#and then they drift back together just as slowly until its like

[messrsrarchives]

there's very few things on this earth that i love more than a second chance fic. i want them grieving for the past and pining for each others futures simultaneously. i want them struggling to move on but trying everything to do so, getting in half-hearted relationships, removing each other from their lives, turning their love into hatred. i want them constantly watching each other across a room but rolling their eyes when theyre caught, or not asking if the other one wants a cup of tea just to push the sugar over instinctively when they make it themselves anyway.

i want them EMBEDDDEDDD into each others beings to the point where they could be divorced thrice and have a restraining order and all it takes is one of them to say "ah. fuck it."

[iichfilwypj]

at your most authentic | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x daughter of hypnos! reader ღ warnings: insecurities, hurt/comfort! ღ wc: 1.120 love u all don't hate me <3 pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6 - pt 7 - pt 8

Sleep crept closer, her mind drifting as the images it painted blurred with Percy’s face. He kept talking, but she wasn’t really listening. He didn’t seem to notice, very absorbed in showing off his new watch, he continued without pause.

His voice faded, dissolving into the background, and her senses seemed to abandon her. The only thing she was still aware of was the feeling of her own hand supporting her cheek as she unknowingly leaned into it, eyes closing slowly.

Unbeknownst to her, Percy had been smiling at her for several moments, watching her every movement with affection. When a soft snore escaped her lips, the watch was forgotten, discarded on the bed. He lingered, his hand almost reaching out to adjust her, wanting her to rest more comfortably and sleep peacefully until morning.

Yet his fingers moved instinctively to her chin, tenderly caressing it -hoping to wake her in the gentlest way he could. She stirred, grumbling, her head tilting down until the boy’s hand found its place on her forehead. Percy’s thumb brushed against a freckle he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been so close. 

“Sleepy there, huh?” he asked softly. Lacking strength, she murmured a weak response. He smiled and swept her hair back from her forehead. “Want to sleep for a while?” 

Her head dropped back onto his shoulder, but she shook it gently. “Mhm, I’ll stay up.”

“Yeah, sure. You're about to drift off on me. I’m fine with it, but maybe you could sleep on me...” he gestured toward the bed, “over there.”

She kept shaking her head, pushing herself with her hands on his shoulders until she was sitting up straight again. Her eyes were barely open, and he could see the telltale signs of exhaustion –her red cheeks, the weariness settling in her body, shrinking her down like a tired child.

But still, she wouldn’t sleep.

And he knew something wasn’t right.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was thick with worry, but she didn’t answer, her eyes focused on nothing. “Would you prefer your cabin? I know it’s usually cooler here-”

“Keep telling me about your watch.” She muttered, her voice sounded painfully tired.

“What? No, forget about it, you-”

“What's it made of?” She kept pretending not to hear any question, her head already dipping again.

“Okay, stop.” He was frustrated, his voice shaking. Once again, his hands went to her face (something he clearly liked doing) with a little more urgency. “Why don't you want to sleep?  Is it because I didn’t wake you for dinner yesterday? I promise I’ll do it today.”

She chuckled faintly, but that laugh wasn’t genuine. She was masking something, he could tell. She knew she could talk to him about anything –he was the one person who didn’t judge–, but listening to her talk about her tiredness must have become exhausting for him.

He’d said it over and over:  ‘I don't care,’ ‘I love you, sleepyhead and all,’ ‘I'd rather be by your side while you sleep than watch you suffer from staying awake.’

And yet, a small part of her refused to accept it. Loving someone like her just didn’t seem possible.

He studied her carefully, as if he could solve the mystery just by looking. It appeared to work, because when her lips briefly puckered into a pout and she blinked firmly, something stirred in his memory.

He replayed the remarks of the other campers, every hurtful joke about her, and all the doubts she struggled with. That time she was so terrified to meet his mother that she was on the verge of a panic attack resurfaced in his thoughts, fitting together like the pieces of a puzzle.

This was the last piece. 

“Hey, dreamy.” Once more, his hands found its way to her neck, holding her head firmly to ensure she met his gaze. 

He wouldn’t ask if she was fine; he knew she wasn’t. He wouldn’t ask what was bothering her; he already knew. At that moment, not much felt right. 

“Something you wanna tell me?” 

She was tempted to say nothing, but eventually spoke. “It annoys me that all I ever want to do is sleep. Like, it must be boring being with me.” A weak, tearful laugh escaped her as she heard herself, and she wiped her eyes quickly. “God, that sounds so ridiculous.”

“Yes, it does.” His voice was quiet as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. 

A flicker of doubt crossed her mind. She feared he might have grown tired of her. Maybe he was just saying things to be kind.

But he kissed her forehead gently, a soft reassurance. “I don't see why that would bother you, or anyone else for that matter.”

“Percy-”

“I never planned on telling you this because it might sound... creepy.” He softly caressed her temples and she let out a small, honest laugh in return. “But ever since the first time you trusted me and fell asleep on my shoulder, observing you sleep has become my favorite pastime. Because as much as I enjoy hearing you talk, seeing your smile, and hearing your laughter…”

He leaned in close, their noses touching. One shift and their lips would meet, but he held back.

“I love even more seeing you at your most authentic. And I know it bothers you, I hear you; I just want you to know that it’s okay to take things at your own pace and listen to your body. It doesn’t mean you’re boring or lazy; it means you’re human –not fully, but you get it.” 

She laughed softly, a sound that felt more like a sigh than anything else, and before she could think, she pulled him into a tight embrace. He held her back, his arms wrapping around her with a tenderness that was saved exclusively for her.

It was his way of showing her that he was there.

And she did; she knew he was there, to remind her she wasn’t alone and that she didn’t have to face things on her own. She knew things wouldn’t change –she would still struggle with how others saw her, with the weight of their opinions and her own–, and even though she had that comfort, something still felt broken inside her, a quiet ache she couldn’t escape.

“I don’t like myself so much.” 

“We can fix that.”

He smiled gently, before picking her up effortlessly in his arms, holding her close as if she were something precious.

“For now, I can love you enough for both of us.”

guess who's on her period, touch starved, hungry, lonely, insecure, anxious, angry and seeking comfort (clue: it's me!)

[katsu2ji]

simple, untouchable happiness — k. bakugou

a/n: i feel like he'd be really warm to sleep on. like a personal heating pad.

you woke up without any alarm, for the first time in a long time. you and katsuki have both been so busy lately that neither of you have had much time to sleep in, or even relax, really. finally, your schedules panned out perfectly, and here you two were on a lazy sunday morning. together.

he felt you shift on top of him, your head moving from its spot on his chest to look up at the one holding you. katsuki grumbled a little as he stirred.

"don't move. don't wanna get up yet." he pulled you impossibly closer to him, his arms around your torso tightening.

his words and actions made you giggle a little as you put your head back down. you always loved how affectionate he was in the morning; he was gorgeous, with his face smoothed out in sleep and his hair a little messy. you loved katsuki at all times of the day and night, but you especially loved this version of him. he was too pretty to ignore.

you closed your eyes as you started tracing little shapes on his chest with your nails. you never spoke much in the morning , and that seemed to be just fine for the blond in this moment. your actions had you slowly starting to drift off until you felt katsuki shift once again, this time moving from his back to his side, taking you down to face him.

he wrapped you up in his body, spooning you as he kissed the top of your head before muttering into your hair, "that tickles, idiot."

you smiled as you took a big breath in. your face was buried in his chest now, and you smelled his usual natural scent—sweet, like caramel. it was your favorite scent to take in, the one that made you feel the most at peace.

you drifted off like that once again, both of you falling back into easy breaths. nothing could touch either of you here, wrapped up in each other. you both silently agreed to stay like that for a few hours more, vowing to not let this rare moment slip away. it was what you deserved, what you've both needed after working so hard the past few weeks. it was happiness. simple, untouchable happiness.

katsu2ji © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything of the sort with my work! i work very hard and you simply do not have my permission.

[valkyriexo]

They confess in your sleep | OT8

ᑉ³pairing; Bestfriend!OT8 x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Fluff, Headcannon

ᑉ³warnings; none

Chan ╰┈➤ Watching a movie together.

"You drifted off, huh? The movie must've been too boring for you. " Chan says quietly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch tender against your skin. "Or must've been a tiring day." With careful movements, he shifts beneath you, ensuring your weight settles comfortably against him.

He remains quiet for a moment, simply watching you with a fond smile before speaking again. "You look so peaceful when you're asleep." His voice is barely above a whisper, filled with warmth and affection. "I can't help but smile seeing you like this." Chan says his heart swelling with adoration.

Slowly, he reaches for the blanket, delicately draping it over you, taking care not to disturb your peaceful slumber with any sudden movements.

"Maybe I should start picking boring movies on purpose, huh?" He teases lightly, his laughter soft and genuine. He lowers the volume of the movie, not wanting to disturb your peaceful sleep. "Your snores are kind of cute, not gonna lie." He takes a deep breath as he listens to the rhythmic sound of your breathing. "I'll resist the urge to play with your hair... for now."

As the movie continues to play in the background, Chan shifts slightly, adjusting his position until he's resting his head gently on top of yours, his heart beating in sync with yours. "I can't imagine my life without you in it, and I don't want to...I hope you're having sweet dreams."

Minho ╰┈➤ In a waiting area

"Someone's tired." Minho's voice is soft, filled with a gentle warmth as he observes you dozing off in the waiting room beside him. "Makes sense. We've been here a while," He mutters softly.

Without hesitation, he reaches out to adjust the position of the chair, making sure it's more conducive to your rest. "Waiting doesn't seem so bad when I have you beside me." He smiles slightly.

"Should I wake you or let you sleep a little longer?" His concern for your well-being shines through his actions, his priority being your comfort above all else. "They haven't called your name yet."

"Is my shoulder comfortable? I hope it's not too stiff," he asks, a faint blush coloring his cheeks at the intimacy of the moment.

"I mean, I don't want you to think I'm all... rigid or nervous or whatever," he adds quickly, his nervousness peeking through despite his attempts to appear calm.

"It's just, I care, you know? And I want you to be comfy," he admits, his gaze softening as he looks at you, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable.

"So, uh, if it's not comfy, maybe I can adjust or something?" He pauses, almost as if waiting for your response. "I promise, I'm softer than I look... or seem."

Changbin ╰┈➤ Warming up by the fireplace

"Looks like the fire's doing its job. You're out like a light," Changbin observes with a soft chuckle, his gaze lingering on your peaceful form as you sleep by the fireplace, your cheeks flushed from the warmth.

"I'll keep the flames going, don't worry," he assures softly, gently tending to the fire to ensure it continues to crackle and glow, casting a cozy ambiance over the room.

"Your weight against me feels... nice," He admits with a fond smile, your presence soothing against the cold of the winter night. "You're like a little furnace, warming me up too. It feels so good against the chill," he adds, his arms wrapping protectively around you.

"I'll just stay here, holding you close," Changbin murmurs softly, his heartbeat syncing with yours as he listens to the steady rhythm of your breathing.

"Your soft breaths against my chest... it's comforting," he confesses with a gentle smile, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now."

"Sweet dreams, my dear," he murmurs softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before settling back against the cushions, content to bask in the quiet serenity of the moment, with you by his side.

Hyunjin ╰┈➤ Reading together

"I didn't know you were reading '101 Ways to Fall Asleep' — Book must be a bestseller," Hyunjin remarks with a soft chuckle, gently teasing as he notices you dozing off beside him, the book still open in your hands.

"You look adorable when you're asleep," he murmurs fondly, a warm smile spreading across his lips as he watches you, the peaceful expression on your face filling him with a sense of contentment.

"I'll keep the pages turning while you rest," Hyunjin promises softly, his fingers trailing over the text of the book as he continues to read, his attention divided between the pages and the sight of you beside him, lost in slumber.

His voice hitches slightly as he hears your shallow breaths.

"Your soft breaths against my neck... who needs an audiobook?" he muses quietly, the sound of your steady breathing creating a soothing backdrop.

As Hyunjin turns another page, he can't help but steal glances at you, admiring the way your features soften in sleep.

