brim.

When he finally pulls out, mustering enough strength to stand, he watches tiredly as her body pushes out thick globs of their mixed release.

Her pussy is slathered in their mess, certain spots caked up in a frothy white.

He grabs a cheek, pulling it apart from its twin so that he can see it all much clearer.

“You look so good like this,” he mumbles. “Love when you let me use you.”

Mindlessly, he lets a hand fall to his dick. It’s tender, but his hold on himself is light. Still holding her open with the other hand, he gently strokes himself. His hand practically glides over himself, what with all the cum coating his dick.

The sensation, the mess, her—it doesn’t take too much for him to get a semi.

“Fuck, you always make me so horny.”

He gets a knee on the bed, positioning himself directly behind her again.

Sensing his growing closeness, she weakly picks her head up and looks back at him. She’s a vision of wild curls, watery eyes, and bitten-raw lips.

As he gets closer, stroking his hardening dick, he brushes his fat, swelling tip again her lips. Rubbing himself against her, he gathers more of cum, coating himself.

“Terry,” she whines, a soft pout on her lips.

“You too tired?”

He pulls her asscheek further, fully exposing her second hole.

Her plump lips part to speak, but nothing comes out.

“You want me to stop? You could tell me, baby,” he cooes.

Still, he begins rubbing his tip against the much smaller hole. She can feel it throb against her.

“Tell me. Y’know I’ll still get the groceries for you.”

He gives her time to object, to say ‘no,’ while he’s positioning himself at her opening. However, she only watches, her face scrunching even more as he slowly applies pressure.

“I’ll get you whatever you want. Especially when you have our son.”

With little effort, he pops the head in past her rim. A tired smile lifts his lips as she moans out lowly. Her head turns back forward as it falls to the bed.

Weak to the way he uses her body, she simply lies there, taking his dick through the back as he sings his delusions to her (because who said she was going to have a boy).

Even tired, her body tenses with the pressure of his dick sliding in her. He’s not as rough as when he was in her pussy.

This time, his strokes are gentle and shallow. It’s a moderate pace he maintains as he holds her open to see the way he stretches her out.

And it just does something to him; seeing her spent pussy just below, covered in their cum and still leaking while he uses her asshole just the same.

Because, she’s his woman, and he’s going to have every part of her body. Just in the same way that he’s her man, and if she wants him at any time she can have him.

His second orgasm doesn’t take long to come. When he feels it approaching, he carefully pulls out. Taking himself in hand, he gives a few short strokes before painting her ass. 

Streaks of white splatter against the warm brown canvas, making her ass look like toasted buns covered in vanilla drizzle. 

And if he had the energy to, he’d eat her ass again. But this was already a lot, and he can’t lie, he’s exhausted.

Terry can only hope that she won’t be mad that he waited a little longer to get the groceries.

@wintrrxxo @vibewshyla @icanmakethedickstandup @toji-dabi-wife @genea-myers @whoareyouuuo @thegoatedaries @nova2kss @thecoochiefairy @plutobratz @levibabymama_ @bubblegum-lollipop @junitries @kenshisluvrgirl

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[thinemoonshine]

⋆𐙚₊ 𝓹𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 (𝓻𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜)˚⊹♡

—⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ when platonic becomes romantic

bestfriend!enhypen hyung line x fem reader content(s): fluff, enhypen being down bad, hints of yearning, reader's oblivious, jay malfunctions, bit suggestive in jake's, sunghoon's already thinking wedding vows type: imagine

⋆˙𐙚 L.HEESEUNG 𐙚˙⋆

it’s weird. they’ve always been touchy with one another. sure, it may not be to the point of clingy but touchy enough that hand-holding and cuddling are normal in their friendship.

so why is it that heeseung feels so shy and flustered with (y/n)’s simple affection now?

her fingers pinch his chin softly as she gently tends his small cut with a cotton swab. their faces close but far enough so heeseung can comfortably admire her features while she stands between his spread knees.

“it’s not deep enough so it shouldn’t leave too much of a scar,” she says calmly—too casually for heeseung who’s literally having trouble making a single coherent thought without thinking about their proximity.

he swallows and it only makes his throat feel drier. “you sure?”

(y/n) lifts her gaze to see his round, bambi eyes searching hers for reassurance and she chuckles. “don’t worry, hee. you’ll still be handsome.”

still? he echoes internally. she thinks i’m handsome.

the thought itself is dumb considering how she’s never held back her admiration for his looks but for some reason, it was clearer to him this time, significant.

her hand shifts to cup his cheek and he fights himself from practically melting into her touch with his fists clenching by his side.

but his will is weaker than he thought.

(y/n)’s brows raise when he leans into her palm with eyes shutting while his own arms wrap around her waist to pull her in. “hee?”

the way that everyday nickname fell from her lips has his heart lurching and ears ringing, desperate for her to say it again.

“i like it when you say my name,” he murmurs into her shoulder and she’s silenced, flustered and confused, even more so when she can literally feel him jolting ever so slightly from his rapid, passionate heartbeat.

(y/n) slowly reciprocates the touch—her arms moving to encircle his slim waist and he sighs at the warmth that envelopes.

“is there something going on?” she asks, unsure of what transpired for her bestfriend to act so intimate all of a sudden but all heeseung does is shake his head—sneakily burying his nose into the crook of it and breathing her in.

“i just want you here,” he confesses, warm breath heating her skin as he subtly stamps little pecks before having to bite his own tongue to hold back from pressing a long, lasting kiss.

oh, if only he could.

heeseung smiles as he lifts a hand to cradle the back of her head, combing through her hair as his lips pull to a grin.

well, no one said he couldn’t.

⋆˙𐙚 P.JONGSEONG 𐙚˙⋆

it should be casual. a norm. a routine, even, to have (y/n) clinging onto his back as he cooks. it’s what she always does whenever he makes their meals—her ‘contribution’ she says, since jay won’t let her do anything.

and he doesn’t mind. he welcomes it, in fact. but something about today, makes it a lot harder for him to focus on his cooking with her wrapped around him.

“i thought you wanted them diced,” (y/n) reminds when jay was about to shove in the messily sliced carrots into a pot of hazardously seasoned soup(he’s pretty sure he poured in sugar instead of salt).

jay blinks rapidly, frantic, as he laid down the cutting board again and starts dicing… if cutting them in criss-crossed shapes into atoms is another method of it. “y-yeah. i did.”

but it doesn’t stop there.

“jay, that’s not salt.”

“black pepper, not white.”

“that fire’s too high!”

jay’s a second away from giving himself a concussion with the frying pan and even then, he grabbed the ladle instead.

"is something wrong?" his bestfriend asks when she turns him around and the way her fingers ghost over his waist makes him shudder.

he shakes his head with his signature smirk-ish smile before clearing his throat. “nothing. just thinking about some stuff.”

his hand lands on her crown and rests there for a moment before he pats gently. then he turns back around to cook, scoffing in amusement at the skeptical hum from the girl clinging onto his back.

“i’ll make you talk one way or another,” she threatens and jay’s about to toss a witty remark but he’s cut by a gasp when her palms drag up to his chest—heart going overdrive and nearly bursting through until her grip curls around his neck. “tell me!”

he’s shaken back and forth by the throat and it works in distracting him from blasting off through the roof like a rocket. exaggerated laughter escapes him as he tries to pretend everything’s fine before he gently holds her wrists and pulls them away—spinning to face her with a bright grin on his ruddy face.

“if you keep this up, i might not be able to get this done,” he chides but with a playful undertone as he clicks his tongue with a sharp inhale. his eyes sharpen to squint ‘menacingly’ and the girl mirrors.

“fine. i’ll relent,” she shrugs and pulls her arms back but just when jay thinks she’ll leave, she reaches to gently stroke his throat and that has his eyes widening and breaths hitching. “sorry, was i too rough?”

his gears are frozen and ears muffled from the pounding, passionate beats of his heart. “i—uh, no! not at all.”

and when her eyes lift to meet his, he nearly buckles at the knees—having to reach behind and grip the edge of the counter until his knuckles turn white to keep himself up.

there’s a pregnant pause between them and with every second, jay’s mind is unraveling little by little.

“i knew it,” she scoffs and for a moment, he thinks it’s over for him. (y/n)’s gonna see through him and she’s gonna leave him and—

“i’ll use a rope next time. thanks for the advice!” she chirps and spins before skipping out the kitchen, leaving him dumbfounded and speechless.

the moment she’s out, he crashes against the counter behind him—skin flushed to his ears and neck and eyes wide as saucers as his hand cups the lower half of his face in disbelief.

oh, he’s done for.

⋆˙𐙚 S.JAEYUN 𐙚˙⋆

jake thinks there’s no such thing as a friendship touchier, sweeter and cheesier than his with (y/n). it’s their love language: physical touch. even if it’s as small as poking or as big as a whole cuddle session, they’re all a portrayal of their perfectly platonic affections.

they’ve even kissed each other’s cheeks for goodbyes and caused confusion all around whether they were dating or not. of course, they’d always deny it—saying that that’s one of the perks from being friends for so long. nothing affects them anymore since they’ve seen nearly everything of each other.

but now, from the way jake’s breaking a sweat and losing his breaths as he cuddles with (y/n) for another one of their movie marathon nights, he’s not sure he can live up to that belief.

he’s trying his hardest to calm his nerves, scared that she’s going to be able to feel his racing heart or notice his shaky breaths.

it’s like he’s suddenly conscious of everything.

the way her hands feel against him, the softness of her figure compared to his solid body, her sweet warmth that seeps into his pores as he holds her close and the way she whines and grunts unconsciously whenever he shifts like she hates to be apart.

everything, every single thing about her is driving him crazy and the fact that she’s literally using him as a human mattress and plushie isn’t helping.

of all days, did (y/n) have to fall asleep on him today—when he can’t make sense of his feelings??

he gulps thickly as his pretty, slender fingers hover her back before ultimately combing through her locks as she slumbers.

slowly, cautiously, undoing the knots and tidying stray strands as he does breathing exercises to calm himself down. but when she groans a complaint of him “being too loud,” he realizes maybe he’s been hyperventilating instead.

he clears his throat as he slowly tries to sit up. it’s a custom between them. when one of them falls asleep mid movie marathon, they’d take care of one another—(y/n) would put a blanket over him and fix his pillow while jake usually tucks her to bed.

but with how much he’s trembling, he might not be able to today.

“(y/n),” he starts softly, just wanting to stir her enough so she’d at least free his legs from being all tangled up with hers but she only nuzzles further—face now buried in the crook of his neck with her lips brushing his skin.

BOOM!

he thinks his heart just exploded.

jake’s overheating, red all over with fingers twitching as he bites the back of his hand to quieten the soft sounds threatening to escape. it’s all too much yet too little, so near yet so far. she’s fogging up all his senses and he can barely even think.

his hand patting her back is near robotic now as he stares at the ceiling blankly, like every single thought he conjures fizzles up and leaves his brain completely empty as he battles with himself from scooping her up and kissing her right then and there.

wait, what?

he chokes on a breath and coughs violently—forcing (y/n) awake and he panics. with eyes wide, he quickly wraps his arms around her, hushing and lulling her back to sleep, guilty for even waking her up while at the same time hiding his face into her hair.

“sorry! sorry, i woke you just—just go back to sleep,” he coos as he cradles her form in his lap and stands to lift her up to bed—only to be stopped when she rubs her face against his chest with a small protest.

“stay…” she slurs sleepily and it’s like a love arrow struck him in the heart as he drops back onto the couch, breathless and awestruck. he looks down at her who’s back to snoring and sleeping, oblivious to the frazzled, flustered state of jake sim who presses a long, lasting kiss onto her forehead in place of her lips.

would it be too weird to buy a diamond ring as a friendship item?

⋆˙𐙚 P.SUNGHOON 𐙚˙⋆

sunghoon isn’t as nonchalant as he aims to be. but people think he is. with his gentle yet distant disposition and random silly little antics, he’s a living contradiction. a man of mystery. and it’s difficult to understand him at times, hard to reach.

especially when he doesn’t bother to since he has someone he sticks to every breathing moment of his day: (y/n). even now, on a sweet, sunny saturday, sunghoon’s sitting on the sofa of her living room as she meticulously puts pretty clips on his fluffy, raven hair.

they just came back from a shopping spree and she bought some cute butterfly clips that apparently flap their wings when the wearer moves or wind blows. it’s up to (y/n) to test that hypothesis herself.

“last one,” she says without even looking at her bestfriend who’s been admiring her nonstop with heart-shaped eyes. “done!”

sunghoon’s jolted back to reality and he smiles softly. “can i see?”

“yeah,” the girl casually replies as she tidies up the torn packages from unboxing her new clips. hoon stands and goes to her standing mirror only for his lips to part in surprise? maybe dismay?? he expected to look cool, or cute, at least, but now he looks like an experiment gone wrong with how his hair’s clipped standing like uneven cut grass frazzled in all directions.

and it’s even slightly disturbing to see the fake butterflies bobbing side to side while being clumped together like an infestation.

he spins, brows knit and takes a deep breath to complai—

“see! cute, right?” (y/n) chirps, the biggest toothy grin on her face as cheeks bunch up and eyes twinkle with pure expectation. suddenly, sunghoon’s words crumble and furrow softens.

“yeah,” he agrees before he can even deny and it leaves himself confused. not for long though, because his bestfriend’s quick to squeal and take a picture with their cheeks pressed together and the proximity has him reeling.

it doesn’t matter that he looks goofy and it would ruin his entire nonchalant image, it doesn’t matter that she practically yanked him down and almost sent him falling face first, it doesn’t matter that his scalp is practically ripping off from the tension of the clips.

because she’s happy—because of him.

and honestly, he’d put his life at stake just to be able to give that to her every single day. to be with her at every single point of her life and make her smile without fail.

in sickness and in health—

wedding vows already??

he mentally slaps himself.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི₊ ⊹ masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

𝜗𝜚 hi, it’s romi here!! thank you so much for reading to the end!! if you enjoyed it, don’t forget to leave a heart and reblog— they give me some motivation, ya know? but please do not spam like!! X♡X♡, romi ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

copyright © 2024 thinemoonshine all rights reserved

[urprettylildoe]

𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐘 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍 ♡︎

Introducing our lovely and definitely not dangerous trio: Red bull, Monster and Boom Boom!

One little taste of them and your fate is sealed, even if you may not know it yet.

They may be different, but if there's one thing they all share, is that they want to break you and make you crave them, like a drug.

So keep on having little tastes of them, because soon, that's all you're gonna think about.

(tw: yandere behaviour, dependency, isolation poisoning)

𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋

sleek and tall, with bright eyes buzzing with excitement and hair wild like he just rolled out of bed — he's always near you. His love doesn't just burn like a mundane, sweet lover's. No, it takes over and consumes everything around you.

he's convinced that you need to spend every waking moment with him and him only. He's your saviour — he's been there with you during the darkest times of your relationship. You need him, and so does he.

no one, absolutely, no one will ever come close to him or you. That's how much you're meant for each other.

...

his chin plants itself onto your shoulder blade, eyes drawn to the screen like a moth to a flame. The jacket with red and blue accents that he always wears is long forgotten on the floor.

"Who're you texting, baby?" there comes the million dollar question after a beat of silence.

your thumbs don't stray from the keyboard, but you crane your head to give him some of your attention. you don't want to relive that type of situation again. "My friends"

his head spins, edges of his vision blurring. Those pests. They're trying to take you away from him, from his love and try to make you need them instead. No way.

however, it seems like the worst thing has yet to come, as you say next: "they're suggesting we go out." your words are seemingly an attempt at gaining a semblance of independency, presenting it as a fait accompli. cute, but futile, he thinks.

fingers trailing lower to your waist, he condescendingly mutters out a: "you're not thinking of going out, are you?" a dark chuckle follows, "seriously, sweetie?"

the way he speaks to you makes you feel small, inferior even. like you need him, and oh, you do — you really do.

"I-I-"

"y/n, darling," his words carry a disarming charm with a hint of menace, an illusion of amiableness, "why don't we just stay in, hm? promise i'll make it worth your while."

the phone is tugged out of your hands and cast aside, because in his books, you've learnt it's a crime to focus on something else when your dear boyfriend is right there in front of you, doting on you.

while he leans over you and showers your face in distracting kisses, do you decide to protest once more, with more firmness in your tone, "but they've been planning this outing for ages now, i just can't cancel on them again."

to your dismay, he just dips his head back down and directs his attention to his previous onslaught of affection, while chirping: "of course you can. If they're your friends, they'll understand."

yes, but for how much longer, you think.

"And if they don't —" hands greedily grab what they can as they roam freely, squeezing, fondling. "— then that's okay too, because m'the only one truly does, hm?"

and as much as you hate those words, you realise he's right. it's you who's responsible for coming to him so willingly, so you just don't have the right to walk away from what you've built.

"gorgeous thing," his hands tug up your top, teeth scraping your jaw as he peppers kisses there. A beast, one that kept you in the dragon's tower, plucking each and every knight out of your life and proclaiming himself as one. "All this for me and me only, right? No one else"

the only thing you could do was nod, close your eyes and take it.

he gifted you wings that you weren't allowed to spread.

𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑

not a soft, gentle emerald colour, instead, he has sharp, lime green for eyes that stare into your very soul. with black, short hair, a ripped build, leather boots and torn jeans, he's practically a hazard sign at this point.

he wants you to feel alive with him, not just cooped up in your room wasting away. Now, that's boring. His sweetheart deserves to see everything and anything, and he won't afford any distractions.

from the start, you were pulled into his chaotic world, where rules don't exist and no one is ever safe. you're on your toes the entire time and normalcy is a foreign concept here.

...

The car roars down the road, engines screaming in protest and tires screeching loudly. Unfazed, he leans back in his seat and continues this little game o his, narrowly missing other vehicles. The air vibrates with impending disaster awaiting at any second now.

Your fingers dig into the seats harshly. Earlier's lunch rises up your throat, its contents threatening to escape your mouth. The pit in your stomach grows deeper when he shows nothing but disregard for the risks that he was taking.

He laughs hysterically like an evil madman, eyes watering either from utter amusement or the wind whipping against his eyes. "Isn't this so fun?" you manage to miraculously hear his words over the sound of your heart beating loudly in your ears and the car. "Way better than staying in your room all day, huh?"

You're able understand that he wants you to throw all your responsibilities away for the sake of 'living your lives to the fullest' or some nonsense he spouted in your room earlier. But this? No, this was too much, even for him.

His hand cunningly sneaks up on your thigh but you refuse, wrenching it out of his grasp and pressing yourself against the car door. You could feel him frown. Maybe he'll slow down?

Yeah, right.

He pushes the speedometer up into high territory with more purpose than just meaningless fun now. Then, a threatening growl: "say you love me."

"W-what?" you're not sure you heard him correctly.

"I said—" his words are more impatient now, which is starting to bleed out into the way he drives as well, " — say. you. love. me."

your eyes probably look like they're about to pop out of your skull, jaw going slack. "are you crazy?! have you lost your mind? slow down, this is dangerous."

that only motivates him to go faster. the surroundings outside blur into hazy shapes. one wrong move, and you'd be six feet under. based on the situation, that didn't seem like such a far-fetched outcome anymore.

"I've lost my mind a long time ago, baby. you should know that by now," he calls out, a cold grin on his face, eye twitching.

"slow down, goddamnit. we're gonna crash!" arms wrapped around your knees, you clenched your eyes shut, letting out an involuntary sniffle.

what you should've expected is the smile that grows wider before he sighed blissfully, "how lovely would that be? to die together? the epitome of true love," each word slipping past his lips doesn't fail to surprise or scare you. "and i'm not above making that dream a reality, unless you say it."

"okay, okay, I love you!" you spit out the words before you could even blink, because you'd rather die alone than let him come with you even after death.

he hums, a frown marring his lips like a disappointed mother. Mockingly, he taps his chin, letting his other guide the wheel and your interwined fates both.