"I've realized something," he continues, his gaze softening as he looks at you with affection. "I don't just enjoy spending time with you. I... I think I've fallen for you."

The admission hangs in the air, filled with both vulnerability and hope. "I know it's probably not the best time to say this," he adds, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice. "But I couldn't keep it in any longer. I just needed you to know."

Han ╰┈➤ At the beach

Han settles in beside you, glancing around at the bright sun overhead and then back at you, considering. "Hey," he murmurs, leaning closer, "do you want me to apply sunscreen for you?" he asks softly, his concern evident in his voice. "I wouldn't want you to get sunburned."

But you don't reply, and Han realizes with a gentle smile that you're asleep. "Are you napping?" he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. "I can't blame you; the sun, the sand, it's all so soothing."

After a while, he speaks again, his tone soft and affectionate. "You know what's soothing to me? Your laugh," he murmurs, his gaze lingering on your peaceful expression.

"Just know I'm here, watching over you as you rest, waiting for those beautiful eyes to open again," he whispers, his words a tender reassurance of his presence and care for you. He settles back against the warm sand.

He takes a deep breath, gathering his courage as he continues. "I don't know what the future holds, but I do know that I want to spend it with you," he says earnestly, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're everything to me, and I hope one day you feel the same."

Felix ╰┈➤ Cuddling

"You fell asleep in my arms, and I couldn't bear to wake you," Felix whispers softly, his voice barely above a breath as he gazes down at you, nestled against him in peaceful slumber.

"It's just you and me now," he continues, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "and you're snuggled up so peacefully." With gentle care, he adjusts his position to ensure you're comfortable, his touch light as a feather against your skin.

"I'm holding you close," Felix murmurs, his arms wrapped protectively around you, "feeling the rise and fall of your chest with each breath." He savors the quiet intimacy of the moment, cherishing the warmth of your presence in his arms.

"I hope you're dreaming of something beautiful," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "And when you wake up, I'll be right here, ready to hold you even tighter." With a tender smile, Felix closes his eyes, content to remain in this embrace with you, the gentle rhythm of your breathing lulling him into a peaceful state of serenity.

Seungmin ╰┈➤ Car ride

Seungmin sits beside you in the backseat, his gaze soft as he watches you drift off into sleep. "Long day, huh?" he remarks softly, his voice carrying a gentle warmth as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your face.

"The ride home is pretty quiet without you chatting away," he continues, a faint smile gracing his lips. "I hope you're dreaming of something nice."

He leans his head back against the seat, feeling a sense of calm wash over him in your presence. "I miss hearing your voice already," he admits quietly, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on the fabric of his pants.

"Would a kiss wake you up, sleeping beauty?" Seungmin teases softly, a playful glint in his eyes as he considers the idea. He leans in closer, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before settling back into his seat.

"I'll be sure the radio is low so we don't wake you," he murmurs.

"Just got home," Seungmin says as the car pulls into the driveway, his voice tinged with affection. "I'll carry you inside," he offers, a warm smile spreading across his face as he prepares to lift you gently into his arms, eager to keep you safe and comfortable even in your slumber.

Jeongin ╰┈➤ Studying for an exam

Jeongin glances over at you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he sees you dozing off amidst a pile of textbooks. "Hey, sleepyhead," he murmurs affectionately, reaching over to gently nudge your shoulder.

"Looks like those textbooks finally got the best of you," he adds with a chuckle, his tone warm and teasing. "I don't blame you, though. Studying can be exhausting."

He watches you sleep for a moment, the lines of fatigue smoothing out from your face in the embrace of slumber. "It's actually kinda cute, watching you sleep like that," he admits, a fondness evident in his gaze. "But don't make it a habit, okay? We've got exams to ace!"

Jeongin's smile grows softer as he continues to watch you sleep, a warmth spreading through his chest at the sight of you. "You know," he begins, his voice quieter now, filled with a sincerity that matches the affection in his eyes, "I don't think I ever told you just how much you mean to me."

"You're not just my study buddy," he confesses softly, his gaze never leaving your peaceful form. "You're my best friend, my confidante, my partner in crime."

"And... well, if I'm being completely honest," he admits, a slight blush coloring his cheeks, "you're also the person I've been hopelessly in love with for longer than I care to admit."

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

[gogogodzilla]

day 3, quickie

harry potter x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, semi-public sex, both harry & reader are of age, takes place in their 7th year, unprotected sex, creampie kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

There was something about his quidditch uniform that turned you on. Maybe it was his athletic build that drew you in, how the jersey hugged his features just right. You didn’t think you’d ever see him in his uniform again after the war. Fortunately, he decided to return to Hogwarts with you. 

You knew you’d only have a few minutes before people came looking for you. Luckily, you could do a lot in that amount of time. 

Harry had you pressed against the lockers, trapped in a fervent kiss. It was tradition, after all, to give him a good luck kiss before his matches. This time it was a little bit more than a good luck kiss. 

Your arms were pinned over your head with one of Harry’s hands while his free hand traveled down your body and under your sweater. His fingers crept up your ribs and then to your chest, extending one finger to circle the bud of your nipple. Harry slotted a knee between your legs, and you rutted your hips against him, attempting to quell your aching core. He released you from your kiss and focused his ministrations on your neck, kissing and licking whatever skin he could. 

Harry snaked his hand down your abdomen and ran a digit over your clothed core. You could feel him grinning against your neck; he always loved to tease you, and today was no exception. 

“Get a move on, Potter,” you warned, glaring up at him. 

He pressed a kiss to your cheek before pulling away, “Ask nicely.” You pressed your lips together, biting back a sarcastic remark. 

You look up at him, sticking your bottom lip out. “Please fuck me, Harry.”  

He released you from his hold and gripped your thighs. In one swift motion, he lifted you up and had you pressed against the lockers once again. It was moments like these that reminded you that Harry was an athlete. 

You locked your ankles together around his waist. One of Harry’s arms was wrapped around your waist holding you while the other was occupied with freeing his length from its confines. 

Once successful, he stroked himself a few times, spreading the precum that had already formed. He pulled your panties to the side, sliding a digit between your folds, and collected your slick. He brought his finger to his mouth, tasting you. 

He angled his cock up to your entrance and pushed inside you, forcing a high-pitched whine to tumble past your lips. 

You sucked in a breath as he bottomed out, not used to his length just yet. Harry planted sloppy kisses across the column of your neck, attempting to soothe you. A few moments passed, and you began moving your hips against his, begging him to move. 

Harry took mercy on you and obliged you with a snap of his hips. With each thrust, he pulled out a little more. Until finally, just the head of his cock was inside you before he was rutting back inside you. 

“Taking me so well, love,” he slurred into your shoulder. He gripped the globes of your ass as he lifted you and pounded into you. Your mouth lolled open, gasping for air as you whined his name.  

One of his hands drifted to where you were joined, almost as if he couldn’t help himself. His index finger drew circles around your clit, and you could feel your release pooling in your belly. 

You clenched around Harry’s cock, and he groaned deeply. His thrusts were becoming sloppier, and you could tell he was teetering on the edge. 

You gripped onto his bicep, “I’m close, Harry.” 

His pace quickened in response as he desperately chased his high. Your orgasm hit you like a semi and you came hard around his cock. You squeezed him tightly as tremors wracked through your body. Harry convulsed inside of you as his own orgasm washed over him. 

His thrusts slowed as he came down from his high. Slowly, he pulled out and watched as his cum dripped out of you. He quickly returned your panties back to their normal position, preventing any more of his release from escaping you. He gently set you down and you gripped onto his biceps, attempting to still your quaking legs. 

“Good luck,” you murmured, a smile gracing your features as you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

The First Meet - Self-Aware!Zayne

You fell asleep to the sound of Zaynes rapid typing as usual. Don’t worry though he’ll see you in the morning

Self-Aware!Zayne who is so in love with you that he can tell you’re getting sleepy just by the way you’re breathing changes. “If you’re tired you can rest I'll be here” “I’m not asleep” “You will be soon I'll see you in the morning just get some rest” You smiled at the thought of actually waking up next to him “Can you imagine” a deep yawn escaped you “actually waking up next to me?” Self-Aware!Zayne who knew you’d already drifted off to sleep when he said “I won’t have to imagine soon” he finished out his paper work while listening to your soft snores which were like music to his ears

That night you dreamt of snow covered fields stretching far into the distance. You looked down to see yourself in just the t-shirt you went to bed in “Am I lucid dreaming?” suddenly the wind picked up and snow began to whip past your face burning your cheeks and bare legs with the stinging cold as it went by. “It's …. so … cold” you thought to yourself as you looked around trying to see anything in the distance. If you’re dreaming why did this feel so real?

Just then you saw it, a small house off in the distance. You had no choice you were going to freeze to death if you stayed out here any longer. You started running towards the house, but no matter how many steps you took it was as if you weren’t moving from the spot you were standing in.

Your feet were swept from underneath you as you fell face first into the icy snow. You tried to stand, but the snow seemed to hold onto you. You yanked at the phantom hands holding you down. Panic soon set in as your fighting attempts were seemingly in vain “HELP! PLEASE! ANYONE!” the snow muffled your final scream as your entire body was covered in heaps of snow.

You awoke with a sharp gasp and your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest. Once your heart rate finally went back to normal you looked around and noticed this …… wasn’t your room. You’re so disoriented after that dream that you really hope this isn’t one of those dreams where you woke up in another dream. “Fuck where’s my phone?”

“It’s back in your world” You froze mid search as fear set-in at the mere fact you weren’t alone. You slowly turned your head in the direction of the very familiar voice. It was him. Zayne stood in the doorway holding a mug in his hand. You stared at him wide eyed and confused “Im dreaming I have to be dreaming” You slapped the absolute shit out of yourself and fell back on the bed screaming in pain and you realized you were in fact awake.

“Are you okay?” Zayne rushed to you grabbing your face to inspect your self-inflicted wound “Why on earth would you do that?”

“HOW ARE YOU HERE!?” You screamed in his face. Oh hell you’re starting to hyperventilate “This isn’t real this isn't real I was….in my room how could I…..” Your voice trailed off as you passed out in Zayne’s arms. He stared down at you with a smile on his face. “I told you I would see you in the morning” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and held you until you woke up.

Hours later….

Once Zayne got you to calm down enough to sit and have a conversation he explained how you are indeed in his world now.

Y/N: So you mean to tell me by you speaking to me we made all of this real?!

You waved your hand around to emphasize the fact that you are currently sitting in the living room of a fucking game. Everything looks so real it almost felt like you really were in another world and not just a developed game.

Zayne: I'm not sure exactly how it works but yes together we both made my world as real as yours Y/N: I can’t stay here forever Zayne I have a life back in my world my friends and family will be worried sick Zayne: You can come and go here whenever you please Y/N: How exactly am I supposed to do that? Zayne: With my evol … I can transport you to and from your world that’s how I got you here Y/N: In that frozen deserted waste-land!? I thought I died! Zayne: Im sorry my love but that’s the only way it works until we can figure out something else

You froze at hearing him call you his love. Your heart was racing just from those two simple words. You tried to speak, but no words were coming out. Zayne seemed to notice that he had you speechless and he took this moment to pull you closer and hook a finger under your chin. “Don’t hate me I’ve been waiting so long to do this” He pressed the softest lingering kiss on your lips and you couldn’t help the way you melted into him. “You feel so real” You whispered against his lips.

“I am real” You stared deep into those endless green eyes. You dreamed of looking into these eyes and here you were. You caressed his cheek then gently pushed him back by his chest. You needed some kind of distance so you could process what was going on. "We're not done talking"

"I figured you would have more questions" He said as he draped an arm over the couch behind you. "Ask me anything"

[ceilidho]

fear of god

prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 2 masterlist

-

How am I hearing you?

That should be the first question out of your mouth, but instead what comes out is a meek trembling of words. “E-excuse me?”

His smile doesn’t waver. “Asked if you could let me in, love. I’m a bit turned around.”