"That doesn't quite convincing, sweetheart," he coos with a pout, eyes narrowing. "do you want to die? 'cause it seems like you want to for someone who isn't trying hard enou-"

"I love you!" you cry out, hands cupping your face in your hands, "I want you, no, I need you. I love you more than anything, more than everything. Just, please, slow down."

silence hangs in the air, followed by the sound of the engine calming, before the seat unbuckles on his part. rough, calloused thumbs rub away tears you didn't know were falling down your face.

"Shhh, shh, you did good. i knew those pretty words were hidin' somewhere," he sounds so triumphant, like a golden medal should be placed around his neck. despite the urge to claw his eyes out, you turn your head and cry in his chest, because who else will you turn to if not him?

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐌

one would think he was born in a tight business suit, with his hair slicked back and his neutral face expression at all times. He's got everything meticulously organised and controlled down to the last bit. And you're no exception.

you're more of a puppet than anything, honestly — dancing to his tune, rendered silent and obedient to his each and every command.

there isn't anything in your life that you could control or calls yours anymore, and you don't think there will be anytime soon.

...

the dining table is lively, with the guests having their fill of the salivating dishes and laughing at jokes for their precious reputations that they needed to uphold.

he sits at the head of the table, leaning back comfortably and legs spread. And then there's you, straddling one of them and clad in a pretty blue outfit (his favourite colour). you don't really have to sit somewhere else, when you have your sweet man here.

Fingers toying with the necklace, which is one of the other things bought by him, he tilts the glass of wine up to your lips and allows you small sips before bringing it back down to give you an illusion that you're drinking more than just one glass. you do get drunk very easily, he says. you don't.

the rule is especially important this evening. he needs you sober for this.

he presses a kiss to your temple and watches the longing shining in your big eyes as everyone chats with one another, mouth parting as you nearly chime in. you're to speak only when spoken to by others, his words remind you.

"what're you thinking about?" a whisper against your skin startles you out of your daydreaming. ah, he noticed, he always does.

"nothing," you suck in a harsh breath. eyes dropping to the floor as if a puppy reprimanded by its owner. this is the life you're used to, but it doesn't hurt any less with each event where you're reminded that you're not normal anymore.

his knee bounces underneath you out of habit rather than a deliberate action this time, "you sure? do you not like my gift?" his eyes drop down to said gift hanging from your wrists and neck, "or is it something else?"

you know that he knows what's really going on; he likes to play the long game and not outright say anything. a smile grows on your lips, even if it's a weak one. there's no use in hurting your cheeks when it's obviously forced, instead you'll stall. "no, I really love them. and m'telling you, nothing's going on."

and just when he's about to prod further, sharp coughing interrupts a moment. not just someone clearing their throat, but full-on wheezing.

the man from earlier. you freeze at the realisation. the one who touched your arm while greeting you. you thought he'd let it go. you're clearly wrong about that.

while the guests scurry around his now slumped form and frantically cry out, a large familiar hand cups your jaw and forces you to stare ahead at the terrible sight.

he speaks calmly, like this was a daily deed, "you see that, pretty? yeah, keep lookin'. that's what happens to people who dare to touch what's mine." crooning, he hugs you tighter against him, "and you, dear, belong to me."

tilting your head towards him now, he relishes in the look in your eyes. fear, dawning horror, but never surprise. how he loves your expressions.

you'd never run. you know better than to from a man who's got everything planned out for him, and tonight's a testament to what he'd do to get rid of a fault in his world. a devil in a suit and a blue tie.

[sturnmeovr]

♡‧₊˚ Babydaddy!Chris x Sweetheart!Reader - Indecisive

Your grip firm on the handle of your babydaddy’s passenger door, you take a deep breath before pulling it open, the thick scent of black ice mixed with a hint of weed wafts over you, nearly making you lightheaded. Your face crunching in disgust, “have you been smoking?” you ask him before dipping down into the passenger. Chris sits reclined back in his seat, one hand on the steering wheel, and his elbow propped up on the center console, “what – no!” he spits out defensively.

You knew he was lying; he was quick the lie. You decided to bite your tongue for the sake of what you were about to tell him. The next topic of conversation would ruin his night, much like the topic of him texting another girl behind your back that played like a broken record in your head, ruining every night and day for you since you found out. You crack the car window a bit, “I don't care,” muttering before turning to Chris with slumped shoulders, “just make sure you don’t do it around Bear when he gets here.”

A gummy smile makes its way across his face, “you took my name suggestion,” he coos, reaching a hand out to smooth over your belly, your son making sure to kick as soon as he feels Chris’ hand. As much as you missed the comfortability of being around Chris, you weren’t ready to go back home with him, seeing him every day would just cause you more heartache. Seeing his car parked outside of your best friend's house everyday like clockwork already hurt enough. Your pregnancy hormones were raging, and you were more emotional than you had ever been. 

You blink away tears, giving him a toothless smile, “I really like it. It’s fitting,” you tell me, looking down at his hand still placed on your belly. It was bittersweet, Bear wasn’t even here, and he made it known he missed Chris almost more than you did. Chris lets out a chuckle, feeling the light kicks against his hand, “yeah?” he questions, looking up at you, those icy blue eyes burning deep holes into your figure, “can’t wait ‘til you're back home.” Your smile fades at his words, telling all that was needed to be told. Chris’ face crunches in confusion which ultimately makes you continue, “that’s uhrm — that’s kinda why I wanted to talk to you,” you chime in, looking away from his intense gaze. His eyes alone would make you crack under pressure any second, giving into whatever his wishes were, which is why you stayed as far away as you could. Chris was a dangerous type of man.

He clears his throat, “what is it?” looking back down at your baby bump like he’s reluctant to pull away. He missed the little butterfly kicks from his son almost as much as he missed seeing you waddle around the house with a jar of jiffy peanut butter in one hand and a spoon in the other. He sported bloodshot eyes, you couldn't tell if it was due to lack of sleep or if he was smoking too much weed, the dark bags underneath of them didn’t do him any justice either. Pressing your lips together, you didn’t want to tell him, but you knew it had to be done, “I think I might stay here for a little while longer — I’m not sure how much longer,” your voice comes out small and brittle, like it could break at any moment.

“Sweetheart,” he starts, emotion lies thick in his voice, “wha – what do you mean?” his Boston accent peeking thru subtly. Tears fill his eyes to the brim, and you watch as he blinks them back, scrunching his face before letting a stray tear stain his cheek. He quickly wipes it, looking out the front windshield like he's trying his hardest to find his next words. Staying strong was so hard when Chris was on the verge of an emotional breakdown in front of your very eyes. You had a soft spot for him, and you feared it wasn't going away anytime soon. It took all of you to not crawl into his lap, run your fingers thru his brown locks, and pepper his face with kisses while he cried into your chest. He was a ray of sunshine; seeing him sad was heartbreaking. You couldn’t help but wonder if he really felt as bad as you did or was it all an act to get you to come back home to him. Either way, his emotional state left you feeling gutted – just like the revelation of him cheating made you feel. 

Chris sniffles, making you pick your head up to look at him, “you don’t want to be with me anymore?” The question that had been running loops thru your mind the last three weeks. Did you want to be with Chris? Of course you did. That wasn’t up for debate. The real question was - could you go back to normal with Chris, raising a newborn without dwelling on the fact that he cheated on you? You couldn’t say for sure.

“I didn’t say that,” you croak out, tangling a hand in your hair. You let out a breathy sigh as your hand drops to your bump, “I just need more time, m’sorry, Chris.” Bear was going backflips at the sound of his dad's voice, or maybe it was your emotions doing the work. A light scoff, filled with hurt leaves his lips, “I’ve been giving you time. It’s been weeks,” he says, tugging another hand thru his hair as he looks at you, biting on his bottom lip to keep it from quivering. 

His sad puppy dog eyes are too heart wrenching for you to handle, so you look away. “I know that, but you’ve been parked out here every day,” you tell him, letting out another sigh. He’d never understand the turmoil and pain he caused you. He’d never understand that you’d never forget what he did. You were at your most vulnerable state, your body was going thru so many changes, you were constantly nauseous or vomiting, and you were keeping your pregnancy from the world. Regardless if Chris only had one conversation with another like he claimed, it hurt, and you didn’t deserve it. 

“M’sorry — I miss you, I don’t know,” he blurts out, turning his body towards you to show you have this full attention, “Bears gonna be here soon and I don’t want anything happening while we’re apart.” You don’t dare to look at him until he places a hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. His touch sends tingles up your spine, as touch starved as you were. You missed his touch more than anything, “I just want to go back to normal; to us. you’re pregnant and —.” His hoarse voice getting cut off by yours, “exactly, Chris — I’m pregnant.”

Tears sting your eyes, a few escaping as you attempt to fan them away. Chris hangs his head low, and you can see his tears make water marks on the center console, “I fucked up, I know,” he manages, the words getting stuck his throat a bit, “I can make it better – I promise I will.” 

You were at a crossroads. You didn’t know if you could believe him, you couldn’t trust him after all. You couldn’t trust the person you created a life with; it was crazy to think. The thought makes you lose control of your emotions. The waterworks start and light sobs leave your lips as Chris pulls you into a tight embrace, rubbing his hand up and down your back in a soothing manner. His own tears soaking a wet patch into your hair, you can feel his chest rise up and down as he breathes staggered breaths. It was comforting in a way; the person who caused all your pain cared enough to console you, he cared enough to cry with you.

“Jus’ please come home,” Chris hiccups, making sure to keep his grip tight on you, “I’ll sleep on the couch. I can fix it, okay? Jus’ let me fix this,” he rambles on as he smooths your hair down with the palm of his hand, repeatedly pressing light kisses to your temple as your sobs fade out. 

You pull away from Chris, tugging your sleeves over your hands and bring them up to your face to collect the leftover tears, “I don’t want — want Bear to grow up in a split up home.” The thought of having to coparent instead of having your son grow up with two active parents who love each other, and him, chokes you up. You and Chris both had two married parents who raised you, it wasn't fair that you son might not get that before he was even born. You fail to keep your composure, sob erupting from your chest, “but I don’t see us working if you can’t change your act.”

Wc - 1499

♡‧₊˚ Cheys Note - Big thanks to everyone who helped me reach 600 followers!! I love every single one of you so, so, sooo much!🥲🥰 I changed my handle, no longer m00nl1ghts1vt - I am now sturnmeovr! You guys are eating these angsts up and I'm not mad at you😋🫣 I made this one a bit longer, sorry about the delay! Send me asks or suggestions about Babydaddy!Chris & Sweetheart! <3

Masterlist

Babydaddy!Chris Masterlist

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[v6quewrlds]

❝ last to know, a. svechnikov. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: it's always nice to hear about the canes' team bonding activities. but when andrei comes home with a november challenge, you know the only solution is to kill seth jarvis.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: yay first svechy fic. hope y'all know that's my baby boy. it's me and google translate against the world <3 this is day one of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, jarvy's an idiot, andrei gets a little grumpy, google translated russian, andrei calls reader kisa (kitten), moya lyubov (my love), and malishka (baby), bratty!reader, dom!svech at the end, choking, oral (fem receiving), fingering, squirting.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: andrei svechnikov x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 5.3k.

The evening air was cool, hinting at the early arrival of winter. Inside the cozy apartment, the smell of onions and garlic sizzling in olive oil filled the kitchen. You wore a simple pair of black leggings and an oversized t-shirt as you chopped vegetables for the stir-fry. Your hands moved with precision, each chop echoing in the quiet space. Andrei stood towering over the stove, carefully tossing the chicken in the makeshift wok. His muscular arms flexed with the motion, and you couldn’t help but sneak glances at his broad back.

Andrei caught you staring and winked playfully. "What are you looking at, kisa?" he asked in his deep, accented voice. You rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance, but a smirk danced on your lips.

"Just making sure you don’t burn our dinner," you quipped, tossing a pepper slice in his direction. He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. The two of you had been living together for six months now, and your playful back-and-forth banter was as much a part of your daily routine as your career obligations.

"You know I'm better in kitchen than on ice," he said, a smug smile playing on his lips.

You scoffed, throwing a handful of sliced mushrooms into the pan with a dramatic flair. "Right, is that why I've had to clean burnt pans more times in the last six months than I have my entire life?"

Andrei shrugged, his smile growing wider. "You know I'm just teasing, moya lyubov." He reached over and pinched your side gently, making you squeal and swat his hand away. The stress of the day had dissipated, replaced by the warmth of your easy banter. The two of you worked in a harmonious dance, you adding the final touches to the meal while Andrei plated your dinner. You sat down at the small kitchen table, the TV playing highlights from the latest Hurricanes game in the background.

As you ate, your conversation turned to the upcoming team events. Andrei mentioned the Thanksgiving gathering at the captain’s place at the end of the month with a hint of excitement in his voice. "You could not go last year but you will love it, kisa. It's going to be so much fun."

You nodded, swirling your fork through the noodles on your plate. "I’m looking forward to it. But some of the girls were talking about a challenge you guys are doing?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Andrei's face grew slightly red as he took a sip of his water, avoiding eye contact.

"Is just something...stupid," he mumbled. "Some of the guys on the team are trying to not...you know."

Your eyes narrowed, your curiosity piqued. "What do you mean, 'not'?"

Andrei sighed, setting down his fork. "They're doing a thing called 'No Nut November'. It's where you...try, um, not to climax for the whole month."

Your mouth dropped open. "Are you serious?" you exclaimed. "Why on earth would you agree to that?"

Andrei shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. "Just ispytaniye, you know? The guys talked to me," he said, his English faltering slightly in his bashfulness. "But it is okay. We have fun."

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You knew Andrei had a competitive streak, but this was ridiculous. "So, what, you're just going to ignore me for a whole month for a challenge?" you said, trying to keep the annoyance from your voice.

Andrei looked at you with those puppy dog eyes you had come to love. "Nyet, kisa, it's not like that. We can still...you know, do everything else."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Everything else?" you questioned. "So, you want to be abstinent for a month because of some dumb bet?"

Andrei looked at you sheepishly. "It is not a bet," he clarified. "Team bonding. Like when we go dry January."

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. "Yeah, but you hate those challenges," you pointed out. "What's the deal with this one?"

Andrei sighed, his shoulders dropping.

"Honey, tell me who put you up to this," you pressed, your voice filled with a mix of amusement and annoyance.

He took a deep breath before admitting, "Jarvy." Your eyes widened with understanding. You were going to kill Seth Jarvis.

You put down your fork and leaned back in your chair. "Why didn't you tell me it was him? Is he bothering you?" you said, your voice filled with the mock concern of a mother tending to her distressed toddler.

Andrei's cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red as he groaned at your tone. "He just was talking, and I thought...I could do it," he said, his voice trailing off.

You studied him for a moment, your expression unreadable. "Alright, fine. You can do your 'No Nut November' thing," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "But you're not getting off that easy."

Andrei looked up, hope flickering in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Your smirk grew more mischievous. "I mean, I'll make sure you really feel like you're participating in this challenge," you said, your voice low and filled with a hint of laughter. Andrei's eyes widened slightly as you pushed your chair back and stood up from the table.

For the next few days, you made it your personal mission to test Andrei's resolve. You wore outfits that you knew would drive him wild, your short shorts and tight tops leaving little to the imagination. You would strut around your apartment, hips swaying with each step, eyes sparkling with amusement at his obvious discomfort. Andrei tried to resist, his eyes darting away whenever you caught him looking, but you could see his jaw clench and his fists tighten.

One evening, after a particularly tiring day of teasing, you lay on the couch with a knowing smirk, your legs crossed and your fingers tracing circles on your bare thigh. Andrei sat in the chair opposite you, his eyes glued to the TV but his mind clearly elsewhere. He cleared his throat, trying to ease the tension that hung in the air like a thick fog.

"Kisa, why do you do this to me?" he murmured, his voice deep with frustration.

Your smirk grew wider as you shrugged. "Just trying to make sure you're really committed to this whole 'challenge,'" you said, emphasizing the last word. You leaned back, your fingers continuing their torturous dance. Andrei's eyes followed the movement, his own eyes darkening with desire.

The tension between the two of you grew palpable. Andrei shifted in his chair, his discomfort clear. "You're being mean, kisa," he said, his voice thick. You sat up, placing your hand on his knee.

"I know, I know," you said, your voice softening with faux understanding. "But think of the prize at the end. You'll have earned it." Andrei groaned, his eyes pleading.

You stood up, your hand sliding over his thigh. "Come on, baby, let's go to bed." You could feel his resistance wavering, and you reveled in the power you held over him.

Andrei's eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, you thought you had won. But then he leaned back and took a deep breath, his Russian stubbornness shining through. "No, kisa. I finish what I start."

Your smirk faded, replaced with a look of determination. "Fine," you said, your voice a purr. "But I won’t make this easy for you, Andrei."

The next two weeks were a battle of wills. Every move you made was calculated to push Andrei to his breaking point. You would lean over to grab something, giving him a perfect view of your cleavage. You would sit on his lap while you watched movies, your body warm and inviting against his. And each time he'd try to make a move, you would push him away, reminding him of his commitment to the challenge. Andrei's patience grew thinner with every passing day, his eyes darkening with need whenever you were near.

The day of the Thanksgiving gathering finally arrived. Andrei was on edge, his usual stoic, confident demeanor cracking under the pressure of his raging hormones. The two of you arrived at Jordan Staal’s home, the aroma of roasting turkey and sweet potatoes greeting all the guests at the door. You looked stunning in a carefully selected silk dress, your confidence deepening when you saw the other wives and girlfriends' reactions to your attire. You knew Andrei would struggle all night, and you were more than ready to watch him squirm.

As you mingled, the conversation inevitably turned to No Nut November. The other wives and girlfriends laughed at the idea, sharing stories of their partners' failed attempts. Andrei's teammates exchanged knowing glances, and you felt a twinge of annoyance that you were the butt of their private joke. But you held your tongue, smiling sweetly as you listened to their banter.

“You look good, girl.” Gianna, one of the player’s girlfriends, whispered to you with a knowing smile as she passed by with a tray of drinks. The room was filled with the sounds of laughter and the clinking of silverware as everyone stood around in anticipation of the dinner.

“I can’t believe he’s still holding out on you, sweetie. Most of the guys gave up by week two,” one of the wives named Melissa said with a wink.

You couldn’t help but feel a smug sense of pride at the thought of Andrei’s tortured self-control. You took a sip of your wine, watching as he talked with Jordan and his wife, Heather, his eyes occasionally straying to you. You knew he was desperate for release, and you were enjoying every second of his torment.

As the evening progressed, Andrei's touches grew bolder, his hands lingering a little longer on your waist or brushing against your thigh. You would look up at him with a knowing smile, watching him bite back his desire. When you were alone in the kitchen for a brief moment, Andrei leaned down and whispered in your ear, "Kisa, I need you. Let's go home."

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you leaned back into his touch, your voice a seductive murmur. "But the party's just getting started," you teased. "You're not giving up now, are you?"

Andrei's grip tightened on the countertop, his knuckles white. "I can't...not with you looking so sexy," he admitted, his accent thickening with his arousal. Taking a brief moment to take in his surroundings, Andrei bent down to whisper his plea in Russian into your ear, hoping that the language barrier would shield your conversation from prying eyes and ears.

“Da, ya ponimayu, Andrei,” you whispered back your understanding in what little Russian you knew off the top of your head, your voice dripping with sweetness. “But you need to be stronger than this. Think of the victory you’ll feel when you win the challenge.”

You stepped back, placing the platter of food you had been holding onto the counter with a gentle clink, leaving his hand hovering in the air between you. Andrei’s frustration was palpable, but you felt a thrill of power knowing you had him right where you wanted him.

The dinner was a blur of flavors and forced small talk as Andrei’s eyes followed you around the room. You could feel his gaze on you, his need for you almost tangible. You were enjoying your victory, watching him squirm, his self-control hanging by a thread. As the night went on, the tension grew thicker than the gravy on the turkey.

The two of you found yourselves standing at the edge of the living room, the TV playing a football game neither of you was particularly interested in. Seth Jarvis strolled over, a smug grin plastered on his face. "How's it going, buddy?" he asked, slapping Andrei on the back.