You pause for a moment to take stock of the situation. A programming that has served your species since the dawn of time quietly whispers something to you, its voice unintelligible but meaningful. The instinct to help kicks in with the man’s plea, but your own confusion stays its corresponding response. 

There’s a man outside the ship knocking on the window and you’ve never seen his face before. 

“Where did you—where did you even come from?” you ask. 

He waves a hand and it drifts slowly beside his helmet, encumbered by the lack of gravity. “Around. Lost contact with my crew and I’ve been trying to get some help ever since.”

His tone is too blasé for the situation. You’d expect fear or urgency, but he speaks as though reassuring you.

“Was there another ship nearby?” You don’t remember Graves mentioning any other ships in this sector of the solar system. With many funded by private corporations or individuals, the team might not be always privy to all ongoing missions, but the commander would have known if there was a ship within a lunar distance. 

“At some point,” he says, still smiling. Too friendly. 

It’s been months since you spoke to a man your age that you hadn’t seen drink their own piss via the ship’s recycled water filtration system. Not to shame anyone—you’re part of that statistic too—but you’ve realized in the past few weeks how far that knowledge has gone towards dampening any burgeoning attraction to anyone.  

But it occurs to you again—a thought burrowing into the recesses of your mind, like a phantom of itself, a loon call over a still lake—that you are hearing someone from outside the ship. Sound traveling through nothing; the very absence of sound. 

The thought is too big for your head, but it fits itself in anyway. It stretches uncomfortably because material reality usually wins in the end. What you can see and hear, you can trust. You know the world through what appears in front of you; that's always how it's been.

This time though, there's something you can't quite fit in your head.

“Wait, let me…let me get some help,” you tell him, taking a step away from the window. Your stomach clenches when he frowns, brows pulled together in concern.

“You sure, love? I can walk you through opening the doors if you need help. Same as my ship, I bet.” He chuckles nervously. “Been out here awhile now; not sure how much oxygen I’ve got left in the tank, if I’m honest.”

That almost gets you, but you remember protocol. For all your shortcomings, you’ve never not followed protocol. Opening the airlock and letting anyone in or out is a process strictly monitored by the commander, and you have no authority to grant anyone access without express permission. You know the access codes, of course, for security and safety reasons, but despite the sudden urgency in his voice, you haven’t been authorized to let him in. 

And then there’s the matter of—

Again, though his frame fills up most of the porthole, when you look out into the depths of space around him, you see nothing out there. You wonder if perhaps Graves purposefully omitted any mention of receiving a distress call from a ship with a lost crew member. 

It feels less than likely. 

“I’ll be back.” You take another step back, heart fluttering in your chest. “Just…wait. I’ll—”

The rest of your sentence never comes, tucked beneath your tongue. Your feet are already taking you away.

The metal floor clangs under your feet as you stumble away and down the hall towards the cargo hold. You can hear the man yell after you, his voice growing more and more distant the farther you run, until its echo lingers only in your head. 

Down the stairs and through the main corridor, you pass the medbay on your way to the cargo hold, the room at the far end of the spacecraft accessible only by descending below the orlop deck. You come galloping down the stairs so fast that you nearly trip over the last one. 

The doors to the hold slide open at your approach. Though the cargo hold on the ship isn’t as gargantuan as some you’ve seen before, it’s still big enough for your footsteps to echo across the room when you make your way inside. Crates holding the ship’s sampling gear and equipment are tied down to the floor by fiber-reinforced polymer straps and covered by heavy-duty nets. The smell of fuel and ozone is pungent, thick in the air. 

The temperature in the hold is a degree or two hotter than the rest of the ship, putting you instantly on edge. Irritable; uncomfortable. Heat clings to the grooves of your skin, sinking past the epidermis. You tug your collar out with a finger. 

“Hello?” you call out into the hold, voice reverberating off the walls.

No one responds. Perhaps Farah did come for her brother, as she mentioned earlier. It wouldn’t do for you to linger in the empty hold then, the man outside the ship still a pressing concern. 

The ceiling is banded by metal beams, ferrous pipes running up the walls to the rafters, gurgling and whistling as water passes through. You can see the shoddy workmanship in the exposed scaffolding, areas that should’ve long ago been covered up or hidden away behind walls. A pipe in a far corner overhead drips onto the concrete below. 

“Looking for someone?” a voice asks from directly behind you, and your heart jumps into your throat at the sudden sound. 

When you whirl around, Hadir stands in the middle of the cargo hold, shoulders slouched and hands stuffed in his pockets. He lifts an eyebrow at the look on your face. Though he shares some features in common with his sister, his build is entirely different; stockier, slightly softer. Round jaw to her sharp. The same widow’s peak though, and the same nose. 

“Yeah, hi—morning, by the way.” You gesture with your thumb towards the door. “I, just…this is going to sound wild, but I think I just…I think someone’s outside the ship.”

The easy look falls off his face in favor of a more serious expression. 

“Outside the ship?” he repeats in disbelief. 

“Yes, I know, but I swear. Can you just—” Frustration makes you curt. Partial embarrassment too because you know how it sounds. 

There shouldn’t be anyone outside the ship because you’re in the middle of nowhere with no other spaceships around for hundreds of thousands of miles. There shouldn’t be anything other than carbonaceous and silicate asteroids drifting outside the ship. Rubble as small as grains of sand.  

He frowns. “Did someone get locked out of the ship? Why didn’t you go get Graves?”

“It’s not—” Again, you can’t seem to find the words, the right one getting lost in translation. “It’s not someone from the crew.”

Something shifts across his face, a micro-expression that makes your throat tighten involuntarily, but he nods and follows you out of the hold. 

Nerves plague you on the walk back to the porthole. Since you lead the way, you can’t look back and gauge Hadir’s expression, but you can feel his eyes heavy on your back. Skepticism still thick in the air, so rich you can almost taste it. You can hardly blame him. Were it anyone else, you’d think them delusional too. 

The walk back feels twice as long somehow. At the top of the staircase, you breathe quietly out of your mouth in order to catch your breath without letting on how winded you are. Hadir’s footsteps echo yours, a beat off the entire walk back to the corridor you left just a few minutes ago. 

When the porthole finally comes into view, you freeze, causing him to nearly walk right into you. Any apology for the sudden halt doesn't get off the back of your tongue.

A dark, empty nothingness perforated by light in the far off reaches of space. Your throat goes dry at the sight. 

“There was someone outside,” you say. It comes out whispery thin. 

You almost don’t need him to walk up to the glass and look out, knowing already what he’ll see. It’s immediately evident, the porthole free of anyone or anything obscuring the hazy band of stars off in the distance.

There’s no way to see Hadir’s expression as anything other than concerned. He peers out of the porthole again, twisting his head to the right and left in order to see as far as the view extends. 

“I, uh…I don’t see anything out there,” he finally admits, a tad awkwardly. He has a hard time meeting your eyes. 

“Oh,” you reply, nonplussed.  

You step up to the window alongside him. Stars leak out of the blackness of space; eternal night. It’s a long way from anywhere out here. 

“He might’ve gone to another window.”

For a beat, Hadir doesn’t respond. You’re both thinking the same thing. It’s unlikely that if anyone were out stranded in the middle of space that they’d float aimlessly around their only means of salvation rather than just wait for help. 

“Maybe you just saw your own reflection,” Hadir suggests. "It happens. Freaks me out too sometimes."

The tone of voice he uses irks you; it’s vaguely placating, like he’s trying to reassure you as well as himself.

There’s nothing wrong with you though. You saw what you saw and heard what you heard. There was a man outside the porthole hovering in space and he spoke to you. 

“Yeah, maybe,” you say instead. 

You stare at the faint, runny outline of your own face in the window. No matter how hard you stare, you can’t imagine her suddenly opening her mouth and talking to you. 

When the two of you finally part ways, you head for the medbay on autopilot. The mug that was in your hand is long gone—probably accidentally put down when you went looking for Hadir in the cargo hold—and you regret not stopping by the galley for a refill. 

It bothers you that Hadir went the other way, towards the cockpit instead of back to the cargo hold. You wonder whether someone called him up before you found him. 

The medical unit on this ship is smaller than what you’re used to for interplanetary travel. They’ve supplied you with the equipment necessary for simple surgeries and nothing more; anything more complex is left to chance and divine intervention. The operating table in the center of the room comes equipped with a scanner capable of medical imaging and diagnosing. 

It’s an incredibly insular room on top of that, having been designed without windows. Not atypical for a medical bay. Though bigger than your personal quarters, you often find yourself on edge when spending any prolonged amount of time in your work station. 

For all of its flaws, the ship is equipped with a rudimentary form of artificial intelligence. It mainly assists with performing diagnostics, assisting with determining the best trajectory for the spacecraft, and enabling autonomous navigation, the latter function being temporarily suspended after the impact from the day before, but it has some use. You’re especially lucky that every computer on board gives you access to the AI, meaning that you can stay cooped up in the medical unit rather than venturing back to the cockpit where your inquiry might wind up drawing more attention to you than you’d like. 

You lean forward in your chair, a leg tucked into your chest as you flip a switch on the dashboard on the wall behind the computer and then a button on the keyword, the familiar blip letting you know to speak. 

“Ship, please scan the perimeter for any nearby foreign objects.”

Chewing your nails and staring at the computer, you watch it light up, words and symbols flashing across the screen, buttons flicking on and off on the dashboard behind it. The ship rumbles around you as it scans the surrounding vacuum of space for anything with mass. The foot still touching the ground taps, a restless twitch running through your leg. 

The blip of completion makes you jolt in your chair. 

No anomalous objects detected around ship's exterior

You press the button again. “That’s—that’s not possible, Ship. I saw someone out the window.”

When you let go of the button again, the computer goes quiet, running through another round of calculations, performing the same diagnostic again. Another distended moment of anticipation. You hold your breath until the computer beeps, the perimeter inspection complete. 

Scan complete

No anomalous objects detected around ship's exterior

The secondary confirmation makes your stomach sink. 

It’s difficult to articulate the feeling in your chest. Halfway between disbelief and unease. Perhaps a simple error in judgment, but you can’t simply look past the voice you heard from the astronaut outside the porthole. In your life, you’ve made plenty of mistakes and bad calls; you’ve run the gamut of mistakes, everything from going back to old flings to nearly misdiagnosing a patient. 

You have never seen things that weren’t there. 

Still, the reading on the screen doesn’t waver. You stare at it until your watering eyes force you to blink. 

You chew the nail of your middle finger until it tears. Sweat slicks the small of your back and the soft skin under your arms. 

“Okay,” you whisper to yourself. “Okay.”

[monstersholygrail]

*cue me draped over a dining chair talking on a telephone while twirling the cord*

“RING RING ITS GARGOYLE HOURS BABY! I WANT A BIG OL’ STORY WITH A DND NERD GARGOYLE AND BANSHEE READER WHO NEEDS HIM CARNALLY AND IS VERY VOCAL!!”

*hangs up before you can respond*

-☎️

*proceeds to call you back over and over again but hang up just as you answer and then giggle like a schoolgirl*

WC: 1.8k

You had it bad. You were absolutely down bad and wrecked for the Gargoyle bartender you had met long ago at your usual bar. In fact, he was the only one you ever really bothered to talk there.

Not many people went looking to pick a Banshee up at a bar. I guess screaming in ecstasy was easily confused with screaming for their impending death. Was death not hot as fuck? You had no idea at this point.

But the Gargoyle bartender was the only one who ever really caught your eye anyway. It didn’t help that not only was he stunningly gorgeous, but he had an amazing personality too. He was a total nerd under all those chiseled stone muscles and frequently acted as the Dungeon Master in your groups DnD campaigns.

You frequently found yourself drifting off in thought, subtly staring at him during game nights or during nights like this. Thats what you were doing even now, stuck in your head thinking about him as you order drink after drink. You didn’t even realize how late it had gone and how much you had to drink.

Until you went to stand up and the world immediately spun. You wobbled, letting out a loud ‘woah’ into the almost empty bar. Luckily Gargoyle bartender was right there to help steady you. A husky chuckle falling past his lips.

“Let me drive you home. I don’t trust anyone else with you right now,” he said into your ear.