Andrei gritted his teeth. "It's...going," he said through clenched teeth.

Jarvy chuckled. "You know, I didn't think you had it in you. We thought you’d tap out by week one." He winked at you, drawing an eye roll out of you. Andrei's jaw tightened, but before he could say anything, Jarvy cut in again. “We actually bet on it. I lost like a hundred bucks, Svechy. You’re a beast, man."

Andrei's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'we'? Who else is not doing this?"

Jarvy's smirk grew wider. "Well, most of us stopped after the first week. We decided to test how long it would take for you to catch on," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Your mouth fell open as you threw your head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the room. Andrei's face went red with a mix of embarrassment and anger.

"You asshole," he groaned, visibly annoyed but trying to hold back his self-deprecating laughter. "Why did you not tell me?"

Jarvy shrugged, his grin unabated. "It's not fun if you know, right?" He clapped Andrei on the shoulder before walking away, leaving the Russian standing in stunned silence.

You couldn't help but continue to laugh, the tension of the past few weeks finally breaking. You stepped closer to Andrei, your eyes gleaming with mirth. "So, you've been suffering for nothing?"

Andrei's eyes searched yours, a mix of relief and annoyance swirling in their depths. "It will be worth it," he murmured, pulling you into a tight embrace. You could feel his heart racing against your chest, and you knew that the challenge had pushed him to his limits.

“Maybe this will be a good thing after all,” you whispered into Andrei’s ear, your voice filled with amusement as you wrapped your arms around his waist. You felt his body relax slightly against you, his grip on you tightening for a brief moment before loosening.

Andrei leaned down and kissed your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “Ya budu zhdat’,” he murmured in Russian, his voice thick with need. You giggled, feeling his hard chest against yours.

“You’ll have to wait a little longer, my love,” you said, pulling away with a mischievous smile.

Andrei sighed, his grip on your hips loosening slightly. “You are cruel, kisa,” he said, his eyes still dark with desire. You knew you had won this round, but you couldn’t resist pushing him just a little further. You pushed yourself off the wall, stalking back to the group of wives and girlfriends.

The rest of the night was a blur of laughter and food. The tension between you and Andrei had dissipated slightly, replaced with a newfound excitement. As the guests began to leave, Andrei’s hand found yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gentle rhythm that sent shivers down your spine. You knew what was coming, and you were more than ready.

As you two said your goodbyes to Heather and Jordan, Andrei's grip tightened, pulling you closer. His eyes were dark with desire, and you felt your body responding, your core heating with anticipation. You walked to the car in silence, the crunch of gravel beneath your feet the only sound between the two of you.

The drive home was tense, the air in the car thick with unspoken words. Andrei's eyes never left the road, but you could feel his need for you in every tense line of his body. You leaned over and placed your hand on his thigh, your thumb stroking the fabric of his dress pants. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t move away.

When you arrived at your apartment, Andrei practically dragged you inside, the door slamming shut behind you. He slammed you against the door, his mouth claiming yours in a fiery kiss that left you both gasping for air. You moaned, your hands fisting his hair as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Andrei’s hands roamed your body, desperate to feel every inch of you. He slid the silk dress up your thighs, his rough palms grazing your soft skin. Your breath hitched as his thumb brushed against the lace of your panties.

"Now, kisa?" he growled, his voice a mix of need and frustration. You could feel his arousal pressing against you, and you knew you couldn't wait any longer either.

With a sly smile, you whispered, "Alright, let's go to the bedroom."

Your passionate kisses didn't stop as you stumbled down the hallway, Andrei’s hands moving to peel off your dress, his desire unbridled. As you reached the bedroom, the dress fell to the floor in a puddle of silk, revealing your barely-there lingerie. Your heart raced, your body craving his touch.

Andrei laid you on the bed, his eyes dark with want. His fingers traced the outline of your bra, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered in Russian, his voice deep and demanding. Your back arched, your eyes closing in pleasure as you felt his mouth replace his hands.

He kissed a path down your body, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your stomach before he reached the apex of your thighs. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, your body begging for his touch. Andrei didn’t disappoint, his mouth closing over your clit through your sheer panties, his tongue flicking and teasing until you were moaning his name.

Your hands were in his hair, guiding him, urging him on as he devoured you. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the softness of his lips, and the roughness of his prickly stubble. Your legs trembled, and you knew you were close to the edge. But Andrei had other plans. He pulled away, his eyes smoldering as he removed your underwear, tossing it aside.

“I want to see you come apart for me, kisa,” he murmured in your ear, his voice thick with lust. “My way of saying sorry.”

Your eyes flew open, meeting his intense gaze. You could feel his hands on your thighs, spreading your legs wider, exposing you to his hungry eyes. Andrei leaned down, his mouth replacing his thumb, his tongue delving deep into your folds. Your grip on the bedsheets tightened as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your body responding to his every touch.

Andrei took his time, savoring every gasp and moan that escaped your lips. His tongue danced around your clit, flicking and swirling, driving you closer to the brink of orgasm. Your hips bucked against his face, your legs tightening around his head, urging him to never stop. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths, the smell of your desire thick in the air.

“Dai, Andrei, please,” you begged, your voice a breathless whisper. Your body was a tight coil, wound up by the masterful way he teased you. Andrei chuckled darkly, his eyes glued to your glistening pussy as he added a finger to the mix, sliding it in and out of you with a rhythm that matched his tongue.

Your eyes rolled back, and you bit your lip to keep from screaming out. His finger curled inside you, finding your sweet spot, and you could feel the orgasm building, ready to crash down on you like a wave. Andrei’s other hand found your breast, squeezing and playing with your nipple, sending sparks of pleasure to your core.

With a final, desperate plea, you came, your body shaking with the intensity of your climax. Andrei didn’t stop, his tongue and finger working in unison until you were nothing but a trembling mess beneath him.

Pulling away, he gave you a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with triumph. Russian rolled off his tongue, “Ya zastavil tebya zhdat' slishkom dolgo, moy milyy kotenok, hmm?” He licked his lips, savoring your taste.

You could only nod, catching the phrase ‘made you wait too long’ and ‘kitten’, your breathing still erratic. Andrei leaned down and kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours, sharing the flavor of your desire. You felt his erection pressing into your thigh, and you reached down to stroke him, your hand wrapping around his thick length.

He groaned into your mouth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. "Malishka," he murmured, his voice strained. He pushed your hand away, standing up to remove his own clothes. His pants hit the floor, revealing his boxer briefs, the outline of his hard cock clear. He stepped out of them, standing before you naked and proud.

You took in the sight of him, your eyes lingering on his toned abs, the V that dipped down to his shaft, the heavy erection that stood tall between his legs. You licked your lips, feeling your arousal spike again. Andrei climbed onto the bed, his movements swift and purposeful.

He positioned himself between your legs, his cock poised at your entrance. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of you, spread out before him, your chest heaving with every breath, your skin flushed from the orgasm he’d just given you. He leaned down, whispering something in Russian that you didn’t understand, but the way his voice vibrated against your skin sent shivers down your spine.

Andrei slid into you with a groan, his thickness stretching you deliciously. Your nails dug into the bed, your body arching to meet his, your eyes boring into his. He began to move, his strokes deep and measured, each one pushing you closer to another peak.

“Andrei, faster,” you panted, your eyes fluttering shut. You felt his hand wrap around your throat, gently squeezing as his other hand found your clit, his thumb pressing down firmly.

"Open your eyes, kisa," he ordered, his voice gruff with need. Your eyes snapped open, locking onto his as he began to thrust harder, his hips moving with a fierce rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart. His thumb on your clit grew more insistent, the pressure just right to send you spiraling toward another orgasm.

Andrei’s grip on your throat tightened slightly, his eyes focused on yours as he whispered, “You want me to make you feel good, malishka?”

Your eyes widened, the dominance in his voice sending a thrill through you. You nodded, your body already obeying his command. He picked up his pace, his strokes growing more erratic as his own climax approached. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, your muscles clenching around him, your walls contracting as you fought for release.

Andrei’s thumb played with your clit with renewed vigor, his hips slamming into you as he claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss. You could feel his cock swell even further, the pink, angry head brushing against your g-spot with every thrust. The hand on your throat tightened, cutting off your air, and making you lightheaded with desire.

He growled in approval, his own climax still a ways off. Andrei’s strokes grew erratic, his movements more primal as he chased his release. Your eyes remained locked with his, the connection between the two of you intense and unbreakable. You could feel the sweat trickling down your spine, your body begging for more, even as you trembled from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

With a sudden movement, Andrei pulled out of you, flipping you onto your stomach with surprising agility. You yelped in surprise, but before you could protest, you felt the head of his cock nudge against your slick entrance from behind. "Andrei," you whined, your voice a mix of pleasure and frustration.

He chuckled darkly. "You want more, kisa?" He didn’t wait for a response before slamming back into you, his hips slapping against your ass. Your moan was muffled by the pillow Andrei had buried your face into. The angle was new, the sensations overwhelming. Each thrust hit deeper than before, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Your hands strained against the pillow, pushing yourself back to meet him as he claimed you from behind. You could feel the heat of Andrei’s body surrounding you, his muscles flexing and releasing as he moved in a punishing rhythm. His grip on your hips was firm, guiding your body to his will, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered words that only added to the erotic symphony of your lovemaking.

"Do you want to touch me? Do you want to feel how hard I am for you?" Andrei’s voice was a gruff whisper in your ear as he pounded into you, his hand reaching around to stroke your clit again. You nodded frantically, your voice lost in the pillow.

"Vpered, prodolzhat'," Andrei hummed over you, giving you the permission you craved to reach out and feel his skin on yours.

You reached behind yourself, your hand finding his forearm, the muscles tight with effort. Your fingertips danced along the slick skin, feeling the power in every flex of his bicep as he pounded into you. The sensation of his cock filling you from this angle was exquisite, and you could feel your body responding, already building towards another peak.

Impatient, Andrei yanked you up by your arms, so you were on your knees, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. You moaned, your hands reaching back to grip his hips, your nails digging into his skin. He groaned, his movements growing more urgent. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, a testament to your passion.

"Harder," you gasped, your body begging for more. Andrei obliged, his strokes growing rougher, his grip on your hips tightening. You could feel his cock swell even further, his balls slapping against your clit with each powerful thrust. Your body was on fire, your orgasm building again.

Andrei leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth at your ear. "Khoroshiy?" he murmured in Russian, his voice sending shivers down your spine as he asked if you were good. You nodded, your body tightening as you approached the edge once more, unable to form words to respond to him.

He whispered something else you couldn’t process, and you felt him shift his angle, his cock brushing against that sensitive spot deep within you. A whiny moan escaped your lips, and your head fell back against your boyfriend's shoulder. Andrei’s breath grew ragged, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm that had your toes curling.

"Come for me," he demanded, his fingers trailing up to your throat once more. The gentle pressure was enough to send you spiraling over the edge, your body convulsing around his. Your scream of pleasure was broken as it fought its way through your constricted airway. Your soul practically left your body, the orgasm so intense it was almost painful. You could feel the fluid leaving your body, dampening the sheets as droplets landed on Andrei who simply grunted, his strokes never slowing.

"Andrei," you panted, your voice hoarse from screaming. He leaned down, kissing the side of your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. "Ya lyublyu tebya, kisa," he murmured, his voice thick with passion.

"Love you," you hummed, your words faltering as you came down from your orgasm.

You felt his thumb tracing lazy circles against your pulse point. His other hand found your clit, his movements precise and demanding. Your body responded instantly, your hips bucking back to meet his. You could feel him smiling against your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

When you finally came back to Earth, you could feel Andrew’s cum sticking to your thighs. You collapsed onto the bed with a sigh, your legs quivering, your breathing ragged. "I didn’t even realize you came too," you murmured, turning to look at him over your shoulder.

Andrei pulled out, his cock glistening with your combined juices. He didn’t bother to cover himself as he stumbled over to the bathroom to clean up. When he returned, he was still hard, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his aroused state. You had never seen him like this before, so raw and needy. It was both interesting and exhilarating.

He climbed back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He reached out, his hand grabbing the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your foreheads were touching. His voice was low and gruff as he whispered, "You think this is funny?"

Your smile grew wider, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "A little," you admitted. Andrei’s grip tightened, but you didn’t flinch, your own desire sparking for a brief second as you felt his length finally begin to soften against your leg.

"Legs," Andrei hummed, instructing you to open up so he could clean you up. You giggled, your cheeks flushed with pleasure and a hint of embarrassment, spreading your legs wider for him. His gentle touch and the cool cloth against your sensitive skin were a cool relief from the fiery passion you had just shared. He took his time, wiping away every trace of your lovemaking, his focus on taking care of you in the aftermath of your passion.

Once you were cleaned up, Andrei lay beside you, pulling you into his arms. His chest was still heaving, his heart racing from the intensity of your encounter. Your eyes drifted shut, a contented sigh escaping your lips as you felt the warmth of his body envelop you. His hand caressed your back, his thumb making soothing circles that had you melting into him.

The two of you lay there, basking in the afterglow, your skin sticky with sweat, the scent of sex heavy in the air. Andrei’s arm was wrapped around your waist, his leg thrown over yours in a possessive manner. You felt his breath against your neck, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. It was moments like these you cherished, the quiet moments after passion had taken over, when your bodies were still joined, your hearts beating as one.

“Why did you do this to me?” Andrei’s voice was a mix of playfulness and exasperation. You chuckled, turning your head to look at him.

“Me? Do this to you?” you replied, feigned innocence in your tone. You wiggled closer, your eyes sparkling to match the cheeky smile that graced your face. “You’re the one who started this whole 'No Nut November' thing. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t forgetting how good we are together.”

Andrei sighed, his hand tightening briefly around your waist before he leaned in to kiss your forehead. “I never forget, kisa,” he murmured, his voice thick with appreciation. You felt a warmth spread through you, his pet name for you a sweet reminder of his affection. You snuggled closer, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you.

For a moment, you lay in silence, the only sound the distant murmur of the Raleigh nightlife. Then Andrei spoke up, his tone more serious. “No more challenges for me.”

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him with a hint of skepticism. “What about your pride, Svech?” you teased, using his nickname.

“You are my pride, kisa,” he replied, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that you hadn’t seen before, and it made your heart race.

You leaned up on your elbow, studying his face. “Really?” you whispered, your voice filled with wonder. Andrei nodded, his thumb brushing over your full bottom lip.

“You win, kisa. I can’t resist you, and I don’t want to.” His eyes searched yours, a silent promise in their depths. You felt your heart swell, the love you felt for him overwhelming you. You leaned in, your lips pressing to his in a gentle kiss. It was filled with all the love and passion you felt for this man who had stumbled into your life and turned it upside down in the best way possible.

Andrei’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, and deepening the kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, dancing with yours in a silent apology for his earlier stubbornness. You melted into the embrace, your bodies still humming together from the show of your love.

[muntitled]

omg hi pookie bear , hru ?

i’m going feral and have a request <\3 hmm what if anton hasn’t seen his gf in a few months because she stays in the states . they usually make sure to call and check in with each other every night but maybe for the last few days she hasn’t been responding too much but only because she’s flying to go surprise him ! so basically a bit of angst then fluff at the end loll (and a little smut if ur up to it 🤓👆🏾) .

also, can i be 🎀 anon ?!

Of course, my darling! Thank you for the lovely request, I literally had so much fun writing this omg.

𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 | 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐞

- Pairings: Anton Lee x Fem!Reader

- Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Codependency, Angst, Jealousy, Relationship Paranoia, Possessiveness, Manipulation, Smut (+18, Minors DNI), Spitting, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Dry Humping, Unprotected Sex, Needy Sex

He wouldn't call himself obsessive.

That's not the correct word. Infatuation would probably best explain the tempest of emotions rattling through his brain when his phone rings, signaling a video call from you.

Sungchan's chest rises and falls with the extremities of their evening workout. He barely keeps himself toppling over when he and the rest of the group watch Anton lumber to his bag in large, quick steps

"Yo?" Sohee asks, anatomically defeated as he races to catch his breath.

"Carry on, without me," Anton throws over his hunched shoulder. He is cupping his phone with both hands when he enters one of the many bathrooms peppered throughout the gym, letting his feet guide him almost robotically into a stall while his finger swipes to answer the video call. At the sight of your relaxed smile, Anton exhales lightly.

He knew it's particularly bad to form dependant relationships, but he couldn't exactly help himself, can he? Your voice is just so light when you say, "Hi," and his is equally shy as he replies with his quiet "Hi yourself."

Anton can not help himself from being so incredibly infatuated. He's diving headfirst into codependency, but hey, at least he is aware.

At least he is aware that he would do quite literally anything for the girl in trapped in his phone, and you would do the same for him, therefore it is of no surprise at all when he airly says, "You're so pretty,"

His voice is barely above a whisper and his eyes are bright as he buries the lower half of his face in the comforting fleece of his black sweater. "Really pretty,"

An airy sort of chuckle escapes the confines of your lips, and Anton's pulse begins to race as he takes note of your tongue swiping over your bottom lip. "Anton, did you hear anything I just said?" If it weren't for the slight hesitation that pollutes the sound of your beautiful voice, Anton would've gladly kept staring at your lips. But his heart sinks imperceptibly as he gazes back at you apprehensively.

"Uh- no," he says, "I was too busy thinking about how excited I am for you to get here." The panic only begins to set when your smile wavers.

"Oh... about that-"

"No," he whispers, "Please don't do that-"

"My boss hasn't exactly cleared me for a vacation day-"

Anton is livid, but his voice remains stable. "We have spoken about this for 2 months!"

"You know how my boss can be," you reply, "He hasn't given me off, Anton. I have no one to cover my shift, I'm sorry!" You exclaim, as the dreaded guilt begins to trickle into your voice. Anton's eyes narrow, and he brings his phone closer. Temporarily ignoring his whirlwind of negative emotions, Anton instead skeptically asks, "Where are you?" That doesn't look like your bathroom."

Anton's heart only sinks lower into the pit of his stomach when he notices a quick hint of alarm flash through your eyes before you're pulling the camera back into a more intimate aspect ratio as you prattle on. "Yeah, I just decided to head to the movies to make myself feel better. Maybe you should do the same," your voice is tight and layered with anxiety as if you were... lying to him.

Anton cannot imagine why you would want to do that, least of all to him. He knew when you lied because you both did it together. On myriad occasions.

He made you call up your part-time job on multiple occasions, rubbing smoothe, encouraging circles on your belly while you feigned an illness just to spend more time with him.

In high school, you had both lied to each of your parents about 'studying together' when in actual fact, those 4 had been excuses to make out messily in your sheets. Exploring confusing emotions until a simmering heat flowed through the both of you while Anton's large hands began to pet over new, various spots on your body.

He had never been on the receiving end of your dishonesty, not even since he left the country. But here you are, evading eye contact, stuttering over your words and lying...

to him.

"How's the team workout been, big boy?" He notices with grave finality how quick you are to not only change the subject, but to weaponize a nickname that you knew would have him melting for you.

Is this what you have both become?

Was he seriously being manipulated?

Was he...

Perhaps...

Being cheated on?

The thought sent a wave of nausea threatening to spill out of his badly pursed lips, and perhaps you realize, from years of studying Anton's non verbal expressions, that he was thinking of something very grave and very bad.

"Hey, didn't you say you only had five minutes?" Your voice is like the tingling goosebumps left in the wake of your nails raking across his skin and he shivers slightly.

"Yeah," his voice, although characteristically quiet, is guarded and you frown, perhaps noticing that you have a lot of making up to do.

Anton suddenly, quite literally out of the blue, asks, "Remember when you said you went bra shopping the other day?

"Yeah?" You ask, completely oblivious to the darkened thoughts polluting your boyfriend's mind. You watch his eyes tare into yours as he monotonously asks.

"Are you wearing any of the new ones right now?"

"Anton, aren't you in the middle of-"

He immediately cuts in, voice impatient and snide, "They can carry on without me, it's fine."

It was petulant, but Anton needed to know you still belonged to him. He needed to know that high school wasn't some sick fever dream you could just swiftly move past as if it meant nothing. He needed to know that.

"Can I see?"

You curtly comply, and you look around before pushing yourself further into the stall. You both found yourselves on opposite end of a cellular line, both silent with the weight of your attraction to one another, keeping your eyes glued to the screen.

"Please?" He asks, in an airy voice, "for me?"

Anton knew from the strike of guilt in his chest that it was not a morally correct thing to do, but what else was there?

You would be away from him, indefinitely. He would have to spend another evening, another week, another month without your body to hold onto. Not to mention, the jealousy at this new hypothetical boyfriend still hung heavily on his shoulders.

Besides, Anton's guilt completely disappeared when you begrudgingly pulled the string of your halter neck down until the material was falling flmisily down your torso, exposing your chest to him. Anton released a wobbly breath while his hand almost immediately went to cover the bulge, forming in his oversized pants. "Oh god," he whispered.

It was so remarkably mesmerising watching your boyfriend slips so easily into desire. You knew he was angry and that made this part of the mission remarkably uncomfortable, but instead, you choose to focus on Anton's lumbering breathing through the screen of your phone. His large eyes hooded and locked onto your breasts, still very much covered by your white lace bra.

Although he cannot see anything besides cleavage, Anton reckons he could cum just from this. That's how bad he needs you, that's how bad he yearns for your soft, grounding presence to be near him.

But your phone chimes. And just as Anton's jaw locks, you exclaim, "Babe, I have to go-"

"What?" The frown on his face is astounding, but you're already propping your phone up to pull up the strings of your dress.

His protests fall on deaf ears.

You could not very well tell him that you have already touched down in Korea. You couldn't tell him the unrecognizable bathroom stall was a sterile cubicle in the international airport. You couldn't tell him that you were closer than he thought.

"My movie is gonna start soon,"

His shoulders visibly deflate and your heart pounds faster in your chest.

"Skip it,"

"I'll call later okay?"

"Skip the movie."

"I love you,"

When you abruptly ended the call, Anton stared at his screen until the dimness turned to black, with only one question permeating through his restless mind.

'Do you?'

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

"You say you hear me," Sohee's voice reaches the rafters as the group of boys leave the gym. "You hear me, but do you feel me?"

"Gross," Anton mumbles, leaving Sohee behind.

"It's a simple question," The older boy continues, "at what point does water become soup?"

"When any reasonable amount of seasoning is added," pipes up Shotaro, adjusting the straps of his work out bag along his shoulder.

"Don't encourage him," Eunseok grumbles as they all walk out into the cool night air.

Anton's gaze is still lowered to the floor, but his breath stutters momentarily at the sudden rush of the open air.

"So salt water can be considered soup?" Sohee scoffs, "That's what you're telling me right now?" The group groans in unison, all beginning to walk like a hive mind to the nearest restaurant. All except Anton, who is quieter than usual, whose only plans for the evening consist of wallowing in self-pity.

"Hey, um, I'm just gonna go home," he says, causing the group of boys to stop in their tracks. Anton evade their curious, worried gazes.

"Not when you look like you're about kill yourself-" Shotaro says, attempting to step closer to Anton, but only frowning when the youngest takes a step back.

"That's okay," he attempts to reassure his friends, "There's a beat thats been..." Anton does vague hand gestures to the side of his head, "I wanna go work,"

He was already walking away, head bowed, and headphones pushed over his head, walking into the night before his friends could even get a word in...

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

He could not describe his feelings as Jealousy. That somehow felt like to tame a word to describe the flurry of emotions hanging so heavily on Anton's face as he pushes the password into the door's keypad, before kicking his shoes off at the door.

Anger was certainly a part of it. The large monolith of emotions threating to burst right through him. He felt unpleasantly overstimulated, even in the silence of the apartment. He felt like anything and everything was threatening to have him burst at the seams, his emotions running along the rim of his usually calm and collected state of mind, ready to spill over and make a dreaded mess everywhere.

Anton's only plans for the night had been to lock himself in his dorm room, perhaps crying, perhaps screaming, perhaps knocking himself out for a couple hours with his prescription sleeping pills. Anything to make this horrific strain on his heart disappeared.

The baggy clothes he is accustomed to wearing somehow appear bigger and sloppier as he lumbers his way deeper into the apartment, heart sinking the more steps he takes.

"Oh look,"

Cold, piercing phantom pain zings through his heart, kickstarting every dormant sleepy cell in his body.

"A dinosaur,"

Anton thinks that he couldn't even move if he wanted to. His socks are glued to the threshold, watching you, or perhaps an apparition of you, laying lazily on his bed.

His bed.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself, and you watch with furrowed brows as Anton brings his two hands up to his face. You immediately push yourself off the bed when he begins to slap lightly at his cheeks, whispering incoherently about asylums and potentially getting a contact high.

His cheeks are already bright red when you stumble your way in front of him.

“Woah, Big boy,” your hands are on his wrist, effectively stopping Anton from reddening the skin any further.

He can feel you. He can feel the softness of your palms struggling to enclose around his large wrists.

“This is real,” he whispers, watching with wide, doe eyes as a smirk curls at the end of your lips. Before you can reply in whatever witty or snarky remark you had cooked up, Anton was already bending his head until his lips were crashing down to yours.

He very surprisingly, very uncharacteristically pours his strength into the kiss until you were stumbling back rather clumsily into his room.

Anton crumbles into a flurry moans and groans as he slips his tongue inside your mouth, melting into a whimpering puddle when your tongue brushes against his. “B-But when?” he breathes out before reattaching his lips to yours, letting his hands roam unabashedly over every part of your body it can find.

The infuriating need to breathe causes him to pull apart from you once again, but he never strays too far. Anton’s fingers dig into your sides until he's pulling your dress over your head. He wishes to capture every single inch of your exposed body to memory. The way you look up at him with a light, relieved smile curling at the sides of your puffy, red lips.

You're so much shorter than him, and it sends his brain into a mindless, state of lust. He loves how big he feels when you two are together, in the flesh with no digital box separating the two of you.

“H-How?” He breathes out, noting immediate that you are in the same white lace bra from your earlier phone call.

There is a cheeky smile on your face when you pull his oversized shirt over his head, all while he stares you down as if you hung the moon.

“I always keep my promises, Ant,”

His body betrays him with a rough shiver and he groans as you push him onto his bed, discarding his shirt behind you. As you prowl your way on top of him, Ant throws his head back into the sheets, nearly hyperventilating at the sight of you straddling his hips. You lift your torso, immediately discarding your bra, and Anton’s hand flies to cup your breasts. This, he immediately decides, is what heaven looks like.

“Fuck, you're so fucking pretty, you know that?” Anton rarely ever swore, so to hear the crass words coated in his airy, breathless voice is enough to have you moaning into the air, arching your back as you push his face into your chest while you press your core down onto his irresistible bulge.

“Oh God, Anton.”

“Missed you so much,’ he whines, before enclosing his mouth around your nipple, almost instinctively pushing his hips up to meet your desperate grinding. You were quite literally humping like maddened adolescents brimming with too many hormones to know what to do with.

When Anton feels his cock twitching in his pants, he immediately pulls away.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, “I need to be inside of you,” he admits gravely, already getting up to switch places until you were underneath his large and lumbering frame, “I don't think I'll last long,” Another grave admittance. He pushes his hand into his sweatpants, and you watch, mesmerized as he reveals his large, aching cock absolutely leaking precum.

“I'm definitely not gonna last long,” you reassure before eagerly opening your restless legs, “We're gonna cum together, yeah?” Anton squeezes his eyes shut before squeezing the base of his twitching dick. All while you slip your own underwear down.

“Yeah,” he agreed before positioning his cock at your weeping enterance.

You both watch mesmerized as his cock begins to stretch the tight walls of your soaked cunt. The stretch, immediately causing a whimper to slip out of your mouth as you throw your head back into the pillows. You're clenching around him, while Anton coaxes himself into you with shallow thrusts. The rutting being just enough to spill a wave of pleasure over the both of you. He watches you moan with wide, pained eyes.

“I know, baby-” He whisper, “You're doing so good for me, you know that?”

“Fuck, you're so big,” is all you're able to say, effectively causing his hips to stutter.

“F-Fuck I'm not gonna last long-”

Instead of repeating your response, you bring your hips up to meet Anton's thrusts effectively, taking him deeper and deeper until he was fucking you with little to no restraint.

“Oh God,” you whisper, as Anton clumsily brings a hand up to squeeze and pinch at your nipples. Not even a minute later and you're both sitting in the crest of your respective orgasms, looking deep into each other's eyes as if you were communicating that fact. Anton nods, completely dazed.

“Close,” he whimpers, “I'm so fucking close,”

Anton bends his head, spitting directly onto your clit. The sight has your hips stuttering, as the first signs of your orgasm warms your lower abdomen.

“F-Fuck, Ant- I'm-”

The moment his hand travels to rub dizzying wet circles on your clit, you crash into your orgasm.

“Oh fuck- oh fuck-” He fights to keep his eyes open but your squeezing him so hard and Anton can't help but cum directly inside of you. Both your lips are hanging open as your boyfriend attempts to fuck every last drop of his seed into you. You're both releasing months worth of frustration.

The frustration of not being near one another. Of relying on a device to keep your relationship afloat. It all comes crashing down until Anton's is thoughtlessly collapsing on top of you - the weight of a giant landing your front, with his hand playing lazily, wiyh your breasts as you both fight to catch your breathe.

Despite the obvious discomfort, the very last thing you think of doing is pushing him away. Instead, you cradle him closer, raking your fingers into his hair while his eyes flutter shut.

All is quiet, and you vaguely believe Anton may have fallen asleep, but his voice is wide awake as he says, “I thought you were cheating on me.”

You remain quiet, hoping the soft petting on his wild curls was reply enough.

“I'm never letting you go back, okay?”

Your eyes are heavy as you continue to smooothe down his hair, and you whisper, “Okay”.

♡♡♡

[zepskies]

TOMORROW

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: It’s another one of those dreams he won’t remember when he wakes. For now, it has no qualms about torturing him. He’s alone…until he’s not. 

AN: Well, here we go! My first little attempt at writing Joel Miller and for TLOU. 🫣

Word Count: 650

Tags/Warnings: Jackson!Joel, established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

He twitches in his sleep sometimes.

Twitches and mutters, broad shoulders shrugging in on himself while he lies on his side. His long legs curl a bit more under the cotton sheets. The quilt has tangled down around his waist somewhere.

It’s another one of those dreams he won’t remember when he wakes. For now, it has no qualms about torturing him. Sweat beads above his brow. His stiff fingers clench and claw fruitlessly into the mattress. 

But the point is that he does wake up.

The room is pitch black. That hasn't changed since the mid-afternoon, thanks to the wintertime shift in Wyoming. It’s also fucking cold, freezing his toes, his hands, his nose. Joel sniffs, glances over his shoulder, finding the space behind him empty.

He’s alone.

Until he’s not. You pad back into the bedroom on bare feet, no matter how many times he’s reminded you to wear socks at night. You make sure to stoke the dimming fireplace back to life before you slip back into bed, covering both of you more securely with the quilt you knitted in greens, soft browns, and reds. The colors that remind you of him.

You let out a breathy hum while wrapping your arms around him from behind. You shuffle in closer, your knees bending behind his, and you press a kiss between his shoulders. He closes his hand around yours against his chest and hopes you can’t feel the pat-pat-pat racing of his heart.

“Where were you?” he asks.

“Mind your business,” you quip, smiling into his shirt. You feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric.

His lips pull at a smile too. “Jesus. What’re you planning now?”

“What’d I just say?” If possible, you snuggle deeper against him and sigh. “Sleep, baby. You’ll find out tomorrow.”

A few beats of silence tick on while Joel lays there and thinks (broods, actually), and you pretend not to hear his mind cogs turning.

“I told you I don’t want anything. Don’t need anything,” he grumbles.

You’re tempted to laugh.

“Too bad. It’s fucking Christmas, Joel.”

A few more halting seconds of contemplation, and then…

“What’d you get me?”

“You’ll find out, Mr. Grinch. Now go back to sleep.”

He huffs at the nickname. You bite your lip in amusement. You know he isn’t used to celebrating holidays, or even birthdays for that matter. Here in Jackson, it’s one of the more obvious, sentimental ways to reclaim a piece of the world you and Joel used to know.

Ellie’s not that much better, but even she’s working on something for him: a collection of cassettes of his favorite music.

Of course you’ve done your best to get him something special, but practical—a new(ish) rifle you traded from Seth. You also had Tommy engrave the hilt with two sets of initials: S.M. and E.W. You just finished staging it out on the coffee table.

“I might’ve, uh…got you something too,” Joel says.

 You blink in surprise. New warmth laces down your spine.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” His thumb brushes over the back of your hand. In fact, he brings it to his lips. You feel the familiar scratch of his salt and pepper beard against your skin.

“Hmm…” A softer smile retakes your face, and you shimmy up the bed to rest your chin on his shoulder. You curl your warming toes against his hairy calves. “What’d you do?”

“Nuh, uh. Tomorrow, right?” His voice is nearly a rumble with the remnants of sleep, even with that hint of teasing. He does like getting you back.

And when he does, he doesn’t fucking miss.

Joel’s a man of sparing words when it comes to the heart, but he often lets his actions do the talking for him. In the morning, he’ll do it for the woman who’s accepted him, despite who and what he thinks he is. He’ll do it for the woman who wasn’t afraid to give him hell while becoming his peace.

He’ll do it with a modest ring.

AN: Let me know if you want to see more Joel! I have ideas brewing for these two...

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Joel Miller Masterlist

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Joel Miller Tag List:

Aside from those who added themselves to the tag list, I'm just tagging some of my lovely friends who encouraged me to dive into TLOU! 💛

@risingwolf97 @superbouquetgarden @disappearintofanfiction @luci-in-trenchcoats @wayward-dreamer

@tofics @lamentationsofalonelypotato @rizlowwritessortof @roseblue373 @supernotnatural2005

[cvpidzcvrse]

ʜᴜsʙᴀɴᴅ!ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴs

MDNI, get away!!

✦A/N: this is just something small to post before I start working on a new fic. it’s between Gojo and Ony hopefully I’ll figure it out by tonight. but enjoy this one loves!!

⋆.ೃ࿔*･Headcanon: Nanami Kento.

⋆.ೃ࿔*･Warnings: oral, mdom, a little nsfw headcannons, and unprotected sex (wrap it up guys)

(some of the headcanons are directed at black women)

Husband!Kento proposed with a necklace instead of a ring because a ring is too easy to lose. He’s a meticulous gentleman, so he takes the necklace off whenever you take a shower and leaves a trail of soft kisses along your neck. 

Husband!Kento Refuses to let you wake up to the horrid and deafening ring of an alarm clock. Instead, he peppers your face with soft kisses and runs his large hands over your body softly.

“My love, It’s time to wake up.”

You groan slightly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and pulling the covers down to your waist. You come face-to-face with your husband’s loving eyes. He runs his hand along your hips and presses a sweet kiss on your lips. The Passionate act still lingers seconds after his lips leave yours. 

“Let’s have a good morning, beautiful…”

Husband!Kento loves it when you share your gossip with him. Samatha’s marriage is falling apart? He knows. Erika has a new girlfriend? He knows. He listens to every word leaving your plump lips and remembers just in case you quiz him about it later on. 

Husband!Kento adores the way your hips sway when you’re cooking or getting ready for bed. He’ll always watch you, whether he’s doing paperwork at his desk or simply just enjoying your presence. His eyes will always be on your body and you can feel his loving gaze every time. 

Husband!Kento did tons of research on how to take care of your hair. He knows how difficult it can be to take care of black hair so as the loving husband he is, he wants to help you in every way possible. Always asking if you need help taking down braids, helping you detangle your hair, and even helping you find out which hair product is better for your hair type. 

Husband!Kento loves your hair so much that he even gives it a soft tug when you’re doing a good job sucking his cock. His hand is always on your head, usually pushing you down further on his cock. 

Husband!Kento favorite position is cowgirl. He loves the way your love handles feel under his grip. He’s completely mesmerized by the way you throw your head back and the rhythmic movement of your tits. Seeing the way your engagement necklace hovers over his face completely sends him over the edge. 

Husband!Kento has a rewards card for a local lingerie store around your shared house. He has to buy lingerie often because he rips it off of you the moment he sees that lacey, bright-colored, bra and panty set sitting on your smooth skin. 

Husband!Kento is only rough if you ask him to or when you catch an attitude with him for no reason. He loves sex when it's slow and sensual. He likes the intensity of it. He also enjoys punishing you when your frustration is aimed at him for no reason. 

“Mmm…Ke-Ken! I-I’m…fuck…s-sorry” 

You’ve lost count of the amount of orgasms you’ve had. Your juices are soaking the sheets, your limbs are tied to the bed, and your stunning husband is sitting in a chair facing the bed watching you lose your mind.

“Apology not accepted.”

He turns the vibrator up another level. 

Husband!Kento loves fingering you while he’s on a business call. His calm and composed appearance completely contradicts your messy one. His stoic facial expression doesn’t convey any hint that he’s knuckles deep inside of his wife.

[klttn]

thinking about sleepy cuddles with human!alastor after he comes back from a kill. <3 imagining silky sheets sliding over your bodies, mouths roaming and fingers tracing. your eyes half lidded and pretty plush lips parted in ecstasy.

he’d slip in your shared room late at night, pitch black surroundings helping his sly endeavours as he did so, blood dripping down his chest and stained on his thighs, hair awry and heaving with adrenaline. “sweet girl, are you awake?” he’d whisper, breathy and low, a tone that would have your head dizzy and reeling if you were more awake.

a soft whine leaving your lips in response, eyes fluttering open to see your serial killer boyfriend kneeling at the side of the bed in front of you, his smile as charming and dreamy as ever. “what time is it?” you’d smile back at him before biting your lip and letting your gaze drool onto his body, “i love how you look when you get all messy.”

a raspy chuckle leaving alastors lips, checking his hand for any traces of leftover blood before stroking your hair, “late enough to know your pretty eyes should be closed,” he cooed before continuing, “he was a brute today, still no match for your darling husband though,” he placed a kiss to your forehead, “let me get washed up and you’ll have me all to yourself.” another kiss placed but this time on your lips, soft and gentle with a hint of dominance in the way he controlled it.

by the time he came back you were already letting out more soft snores, little puffs of air huffing from your lips as you cuddled into the duvet. if it wasn’t so out of character for him, he’d swear his pupils dilated to hearts when he looked at you. so domestic, peeling the covers back to slowly slide himself in and slot behind you, fully enveloping you. his slender frame omitting its electric heat all up the back of you, laughing as you subconsciously melted to him, backing yourself into his touch like you were made to crave it. “good girl, that’s it, come closer, let me hold you.”

his soft spoken and gentle voice slipping you into consciousness ever so slightly just to feel his presence, “took forever, made me wait too long to stay up.”

he wasn’t sure if you meant his earlier adventure or his cleanup. either way, he smiled, fanning his hot breath on your neck to whisper to you. “oh no, how dare i keep my pretty girl waiting.” his touch was feather light as he traced along your sides, his lips parting to kiss the waiting flesh of your neck, peppering them all over your back and shoulders, working his way to your jaw. claiming his way there. “if only there was a way to show her how much i crave her, how much i desire her affection.”

your head was now spinning, succumbing to every touch and whisper alastor would allow you, backing into him further, letting his mind shut off and waste the excess adrenaline on you and your body. the feel of his hands becoming firmer as he pulled you closer by your hips, impossibly closer, sliding his finger tips all the way up to close around your jaw, his mouth finally taking a break just to force you to face him. wide doe like eyes looking up at him like he hung the stars, as innocent as ever, your lips bitten and swollen and so kissable.

so alastor did just that. parting your mouth, claiming your kiss and relishing in your taste. the hand on your jaw guiding and leading you into it, sliding into your hair to lace into the silky locks there, kneading and playing with the strands. “so pliant,” he groaned, leaning further into the kiss with his tongue now begging for entrance. you couldn’t help but whine and respond in the only way you knew how, pulling him closer, fisting the soft fabric of his shirt, giving him everything he needed, letting him take from you and use you as desperately as he craved. turning your thoughts off and losing yourself in his touch, only to think of him.

and he did this until his energy faded, he did it for so long, he wasn’t even sure both of you were fully awake by the end of it. he did it until his arms found their resting place laced around you in a deathly grip, until you were both letting out soft pants and stopped the desperate trying need to feel eachother closer. and he would do it again. every night.