Your pussy gushes with arousal, clenching around nothing at his words alone. They send a thrill up your spine and your drink-infused mind leans into him a little too much. But he doesn’t hesitate to firmly hold onto your wide waist to keep you stable against him.

The ride back to your place is silent. Yet comfortable. You two have done a lot together. Battling monsters and going on all sorts of adventures. Through a game, true, but they last hours and go on for months. You trust him.

He helps you up to your apartment due to the fact that the moment he let you go outside of his car you nearly stumbled into the concrete. Walking into your apartment he moves around the space with ease. Having spent more than a handful of game nights here.

Setting you down on your couch he moves to get you some water to help flush the alcohol from your mind. He sits with you, the two of you talking and laughing for hours. Suddenly you’re back to where you were at the bar. Downing drinks and staring the beautiful Gargoyle. Only this time you don’t have to be subtle about it.

By the look in his eyes you could see he was waiting for something. It wasn’t until all the fog had cleared in your mind, your eyes had dried up, and you seemed to get your focus back that you knew what he was waiting for. As if a chain had finally broken, Gargoyle bartender swoops down and captures your lips in a heated kiss.

You inhale sharply, leaning into him immediately. Not believing this was happening. This was really happening. It was all that ran through your mind as the two of you stumbled into your bedroom, throwing your clothes off along the way.

Rolling onto the bed you sprawl out, spreading your thighs wide for him. The moonlight casting a brilliant glow on your glistening folds. The gargoyle growls at your enticing form. His hand curls around his hard aching cock, pumping himself slowly as he watches you clench around nothing.

“Touch yourself,” he snarls. “You don’t know how many nights I’ve spent imagining what you look like touching yourself.”

Your eyes widen and there’s nothing that could’ve stopped you in that moment from sliding your hand down your body. You moan softly as you dip your fingers into your folds, spreading them and showing him all of you. He growls again and you shiver in anticipation, your need for him unbearable.

He slowly works his cock to the sight of you teasing and exploring your cunt as if it’s the first time you’ve ever touched yourself. It has his every nerve on edge. All while your body is shaking, your fingers dripping into your soaked pussy and imagining it’s his thick cock. But god, you know your fingers can’t even compare.

You don’t know how long the two of you go on. Edging yourselves, slowly bringing your bodies to the edge of release. Merely from the sight of watching each other use your hands to bring you to release. You rock into your fingers, body shaking, the tension in the air only making you want his cock that much more.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he says through panting breaths. Your head snaps up to meet his eye and you cry out, a mix of pain and pleasure coursing through you. “Not like this. I want every moment of our first time together burned into your memory.”

“I’m not gonna forget this,” you moan, fucking your fingers even harder.

He laughs, the loud deep and raspy. His hand picks up to match with your pace and he moans, throwing his head back. Only then does he see the rising sun. His eyes widen in alarm.

“F-fuck!”

What you thought was a noise of pleasure has your body going over the edge. Your hips jerk into your hand and you moan loudly as your orgasm crashes through you. Your eyes closing in ecstasy. Gargoyle bartender watches you come undone. He grunts, about to cum himself when suddenly he can’t move.

A second later his body turns to stone, the sunlight pours through the windows and illuminates his strong features. As you come down from your release your eyes flutter open and you immediately gasp to see your Gargoyle a frozen statue standing at the end of your bed.

You knew gargoyles turned to statues in the sun. Your game nights were always exactly that. At night. He worked the night shift at the bar. But you had no idea his stone state looked like this. You didn’t exactly know what to do. You assume there is nothing you can do until the sun sets.

But in the meantime… he’s stuck exactly where he is. Frozen on the edge of a climax. You also know that gargoyles can see feel, hear, and see everything around them while in their stone state.

Oh, you could have fun with this.

You spend the entire day relentlessly torturing him. After you come up with your plan, you head off to take a shower. Not bothering to hide your plush form from his frozen eyes with a towel as you leave your room naked and come back naked.

Given that it was the weekend and you had nowhere to be, you didn’t see the point in wearing clothes at all.

Sometimes during the way you’d watch by, brush your hands along his skin. Every inch you thought might be sensitive. Even his frozen hard cock. But you only bother with lingering touches that were sure to drive him mad.

The day passes by quickly as you come up with way after way of teasing the Gargoyle.

Eventually you come up with the bright idea to put on some spicy entertainment on the tv. That way you can not only tease him with yourself, but with those in the videos as well. Your selection has more than the desired affect as you begin to squirm on your bed, moaning softly. Your hands going back to where they were this morning.

You get lost in the moment, so focused on your own pleasure that you forget everything else. The gargoyle at the end of your bed for one thing. But especially the setting sun.

The first thing the Gargoyle can smell is your arousal. The last thing he had smelt before turning to stone welcomes him back as he returns to flesh. It perfumes the air and riddles his mind with blinding lust. His hand flies off his cock, not wanting to waste his seed on touching himself. Not when you’ve been so naughty all day.

You hear a low growl pierce the air and you freeze. The people on the television long forgotten. You barely have time to look to the end of your bed as he’s pouncing on top of you. All you see is a blur and the next thing you feel is his thick leaking tip making a mess of your folds.

“Was it worth it?” He snarls, meeting your wide eyes. You know you’re in some serious danger but you prepare yourself to get the best fuck of your life.

“Yes,” you don’t hesitate to say.

“No fucking remorse?”

With another growl he slams his cock inside you. Both of you release fierce screams into the air. He doesn’t give you a moment to breathe. It’s only fair after what you’ve been doing to him all day and you welcome it. Writhing and moaning on his cock. Desperately trying to buck up into his furious thrusts.

Gargoyle swears he sees red as he pounds his cock inside you. The sound of your joining echoing off the walls and overpowering the video still running on the tv.

His claws sink into your curvy hips and you arch into him, wanting everything he’ll give you. He brings you down on his massive length even harder, wanting to tease you as much as you’ve been teasing him all day.

And he just does that with the skillful way his dick glides along your wet gummy walls. Keeping you right on the edge just as you had done to him. He leans over you, surrounding you completely and you happily let yourself be consumed.

With this new angle he shifts his hips, grinding his pelvis roughly against your clit. The unique texture of his stone-like skin has your body buzzing and tingly. You let go almost immediately and he makes you cum so hard you can’t hold in your banshee scream as you clench down hard around his length.

The Gargoyle grunts as you squeeze his cock, milking it for all its worth. You’re so perfect, so tight around him. He can’t possibly hold back for another second. He throws his head back, letting out a roar that rivals your scream as he cums deep inside you.

Spurt after spurt it seems never ending. An entire day worth of being pent up spills inside of you. Your body trembles with the aftershocks as you feel him fill you up, keeping your body stuffed full of him.

You sigh in relief, a sense of contentment coursing through you. You had been waiting all day for this too. And it was even better than you imagined. But as you look up at the Gargoyle, catching his heated predatory gaze, you know the night is long from over.

And he doesn’t plan on stopping until the sun comes up.

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (5)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, PINING, references to nonconsensual situations (very brief, nothing graphic, and not Az)

a/n: Hope this clears some stuff up ;) More to come and especially more Az to come. Thank you forever for reading and sharing your thoughts! This is getting me through the semester <3

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ✶ Part 4☼ Part 6 ♡

Series Masterlist

~~

Azriel walked you to your room. 

He knew exactly where to go, which corners to turn and which to pass, which was very convenient as you still found yourself struggling with the task. The House of Wind, as everyone so lovingly called it, was practically a maze for someone with no memory of its twists and turns. But Azriel had absolutely no trouble getting you to your room. 

Once you got to your room, however, he appeared to have many troubles. 

“You can come in,” you prompted, looking over your shoulder to find the shadowsinger with his shoes at the threshold. “I promise I just cleaned it. Or, at least I’m pretty sure I cleaned it. It’s hard to know where to put things when I only just started…” 

Your voice trailed off. Upon further inspection of the man standing just outside your door, you found that he didn’t simply look hesitant to enter. He had his hands pressed to the doorframe, his head slightly leaned into the room, and his eyes were slowly trailing along your belongings. The expression on his face read as forlorn, but his body read as tense. 

He had been here before, obviously. Of course this would be hard for him. You probably had everything in the wrong place and he had just told you about the difficult time he was having—how close the two of you had been before you lost everything. 

“Um,” you began, pressing your lips together tightly when his gaze flickered to you. “Maybe you could… or would you mind maybe telling me where my bags are? If you know. Mor gave me a surface-level tour, but she didn’t seem to know everything.” 

Azriel looked down to the ground beneath your feet. He blinked back up to meet your eyes. “Of course,” he replied, with so much practiced restraint in his tone you weren’t sure how he gritted out the words. 

When he stepped in the room, it felt as if something shifted. He walked between tables and furniture and he fit like a puzzle, his wings never brushing anything, his eyes never casting down to analyze his body in the space. He looked like he belonged—he looked like he completed the space. 

Something finally felt right. 

Nothing felt right… but this did. 

Azriel pushed open the closet doors, rifling through a cabinet you had only glanced at before. After a few silent moments, he walked out with bags in hand. His shadows hadn’t followed him. They drifted towards the bed instead, burrowing into the blankets and pillows until the plush surface became dark. 

Azriel zeroed in on them as he placed the bags by your feet, staring off at his shadows as you brought your attention back to him. This close, you were able to catch his scent—the cedar and night-kissed air you’d recognized many times in recent days. But it had been so faint before, like he had been gone for weeks and the scent still lingered, or he had been in the room but only for a brief time. Nothing like now, with his chest only inches from your face. 

“They seem to like my bed,” you laughed, just a small, breathy sound. An attempt to diffuse some of the untouched tension in the room. 

The side of Azriel’s mouth curled up. You watched it rise, silently relishing in the heat of his body as it radiated into the space between you. “I can see that.” 

He wasn’t a man of very many words—that’s something Mor had thankfully shared with you—but you wanted to fight against that. You wanted to hear the soft, low rumble of his voice. You wanted his laugh to spark in the air, to feel his words against your skin as you had just a few moments earlier. Azriel told you he didn’t hate you, that he was close to you, and suddenly the space between you felt impossible. 

You just wanted to hear his voice. 

“Have I changed things much?” you asked, heart thudding when he brought his gaze down to you. “I don’t know how much time you used to spend in here… or currently spend in here, I suppose—it’s only been a few days—but I’ve moved a few things. If you could tell.” 

Azriel took in a long breath. “Actually, you—” he shook his head with an expression you could only decipher as baffled “—you put everything back. Cassian and Feyre, they moved a few things around when you were being brought home. Things that might have… well, we just didn’t want you to be overwhelmed.” 

Overwhelmed. 

“We should have known that was a ridiculous idea. You’re too brilliant, even without the context.” 

Warmth flooded you; one compliment from Azriel and it was as if nothing mattered. You didn’t need your memories, you only needed this.

Azriel’s cheeks colored as if he felt the rush of emotions himself, his eyes bright. 

No, that wasn’t right—you needed your memories. You needed to remember each and every time he had looked like this. 

“Probably didn’t help that there were a bunch of empty spaces everywhere. If you leave nails on the wall it becomes quite obvious that something belongs there,” you quipped, a small smirk playing at your features. 

Azriel laughed. Not a full laugh, but one that you had no idea you were missing before. “I will be sure to pass on the message.” 

“Good. Cassian has many messages coming from me, it seems. Conflicting ones as well.” 

“Right, of course. I will convey to him that you missed his presence earlier, but also that he is awful at hiding things from an amnesiac.” 

“Perfect, thank you, Azriel.” 

He gazed upon you, eyes flickering to every corner of your face. 

They rested on your lips and then your eyes, trailing up until his hand followed to move the strand of hair that had wisped across your forehead. He brushed it away with delicate fingers, not a touch of hesitancy in them. Like it was natural for him, normal. 

And maybe it was. 

“I don’t know what to pack,” you whispered, trying to keep some of the lightness in the room. “Can you help? I haven’t a clue where most of my things are and you appear to be much more knowledgeable.” 