[enticingmelanin]

Work Husband: An Aaron Pierre Fic

Work Husband || Aaron Pierre x Precious Lee

Starring Aaron Pierre and Precious Lee as themselves and how I imagine them to be.

Rating: E for Erotic.

Word Count: 11k+

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, and Explicit Language. 18+ Only.

Summary: Precious Lee is taking the fashion world by storm. From Harper’s Bazaar to Vogue, she’s captivated the industry with her striking beauty, undeniable presence, and curves that command the camera. With Oscar season around the corner—and fashion front and center—she’s one of the most sought-after supermodels of the moment. When Vanity Fair offers her a prime opportunity, it comes with an unexpected twist: a collaboration with Hollywood’s new leading man, Aaron Pierre. It’s supposed to be all glamour, work, and fun… but as sparks fly and fans speculate, it might turn into something much more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moonlight slipped through the curtains, casting soft light over a blend of hard muscle and plush curves. Precious’ almond-shaped eyes fluttered open at the subtle shift beside her. Slowly, she turned over and observed the culprit.

His head rested against a fluffy pillow, one arm draped possessively around her waist. Long lashes fanned across his cheeks, casting delicate shadows. His lips — full, slightly pouty, extremely kissable, bordered by neat facial hair — were parted in peaceful sleep.

She let her gaze trace each line and angle of his face, memorizing him. He looked innocent like this, but hours earlier, he had been anything but. Every skillful, explicit thing he’d done to her — and her to him — played in her mind like a reel she never wanted to end.

She hadn’t seen this coming. The flirting, sure. Her crush had definitely started to bloom. But a business venture that began six months ago? She never expected it to unravel into something like this…

Six months earlier...

"Home sweet home," Precious huffed as she collapsed onto her bed. She had been away slaying runways and taking names. Mugler was her last gig in New York before finally flying back home to LA to enjoy her break. The only thing she had lined up was a simple meeting in an hour—but that was easy, especially in the comfort of her own space.

Her bedroom was its own little sanctuary, cloaked in deep coffee-colored walls and wrapped in warmth. Crisp white bedding lay over a comfy mattress, layered with plush, cocoa-toned throws and velvet pillows in soft mocha. Abstract art and wood accents adorned the space, and a vintage chandelier cast a golden glow that softened the room's elegance. Her apartment was a celebration of brown shades, reflecting the love of her blackness.

To knock out a bit of jet lag before her meeting, she brewed a hot mug of Earl Grey. After a few sips, she slipped into a quick, refreshing shower and changed into a comfortable brown slip maxi dress. Her feet were in heaven as they slid into her favorite tan fur slippers.

She made her way into her home office, a zen-like space with dark olive walls, bonsai plants, and light wood furnishings. A positive affirmation hung behind her minimalist desk, and a soft pendant globe light hovered above like a personal moon. Everything was curated, calm, and intentional—her perfect bubble.

As she powered up her iMac, her phone buzzed. A text notification popped up from her manager, Luiz.

Luiz 💰: I have a surprise for yooou.

Her eyebrow arched.

Precious: And what could that be I wonder... Luiz: Here's a hint. 🦁 Precious: I'm lost, sir. lol Luiz: Ha! Log on, we're starting soon. You'll see then.

She shook her head at his sneakiness and joined the Vanity Fair meeting marked on her calendar for 3 p.m.

"Hey, superstar!" Luiz greeted her happily. His salt-and-pepper hair and warm expression gleamed through the screen.

"Hey, sunshine," she replied with a smile, her voice soft and sweet.

A few more faces joined the call, then the last screen loaded and completely threw her off balance.

Aaron Pierre.

His handsome face sat beautifully in a square on her screen. Golden complexion. Strong jawline. Full lips with a thoughtful curl. Thick brows arched above his intense eyes. He wore a gray button-down shirt, the fabric resting over his broad frame with two buttons casually undone. His presence was magnetic and quietly intense.

"Welcome, everyone! My name is April Watson, I'm a rep for Vanity Fair. Precious, it's lovely to see you again. Aaron, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," she greeted, confirming Precious wasn’t hallucinating.

They exchanged pleasantries, but the deep richness of Aaron’s voice had her slightly entranced.

"Let’s get to the meat and potatoes. On behalf of Vanity Fair and Yves Saint Laurent, we would love to have you both as brand ambassadors for the new fashion season. This includes being featured in VF content and guests to our annual Oscar party," April announced, glancing at both of them.

Precious smiled as Aaron nodded in acknowledgment.

"So what does this all entail?" she asked.

April read off the details: "You'll have a photoshoot for the launch of YSL's new fragrances. You'll both be honorary guests at their show during Paris Fashion Week. YSL will also be making custom pieces for each of you to wear to our Oscar Party. And finally, you’ll be featured on our YouTube and socials for a 'Get Unready With Me' video after the fashion show. Sound good?"

"Sounds good. I'm only concerned about the YouTube video because I don’t do much for my skin. There’s not much to see on my end," Aaron said.

"No worries. There’s nothing you're obligated to use, so you both can do what you want and give commentary as you see fit," April assured him.

"I’m fine with taking the lead on that since I have a whole skincare routine. You can chime in whenever, Aaron. I’ll let them judge me, they’ll be seated to see you anyway," Precious joked, her bubbly personality shinning through and Aaron softly chuckled.

“Nah. I’m sure they’ll be hanging off your every word to achieve your beauty. I’ll just observe the master at work” he replied with a kind smile.

Precious’ high cheekbones lifted as she returned his warmth.

"See? This is the dream team already," April grinned.

The rest of the meeting was filled with discussions—travel accommodations, dates, times, brainstormed looks for the Paris show and the Oscar party. They traded preferences to help coordinate their aesthetics.

Privately, their offers were sent and signed, both teams agreeing to the terms. After about an hour and a half, they wrapped up and said their goodbyes.

Moments later, Luiz texted her.

Luiz: lmao You should’ve seen your face. Precious: Hush! 😂 Was I lookin crazy? Luiz: No, I just know you even when you don’t say it. lol Precious: This is super exciting. Thanks for always looking out for me. 💕 Luiz: Always, superstar! 🤩

Later, nestled into her caramel-brown couch with Netflix queued up and Uber Eats in hand, she found her thoughts drifting. She didn’t know Aaron personally, but she was already a fan of his work. She’d even caught a few of his interviews. He seemed reserved but playful, a little mysterious, not one to be caught in the mix unless it was for the work.

Just like her.

She hoped this opportunity would feel more like fun than business — for both of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3 months earlier...

Some time had passed since the Vanity Fair meeting. Precious had enjoyed her break at home and even took a two-week vacation in St. Barts. She worked hard, so it was only right that she played harder. She got plenty of pics in the sun with family and friends out there. It was one thing to pose in front of a camera for work, but there was nothing like living in the moment and capturing a special memory with loved ones. She ate well, drank well, enjoyed excursions, and was the closest thing to a mermaid while enjoying the Caribbean Ocean.

The sun had done her skin well, leaving her sun-kissed and glowing—perfect timing for the fragrance photoshoot with Yves Saint Laurent.

The shoot was set at an upscale home in Napa Valley. The front of the estate was a vision of elegance and wealth—clean white walls, tall columns, and black-trimmed windows framed by lush greenery and perfectly manicured landscaping. Out back, it was even more breathtaking—a grand courtyard wrapped in arched stone hallways, topiary gardens, and a serene pool at the center with a fountain behind it that whispered luxury.

Final touches to her hair and makeup were done, leaving her with a soft, radiant beat. Her hair, a glossy jet black, fell down her back, with softly bumped bangs resting over her brows. She was bathed in YSL Libre Flowers & Flames perfume. Creamy coco-palm tree, lilies, orange blossom, and vanilla hovered in the air. Luiz escorted her to the backyard where they’d be shooting first. The lush greenery out back was even more stunning than she imagined.

As they neared the YSL team and photographer, she spotted the back of Aaron, speaking to his publicist Ashton—who she recognized from the meeting. Luiz greeted everyone, drawing their attention, and Precious followed suit. Aaron turned as she stepped beside him, ready to greet him.

A smile spread across his lips as he leaned in for a hug. Pleasantly surprised, she met him halfway, returning his gentle embrace. He was tall, broad, and commanding, but his energy was soft—like a gentle giant. The scent of YSL’s L’Homme lingered from his skin and clothing—notes of cardamom, basil, and cedarwood.

“It’s an honor to finally meet you in person, truly,” he greeted, his deep, London-accented voice vibrating in her ear.

“Are you kidding? I’m honored to meet you,” Precious replied as they pulled away. They introduced their managers, and then the photographer, Tyler Mitchell, was ready to begin.

“Precious, we’re going to shoot you in front of this pillar. We want to keep the perfume as a focal point, so keep it near to your body, but do what comes naturally. This is your world, we’re just living in it,” Tyler instructed with a snicker.

A giggle escaped her lips as she took her place against the pillar. Then it was lights, camera, action. Precious moved with ease, commanding the camera from every angle. Her black mock neck maxi dress flowed with each pose, hugging every curve. Luiz and Tyler hyped her up, boosting her confidence. All lights, lenses, and eyes were on her. One pair of greenish-gray eyes, in particular, carried a quiet intensity she could feel.

Aaron was intrigued as he watched her work in real time, a master of her craft. He wasn’t always tuned into the who’s who and what’s what, but he had taken the time to do his research. What he saw in person exceeded everything he’d read. Photos didn't do her beauty justice. She was captivating—and he hoped to learn from her as he ventured further into fashion and modeling.

After many takes and Precious selecting her favorites, it was Aaron’s turn. They moved from the yard to the living room. He was instructed to sit on the step that led down into the space. The glossy wood floors contrasted perfectly with his tan ribbed pants and knitted black cardigan, which was unbuttoned just enough to reveal a glimpse of his sculpted torso. The fabric hugged his toned frame just right. His sleeves were pushed up, revealing a sleeve tattoo on his left arm that caught Precious’ attention.

Her thick bottom lip found its way under her teeth as she watched him.

He’s a natural. Gorgeous, she thought.

A snicker beside her made her turn toward Luiz.

“What?” she whispered.

“You could replenish a pool the way you’re drooling over him,” he whispered back, poking her side.

Her eyes squinted in a playful scowl. “Hardy har har. Shut it, Lue.”

He chuckled and put his hands up in surrender.

Precious made a conscious effort to keep her expression neutral as she continued watching Aaron. He was magnetic, effortlessly shifting his facial expressions to evoke different moods. She couldn’t fathom how anyone could focus on the cologne bottle perched on his lap when he was clearly the star of the shot.

Once Tyler was satisfied with Aaron’s solo takes, and they’d picked out the best, it was time to shoot them together. Precious felt a flutter of nerves, but she drowned them out with Megan Thee Stallion’s Right Now playing in her mind.

“So tea, I’m a walkin’ exclusive (hmm)

Bitches only get mad when the shoe fit

I’m the model you bitches is built like

How the fuck you want beef with the blueprint?”

“How’d I do?” Aaron asked as they came together in front of the open double doors showcasing the vibrant backyard.

“No critique needed. You’re a natural,” she replied, meeting his gaze.

He smiled, pleased. “Well, I’m learning from one of the best. Just following your lead.”

“Glad to be of service,” she said, glancing over to Tyler to keep from blushing too hard.

“All right, guys. We’re going for something romantic but cozy here. No pressure. Just do what feels natural. I’ll direct you as needed,” Tyler said. They nodded.

Aaron looked to Precious. “Like I said, I’m following your lead. I trust you know how to move and what’ll work best. Just move me as you see fit.”

Precious tilted her head, a lopsided grin forming on her lips. “I’m flattered, truly. Just let me know if anything’s uncomfortable for you. This shoot is just as much yours as it is mine.”

Aaron nodded in agreement.

They moved together seamlessly, shifting naturally from pose to pose like a routine only they knew. At one point, Precious slipped behind Aaron, wrapping her arms gently around his torso, her cheek resting tenderly against his back. Her eyes fluttered shut, a soft serenity washing over her face, while Aaron leaned his head back, his expression calm.

From there, they pivoted slowly. Aaron turned to face her, and Precious rested her hands on his chest, her gaze lifted to meet his with a softness that felt almost sacred. He gently cupped her jaw, foreheads nearly touching, as if they were suspended in a moment outside of time.

As the camera clicked, Precious moved gracefully, lifting herself to perch atop the back of the plush brown couch in the room. Her long leg crossed effortlessly over Aaron’s shoulder after he sat, left hand brushing through her hair, the other balancing her pose with ease. Aaron leaned back into the seat, his arm draped casually over her thigh. His face was fierce, while hers was softly seductive. Their chemistry was effortless, magnetic—their bodies angled in perfect symmetry, embodying power, sensuality, and poise. The photographer didn't need to say a word; they owned the frame.

"That's the money shot right there! That's a wrap, everybody. Great job!" Tyler announced with excitement.

They shared a high five, both relieved and happy to have successfully completed the shoot. Everything had gone smoothly, a welcomed relief for them both.

After reviewing their photos together, they each headed to their designated rooms in the house to change back into the outfits they’d arrived in. As Precious slipped into her navy blue bodysuit and pulled a gray hoodie over it, her mind lingered on the images of them. It was hard to ignore how well they looked together. She shook her head, brushing the thought away, and grabbed her belongings. After saying goodbye to the makeup artist, hairstylist, and YSL team, she joined Luiz in the driveway near their car.

"All set?" he asked.

"Yup," she replied, her eyes subtly scanning for a glimpse of Aaron.

“Lover boy's right there,” Luiz teased, gesturing toward the doorway with a tilt of his chin.

Precious sucked her teeth and stuck her tongue out at him, then made her way to Aaron as he stepped out of the house.

Aaron’s eyes sparkled, a smile already forming on his lips as she approached. “Thought you made a great escape without saying bye,” he joked.

She gasped in mock offense, placing a hand to her chest with the faintest smile playing on her lips. “I would never. I was just looking for you.”

Aaron chuckled and pulled her into a hug. Precious relished the warmth of his embrace and the feel of his toned frame as she gently rubbed his back.

“Get home safe,” she said as they pulled apart.

“You too. See you in Paris.”

“See ya then. Bye, Ashton!” she called out, waving to Ashton as the brunette made her way out of the house.

Ashton waved back with a friendly smile as she joined Aaron on their walk to the car.

As the black SUV rolled past and made its way down the driveway, Aaron was already looking forward to the next time he'd see the curvy beauty again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1 month earlier...

"Aaron Pierre and Precious Lee Stun In YSL Campaign"

— Vanity Fair

"Precious Lee and Aaron Pierre Get Cozy In New YSL Libre Ads"

— People

"The Lion King and the Supermodel: Aaron Pierre and Precious Lee Give Black Love for Saint Laurent"

— Essence

A new article or post seemed to pop up every hour, sending a flood of notifications to Precious’ phone. Yves Saint Laurent had officially launched the new fragrance campaign, and all eyes were on the photos of her and Aaron. The campaign was being received well—better than she expected. Sure, there were a few haters in the comments, but the majority of the feedback, from both supporters and curious onlookers, was overwhelmingly positive.

On the way to the airport, Precious logged out of Instagram and disengaged from the madness—good madness, but madness nonetheless. She was never one to get caught up in the chaos of social media. She indulged in content quietly through her finsta, keeping up with topics that mattered to her: spirituality, fashion, film, makeup. She let the world see what she wanted them to see and kept the rest for herself.

Through the tinted window, she observed the sleek planes lined up on the tarmac of the private airport. YSL had a jet ready for her and Aaron’s teams to fly to Paris. She felt the familiar flutter of pre-travel anxiety, but it was laced with excitement. Not just for Paris—the city always felt like a dream—but also for the possibility of getting to know Aaron better. He was still a bit of a mystery. Then again, so was she. She just hoped he was handling the surge of attention from their collaboration well, especially after going viral during his Mufasa: The Lion King press tour.

The black Suburban rolled to a slow stop beside a pristine white jet, a red carpet unfurled on the steps to greet them. Her chauffeur opened the door and helped her out. She offered a soft "thank you" as she slung her large black Chanel Deauville bag over her shoulder. Then she reached back into the SUV for an Erewhon drink tray—her favorite iced matcha latte in one hand, a chai latte in the other, hoping Aaron would like it.

Luiz and her publicist Monica flanked her as their luggage was loaded. Inside the jet, warm greetings passed between teams already settling in.

"Aaron’s in the back if you want to join him," Ashton said, gesturing toward the private lounge area.

Precious made her way through the plane to find Aaron already relaxing in the cozy nook. His face lit up when he saw her.

“The star is here,” he teased, standing to greet her.

She giggled, setting her things down on the plush beige seat across from him. “Oh, please. You’re a star in your own right, Mr. Lion King.”

They embraced, his hug just as warm and grounding as before.

“’Preciate it,” he said as they both settled in.

“Brought you this,” she said, sliding the chai over to him. “Didn’t feel right showing up empty-handed. Hope it’s still hot.”

Aaron looked pleasantly surprised. He took a sip and let the flavors settle on his tongue. “It’s delicious. Thank you, that was really thoughtful.”

“Anytime. How’ve you been? I know it’s probably been a whirlwind.”

He hummed in thought. “I’ve been good, yeah. Things have definitely been crazy, but in the best way. I’m immensely grateful. What about you?”

“Same. Keeping busy.”

“I heard you were just on the cover of Vogue. Congrats.”

Her heart warmed. “Aw, thank you! And congrats to you. You’ve been killing it. I saw the film, it was beautiful. You all did a wonderful job.”

“Thank you.” He smiled. “So what’s next for you once we wrap our... work marriage?”

Precious grinned. “Thankfully I have time for a break after this. I love the work, but the traveling, socializing, time zones... it catches up. I’m all about balance.”

Aaron nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I get it. I’m heading back to London for some downtime before filming Lanterns. Then I need a proper vacation somewhere quiet.”

Conversation flowed easily as the plane rose into the clouds. They touched on everything—favorite foods, art, how they got started, dream travel spots. It felt natural, like reconnecting with someone you already knew.

“Funny enough,” Aaron said, “when I was a teen, I wanted to be a criminologist.”

Precious tilted her head thoughtfully. “I can see that. It fits.”

His brow lifted in intrigue. “You think so?”

“Yeah... I mean, I know we haven’t known each other long, but from what I have seen, you strike me as incredibly observant. As an actor, I imagine you have to tune into the smallest details, really step into someone else’s world. That kind of empathy, that depth, it’s the same thing someone in criminology would need,” she said thoughtfully, taking the last sip of her matcha.

Aaron blinked, clearly impressed by how much she’d picked up in such little time. “Seems like you’re just as observant.”

She chuckled. “It’s the Virgo in me. I swear I was a detective in a past life. I love a good true crime series, but I’m way too sensitive to actually do that job.”

He smiled, enjoying the layers of her he was slowly uncovering.

Precious stretched with a soft yawn. “Whew, excuse me. I’ve been trying to prep my body for the time difference, so I should get some rest while I can. You should, too.”

He smirked. “I will. Enjoy your nap.”

She winked at him as she slipped on her AirPod Max, rain sounds playing softly to help lull her to sleep with noise cancellation on. After turning off the light above her, she curled into the plush couch in a fetal position and quickly drifted off.