Azriel drew his hand back, his eyes closing for a few long moments. 

You wished you could delve into his mind the way Rhysand could—that you could understand some of the pain written in the tight clench of his eyelids. 

“Of course I’ll help you.” 

It began with him gathering things from the connected washroom. He entered the tiled room and opened drawers without fault or mistake, collecting perfumes you had been gravitating towards and zipping up products you hadn’t even found yet. He packed your brushes and jewelry as if he’d done this all before, as if your request for help wasn’t really a request, but an expectation. 

“Have we traveled together before?” you found yourself asking as you followed behind the shadowsinger, a bag hanging from his arm. 

Azriel smiled, turning to you with a glint in his eye. “A few times.” 

You were very close friends, then. 

Azriel led you back to the closet where he pulled a few articles of clothing from the hangers, holding each out for you to approve before he neatly folded them. You denied nothing, rather surprised by his taste and sense for whatever the weather was like in Day. 

He moved further into the closet, half of which was sparsely filled. Maybe you filtered out your clothes with the seasons. 

Or maybe something was missing. 

Azriel paused.

You watched his scarred fingers brush over the purple dress you had worn on the first day you spoke to him after waking up. He rubbed the material against the pad of his thumb once, and then twice, before closing the closet doors and taking an abrupt step back. You stepped with him. 

The shadowsinger said nothing.

“All done?” you asked. “Anything else I would need at Day?” 

His shoulders rose and fell. Some of his shadows returned to make revolutions around his body.

��Azriel?” 

“I—I’m sorry. Give me a moment.”

The shadowsinger stalked over to the bed, went to sit, but then seemed to think against it and began pacing instead. You tucked your fingers into your palm as you watched him, trying to hide the discomfort you felt as his clear unease. 

Had you done something wrong? 

Maybe you were being too familiar. This friendship between you was new and comfortable and exciting, but that was for you. 

For Azriel, there was a gap, an immense amount of pain and missing connection. 

He didn’t hate you, and that was… wonderful news, but this was also uncharted territory. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have asked for his help—shouldn’t have invited him in. 

“Azriel, I—” 

“I need to explain this to you,” Azriel began, running a hand through disheveled locks. “I need you to understand why this is so hard. I don’t want you to assume this is your fault or that this is anything other than what it is.”

You nodded, but he didn’t look up to see your confirmation. 

Azriel sighed and his wings flared slightly, returning back to his body in a quivering motion. 

“I am terrified, y/n.” 

This time, Azriel did look up to catch your gaze. 

“I am terrified because this has happened before. It’s like I’m reliving it. Like you’re reliving it but you just don’t remember.” 

Your fists unfurled as your brows met a point. “No one’s told me—“ 

“I know,” he breathed out, defeat the most prominent emotion on his beautiful face. “Last time this happened, the more we told you about the past—about certain aspects of your life—the more it hurt you, y/n. You’d… you’d scream until your lungs gave out every time we tried to share something new. It was like that for weeks.” 

The Illyrian forfeited his internal battle with the bed, dropping down into a seat on the foot of it. Unsure of your place within your own room, you simply followed him, standing in front of his bent knees, eyes prompting him to continue. 

He watched you as you moved. 

“Has anyone told you what you do for this court? Your job?” 

You shook your head. 

Azriel continued. “You work as an emissary between courts and continents, but that’s more of a cover—a more comprehensible title for those outside of our circle. It’s hard to explain, but that power Rhys mentioned? It’s—it’s as if you have this intuition. For everything. You look at things, at people, and you just… know them. You look past lies and you pick up on things that are seemingly impossible to catch.” 

Your head shook as Azriel fumbled over each of his words, confusion swirling in your gut. “That doesn't make any sense. Mor said that Rhys found me working at some boatyard by the Sidra. She said I used to help build vessels—there’s no way I have a power like that.” 

“You do,” Azriel affirmed. “Rhys only went to find you because he heard of a girl building boats from memory. You took one look at him and knew what he wanted. Rhys said he barely had to offer you the job.” 

It was a struggle not to grind your teeth together in frustration. 

You used to know everything. 

And now you knew nothing. 

Your head began to hurt, or maybe you were just noticing that it had never stopped hurting.

“You said—” you started, tone heavy with vexation. Your eyes couldn’t find a solid place to land “—you said this has happened before. What does that have to do with these powers?” 

Sensing the rise in your mood, Azriel seemed to even his own out. A balance between the two of you. You became agitated, he became calm. But you could tell he was struggling.

“Around 270 years ago, after you’d been working for the court for a few decades, Rhys sent you to Day. It was routine. You were going to gather information for a High Lord’s summit meant to take place there, but really, Rhys wanted you to scope out the area. To get insight on any plans, any secret dealings. You were meant to be gone for a few days at the most.” 

Azriel’s fists clenched atop his knees. His face remained impassive.

“You were gone for six months. Gone. No one could reach you, Helion had assumed you went home already. It was right after you and I… became friends, so I was worried for you. More than the others, but no one was without worry. We found you eventually, but you—”

Something choked. Azriel choked. His head hung down and you replayed the last few of his words in your mind—the way they tightened and then tapered off. 

This was too much. 

Conveying comfort in the only way you knew how—in the way this family tended to love—you stepped between Azriel’s legs and brought a hand to his cheek, raising his face until his glassy eyes came into view. 

“You don’t have to talk about this,” you whispered. “If it’s too hard, we can stop.” 

Azriel’s jaw quivered. His next words seemed to tumble from his mouth without warning. 

“Fuck, I miss you.” 

It was simple instinct that led to your reply. “I’m right here.” 

Something stirred within you, tugging lightly. Your heart, you deduced, beating so fast it was playing tricks on you. The shadowsinger in your hands twisted slightly, just barely so that the corner of his mouth touched your palm. Your heart tugged again.

“You didn’t remember anything, like now,” Azriel revealed, speaking just as you were about to pull away. You stopped yourself, feeling as if your touch was an encouragement to speak. “It was worse though, you were in so much pain. Any time you tried to remember anything, or even just tried to learn, it was like you were being pierced through the skull. You—you screamed so much.

“But it didn’t take us very long to figure it out. My spies in Day found the culprit and it was easy to capture him. He was weak. Strong powers, but weak in every other sense of the word. It was another Daemati—like Rhys. He became infatuated with you during your time in Day. He knocked you out, found a way to use your powers against you, to make them hurt.” 

Azriel shuddered. His mouth got closer to your hand like he was leaning into it. 

“It took a few weeks to get him to fix it. But those months, y/n—the time you were gone. You don’t remember them. I can only imagine what you went through. And when we brought you home you hurt so badly. So that's why… why us going back there is hard. Because this is all so similar and if it’s happening again I can’t…” 

“Azriel,” you softly called, sure that this was the most amount of speaking the shadowsinger had done in a while. Sure that he needed a break. A respite. “It’s not the same, is it? You know that. My head hurts, but not like that. I don’t struggle to be reminded of the past. I learn new things. There is no evil villain waiting to take me away.” 

“Y/n—” 

“It’s not the same. I might not have access to these all-encompassing powers you speak of, but I can tell you that much. I’m sorry for what you went through before—that you had to watch a member of your family go through that then and then now… but it’s different. It’s different and I’ll be okay.” 

His pond water eyes stared back at you as you attempted a reassuring smile. You felt his knees press against your thighs where you stood between them, and the pressure spurred you on. You ran your thumb along the high point of his cheek, relishing in the flutter of his lashes, gravitating towards him to relish in that closeness as well. This moment felt like yours, and something was telling you it was yours. That no one else could have this with him. 

But you didn’t have your powers, your fae abilities, so maybe that feeling was nothing but hope.

Your thudding heart lulled you into a long breath. 

“Maybe, if it would put you at ease, you could stay with me while we’re in Day? At my side, I mean. You could whisper everyone’s names into my ear so I don’t look like a fool and make sure I don’t get lost—” 

“Yes,” Azriel replied, sure and resolute with no traces of the impending tears that had made his hazel eyes a pretty pool just moments before. “I won’t leave your side once. I promise.” 

His devotion made you pause, surprise evident in the rapid blinking of your eyes. You wanted to protest, to tell him he didn’t need to promise something so taxing, but determination had set in his brow, and Azriel—your friend—wanted this. Needed this. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you, Azriel. For telling me all of this even though it was hard. For being here for me even though I know that’s hard, too. You’re a wonderful friend. I can’t wait to continue to find that out. I promise to be just as wonderful.” 

“You are already the most wonderful thing in my life.” 

Part 6 ♡

[augustinewrites]

synopsis: wriothesley always knows exactly what you need.

building a home in fontaine’s countryside was the best decision that you and wriothesley had made. the privacy was your main reason for moving out here, where your home is hidden away from eyes that pry, tucked safely underneath the linden trees. 

of course, there are a lot of things about your house that you love. the ivy that wraps around its walls, the acres of land for gardening and raising animals, or just to sit within and admire. you love the warmth of the fireplace on cool nights and the south-facing windows that let golden sunlight fill the room. you love this home because you built it together (with the help of your friends). 

but your absolute favourite piece in your home has to be the clawfoot bathtub. deep enough to nearly reach your shoulders, long enough to stretch your legs across. sinking into a bath in this gorgeous tub was the perfect way to end a long week.

you’re preparing a bath now, trussing it up with bath salts, essential oils, some bubbles. candles for ambiance. the setting sun was still bright enough to bounce soft light around the room, but you liked the warm glow candles provided. 

the only thing left now was to strip out of your work clothes. you toss them in the basket, rolling your eyes as you pick up a stray sock that seemed to just miss the basket last night. 

“unbelievable,” you mutter with a shake of your head as you grab the stem of your wine glass, cradling it into your chest as you climb into the tub and slowly lower yourself into the warm water. the second you lean back against the ceramic you instantly begins to relax. the tensions from the work week are already beginning to drift away in a heavenly haze of lavender scented steam and bubbles. it’s just you, your wine, and a quiet evening.

the sound of the front door being thrown open jolts you out of your daze. you nearly spill your wine when you sit upright, body alert at the thought of an intruder. 

your husband calls your name. 

“bathroom!” you call back, releasing a relieved sigh as you sink back into the water. you hear his heavy footsteps quickly make their way across the cottage. he’s home early today. 

wriothesley appears in the doorway, lopsided smile on his face as he already begins loosening his tie, stepping into the bathroom. “don’t you look relaxed.”

you simply hum in response, smiling up at him. at least until he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it in the general direction of the basket. 

“wrio,” you pout as his trousers suffer the same fate. “your stuff goes in the basket. not in the area around it.” 

“they’ll get there eventually,” he shrugs, gesturing for you to scoot up. “don’t want the water to get cold.”

so much for a quiet evening.

“you know, the purpose of the bigger bath was so that we wouldn’t be squished together like this,” you mutter as he slides into the water behind you, tucking himself snugly against your back and settling his chin in the crook of your neck

“maybe i just like being pressed up against you,” he says, placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder. “i do like having a bigger bath for our…activities though.”

you roll your eyes, and wriothesley makes up for his lewd insinuations when his hands start working at the knots in your shoulders. “wanna tell me what you’re doing home so early? i usually have to tear you away from your desk for the weekend.”

“promise you won’t freak out?” he sighs, digging his fingers into a particularly large knot at the base of your neck. it’s a trap and you know this, but it just feels so good. 

“wriothesley–” you start.

his fingers move under your chin, tilting your head toward him so you’re eye to eye. “i may have left clorinde in charge so i could take a few days off.” before you can get a word out, he swallows your argument with a kiss.

“wait,” you sputter. “how many days did you take off?”

“three days starting tomorrow,” he answers quickly, leaning in for another kiss. you place a soap-covered hand on his mouth and push his face away, ignoring his confused noises. 

“you can’t take that many days off, we have the finance meeting with neuvillette on monday,” you remind him, scooting to the opposite end of the tub to avoid any more distracting touches. “i can’t go by myself–”

“ah,” he interrupts, rubbing the back of his neck. “i may have signed off on a few days off for you too.”