Aaron watched her for a moment. She looked peaceful. There was something grounding about her presence. As much as he’d been in the spotlight lately, it was nice to be beside someone who brought a sense of ease—made him feel a sense of belonging.

Eventually, his own eyes grew heavy. He quietly grabbed a blanket for her, draping it gently over her before grabbing one for himself. He turned off the rest of the lights and leaned back in his seat, finally letting sleep take him, too.

The flight passed quickly. After more than ten hours, they landed in Paris and checked into Château des Fleurs. A quick bite, and then the whirlwind began—fittings, prep, and everything leading up to the big night.

Precious showered and began her skincare and body routine before settling into the chair, letting her glam team work their magic.

Her long kinky-straight ponytail sat high and proud like a crown, with sleek braided sides adorned in shimmering silver beads that trailed into the ponytail. Her skin glowed golden under the lights. Sharp winged liner gave her eyes a fierce elegance, and her deep berry lips looked soft and inviting.

She slipped into the look YSL selected just for her—a silver-and-white dress that hugged her curves like a second skin. The fabric shimmered under the lights, its plunging neckline teasing just enough of her breasts, while delicate chains draped the shoulders and hem. Her towering white Saint Laurent Jodie heels increased her height, making her even more of a stallion.

Her accessories sealed the look: a dazzling, thick silver choker wrapped around her neck, catching light from every angle. Diamond stud earrings twinkled at her ears. Her nails—long white stilettos, intricately decorated—complimented the outfit perfectly, adding an extra layer of bold luxury.

She didn’t just look beautiful. She looked powerful. Undeniable.

“Oh, you are about to turn heads!” Luiz beamed as Precious stepped into the suite’s living room. Her team echoed the sentiment as she gave them a playful 360.

Downstairs, the lobby buzzed with Fashion Week chaos. As they neared the entrance, her eyes locked on Aaron, He was mesmerizing in a silky rose-gold top that lit up his eyes, perfectly tailored black slacks, patent leather shoes, and a long white coat trimmed with appliqués that matched those on her dress. A silver watch gleamed on his wrist.

Damn…

She cleared her throat, smiling as she closed the distance. Aaron’s eyes swept over her slowly.

“You… look amazing. You sure you're not walking the runway?” he said with a smirk.

“If I am, they better run me my coin,” she laughed. “You look dashing yourself. I should be asking you the same thing.”

“Thanks. Just following in your footsteps.”

“Ready for the blinding lights?” Ashton asked.

“Born ready. Let’s do this,” Precious replied.

The hotel doors opened to a wall of flashing cameras. Aaron took her hand, guiding her gracefully down the steps. They posed for photographers—his hand on her waist, hers resting gently on his back—while fans and media called out their names. After waving and Precious blowing kisses, they were swept into a black Sprinter headed to the show.

At the foot of the Eiffel Tower, the lights of the iconic structure shimmered beneath the night sky. Cameras captured every step of their entrance, the chemistry between them impossible to ignore. They were seated beside Idris and Sabrina Elba, with Austin Butler on Precious' other side. Warm greetings and group photos followed before the show began.

Aaron couldn’t help watching Precious as she watched the models. Her expressions, the way her eyes lit up—it was clear she was in her element. Fashion was her joy.

The collection blended sensual minimalism with bold shapes and color. Models floated down the runway in sheer, body-hugging fabrics, sharp-shouldered blazers, and rich tones. The atmosphere was electric, elegant, intimate, and unmistakably Saint Laurent.

Later, after a late dinner, Vanity Fair set up in Precious’ suite for their 'Get Unready With Me' segment. Precious, fresh from another shower, wore a blush silk cami and pants set, wrapped in a fluffy white robe. Her hair was now in a neat bun on top of her head. She arranged her skincare neatly on the marble double sink.

Aaron joined her, now in a white tank and gray sweats, his muscular build hard to ignore. Precious tried not to stare—unsuccessfully.

"You got me beat," he teased, eyeing her products.

"You’ll be fine. The girlies will be too distracted to count your bottles.”

“Will they be distracted… or will you?” he said with a sly look.

Her breath hitched, his boldness catching her off guard. She licked her lips as she glanced down evading his stare. Instantly she knew he caught her eyes lingering on him.

Aaron smirked. “Didn’t mean to tempt you. Should’ve picked a different top.”

Her lips quirked at the corners, matching his boldness without missing a beat. "Sir, you're not tempting me, I just have eyes. And let’s not forget, you were the one staring earlier."

He arched a brow, meeting her gaze. “Touché.”

A VF rep cued the cameras and they began their assignment.

“Hey, Vanity Fair. I’m Aaron Pierre,” Precious began, playful.

“I’m Precious Lee,” he added with a chuckle.

“And we’re getting unready after the YSL show for Paris Fashion Week,” she finished with a grin.

Aaron started with his PanOxyl soap bar while Precious massaged in her Tatcha cleansing balm. They would show each item and explain what they were used for.

“This part’s always bittersweet 'cause this look was so pretty, but I swear by this stuff. Not a speck of makeup will be left on your face,” she said to the camera.

“Mind you, she’s already pretty without it,” Aaron added, drying his face with a towel.

"Stop, before you get me dragged in the comments," Precious joked as she moved on to her Youth To The People cleanser.

"Aye, behave out there," Aaron added, playfully pointing at the camera while applying his moisturizer.

"Done," he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched her continue through her routine.

She sucked her teeth in mock annoyance. "Men... they have it so easy."

He chuckled. "Acne put me through hell as a teen. I earned this."

"Hmm... fair enough."

They traded commentary on the show and teased a few upcoming projects as Precious glided through the rest of her routine—Paula’s Choice toner, The Ordinary soothing serum, Estée Lauder Night Repair, and Tatcha’s Dewy Cream to seal it all in.

"Voilà! That’s how I treat my skin after big events," she said with a flourish.

Aaron nodded. "I’m actually impressed, but that looked like a lot."

"At this point, I’m used to it. I love skincare. It’s self-love for me."

"Maybe you can teach me how to be a pro at it," he said with a smile.

"You need nothing," she replied, reaching up to cup his chin. "Do you see his skin? It’s perfect. On and off screen this man has no pores."

Aaron laughed at her theatrics, and she joined in.

"This was actually fun," he said.

"It was! I mean, it’s not every day I get to do skincare with a DC superhero."

"Might have to steal the suit and run this back with you," he teased with a sly grin.

"Welp, looks like you have to invite us back, Vanity Fair. Until next time—goodnight, loves! Say goodnight, Aaron."

"Goodnight, Aaron," he quipped, making her laugh into his shoulder.

Aaron called out to the living room that they were done, and the rep came in to stop the recording. They were told bottles of champagne were waiting on their balconies and decided to celebrate.

Precious stepped out and sighed, taking in the twinkling view of the Eiffel Tower. "I love it here. The view's always so beautiful."

Aaron’s eyes locked on her. "Yeah... it is."

She caught his burning stare and gave a shy smile. He popped the bottle of Dom Pérignon and poured their glasses.

"To a successful night, an eventful week, and continued success for us both," he said, raising his glass.

"Wait, I gotta get a picture of this," Precious exclaimed, lifting her phone to snap their joined flutes.

She posted it to her IG Story, then turned the screen to show him.

He smiled and reshared the post to his story after following her back.

"Ooh, I get a follow now?" she teased, brow raised.

"Of course. You seem like a safe bet."

"Well, cheers to that," she replied, clinking her glass with his before taking a sip.

They enjoyed a few quiet moments, sipping slowly, the soft sounds of the city rising up around them, lights flickering from buildings in the distance.

"Is it crazy that I don’t want the night to end?" Aaron asked suddenly, his voice low, thoughtful.

Precious turned toward him with a soft grin. "Honestly? No. I feel the same. This is... nice. Getting to know you beyond the surface. I can’t really imagine doing all this with anyone else at this point."

That signature smirk curved his lips. "Same here. Neither can I," he said gently, his British accent making the words feel even more intimate. He glanced at the time on his phone and sighed. "As much as I don’t want to go to bed, I should. And you should too, we’ve got more in store tomorrow."

Precious nodded, and they brought the champagne inside, locking the balcony doors behind them. They walked together toward the suite’s entrance, quiet but comfortable. Before parting, Aaron turned and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

"Goodnight," he murmured, his breath warm as it tickled her skin.

"Goodnight, Aaron," she whispered back.

As the door clicked shut behind him, she leaned against it with a sigh, her heart thudding quietly in her chest.

There was no denying it now. The line between business and something more had begun to blur...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

11 hours earlier...

"Aaron Pierre and Precious Lee Take Over Paris"

— Vogue

"Get Unready With Precious Lee and Aaron Pierre After YSL Show in Paris"

— Vanity Fair: YouTube

"Explore the Stunning Looks of Aaron Pierre and Precious Lee During Paris Fashion Week"

— W Magazine

"From Runway to Romance? Aaron Pierre and Precious Lee Heat Up Paris"

— Essence

Fashion Week had been a hit. The media was enamored, and engagement had skyrocketed. Everyone understood they were a package deal for YSL’s campaign, but even the most skeptical couldn't ignore the spark between them—smoldering gazes, subtle flirting, lingering touches. Across blogs and social media, speculation ran wild. Where did the brand end and the chemistry begin?

Precious and Aaron remained unbothered, moving through the following weeks with ease. They kept working, kept flowing, just being themselves. The headlines were tame enough that neither team felt the need to step in. This came with the territory—and truthfully, neither of them could, or wanted to, deny that something was bubbling beneath the surface.

They'd exchanged numbers back in Paris. When they weren’t appearing at events together, they were texting or FaceTiming—talking about everything and nothing at all. That energy carried right into Oscar night as they prepared for the annual Vanity Fair party. She was now back in LA staying at the Four Seasons.

While Precious had her makeup done by none other than Danessa Myricks, she tapped away on her phone.

Aaron: Kel’s comin with Sophia. We’ll link with them inside. Precious: Yay! Can’t wait to meet them. I’ve only met Sophia in passing, but she’s sweet. Aaron: They’re both excited to see u Precious: What have u been saying about me? 👀 Aaron: Wouldn’t u like to know 😏 Precious: Aaron… Aaron: I love when u say my name.

Precious giggled and pressed her lips together, trying not to smile too wide as Danessa worked.

“Girl, you’re not gonna need blush with the way you keep cheesin’,” Danessa teased as she dusted bronzer onto her cheekbones.

“Sorry, Nessa. I’ll be still,” Precious replied, still grinning.

Precious: Are u bein fresh with me Mr. Pierre? Aaron: Oh…I might like Mr. Pierre more. Precious: Behave so I don’t mess up my makeup Aaron: I make no promises. Can’t wait to see u. Precious: The feeling’s mutual 🫦 Aaron: Be careful with that lip. Precious: Or what? Aaron: Keep playin and you’ll find out. Precious: That a promise? Aaron: You’ll see.

His reply made her stomach flutter. She took a breath and tried to refocus, snapping photos and videos of her hair and makeup session.

“All set, my love,” Danessa announced, finishing the final coat of mascara.

Precious’ makeup was striking—her lids dusted in copper-gold glitter that caught the light with every blink. Her skin glowed with a dewy radiance, accentuating her cheekbones and rich complexion. Glossy nude-brown lips added the perfect touch of sensuality, while wisps of wavy hair framed her face. The rest was slicked back into a romantic bun adorned with scattered pearl clips.

"You're my fairy godmother. Thank you so much," she said, rising to hug Danessa.

"Anytime, love. This face is the perfect canvas," Danessa replied, returning the embrace.

Precious thanked her hairstylist, then headed to the bedroom to change into her custom gown with the help of her stylist.

The gown hugged her curves in a mermaid silhouette that flared dramatically at the bottom. Shimmering gold fabric kissed the light with each step. The off-the-shoulder neckline accentuating her ample bosom and shoulders, while minimal gold rings and nude stiletto nails completed the look with timeless elegance.

Once her Saint Laurent Babylone heels were strapped on, she did a slow spin in the mirror before stepping back into the living room. The team fawned over her as Danessa applied one last touch—her Dew Wet Hydrating Balm in Hot Water—to make Precious' melanin gleam like liquid gold.

“Great job, everyone. Let’s get this princess to the ball!” Luiz cheered, escorting her down to the lobby, the click of her heels providing the perfect soundtrack.

In the Sprinter, her thoughts drifted to Aaron. She hadn’t seen his look yet, but she knew he’d deliver. Part of her wished they’d arrived together—but they were keeping things balanced. Whatever this was between them, they owned the narrative. Everyone else was just along for the ride.

The van pulled up to the venue, the red carpet alive with media and celebrities. Luiz and her publicist guided her through the chaos. Up ahead, she spotted Aaron’s team and the tall silhouette she could recognize anywhere.

"You’ll be on the first circle after Aaron moves to the second. We’ll meet you at the end," Luiz briefed her.

Aaron’s team cleared, and there he was.

He stood on a gold circle with the Vanity Fair logo, giving pure class and sex appeal in a sleek, long-sleeved black wrap top and matching tailored pants—like a high-fashion martial arts uniform. A gold watch peeked from his sleeve, and a mix of gold and silver YSL brooches adorned his collar.

“Loverboy looks good, but I need you to snap out of it and pose, babe,” Luiz whispered, pulling her out of her daze.

She chuckled and shook her head, stepping onto the now vacant gold circle—Aaron now posing on the second. Instantly, the cameras snapped.

“Precious, over here!”

“Beautiful!”

“Give us that smile!”

She flowed through poses with ease, soaking in the attention—but it was his gaze burning into her side that made her glow.

Aaron had fallen into a quiet trance watching her, photographers calling his name as background noise. When their eyes finally locked, she couldn’t stop the radiant smile that lit up her face. He stepped toward her, and she met him halfway—arms looping around his neck, his hands settling at her waist in an intimate embrace.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he murmured, eyes tracing her features.

“Thank you. You look suave as always. I love how you tied in your love for jiu-jitsu,” she replied.

“Ever observant,” he said with a smirk, guiding her by the waist to pose beside him.

Flashes erupted as they moved seamlessly together—media outlets sinking their teeth into this juicy moment. Their chemistry radiating as they moved from spot to spot.

“You’re keeping us on our toes,” Ashton teased as they reached the end of the carpet.

“We’re the dream team, remember?” Aaron replied.

“That you are,” Luiz added, leading them into the after-party.

Music pulsed through the space. After greeting a few familiar faces—and ignoring a few not-so-welcoming ones—they spotted Kelvin and Sophia at a tall table, drinks in hand.

Kelvin was dashing in a navy blue suit with a black silk collar, perfectly tailored and effortlessly cool. Sophia, radiant as ever, wore a black silk halter dress that skimmed the floor, her bombshell curls cascading down her back like waves. The two of them a complimented each other perfectly.

"Well, dang," Sophia said with a grin, eyeing Precious from head to toe. "YSL did not come to play."

"Neither did you two," Precious said, pulling Sophia into a warm hug. "It's so good to see you."

"Same here," Sophia replied.

Aaron and Kelvin dapped each other up, pulling into a side-hug.

“You clean up alright,” Aaron joked.

Kelvin smirked. “I learned from the best.”

They all shared a laugh before Aaron got a glass of champagne for Precious and whiskey on the rocks for himself.

As he returned, he handed her the glass with a wink. "For the woman who stole the carpet."

They tapped glasses and were soon pulled into a round of group photos by a Vanity Fair photographer. The four of them posed together like a tight-knit crew. The energy between Aaron and Precious didn’t go unnoticed. In shot after shot, they looked effortlessly in sync. His hand resting gently at her waist, her leaning into his side, their eyes occasionally locked or laughing at some inside joke. They weren’t trying to play up the attraction—it was just there, natural and magnetic.

After the impromptu shoot, they moved through the party, mingling with other Black A-listers. Daniel Kaluuya came over with a warm hug for Aaron and a compliment for Precious' gown. Quinta Brunson shared a few jokes, capturing selfies with the group. Kelly Rowland snuck in a reel with Precious for Instagram, calling them the moment.

At one point, Danielle Brooks handed Precious her phone for a quick story video, and they all posed with glasses raised, giving the camera one smooth "cheers" and flawless smiles.

But not all attention was warm. A particular group nearby—styling the same forced smiles and barely concealed stares—gave competitive energy. Precious caught one of them whispering behind a lifted champagne flute, eyes fixed on her.

Aaron leaned in, voice low and sure in her ear. “Ignore that noise,” he said, brushing his hand down her back. “Let them talk. I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else but you.”

Precious glanced up at him, warmth spreading across her chest despite the chill in the air. She gave him a nod with a smile and clinked her glass against his again. Let them talk—she was exactly where she was meant to be.

As the night carried on with music thumping, lights flashing, and laughter echoing through the venue, Kelvin leaned in toward the group with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Aight,” he said, eyeing the four of them, “this is cute and all, but I vote we make a graceful escape and turn this into a chill night back at the hotel. Room service, drinks, and a good movie. You know…us.”

Sophia’s face lit up. “God, yes. My feet are killing me, and I’m starving.”

Aaron turned to Precious with a raised brow. “You in?”

She gave a soft smile. “Was already thinking about those fluffy hotel robes and truffle fries.”

That settled it. They informed their respective teams and made polite goodbyes to a few familiar faces. Their publicists arranged for a quiet exit through the back to avoid drawing more attention than necessary. A Sprinter was already waiting to shuttle them to the hotel.

Back in the comfort of Kelvin's suite, the energy immediately relaxed. Shoes came off, jewelry was tossed onto side tables, and laughter filled the air again. Room service menus were spread across the living room table. They placed a massive order: sliders, truffle fries, chicken tenders, pizza, their favorite drinks, and movie essential treats.

Sophia grabbed the remote and started browsing for movies while Precious went into the restroom and carefully removed the clips out her hair letting it fall down her back. Aaron and Kelvin took over the large white sectional couch, kicking off their shoes and unbuttoning the top of their dress shirts.

"Best part of the night, right here," Kelvin said, stretching his legs out.

"Facts," Aaron agreed, glancing toward Precious through the bathroom doorway with a smirk. "Definitely the company for me."

She grinned, her heart doing a quiet little somersault as she curled up beside him.

The aroma of their food soon filled the room, a thriller—Companion— played on the TV, and the kind of laughter that only came from people who were comfortable—truly seen—with each other.

The movie eventually came to an end, the credits rolling as the final bite of popcorn was claimed and last sip of prosecco was gulped. The room had dimmed, laughter fading into contented silence.

Kelvin stretched with a yawn. “Alright, y’all, I think that’s our cue. This food coma hittin’ hard.”

Sophia nodded, curling deeper into the corner of the couch. “Thanks for hanging out. This was a great way to end the night.”

Precious smiled as she gathered her things. “Thanks for hosting, this was everything.”

Aaron stood as well, casually brushing crumbs from his pants before picking up her glass and setting it down. “I’ll walk you back.”

The four of them exchanged warm goodnights and hugs. Kelvin tossed Aaron a knowing look paired with a smirk, while Sophia gave Precious a quick kiss on the cheek.

Aaron and Precious stepped out into the quiet hallway of the hotel, the plush carpet soft beneath their steps. It was a short journey to her suite, but they took their time, silence stretched between them. Not awkward silence, just thick with unspoken thoughts.

When they reached her door, Aaron turned toward her, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Tonight was fun,” he said, voice soft and genuine.

“It really was,” she replied, meeting his eyes with a warm smile.

He stepped just a little closer, the air thick with something unspoken. The dim lighting casting soft shadows across his face. “Honestly… being with you always is.”

She tilted her head, a soft curiosity written on her face

Aaron stepped a little closer, his voice lower now. “I know we’ve been trying to keep things light, going with the flow… but...”

He hesitated, then smiled to himself. “I care about you, P. More than I expected to. It’s not just the work, or the press. It’s you, all of you. The way you laugh, the way you show up, how you see me. And then there's your beauty. That's just the cherry on top.”

Precious gazed into his eyes with a smile spread across her lips.

This was more than a crush for him, too.

Her breath hitched slightly as he leaned in, slower this time.