“what?!” you yell, but it’s more like a shriek. “don’t you remember what happened last time you left clorinde in charge? the infirmary–” 

“i told her she can’t hit them this time!”

you huff, bubbles floating through the air as you cross your arms over your chest. you’re surprised he’d take so much time off before an important meeting. 

“come on,” he urges, that sneaky smile you hate to love still playing on his lips as he leans forward in the water. you feel his hand grip your ankle, barely lifting your leg above the water, thumbs rubbing firm circles into the pad of your foot. “i’m not trying to get out of anything. i just want to spend some more time with you.”

you have to admit, he looks absolutely irresistible right now. The way the warm sunset bounced off the rivulets of water dripping down the planes of his chest painted a very pretty picture for you to look at as he massaged your tired muscles. 

and he’s right. the two of you have been busy lately, sneaking quick kisses when you pass him in the hall or hiding away for a moment before one of you is called for. 

his skilled fingers work their way up your calf, soothing the muscles you used to walk around the infirmary. You lean your head back, letting your eyes slip closed as he starts describing your weekend off in a low voice that makes heat creep up to your cheeks. 

“it’ll just be me and you all weekend. We’ll lay in bed all morning, then i’ll make you a special brunch–” you crack one eye open to send him a wary look. “okay, you got me. i’ll order us a special brunch. then we’ll have a picnic out in the yard, maybe do some fishing at the dock…”

okay, you’re sold. a restful weekend with your love sounds perfect. 

“well, as long as you’re prepared for the– ah,” you gasp, shuddering as his fingers travel up past your knee. “wriothesley, what are you–” 

“shh, just giving you another preview of what you’re in for this weekend,” he laughs, fingers grazing your inner thigh. “let me help you relax, love.”

[hier--soir]

night breeze

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: joel comes home to find you sleeping in his bed, wearing his clothes. warnings/tags: established relationship, consensual somnophilia, oral [f receiving], joel loves when you wear his clothes, premature ejaculation, reader wears joel's clothes; body type is not described explicitly but his boxers are described as "snug" on her thighs. word count: 1.8k masterlist follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is envisioned as a part of the ALP universe [set between 7 and 8] but it can be read as a stand alone.

The air is calm at dusk.

Soft and sweet against your skin, the smell of salt in your nostrils.

The sky is a kaleidoscope of purples and pinks and blues, and a slick orange sun drips and wanes until its belly kisses the ocean. Lower, lower, until the sky spins navy and the water pitches black. You float in that black darkness, unbothered by the heavy swells that rise and roll beneath you. The water is rocky and rough, though the waves never seem to break. Too far from the shore, they simply build and build, with no end in sight.  

And the water should be icy, cold enough to chill you to the bone and set you shivering, but you just feel hot. A searing, stuffy heat that clings even as you float over the rolling masses, letting them lap at your neck and face. Humid and dry, you want nothing more than for the water to suck you in deeper. Down, down, until your body is covered, and your hair is a floating halo, and you are finally cool.  

Yet as time passes, you find that it is not the water that is warm, but you. That stifling sticky sun that sank beneath the horizon now burns at the centre of you, red hot and raging, ready to rise again already.

You try to smother it, to tamp it down. Tangle your legs on the water’s surface and hold your breath, but it burns still. A scorching scratch at the inside of your skin, your skull, your chest cavity. And something crawls its way up through your chest now. Something loose-limbed and drowsy, working its way past your stomach, your lungs, your throat, your—

A ragged moan wakes you.   

Your fingers twitch and tighten, gripping soft sheets. Eyes roll behind lids as you drift slowly into consciousness. The air in his bedroom is cold, but in the haze of your sleep-addled brain you can’t quite pinpoint why you’re so warm. Face down on a pillow, you blink lazily and start to piece together what’s happening.

Your shirt—Joel’s shirt—clings to your skin. Sweat beads along the skin of your back, soaking into the thin fabric. The waistband of his boxers is forgiving, resting against the soft flesh beneath your belly button, though the hem of each leg is snug around your thighs. Oh, your thighs…. something sturdy holds them apart.

Two solid weights pressing against the inside of your legs, spreading them wide across the bed. A third weight against the small of your back… a hand. Fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt, bunching the material at the base of your spine, keeping your stomach flush to the bed. Another moan startles you, sharpens your mind a little. Your tongue feels heavy, mind a slow blur as you realise that the sound came from your own mouth. And as that understanding sinks in, you finally feel it.

Something hot and wet, lapping at the dark fabric shielding your cunt. And you’re wet. Fucking hell, you’re so wet it’s near uncomfortable. The sopping material clings to your folds, a persistent tongue pressing it in deeper, soaking the material in your slick juices as they drip from you. You gasp, trying fruitlessly to turn your head and see over your shoulder in the darkness.

“S’me,” he says then, and his voice is a pained, haggard thing. Rough and wanton with desire, with need, muffled from how his face is buried between your thighs. “S’just me… fuck, m’sorry.”   

“Joel,” you rasp, breathless as his tongue glances over your clit through his boxers. He groans and then the thick point of his nose is pressing between your cheeks, nudging at your covered asshole. The pressure there sharpens your senses to a point, and sends a surprised moan peeling from your throat.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, just let me…” Joel inhales deeply, cursing under his breath when you lazily rut your sex back against his face.

“Jesus Christ,” you whimper. When you move your face, something damp tickles your cheek. Saliva, pooling out the side of your open mouth and leaving a small damp circle on his pillow. Embarrassment warms your face, but the sound of Joel moaning against your cunt is a welcome distraction.

Muscular shoulders keep your thighs wide open, and he mouths shamelessly at the material, licking and kissing everywhere he can reach, and it suddenly makes sense why you feel like you’re on the edge already. The boxers must be ruined; slick and spit mix together to soak the entirety of the fabric until it clings to your swollen skin.

“H-how… fuck, Joel, how long have you—”

“Don’t know,” he mumbles. “Twenty minutes? Fuck, I don’t—”

Lewd sucking noises fill the room and the muscles in your abdomen go rigid, mouth hanging wide open as his fingers curl around the gusset of the boxers, dragging them to the side. You moan and squirm against the bed as he dips his tongue between your folds, gliding it through the sloppy messy of you. His sounds match yours; hot exhales billowing against your exposed skin and sending goosebumps sprouting across the backs of your thighs.  

Joel pulls back for a minute. Keeps the material pulled to the side, allowing the cool night air to dance across the scorching skin between your legs while he watches you drip for him.

“Got home late,” he apologises, and you twitch as his breath hits your centre. He’s still so close. “Jimmy needed help with somethin’ and I—fuck, it doesn’t matter, but you were so perfect. My good girl, all tucked up in my bed, wearin’ my fuckin’ clothes, just waitin’ for me.”

“Tried to stay awake.” You hum softly, trying to inch yourself back against his face. But Joel just tuts, and you feel a sharp sting as he nips at the skin of your thigh. You pout against his pillow, body going lax and pliant once more. “Wanted to fall asleep with you.”

“I know,” he soothes, licking over where his teeth marks mar your flesh. His lips dance higher and higher until his tongue flicks into your hole. He swears low, resting his forehead against the soft plush of your ass. “But this? Comin’ home to this… fuckin’ luckiest man in the world, I tell ya.”

It's slow and steady when he lets his mouth fall upon you again. Soft little licks around your lips, tracing the dips and folds of your labia, mapping out every inch of you before his tongue dares graze against your clit. And when he does finally make contact, you jolt and whimper, already acutely aware of that familiar tingle in your spine.

Unable to reach him, your fingers tangle uselessly in his sheets, entirely at his mercy as he devours you from behind. Thick thumbs spread you open for his eyes to see, keeping you apart as he licks broad strokes up the entirety of your cunt before lathing languid open-mouthed kisses against it. Hot and wet and needy, his moans vibrate through you, letting you know he loves this just as much as you. Maybe even more.

Your clit pulses against his tongue, alive with a throbbing heartbeat of its own. And with every swipe and glide and circle you feel that heat swirl stiffer in your belly, the wave building and building. You can feel the way your hole, painfully empty, clenches over and over around nothing but air, winking at him and begging for more.

The slippery sounds of your arousal fill the room once more and soon enough you’re keening his name beneath your breath, spurring him on as you imagine the way it must shine on his beard, his lips, even in the darkness.

“Please,” you mewl, drooling against his pillow still, vaguely aware of your saliva gliding down your neck, thick and viscous. “Joel, fuck me, I want it, want you—”

“I will,” he swears, but you can feel how rapt he is by this. How every facet of his attention is trained on keeping his mouth on your pussy, his tongue rubbing firm circles around your clit just how you like. He gasps and pants against you, nodding a little, groaning when his nose glides through your folds and your scent coats his nostrils. “I will, I will, I just need you like this a little longer. I will. Promise.”

His grip is tender against the crease of your thighs, fingers digging in right where your leg meets the flesh of your ass as he eats at you. And you can tell by the way his noises deepen, turning guttural and depraved, that he won’t be making good on that promise tonight. Know it from the way his face ruts forward into your core every few seconds that he must be grinding his leaking cock against the mattress, feverish and desperate for relief. And the mere thought of it, of him hot and hard, straining inside his pants, has the muscles in your legs going taut.

Joel murmurs your name, so soft under his breath. His long tongue dips inside of you and then strokes up to flick against your clit, and finally you dissolve under his mouth.

The orgasm flows through you much like the waves in your dream. Joel coaxes it out from deep in your stomach until you’re a wet trembling mess beneath him; nothing but a rolling mass of waves for the sticky sun to sink into. Warm and wet, the high laps at your body from every angle until the edges of your mind are fuzzy, molten heat drooling from your cunt and onto his grateful tongue as he groans.

He doesn’t let up those soft swirls of his tongue until your hips are twitching away and you’re whining his name, and begging him to come up here. And so he crawls up your body, movements slow and sleepy as he drops heavily against your back. Thick thighs bracket your own, and that scruffy chin sits against the slope of your shoulder as he presses a kiss and a drowsy mumble of hey baby behind your ear.

“That was nice.” You smile when he takes your earlobe between his teeth. Curious, you work a hand between your back and his chest, fingers trailing down until you reach the damp spot at the front of his trousers. He exhales roughly, hips jerking backward, sensitive. “Fuck, did you come?”

“Shh,” he murmurs, his smile sheepish and shy against your skin. You laugh, heart swelling and eyes falling shut as you let him tip you onto your side and pull you back against his chest. A broad palm snakes over your hip, fingers dancing beneath the band of the boxers to rest against your skin, and he squeezes the flesh there greedily. “Gonna fuck you in the mornin’,” he vows.

You hum, already half asleep again despite how chilled your skin turns as your sweat cools. “Gonna wake me up with your cock inside me, hm?”  

“Fuck,” Joel chokes out, his grip on you tightening. “Yeah, baby. I will.”

“Is that a promise?”

“S’a promise.”

thank you for reading x

[livebeforeyoulearn]

A Gift Like Love Is Never Free

Warnings: Soft beach sex, 18+, fluff

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: It's your three-year anniversary and Alexia shows you just how much you mean to her.

-

The evening air is warm against your skin, the sun slowly sinking into the horizon, casting a kaleidoscope of orange and pink hues across the sky. The gentle crash of the waves fills the air, their rhythmic retreat soothing, like the earth’s own heartbeat. You sit cross-legged on the soft, woven blanket spread over the sand, its fibres warm from the sun, yet now cool in the fading light. Your guitar rests against your legs, the familiar weight of it grounding you as your fingers pluck mindlessly at the strings, each note a soft hum that drifts into the evening.

Behind you, Alexia is seated, her body turned to the side as she leans back on her hands, her eyes scanning the nearly empty beach. The last few stragglers are heading off, their voices quieted as the world around you shifts into twilight. The day is slipping into a peaceful stillness, the kind of stillness where every sound seems amplified, every whisper of wind or brush of sand heightened by the absence of distraction. There’s no one left but you and her, the two of you cocooned in your own little world, safe and quiet, isolated by the gentle shroud of dusk.

It’s your three-year anniversary today. You can scarcely believe it – three years. You never thought you’d get here, never imagined you could be loved for this long, this completely. Your fingers pause on the strings for a moment as the thought sinks in. 

Raised by a single mother, with siblings much older than you, who had already left home by the time you could grasp the meaning of love, you had only your imagination to define it. Love seemed like something from fairy tales, always out of reach, until Alexia came into your life. She’s been your definition of love ever since. She loves every part of you – the flaws, the imperfections, the parts you’ve always been afraid to show the world. She’s always there, encouraging, supportive, looking at you like you’re her entire universe. And for her, you are. She is willing to give everything to you, to merge with you, body and soul, until there’s nothing separating you, nothing but the endless depth of your shared love.

You've faced your struggles together, moments when you thought it might all be over. But as Alexia has taught you, a gift like love is never free. It's been a journey, filled with arguments, misunderstandings, and hard times. Yet, love always takes over, compelling you to fight for each other, to hold on to this precious bond you’ve built. 

Alexia shifts slightly, the subtle brush of her body against your back a comforting reminder of her presence. Her warmth, her steadiness, her constant encouragement. She’s always been like that, always been the one who looks at you as though you’re the only person in the world who matters. And to her, you are. You are her everything. Every flaw, every imperfection, every scar – she loves it all. She loves you completely, in a way that feels almost impossible, yet here you are, three years later, still wrapped in the intensity of it.

Your fingers begin to move across the strings again, finding a familiar rhythm as you play a soft, slow melody. It’s not something you’ve practised, not something you even really know, but it feels right in the moment. The notes spill from your guitar effortlessly, like they were always meant to be played here, in this space, with her listening.

Alexia leans forward slightly, her breath warm against the back of your neck as her head gently comes to rest between your shoulder blades. The feeling of her so close, her heartbeat in time with yours, makes your chest tighten with emotion. Her fingers begin to trace patterns in the sand beside you, absentminded swirls that match the laziness of the evening. The sun continues to dip lower, casting a rich orange glow over everything, the light softening her features, making her look even more breathtaking than usual – if that’s even possible.

You let the guitar’s melody guide you into a song. You’re singing softly, the words slipping from your lips with ease, a serenade meant for her and her alone. It’s a song of love, a song that speaks to the depth of what you feel for her, the connection that runs through your veins like lifeblood. Each note carries a piece of your heart, an unspoken truth that words alone could never fully capture. 

She listens intently, her breath evening out as the song envelops her, her fingers stilling in the sand as if afraid to disturb the moment. You can feel the way her chest presses slightly against your back, the way her body melts into yours as she absorbs every word, every strum of the guitar. She isn’t just hearing the song – she’s feeling it, taking in every emotion you’re pouring out. The connection between you is palpable, a thread of love and understanding that binds you together, stronger than anything else in the world.

As the last note fades into the gentle sound of the waves, Alexia lifts her head slightly, her breath soft against the back of your neck. “That was beautiful,” she murmurs, her voice low and filled with so much affection that it sends a warm rush through your chest. 

You smile, feeling your face heat up with a shy blush, the same blush that coloured your cheeks the first time you ever sang for her. It’s funny, the way she still makes you feel like that – like you’re just beginning to fall for her all over again. Every glance, every smile, every touch still carries the same thrill, the same flutter in your stomach. 

You can hear the soft rustle of sand as she moves, her weight shifting. Then her lips are on your shoulder, featherlight, pressing a sweet kiss to your bare skin. Her hands follow, sliding slowly up your back, her fingers tracing the line of your spine with a tenderness that sends a shiver coursing through you. Her hands glide over your shoulders, and then she’s wrapping her arms around your neck, her head resting against your shoulder.

You place the guitar aside, gently lowering it to the blanket. With her so close, her warmth seeping into you, there’s no need for anything else in this moment. Just the two of you, wrapped in the serenity of the evening, wrapped in each other. 

“I love you,” you whisper, turning your head just enough to catch her gaze. Your eyes meet, and the intensity of the connection between you swells, making your heart pound in your chest. The words are simple, but they carry the weight of everything you feel for her. Every moment, every hardship, every joy – it’s all encapsulated in those three words.

“I love you too,” she breathes, her voice a soft echo of yours, as if those words were meant to exist only between the two of you. 

Her lips find yours, there’s no urgency, just the sweet, tender press of her mouth against yours, a gentle exploration that makes your heart swell. Her kisses are soft, innocent, but they send waves of warmth rushing through you, filling every corner of your soul. She kisses the side of your neck next, her lips grazing the sensitive skin there, leaving behind a trail of warmth. Each kiss is a promise, a reassurance of everything you’ve built together, of everything you’ve been through, and everything you still have yet to experience.

Her hands drift down your chest, her touch light, barely there, but enough to send a shiver running through you. You glance around the beach, feeling a flicker of nervousness at the open space, but the beach is empty now, the horizon darkening as the last of the sun disappears behind the ocean. The waves, once gold-tipped by the sun, are now silver in the moonlight, casting a gentle shimmer over the sand. The world feels miles away, and in this little slice of solitude, it’s as if nothing exists but you and her.

Her fingers toy with the tie of your bikini top, and you breathe in sharply at the sensation. The tension is electric, your body humming with anticipation as she plays with the knot, drawing it out, building the anticipation until you can hardly stand it. 

“Alexia…” you murmur, your voice a soft warning as her fingers slip closer. “We’re on a beach.” 

Her response is low, barely a whisper, her lips brushing your ear as she speaks. “I don’t care. It’s been three years of loving you. Let me show you just how much you mean to me.”

Her words send a rush of heat through you, making your pulse quicken. You glance around once more, but there’s no one here, and even if someone did walk by, the trees nearby offer enough cover to keep you hidden. The world feels small now, as if the beach, the sand, the sea – it all exists only for the two of you.

Her fingers move with practised ease, untying the knot of your bikini top. The fabric slips down, falling into your lap, and you don’t stop her. You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. Her hands slide over your chest, and you gasp at the sensation, her touch sending ripples of pleasure through your body. She cups your breasts gently, her thumbs brushing over your nipples, teasing them into hardness with slow, deliberate movements. 

Your breath hitches as you lean back into her touch, your body responding instinctively to her. She presses her lips to the nape of your neck, her kisses soft and tender, but filled with the kind of passion that makes your heart race. Every kiss feels like a promise, every touch a reminder of how deeply she loves you, how completely yours she is.

Alexia shifts, moving so that she’s no longer behind you, but beside you. She eases you down onto the blanket, her body hovering over you as her hands continue their gentle exploration. You smile up at her, that sweet, cute, loving smile that you know drives her wild. It’s the kind of smile that starts small, blooming slowly as the warmth of her gaze fills you with affection so intense that it seems to burn from the inside out. Her eyes, dark and smouldering, seem to drink in every inch of your expression, as if she’s memorising it, as if this moment – right here, right now – could be her last chance to take you in. There’s something so intense, so consuming about the way Alexia looks at you, like you’re her universe, like nothing else exists or matters but this.

She leans down slowly, her face coming closer, and you can feel the heat of her breath ghosting over your lips before her mouth meets yours. It’s a kiss that feels like a question, a gentle inquiry into your soul, and you answer with the way you lean up into her, the way your lips part slightly under hers, inviting her in. There’s no rush, no urgency – just the two of you, savouring the closeness, the intimacy that has been built and nurtured over these years. Her hands are on either side of your head, fingers threading through your hair, holding you in place, but there’s no force in her touch – just an overwhelming need to keep you near, to feel you.

A shift in her energy makes the kiss deepen, her mouth pressing harder against yours as if she’s pouring every emotion she has ever felt into this moment. Her lips are soft yet demanding, moving with a rhythm that’s both tender and urgent. She kisses you like it’s the last time she will ever kiss you, as if she’s terrified that you might disappear if she doesn’t hold onto this connection. Each press of her lips against yours is infused with passion, love, and an unspoken plea that you can feel in the way she trembles slightly as she kisses you.

It’s everything at once: slow, tender, hurried, and rushed. There’s an intensity to it that leaves you breathless, a heady mix of emotions flooding your senses – love, desire, devotion, everything you’ve felt for each other in these past three years distilled into this single kiss. Your lips part instinctively, allowing her access, and her tongue sweeps into your mouth with practised ease. She explores you as if she’s never kissed you before, but it still feels as fresh and electrifying as that very first time. Every swipe of her tongue against yours sends sparks shooting through your body, igniting every nerve.

Her hands slide from your hair, tracing down your neck, brushing lightly over your skin in a way that sends shivers racing down your spine. Goosebumps rise across your arms, your skin reacting instantly to her touch, each stroke gentle yet purposeful. It’s as though she’s worshipping you, taking her time to appreciate every inch of you. Her fingers ghost over your collarbone before travelling lower, brushing the tops of your breasts. 

Your nipples harden instantly under her fingertips, the sensation of her touch sending another wave of shivers through your body. Her lips pull away from yours, but not before she leaves one last lingering kiss on your bottom lip, her breath warm as she exhales softly. Without missing a beat, her mouth begins its descent down your body, lips brushing over your jaw, your neck, trailing lower and lower until she reaches your chest.

Her breath is hot against your skin, and you can feel your heart pounding beneath her lips as she presses soft kisses across the swell of your breasts. The sensation is both intimate and loving, her lips moving slowly, with deliberate tenderness, as if she’s taking her time to savour every inch of your skin. When she finally takes one of your nipples into her mouth, a quiet gasp escapes your lips, your back arching slightly at the overwhelming sensation of warmth and wetness. 

Her mouth works slowly, expertly, her tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before she sucks gently, drawing a low moan from deep within you. Every touch, every kiss, feels like a confession, a silent vow of her love for you, for your body, for everything you are. Her other hand slides down your side, fingers lightly tracing the curve of your waist before she reaches the tie of your bikini bottoms. She tugs gently, teasingly, her eyes flicking up to meet yours with a glimmer of playful mischief, her lips still wrapped around your nipple.

The ties come undone with ease, the soft fabric slipping away from your skin as Alexia pulls your bikini bottoms down and tosses them aside. She pulls back just enough to take you in, her eyes roaming over your naked body with an expression that borders on reverence. She knows your body intimately, yet the way she looks at you now feels as though she’s seeing you for the first time, all over again. Her gaze is heavy with love, admiration, and pure desire.

You wait beneath her, your chest rising and falling with each breath, anticipation coiling in your stomach as you feel her eyes on you. There’s a vulnerability in the way you lay there, completely exposed, body and soul laid bare before her, but there’s no fear in it – only trust. She looks at you as though she’s falling in love with you all over again, her gaze sweeping across every curve, every line, every inch of your skin. The intensity of her gaze almost makes you squirm, the weight of her desire palpable in the air around you.

She moves lower, setting herself between your legs, her hands guiding your thighs apart with the softest pressure. Her hands are gentle on your hips, holding you steady as she kisses her way down your torso with deliberate slowness. Each kiss sends a spark of warmth through your body, her mouth worshipping every inch of you as she trails lower and lower. Her lips find your inner thighs, brushing over the delicate skin there, each touch feather-light, driving you mad with anticipation.

When her lips finally reach the apex of your thighs, your breath catches in your throat, a soft gasp escaping you as she presses a tender kiss to your centre. The sensation sends a shock wave of pleasure through your body, your hips shifting forward instinctively, seeking more of her touch. She smiles against you, her breath warm and teasing as she kisses you again, her lips soft, gentle, yet filled with so much love. A soft chuckle vibrates through her chest as she pulls back to look up at you, her lips still glistening from that brief, tantalising touch.

“I love you,” she whispers, her voice soft and filled with an emotion so deep that it makes your heart clench in your chest. 

Before you can respond, her mouth is on you again, her tongue flicking out to glide over your clit in one slow, languid motion. Your entire body jerks at the sensation, a moan slipping from your lips as your eyes flutter shut. Her tongue moves in slow, deliberate circles, each flick of her tongue sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. She’s unhurried, savouring the taste of you, drawing out each sound, each gasp, each quiver that escapes you.