Their lips met in a soft, cautious kiss, but the longer it went the deeper it got. Her hand reached up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The tension they’d been dancing around finally gave way to something real, warm, and hungry. He deepened the kiss with a hand at her waist, the other cradling her cheek like he didn’t want to let go.

When they finally pulled back, both slightly breathless, their foreheads rested together and they joined in soft laughter.

Aaron’s voice was a whisper against her skin. “Goodnight, gorgeous0.”

“Goodnight,” she murmured, a dazed smile on her lips.

He took a step back, clearly fighting the urge to kiss her again, and turned to his suite across from hers. Precious slipped into her room, heart pounding, back against the door the second it shut.

That man is gonna be the death of me...

After sending Luiz a sign of life, freshening up, and changing into her periwinkle cami and matching panties, she crawled into bed. The mattress was plush, the pillows and covers perfect—but sleep wouldn’t come. Her mind kept drifting to Aaron. The way his lips felt on hers, the way his muscles tensed beneath her fingertips, the way his eyes locked onto hers like she was the only one in the room. And that voice… that voice had her dampening her panties more times than she cared to admit—like now.

Fuck it.

Precious was a go-getter—fierce, confident, and unapologetic. As a size 14, double-G breasted, statuesque woman, she’d learned early on not to shrink herself for anyone. If she wanted something, she claimed it—and right now, she wanted Aaron Pierre. Period.

She tied her fluffy white robe around her body, slid into her slippers, and grabbed her keycard. Just as she swung her door open, she was met by Aaron mid-knock.

They both froze, stunned by the perfect timing. Their eyes swept over each other, hungry. Precious swallowed hard. Aaron stood in a black tank that clung to his chest and black pajama pants that left little to the imagination—his arousal clearly outlined against the fabric.

The second their heated eyes met, they collided. Their kiss was urgent, mouths crashing as they stumbled backward into her suite. The door clicked shut behind them. Aaron pressed her against the wall, his tongue tangled with hers, lips smacking, her soft moans escaping between kisses. His fingers untied her robe and let it fall to the floor, his mouth moving down to her neck, kissing and sucking tenderly.

“I’ve wanted you… since Paris,” he growled, cupping her breasts with both hands.

“Mm... Me too. So much,” she whispered, the heat of his tongue at her neck sending a shiver through her.

He kissed his way back up to her lips, gently sucking her bottom lip before giving her a slow peck. Then, taking her hand, he led her to the gray sectional in the living room. Moonlight spilled across the room, casting everything in a soft, romantic glow. He sat back, legs parted, stormy blue-gray eyes rising to meet hers.

“Strip,” he commanded.

Precious bit her lip, arousal pulsing through her at the firmness in his voice. This was a new side of Aaron—confident, dominant, unreserved. And she liked it. A lot.

She grabbed the hem of her cami, lifting it over her head in one fluid motion and letting it fall to the floor. Aaron followed suit, revealing his sculpted chest, light hair dusting his skin, and a chiseled six-pack that made her mouth water. Her hands slid from the curve of her breasts, down the softness of her belly, until they reached the waistband of her panties. With a slow, deliberate motion, she stepped out of them.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, eyes devouring her. She thanked him softly, and he crooked a finger, beckoning her forward with a mischievous glint in his eye.

She moved toward him with a seductive sway of her hips, every step winding him tighter. As she straddled him, his arousal pressed hot and insistent against her center, drawing a low moan from both of them. His hands slid up her thighs to her waist, then he leaned in, taking her right nipple into his mouth with a soft suck that sent sparks shooting through her. A wet spot bloomed on the front of his pants as Precious ground against him, her soft moans encouraging him to give her left breast the same tender attention.

He pushed his hips up, making her gasp.

"Feel what you do to me, baby?" he murmured.

"Mmm... I want it."

"Not yet. Lay back," he said, gently guiding her to the side.

Precious settled against the pillows, one leg propped on the couch, the other grazing the carpet—completely open to him. She caught the flash of pink as Aaron wet his lips, eyes dark with hunger. He moved between her thighs, pushing her legs back for better access. His gaze lingered on her, and she watched the way his arousal twitched through the fabric of his pants.

"You know this pussy’s mine now, right?" he said lowly, trailing a finger slowly down her clit, through her slick folds, and into her aching center.

A whimper slipped from her lips, her body clenching around his thick finger. It was his—there was no denying it—but she wasn’t about to give in that easily.

"Prove it," she challenged, breathless.

One brow lifted at her boldness, his smirk dripping with confidence. "Be careful what you wish for, princess," he murmured.

He kissed down her thigh, his finger slipping free. Then, locking eyes with her, he brought it to his mouth and sucked it clean, savoring her. A deep hum of satisfaction rumbled in his chest.

When his lips pressed a delicate kiss to her pussy, Precious’ hips jerked into the couch. Aaron let out a soft chuckle.

"See... she's already so responsive to me, and I’ve barely touched her," he murmured against her heat.

She slipped her index finger into her mouth, her eyes locking with his—heavy with desire. She was undone by him, no use pretending otherwise. Her body trembled in anticipation of what that sinful mouth could do, and he didn’t disappoint.

His long tongue slid from between his plush lips, dragging slowly through her slick folds. When he reached her clit, he captured it in a slow, sensual suck that had her breath hitching.

His grip on her thick thighs tightened as her back arched.

"Gimme my pussy, baby," he whispered, voice thick with hunger.

The sight of him, eyes closed in focused pleasure as he devoured her, was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. Her head tilted back with a soft cry as he slurped and kissed at her wetness, unrelenting.

“Oooh... oh my god,” she whimpered, her fingers twisting into the throw pillow behind her. Her right hand drifted to her breast, pinching her hard nipple in rhythm with the pleasure rippling through her body.

Her moans filled the room, echoing with need. Then she felt it—his tongue slipping inside her, deep and firm, while his thumb circled her clit with practiced ease. Through the haze of bliss, she caught a glimpse of his smirk, cocky and confident as her mouth fell open in helpless ecstasy, the fire inside her climbing higher.

He felt her clenching around his tongue and smoothly replaced it with his fingers, angling them just right to press against her G-spot.

“Ooh, shiiit. Right there, Daddy,” she whined, voice trembling.

“Yeah? My pretty pussy gonna cum for me?” he asked, fingers working her in a fluid “come hither” motion that made her hips jolt. His mouth returned to her clit, sealing over the sensitive bundle and sucking with purpose.

“Fuck! You’re gonna make me cum,” Precious cried out, her hand flying to the back of his head, anchoring him there. He groaned into her, the sound vibrating against her, and flicked his tongue rapidly. When he hummed against her clit and licked along her slick slit, it was over.

Her entire body tensed, then shook with the force of her orgasm, eyes squeezed shut as the waves crashed through her. Fireworks. That’s what it felt like—exploding across every nerve.

Aaron didn’t let up. He eased his fingers out but kept his mouth there, letting her ride out the high against his face, lapping up every drop of her release like it was his reward. It coated his beard, just the way he liked.

As the tremors faded, he kissed her gently—soft kisses to her outer lips, then up the warm curve of her body. He peppered playful bites and soft kisses along the pudge of her stomach, drawing out a giggle from her lips. When he finally reached her face, he wore a smug, satisfied smirk, eyes locked on hers.

"That enough proof for you?" he asked, voice low and laced with seduction, his eyes flicking down to her lips.

"More than enough," she whispered, leaning in to capture his mouth in a sensual kiss. She moaned softly at the taste of herself still lingering on his tongue, the intimacy of it only further fueled the fire between them.

He pulled back slowly, his lips reluctantly parting from hers as he shifted to sit in the center of the couch. Lifting his hips, he tugged down his sweats, and his thick, girthy length dropped heavily against his thigh, a glisten of precum already beading formed at the tip. Precious felt her core pulse at the sight—her mouth practically watered. She always suspected he was packing from the confident way he carried himself, but seeing every glorious inch in front of her—nine inches of smooth caramel—shattered every fantasy she'd ever had.

Without breaking eye contact, Aaron rolled on a condom with practiced ease, then patted his lap. "Come sit on your dick, princess," he commanded, voice thick with hunger.

She didn’t need a second invitation.

With a sultry grace, she lifted herself and straddled him once more. His hands gripped her ass as she aligned herself, and with a slow, steady exhale, she sank down while he pushed up—inch by inch—until her tight, aching walls took him fully.

“Mmm… you’re so tight, baby,” Aaron groaned, his voice deep and thick with pleasure as her walls squeezed around him. Precious began to grind her hips slowly, adjusting to the size of him stretching her. His mouth found her chest, kissing and sucking at her warm skin before his hand reached up to her neck, guiding her lips to his. They shared a deep, heated kiss as her rhythm picked up, transitioning into a steady bounce on his length.

“Shhiiit… you feel so good,” she moaned, pulling back from the kiss. Aaron growled and delivered a sharp smack to her ass, making her gasp and clench around him. The encouragement only spurred her on—she rode him faster, the angle letting him reach deeper. Her head tilted back as she moaned to the ceiling, and his mouth claimed her nipple again, swirling his tongue around it while his hands greedily kneaded her ass.

Precious was lost in a thick, delicious fog of ecstasy. The curve of his dick hit every spot that made her melt, and her moans filled the room. As her breast slipped from his mouth, Aaron sat up and wrapped one large hand around her throat, squeezing just enough. She whimpered, locking eyes with him, her brows drawn together from the intensity. He licked his bottom lip, then bit down on it, thrusting up to meet her strokes.

“Oh shiiit, Aaron,” she cried out, her voice trembling as the grip on her neck combined with the deep stretch inside her pushed her higher.

“Mhm… take your dick like a big girl. That’s right,” he growled, watching her eyes flutter in bliss. His other hand locked onto her hip, holding her still as he began to pound up into her with hard, precise thrusts—each one delivered with intent, like he was trying to imprint himself inside her.

All those stolen looks, teasing texts, and restrained touches had led to this moment—he’d spent nights jerking off to the memory of her laugh, her curves, her scent. But now he had her, and he wasn’t stopping until he fucked her stupid...and to sleep.

Her pussy fluttered wildly around him, her release building like a storm. “Daddy,” she whimpered, reaching for his wrist with trembling fingers.

“Hmmm… yes, baby?” he murmured, driving into her even harder. He watched her face contort in pleasure, her mouth parted in soft moans and desperate whines. “Daddy makin’ that pussy feel good?” he drawled, breath hot and heavy against her lips.

“Sooo good… uuhn!” Precious shuddered, every nerve alight.

“Look at me,” Aaron commanded, and her lids fluttered open to meet his smoky gaze. “Cum for me.”

Her squeals and whimpers filled the room as tears of pleasure slid down her cheeks. “Yesss… uhn, fuck!” she cried, her body trembling around him.

Aaron groaned, feeling her walls clench and tug at him, drawing out his own release. He pulsed deep inside her, each shuddering thrust matching her ecstasy. As their movements slowed, he leaned in and captured her mouth in a long, slow kiss, their moans mingling as they rode out the high. Aaron’s hand landed gently on her ass giving it a pat.

“Go get on the bed,” he murmured against her lips, planting a soft peck there.

She whimpered and, with his steadying grip on her hips, slipped to her feet and padded over to the bed. Lying on her side, she slowly rubbed at her swollen center, still seeing stars—and wanting more. The thought made her giggle softly.

Aaron paused in the doorway, the click of the door behind him. “What you giggling about, princess?” he asked, stepping forward, brow curved in amusement.

“I’m just impressed I can still want more after you fucked me so hard,” she replied, an adorable smile lighting her face.

He chuckled, a low, satisfied sound. “Luckily for both of us,” he said, hands grabbing her ankles, pulling her closer, “I have more to give.”

He took her hand, one finger at a time, bringing each to his lips and sucking up her honey with deliberate slowness. She watched him in awe, breath catching, as he hummed in appreciation. Then the head of his hard dick appeared at her entrance, rubbing teasingly against her clit. Her hips jerked forward, and he smirked at her reaction—ready to give her exactly what she craved next.

He took his time entering her again, savoring the way their bodies fit so perfectly, like they were made for this moment. Precious lifted onto her forearms, wanting to watch the connection between them. Aaron noticed and grabbed a plush pillow, sliding it beneath her lower back without breaking their rhythm. Her body melted into it, the angle now perfect, and her hand instinctively reached out, smoothing over the ridges of his flexing abs.

The cool blueish light from the moon cast across his skin like a cinematic glow, illuminating every curve and muscle. It was like he’d stepped off the screen and into her bed—commanding, breathtaking, unforgettable. From the big screen to the bedroom he gave an Oscar-worthy performance no matter the stage.

He lifted her right leg against his chest and shoulder, kissing and sucking tenderly at her ankle, his lips warm and soft. When his eyes met hers again—stormy, focused—he began thrusting harder. Each powerful stroke sent him deeper, hitting the very back of her pussy with precision that made her eyes water.

This was the only way she ever wanted a man to make her cry—nothing less than this kind of passion. Nothing less than him.

He moved with purpose, delivering a deep, controlled rhythm that sent shockwaves through her with every thrust. There was no rush in him—just intention, mastery, and desire. Soft cries, needy breaths, and rhythmic slapping of their skin filled the room as a beautiful melody.

Precious watched through hazy eyes as Aaron pressed a firm hand to her pelvis, the other trailing down to her clit, where his thumb rubbed in slow, deliberate circles. Her pussy fluttered at the sensation, her belly caving with a breathy moan. Thick, creamy arousal coated the base of his dick as her arousal heightened.

“Oooh... you creamin' for me, baby? Hm? That feels good?” he murmured, glancing from their connection back to her flushed face.

“Sooo good. Hmm!” she whimpered, her voice light and breathless.

Aaron’s lips curled into a smirk, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he slowly pulled out and then pushed all the way back in, making her gasp sharply. His tip hit that perfect spot, and her hand instinctively pressed against his abdomen.

“Mm mm, move your hand,” he ordered gently, pushing it aside. Her fingers instead moved to her breasts, squeezing and rubbing as she arched beneath him. Aaron leaned in, laying against her, delivering those thick, steady strokes while his thumb never left her clit. Their mouths met in a messy, needy kiss, his groans vibrating against her lips.

“Babyyy... I’m gon—I—” she tried to speak, but she was already coming undone.

“I know, baby, let it go,” he whispered, kissing her lips again, coaxing her over the edge. “Cum for me.”

Her face scrunched in bliss as his voice sent her spiraling. Her body trembled, overwhelmed by the sensation, and Aaron held her through it, never stopping.

“Fuuuck... That’s it, baby, cum on your dick,” he growled, grinding into her as his own orgasm hit. He let out a low, primal groan as he emptied inside her, their bodies still moving in slow, pulsing waves. Finally, he stilled, standing upright to catch his breath.

“Shit…” he muttered, chest rising and falling.

Precious hummed in satisfaction, the corners of her lips curling into a soft smile. She felt him slowly slip from her body, then heard him groan as he stretched. When he extended a hand toward her, she let him help her sit up, eyes fluttering shut. Then, suddenly, she squealed—her eyes flying open as he scooped her up into his arms effortlessly.

“You think I’m lifting in the gym just for movies?” he teased, one brow raised.

A giggle escaped her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. He carried her to the bathroom, let her relieve herself, and then gently cleaned her up before taking care of himself.

Later, he laid her down in bed and slipped in behind her, wrapping his arm securely around her waist. She exhaled content with the nights events, pressing back into his warmth, his dick nestled between the softness of her cheeks.

“You better stop before I don’t let you go to sleep,” he purred, his voice low, breath warm against her ear.

A shiver danced down her spine as a lazy smile tugged at her lips. He kissed the crown of her head, breathing in the sweet mix of mango and vanilla lingering in her hair.

“Goodnight, baby,” he whispered.

“Goodnight, babe.”

Their bodies tangled and breath slowed, sleep finally claiming them in the comfort of each other’s arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's rude to stare, princess," Aaron murmured sleepily, snapping Precious out of her walk down memory lane.

She smirked as his drowsy eyes cracked open to meet hers, and she leaned in to place a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. "You're just so cute when you sleep," she whispered, her voice full of fondness.

Aaron chuckled low and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "I hope this isn't the last time you plan on seeing it."

"Oh, it’s not," she said, raising her brows suggestively. "I think you turned me into a fiend, Mr. Pierre."

A wide, Cheshire grin spread across his face. "The feeling’s mutual. Before I head off to London... how do you feel about going on a date with me? A proper one. I don’t care who sees or where we go—I just want to keep experiencing you and court you the way you deserve," he said, his voice low and sincere.

Her heart fluttered at his words, full of warmth and something deeper. She leaned in, brushing her lips against his as her thumb traced the sharp line of his cheekbone. "I’d love to," she whispered.

And just like that, they were lost in each other again—proof that sometimes, with the right one, business can mix perfectly with pleasure.

After sneakily dating in L.A., sharing late-night FaceTime dates while he was back in London, and quietly making their relationship official, he arranged to fly with her to Atlanta to shoot scenes for the Lanterns series. A quick photo she snapped on the jet made its way to her IG, subtly soft-launching that she was officially off the market. A few hours later, Aaron reshared it—and together, they set Beyoncé’s internet ablaze without a single care in the world.

The End.

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EH! I really hope y'all enjoyed this. I was so nervous writing it because I really wanted to nail their personalities and mannerisms. I hope y'all don't mind the length. By now you know I'm a wordy whore that loves a detailed smut. Please let me know what you think down below and my taglist is always open. Next mission will be Royal Blood Pt 1, but that will take awhile because I need to do some extensive research and dive into vampire lore beyond what I know. You'll get shorter random smuts and maybe some Essence and Terry (Around The Park) content while you wait. I may even throw in some Kelvin fics. That'll be fun. Thanks for all the love! xoxo

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Taglist:

@slvt4her @wanderingreigns @avoidthings @xjjawsomex @that-one-anxious-mango @wabi-sabi1090 @nubiawrites @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @kianaleani @slutsareteacherstoo @slyy-foxx @dxddykenn @moujg @naughtynolly @wildcardmelaninfreak @pocketsizedpanther @wabi-sabi1090 @styleismyaddiction @novahreign @transparentphantomface @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @babymelaninn @jasmynn05 @notapradagurl7 @starcrossedxwriter

[gunsandspaceships]

MCU Timeline. Avengers: Infinity War

At the dawn of the universe - nothing.

The Big Bang - formation of the six Infinity Stones.

~500 or 964/965 AD - Thor is born.

Now we have this contradiction: the first Thor movie and all the MCU books tell us he was born in 964 or 965 AD, and this is the only time he says he's 1,500 years old. He could have rounded it up, or it could have been a mistake (like his mispronunciation of "Nidavellir") - pick your favorite explanation.

Early 1945 - during a fight with Steve Rogers, the Red Skull touches the Tesseract, and the Space Stone within it finds him unworthy and sends him to Vormir to serve as a guide for those seeking the Soul Stone.

Early 1990s - Gamora is born on the planet Zen-Whoberi.

~1999 - Thanos kills half of the population of Zen-Whoberi and kidnaps little Gamora, whose parents his army had just executed.

Between the fall of 2014 and May 2018:

Nebula sneaks onto Thanos's ship and attempts to kill him. She almost succeeds, but Thanos captures her.

He takes her to a cell, accesses her memory files, where Gamora mentions that she knows where the Soul Stone is, and then proceeds to torture her.

Between November 2013 and May 2018 - Thanos arrives on Nidavellir and orders Eitri to make him the Infinity Gauntlet. Once it is made, he shuts down the forge and kills all of Nidavellir's dwarves except Eitri, whom he deprives of his hands.

Beginning of June 2016 - with the help of Rogers and Romanoff, Maximoff and Wilson escape from the Raft. Scott Lang and Clint Barton make a deal with the US and German governments to remain under house arrest instead of going into hiding.

~June 2016 - Wanda and Vision start dating.

Okay, here’s the thing about the main event date: it depends on the city. Literally. If we’re in New York, it looks like mid-May, if we’re in Atlanta or Edinburgh, I’d say March. They don’t really go together, so we’ll have to pick one. Considering other movies like Ant-Man and the Wasp and Thor: Ragnarok, our pick should be mid-May 2018.

Can we narrow this down to days? Let's try:

If the calendar here is the same as ours, which is not always the case. But let's assume that it is.

There is also a contradiction in the film regarding the day of the week (Wednesday vs. Tuesday) for the first day. Now there is no hint as to which one we should choose. But as with the month, I assume that what happens in New York is closer to the truth, so I will choose Wednesday.

In mid-May we also have two options: the second week (May 9) and the third (May 16).

So, in What If? S1E5, there's a direct mention that it's been two weeks since Hank went into the Quantum Realm in Ant-Man and the Wasp (May 2), so it must be May 16. What If often makes mistakes, and later in the same episode, it makes an obvious one, but if it works in this case, let's go with that option.

~May 2, 2018 - Vision promises Tony that he will return, turns off his transponder, and leaves with Wanda for Scotland for a two-week vacation.

~May 9, 2018 - Thanos decimates Xandar and takes the Power Stone.

May 15 (Tuesday), 2018. Night - Tony dreams that he and Pepper are having a baby, Morgan.

May 16 (Wednesday), 2018

~11 am - 12 pm in NY:

Thanos attacks the Asgardian refugee ship Statesman and seizes the Space Stone.

Hulk fights Thanos but is easily defeated. Heimdall teleports him to Earth.

The death of half of Asgard's refugees, Heimdall and Loki.

Thanos sends his Black Order to search for the two Infinity Stones on Earth.

Thor is left unconscious in outer space among dead bodies.

Hulk crashes through the roof and stairs of the Sanctum Sanctorum and transforms back into Bruce. He informs Strange and Wong of the impending threat.

Tony and Pepper are running in New York's Central Park. Tony tells Pepper about his dream and asks her for a baby.

They are interrupted by the arrival of Strange and Banner, who take Tony away to save the world.

~1 pm in NY:

Wong gives Tony a lecture about the Infinity Stones. Strange reveals the Time Stone in his necklace. Bruce informs Tony of the situation and that behind the attack on New York in 2012 was also Thanos.

1:20 pm - Bruce tells Tony to call Steve Rogers. Tony tells Bruce that the Avengers have broken up.

Before he can make the call, a Black Order Q-ship arrives above them.

Peter Parker jumps off a school bus headed to MoMA and rushes to the ship's location.

Tony, Strange, Wong and Peter fight Ebony Maw and Cull Obsidian. Hulk refuses to come out.

Wong saves Tony by sending Cull Obsidian onto a glacier. He also cuts off his hand. Tony invites him to Pepperony's wedding.

Maw captures Strange and takes him to the Q-Ship.

Peter follows outside. Tony saves him by putting the Iron Spider suit on him. He sends him home, but Peter manages to cling to the ship and get inside.

Tony gets on the ship and tells Pepper that he won't be back for a while.

Wong returns to Sanctum.

1:42 pm - Bruce calls Steve on the phone Tony dropped.

Having received a distress signal from the Statesman, the Guardians of the Galaxy pick up Thor.

~2 pm in NY:

Gamora tells him about Thanos' plan. Thor takes some of their food, Quill's backpack, a pod and goes to Nidavellir with Rocket and Groot.

The rest of the team heads to Knowhere, where the Collector keeps the Reality Stone.

~Unspecified time, afternoon in NY:

Strange wakes up on the Q-Ship, and Maw begins torturing him with needles to obtain the Time Stone.

A rescue team (Tony, Peter and Levi) gathers above them. Peter comes up with a plan from Aliens.

Minutes later - Tony kills Maw by blowing a hole in the ship.

Tony and Steven argue over a course of action and agree to bring the fight with Thanos to Titan.

Tony makes Peter an Avenger.

~6 pm in NY:

~6:30 pm (NY)/11:30 pm (Scotland) - Wanda and Vision are walking through the streets of Edinburgh when they are attacked by Corvus Glaive and Proxima Midnight of the Black Order. Vision is injured and his powers are suppressed.

6:45 pm (NY)/11:45 pm (Scotland) - they are saved by the arriving Rogues: Rogers, Romanoff and Wilson. Proxima and the injured Glaive retreat. The Rogues take Wanda and Vision back to the Compound.

~Night in NY:

In space, Gamora asks Quill to kill her if Thanos captures her, so that the Titan will not learn the location of the Soul Stone. He vows to do so. They kiss.

By this time, the "invisible" Drax has been standing "motionless" for an hour and eating snacks.

Thanos attacks Knowhere and obtains the Reality Stone from the Collector. He then sets a trap for Gamora using the stone.

May 17 (Thursday), 2018

~Before 7 am in NY:

Rocket gives Thor a cybernetic eye.

GotG arrives on Knowhere. Using the Reality Stone, Thanos easily deals with them and captures Gamora.

GotG return to Benatar, where Quill spends the next five hours sitting and listening to New York Groove.

Aboard his mothership, Thanos shows Gamora her captive sister and tortures Nebula to reveal the location of the Soul Stone.

Thanos takes Gamora with him to Vormir.

While a Chitauri is putting Nebula back together, she kills him and escapes. She sends 23 secret coded messages to GotG asking them to meet her on Titan.

Five hours after Thanos captured Gamora - GotG finally receive Nebula's secret coded messages and travel from Knowhere to Titan.

~7 am in NY/1 pm in Wakanda:

Rogues arrive at the Compound. Rhodey talks to Secretary Ross, who orders him to arrest them. Rhodes waves him off.

The Avengers discuss the situation. Vision tells them that Wanda must destroy the stone in his head. Bruce gets the idea that simply taking it out might work. They head to Wakanda to do it and call T'Challa.

Okoye gathers Wakandan warriors.

T'Challa comes for Bucky Barnes and brings him a new vibranium arm.

Thor, Groot, and Rocket reach Nidavellir and meet with Eitri.

~8 am in NY:

Q-ship carrying Tony, Peter and Strange lands on Titan.

They are immediately attacked by GotG. After a short fight due to a misunderstanding, they form an alliance against Thanos.

Strange uses the Time Stone to see 14,000,605 alternate futures and finds only one winning.

Thanos and Gamora arrive on Vormir, where they are met by the Red Skull. Thanos throws his "daughter" off a cliff for the Soul Stone.

He wakes up with the Stone in his hand.

~9-10 am in NY/3-4 pm in Wakanda:

~9:30 am/3:30 pm - the Quinjet carrying the Rogues, Rhodes, Vision, and Banner arrives in Wakanda, where they are met by T'Challa, his warriors, and Barnes.

Note: The main functional feature of quinjets is that they fly exactly as long as the plot requires, and not as long as they would fly in reality. This is not the first Avengers movie where yesterday it flew to the States all night, and today it took the jet a couple of hours to cover about twice that distance.

~10 am/4 pm - Shuri begins working on Vision and the Mind Stone. Thanos' army enters the planet's atmosphere above Wakanda.

On Nidavellir, Thor, Rocket, Groot, and Eitri restart the forge to create a new weapon, Stormbreaker.

The Battle of Titan.

The Battle of Wakanda.

Creation of the Stormbreaker on Nidavellir.

Bruce in the Hulkbuster kills Cull Obsidian, Wanda kills Proxima Midnight, Vision kills Corvus Glaive.

~10:20 am/4:20 pm - during their duel, Thanos gravely wounds Tony and prepares to kill him, but Strange gives him the Time Stone in exchange for Tony's life.

With five Stones, Thanos teleports to Wakanda. Having not met any worthy resistance for himself, Thanos takes the last Stone from Vision.

10:24 am/4:24 pm - The Snap.

Thanos meets little Gamora in the Soul Stone and then teleports to his garden world to retire in peace.

10:25 am/4:25 pm - 50% of all living beings in the Universe disappear from reality.

Nick Fury manages to send an SOS signal to Captain Marvel's pager before turning to dust.

Note: Does Marvel want to explain why Edinburgh and Atlanta look more like it's winter, while in New York it's almost summer?

Tony and Nebula are left alone on Titan.

~Later that day:

At some point, they depart for Earth on the Benatar.

The remaining Avengers return to the Compound to monitor losses.

Over the next few days:

They visit Fury's last location and find his pager, which they bring to the Compound.

Days later - Carol Danvers arrives at the Compound and soon after heads back into space to search for Tony.

MCU Timeline: The Infinity Saga

[wintrcaptn]

Apples And Butterflies

Joel x Reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone.

But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller

A/N : I am writing a book but I wanted to see what yall thought of it as a Joel Miller fanfic lmao. I’ll only post a few chapters but if it’s not that great then I’ll scrap it haha

Roasted espresso, fresh pastries and a small hint of cinnamon filled the air. It wrapped around me like a warm blanket, comforting. This little whole in the wall cafe had been home to most of the students here in California.

It was a place where I spent most of my time. Either studying, reading, meeting up with my roommate for a quick pick me up.

The cafe was filled like any other day. Many faces here and there; and thats when I noticed him.

Dylan O'Hara.

Standing at the register with her. Her

The girl he swore was just a friend from class, until I walked in on them in bed just a few days into the new semester.

What a great way to start my last year in College.

I had been stuck in my dorm for the past two months since then. Crying over a guy who obviously didn't care. And the one day I finally go out by myself; of course this would happen to me.

Slowly, I backpedaled toward the door. Hoping I could escape before he sees me and—

Shit.

I hate that the register is close to the door…

Dylan turned with his arm slung around his new girlfriend, the both of them glancing around looking for a table.

Panic flared my chest as I ducked. My heart hammering, I swear I could hear it beating.

"I need to be anywhere but here." I whispered to myself, hoping to see any familiar faces or even an empty seat. "Anywhere but—"

There, an open seat by one of the large windows across the cafe. A man in a beige button up, sleeves rolled to the elbows; sat alone with coffee in one hand and a newspaper—an actual physical newspaper— in the other hand.

He wasn't the type of man you'd expect to find here of all places. Surrounded by laptops and over priced oat milk lattes.

His salt and pepper hair fell in loose waves around his face, the kind that looked unintentional but still unfairly good.

He looked like he hadn't smiled since the early 2000s.

Perfect.

I didn't have time to think it through. I made a beeline for him.

"Hi." I said breathlessly.

The man looked up slowly. His eyes, dark brown almost black shade that caught the light in quiet, startling ways. Warm at first glance but layered. Like a forest at night. Still, shadowed, impossible to fully see into. There was a weight behind them, a steadiness that made me feel seen.

I had almost forgotten what I was doing.

His gaze travelled to the chaos behind me then back to my face. Not a single word fell from his lips.

"Mind if I sit?" I asked, already halfway into the seat across from him.

He leaned back into his chair, eye brows furrowing as he crossed his arms over his chest. Giving a barely noticeable nod, while holding his gaze on me.

I set my bag onto my lap and quickly looked back at Dylan, still hasn't noticed me.

Letting out a sigh of relief I met the strangers eyes, feeling slightly embarrassed as we sat there for just a moment in silence.

Great, how am I suppose to act natural if I'm getting caught up in the silence of a complete stranger? A stranger with captivating eyes that pull you in so much you forget how to breathe.

Not once did his gaze falter. Those dark, serious eyes glued to me like he knew I was hiding something.

"You always crash strangers tables, or is today special?" He said, breaking the silence.

His voice caught me off guard. It wasn't because of how deep it was, but the slow deliberate drawl that softened the edges of every word. Southern accent I think? Maybe from Texas? I'm not sure.

It was warm and rough like whiskey on ice.

I blinked for a moment trying to come up with something; anything. "I uh—I just really like this table."

"You're a shit liar." He said, still sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

"And you're surprisingly observant for someone reading a freakin newspaper in 2025."

He let out a faint huff.

Silence fell once again as he went back to his newspaper, completely ignoring me. Which would be fine any other day, but I knew if Dylan were to see me sitting here with this man completely lost in his little world, he'd know I'm sitting with a complete stranger.

I'd look pathetic. Lonely, desperate.

Usually I wouldn't care but I wasn't going to let this asshole think I was pathetic. He doesn't get that from me.

"So, do you usually ignore the person sitting across from you or am I just special?" I asked, nervously playing with the zipper on my purse.

The man let out a sigh and placed his newspaper back down on to the table. "I don't usually get ambushed by strangers. So yeah guess you're special."

"Wow, and here I thought chivalry was dead."

He sat up straighter in his seat, staring deeply into me as if he were trying to figure out a puzzle. It was unsettling, yet captivating to say the least. "You're hiding from someone, aren't ya?"

I swallowed hard and shrugged. "Is it that obvious?"

"You have been looking back at that guy behind you, since you sat down. And you keep playing with that damn zipper on your purse."

In that moment, I let the zipper fall out of my hand and I slowly looked up to meet his gaze. My lips pursed into a thin line.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Suddenly a small smirk formed on his lips almost as if he were amused by this.

"Are you always this friendly to people you just meet?" I asked sarcastically.

"Sure." He said lifting his coffee. "When people interrupt my morning to hide from bad decisions."

I rolled my eyes but I couldn't help the smile slowly forming. "Okay fair, but in my defense I had nowhere else to go and you were the only one with an open seat. So lucky you."

He arched a brow "you're using me."

I swallowed hard, his words stumping me for just a moment.

I was though. I was using him, or intentionally. But I couldn't deny him even if I wanted to. "You know, you also looked like the type of person who wouldn't ask me too many questions." I said. My eyes drifted to the newspaper folded neatly next to him. Curiosity got the best of me. "Yet, here we are."

He looked down at my hand, watching me drag the paper across the table and away from him. "Here we are."

"I never knew they still printed newspapers." I chuckled. "You know you could just read the news on your phone like a normal person."

Before I could finish flipping through the pages, he reached over and plucked the paper out of my hands and set it down beside him. "I don't like phones." He said simply.

I leaned forward, furrowing my eyebrows. "You don't like...phones?"

"Nope."

"Why? You think Siri might be listening? Stealing our data?" I chuckled.

He slowly looked up at me, and gave me one of those unimpressed glances. For a moment I thought he would get up and leave. But—

"Don't trust anything that needs an update every other week."

I couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Just a little bit ago, I was worried about Dylan. And now—now...

"For someone who clearly didn't want company, you're making this bearable." I said.

He glanced at me once again, eyes unreadable. "Don't push your luck."

As I was about to say something, I was immediately interrupted.

"I thought that was you."

I didn't even have to look to know it was Dylan. That familiar voice—smooth, calm, laced with guilt he'd long stopped earning. It snuck down my spine, like a cold breeze. I forced myself to look up at him, and smiled.

"Dylan."

He gave an awkward chuckle as he scratched the back of his neck. "I didn't expect to see you here. How—how're you doing?"

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. Anger and panic washed over me completely, my palms were clammy. He was doing that thing where he pretended to care, as if he had the right to ask. As if he hadn't brought the same girl he cheated on me with here, of all places.

"She's doin fine." The man across from me spoke. His gaze steady. "Ain't that right, darlin?"

I turned to him, taken aback by the way the word rolled off his tongue so naturally. Our eyes locked one each other and there it was again. That grounding calm in his dark stare. He didn't wink. Didn't smirk. Just played along. Plain and simple.

Dylan shot his gaze to the man across from me, his body stiffened for a moment. His face fell with confusion.

I swallowed hard and nodded, playing along with him. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. But do you mind? I'm kind of in the middle of something here."

Dylan glanced between us once again. "Oh uh—good. I'll let you two get back to it then."

He walked away slowly, maybe waiting for me to change my mind. To chase after him. Beg for him back like I had in the past. But I didn't.

Once he was out of sight, I finally let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"You alright?" The man asked, pulling me back into reality.

"Y-you didn't have to do that..."I drawled out.

"I know." He said simply. He stood up and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. "Wanna get out of here?"

I'm not one who would go off with a complete stranger. Especially when I didn't even know their name. But there was something about him, something that felt safe. And I couldn't explain it even if I wanted to. I just knew I wasn't ready to say goodbye just yet.

"Yeah." I said. "I do."

Feeling Dylan's eyes on me the moment I stood up. The man pushed the door open and held it without a word until I stepped out. A small gesture, nothing flashy, but it made my chest tighten unexpectedly.

The sunlight hit us as we stepped onto the sidewalk, golden and warm, laced with that early autumn crisp. I glanced up at him. I hadn't realized just how big he was. He was tall, making me feel small but not in a fragile way. But in a he can probably pick me up and throw me over his shoulders without breaking a sweat kind of way.

His skin was sun kissed, tanned, a shade that made me think of lazy summers and late bonfires. He wasn't cut like a warrior but he was solid, with thick arms, broad shoulders and chest. He looked like he could carry an entire couch up a flight of stairs no problem. Yet soft enough to fall asleep against.

Shit...I've been staring too long.

I cleared my throat. "So...are you ever going to tell me your name or should I just continue to call you coffee guy in my head?"

He looked down at me, furrowing his brows. "Coffee guy?"

"It was either that or grumpy old man, but that felt a little dramatic." I teased.

A beat passed, then another.

And when I thought he would ignore my question all together, he caught my attention.

"Joel." He said.

"Joel." I repeated. It suited him. "Well Joel, nice to meet you. I'm Y/N."

I reached my hand out toward him and Joel hesitantly took my hand into his. The callouses rubbed against my palm, the slight squeeze of his hand shot a spark through me.

"Didn't ask, but good to know."

I let out a dry chuckle, "wow you're really committed to this broody, man of few words thing, huh?"

Joel tilted his head slightly, that unreadable expression still on his face. "Talking is overrated."

"And yet, here you are. Talking."

His lips twitched, and for a split second I swore I saw a smile on his lips.

"You're persistent."

"I get that a lot." I said.

I hadn't realized how I had my hand in his this whole time as we looked at one another until the sound of his phone ringing snapped me out of my daze.

"Thought you don't trust phones."

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked down at the screen. "I don't." He said before turning away and answering the call.

"Hey sweetheart." He said, voice low.

Maybe it was his wife? No...I don't remember seeing a ring. Maybe a girlfriend? Could explain why he is so standoffish.

"I'm already here. Just been enjoying some coffee." He said, glancing back at me then looking away.

Did he mean me? Was he enjoying my company?

"Don't worry, I'll be around. Just call me when you're ready." He said. "Ok, love you."

And with that, he slipped the phone back into his pocket before turning to me once again. His arms crossed over his chest, as he stood quietly.

I wasn't sure why I cared. He didn't owe me an explanation or anything, but the silence of who called bothered me.

"I should go." I said, as I pulled my phone out of my purse. "Thanks again for pretending to be my date."

Joel nodded, eye brows knitted closer together. "Didn't have a choice."

"Right. Well thanks anyway."

In that moment, I turned on my heels and started toward the street to my dorm. I could feel his stare lingering on me until I wasn't visible anymore. And part of me hoped he'd stop me. Tell me he's single and maybe want to see where this could go. But he never came.

God I'm so delusional.

I wasn't mad exactly just annoyed. Bothered? Maybe a little embarrassed.

Joel hadn't done anything wrong, not really. I was the one who dropped into his life like some chaotic sitcom character. And yet, when I heard him call that person on the phone; sweetheart...this feeling overcame me. I had no right to feel anything but there it was, lodged into my chest like an unwanted splinter.

My phone vibrated in my hand, a text from my roommate displayed across the screen.

'Last chance to change your mind and come to Texas with me!'

My roommate had been begging me to visit her hometown with her since we met 4 years ago. And every time, I had plans with Dylan. Visiting his family. But now...this would be the first year I would be alone for the holidays.

At first I was content with my decision to stay here. Bare the holidays alone and just binge watch shows and old movies I've seen hundreds of times...

Until now.

The idea of spending the holidays alone in this town while everyone else went home to family and friends. While Dylan had his new girlfriend meeting his family as if I never existed. It all felt heavy. Too heavy.

I bit my lip, my thumb hovering over the screen. It wouldn't hurt to go. Besides, maybe Texas might be something I need.

'Okay, I'm in.'

——————

Part two here