The pace quickens, her movements more precise, more focused as she builds you up, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body is trembling now, your muscles clenching as your breathing grows heavier, shallower. Her fingers spread you open, giving her better access as she plunges her tongue deep into you, savouring the way you taste, the way you feel around her. She moves her thumb to rub against your clit, the extra pressure sending your mind spiralling, your body teetering on the edge of bliss.

It’s the perfect combination, the perfect rhythm, and it doesn’t take long before your body begins to unravel. The world fades away as the pleasure overtakes you, every nerve alight with sensation, your muscles tensing, trembling as you finally come undone over her tongue. Your climax washes over you in waves, leaving you breathless, your heart pounding as you release everything to her.

Alexia doesn’t stop until she’s taken every last drop, her mouth never leaving you, her tongue still moving slowly, gently, until the aftershocks fade away. Finally, she pulls away, climbing up your body to lay on top of you, her chest rising and falling in time with yours as she presses a kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on her, the kiss slow and tender, a reflection of the love that has filled every moment of this day.

As you lie there, wrapped up in each other, you feel nothing but pure, unadulterated love. Every curve of her body pressed against yours, every whisper of her breath against your skin, every beat of your heart – it’s all for her. Alexia consumes you whole, filling every corner of your soul with her love, her devotion. You’re hers, and she is yours, completely and utterly.

And in this moment, under the dimming sky, with the sound of the waves crashing softly in the distance, you know that nothing could ever come close to this feeling. This is love, in its purest, most beautiful form.

[good-griief]

losing game pt. 1

HEYYYY i'm actually back with a lil smutty angsty ellie fic bc i needed to write for this woman... anyway here's part one its only a lil angsty i just wanted an excuse to write rly gay smut so enjoy and p2 tmrw!!

as most of yall know any reader i write (as a poc writer) has no race, i just wanted to use a picture of taylor momsen bc i love tpr and that's definitely the vibe of the music in this fic

part two part three

read me click me

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Being in the rock scene was your dream. You started with small gigs, then small venues and festivals, and now you had a band to go along with your music. Your career was kicking off and it felt like heaven; every performance, every song, all the adrenaline made for some of the best nights of your life. 

When you picked your band, you hand-selected each member, and to say you picked your guitarist for any reason other than how pretty she was would be a lie. Yes, she was amazing, but you also couldn’t speak when she walked in for her interview. She just smiled, laughing at the way you stared at her before your manager started talking for you. He often did, she came to realize. 

She still accepted the moment you offered her the position, but she made it clear that she didn’t like your manager. She accepted for you; to be with you.

And she slowly became your favorite part of performing. You had this way of connecting with each other — of course, you were close with all of your band members, but she was different. You’d spend time together one-on-one, smoking a joint and talking about nothing until one of you had to force yourself to go. You’d get coffee together, have dinners, and even spend the night at each other’s apartments. Whenever someone asked about you two, you said you were best friends. Even when she was waiting for you at the end of the carpet, and you both laughed at your answer like it was some kind of inside joke. 

Even when you were onstage, on your knees, singing your most sensual song to her as she melted to your level, smirking as her hips thrust against the electric guitar. Sometimes, she even sang with you. You’d hold her face, or thread your fingers through her hair as you held eye contact or rested your forehead against hers with shut eyes, and if there was a break in the song you’d kiss her hard — a stage kiss that the crowd would erupt in cheers over. But they happened offstage, too… after a shared joint or during a party. Nothing more.

She’d let you place your fingers on the strings of her guitar to find the chords as you stood behind her, her head leaning back on your shoulder in a way that showed the muscles on her neck as she breathed in heavy, hot breaths. She let you wrap your hand around her throat, groaning in your ear as fans caught pictures of you dragging your tongue over her sweat-ridden jaw or biting her shoulder as she grinned. 

There was one night you let her take over the mic as you danced along. She played her guitar, singing and watching you until you sang with her. Your hands drifted down her thighs as you kneeled behind her, the crowd screaming as you lifted her shirt and came around to kiss the line of hair below her belly button. She smirked, stopping her playing and fisting your hair to pull your head back as you laughed. 

Nights when you’d take off your shirt, tossing it into the audience and pouring your water on yourself before she came to lick it up, tongue dragging over top of your breasts as you sang breathlessly. There were times she had to wrap her arm around your back to keep you standing when she did that, the action so intimate, so arousing, that it was hard to remember why you were on stage and not in your dressing room, alone with her. Some nights she’d take her shirt off and give it to you if she didn’t want anyone else to see you, smiling at you with her shirt on before you came over to kiss her cheek. 

There were moments with other band members, but none of them were like her. They didn’t make you feel the same — none of them were her. 

So, when the end of her contract came up and she talked to you about leaving to pursue other things, you were devastated. You didn’t think she’d leave, but after a talk with your manager, her decision was set. 

“I think you should,” you told her anyway. “Whatever makes you happy, Els, seriously. I’ll support whatever you do.” She smiled, taking your hand to kiss. On the inside of her fingers, and yours, you could see the matching tattoos you got months ago, threading your fingers together so they match up. 

You dedicated your last show with her to her. It was a surprise, and she cried when you said it in the beginning, but she just turned away to shake it off quickly. At least, she did until you started crying during a song you wrote for her — it was another surprise from you and the rest of the band, but the minute she saw you crying she couldn’t keep it together. She came over to hug you, kissing the top of your head as she let you hide your face in her chest. The crowd awed, but Ellie took the mic to say you’d be back. She set it down and lifted your head to make you look at her. “I love you, pretty girl,” she said, away from the microphone so no one heard her, but they could sound it out if they wanted to. “Please don’t cry.” She wiped beneath your eyes, ignoring the camera flashes and screams from the crowd. “I hate that I can’t do anything about it right now.”

You smiled. “I’m gonna miss you so much.” 

She laughed at you. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” She nodded to the microphone. “Finish my song, I wanna hear the rest.”

“You’re an idiot,” you said, now standing at the mic and making the audience laugh. 

You were such an idiot. 

She never told you what other things she wanted to pursue, but you should’ve known. 

Of-fucking-course she was pursuing her own music. Of-fucking-course she was starting her own band. With yours. Of-fucking-course all of their contracts ending over the course of a few months would amount to this. Of-fucking-course each last show you dedicated to them meant nothing. 

You couldn’t even be mad. It was smart. But you were beyond hurt. 

And she still dedicated her first show to you. She texted you herself, asking you to come. 

When would you learn your lesson?

“I just want to thank you guys for coming,” she said to an audience of mostly your fans. “You might know me — us — from a backup band, but we got a little tired of being backup, didn’t we?” The band laughed. “So, uh, my name’s Ellie if you don’t know… probably don’t,” she laughed as if you’d never thanked or introduced your band before. “And I just want to dedicate this show to the previous artist I worked with. I wouldn’t be here without her, so she means… a lot,” she said it so fucking snarky, “to me, and… I have a few songs for her… if you all wanna guess which ones they are.”

And her first song was the biggest Fuck You song you’d ever heard. 

Still, she texted you after the show. 

She didn’t ask you to come to another show, and maybe that was because you announced a break from music, or because she was getting so much attention that she didn’t care. You saw her at award shows sometimes, and she would cheer when you won. Of course, you’d cheer for her too, but it never went beyond that. Almost like it was an unspoken rule that you weren’t on speaking terms. 

But the minute you came back to the scene, almost a year later, she texted you for the first time since her first show. 

You didn’t reply at first. You hadn’t kept up with her at all during your break, your manager telling you to stay away from any of her and her band's promotions and interviews. He had you block all of them and their numbers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to block Ellie’s. And you were glad you didn’t. Usually, you didn’t have your phone on you until late at night, your manager having your assistant handle your messages and social media, but you were about to fall asleep when she texted. As if she remembered your schedule. 

And it prompted you to look her up. Then her and you, and you could see countless videos. 

every time ellie has mentioned “her” compilation was what you decided to click on. It was made by an account that was clearly a big fan of hers, so you readied yourself for any hate that’d be thrown your way. 

The first clip was an interview, asking her why she split from your team. “You know, I really loved her and her team,” she said, “still really love her. It’s just hard being reminded, constantly, that you're a stepping stone and your time is running low, you know? We might’ve held her back if we stayed, and she was moving on to better things,” it sounded like she was quoting someone else. “—I mean, she always wanted us to shine, and I’m so grateful for her. I really miss being on stage with her, but I don’t miss anything else besides her and I think that says a lot.” 

Another was on her way into a hotel, a reporter asking if you congratulated her on an award. You could remember seeing her at the show before your manager called you over just as she was walking your way. She laughed, “haven’t talked to her in months.” 

Another of a sit-down interview with the whole band, your name being brought up and Ellie snapping at them, “You know I really wish people would stop asking me about her.” She got choked up as the others answered, nose reddening when the question finally circled back to her. “We’re not friends, we don’t talk, she doesn’t want anything to do with us, so...” She shrugged, pissed off. 

The next was another interview. It seemed she was just having to get used to being asked about you. “I’ve tried to reach out,” she said, “maybe she changed her number.” 

Another. “She was my best friend, I miss her a lot. I hope she’s doing okay.” 

And another, asking about her songs. “Yeah, I wrote a lot about her — No, I don’t regret it. I feel like it reflects a moment in time, you know? It was a really nice moment — I mean, I still have our matching tattoos,” she laughed, showing the tattoos on the insides of her fingers. 

Another, after a show. She was always emotional after shows, and it made it harder to watch as she wiped her eyes when the interviewer asked what your relationship really was. “I don’t fucking know,” was her answer before she walked away. 

Some of them were sweet, memories you shared that made you laugh. Others made you sick with guilt, like when she mentioned your lack of response or you blocking the band. Some just made you sad. And you felt like an idiot for doing this, but after reading the comments, some defending you for not running your socials or phone, or angry with you for the same reason, you played a compilation of the two of you together from the same account. 

Then you called Ellie. 

It rang once before sending you to voicemail and you just hung up. You kept your attention on the video to distract yourself from how much that stung. 

But she called right back. 

You stared at the phone for a moment, seeing the contact poster of the two of you at her last show with you lighting up your screen and feeling your words get caught in your throat as your eyes stung. You grabbed the phone, answering quickly. “Ellie?” It was silent, “Ellie, I just wanted to say, I had no idea… I understand if you never want to talk to me again, but I—“ You cleared your throat, trying not to sound like you were about to cry. “I’m really sorry.”

“I thought — I didn’t think you were going to — It feels so good to hear your voice,” was what she settled on after stammering through a few sentences. “You have no idea how much I’ve, just, wanted to talk to you…”

You bit down on your lip as you listened to her. She didn’t sound angry, but she clearly had so much to say to you. Her voice was filled with feeling as she went on, trying to get everything out as if she thought you’d hang up the phone at any minute. You just listened, shutting your eyes and bringing your hand over your face as hot tears spilled down your cheeks. You couldn’t bring yourself to understand why you were so emotional, maybe it was the fact that you misunderstood her so easily, or that your manager had ruined your relationship with her, or maybe it was even that you were just getting to hear her talk after so long, but she paused the moment she heard you trying to calm your breathing. 

“Please don’t cry.” She already knew. “I hate it when you cry and I can’t do anything about it.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “Keep talking. What were you saying?” You looked at your computer, auto-playing something else of the two of you. It was clips of you on stage and during interviews, heads on each other's shoulders, hugging, kissing each other’s cheeks, singing together. You pursed your lips, tears coming quicker as you slammed your laptop closed. “Ellie,” you cut her off, biting at your lip as you looked at the empty spot on your bed she used to take some nights, “what are you doing right now?” 

“I’m on my way,” she said quietly, and you could hear her shuffling on the other line. She was probably getting ready to go to sleep, and wake up to no response just like every other time she messaged you. And you would have woken up with no idea she even texted you. “Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

“If you’re already headed to sleep—“

“I’m coming over,” she said. “I’m already in the car, I’ll be there in ten, okay?”

“Okay…” Now you felt bad for making her leave her house, looking outside at the snowfall and sniffling as you tried to wipe your eyes. “I’ll see you soon.” You hung up the phone and groaned at yourself, shoving your head in your pillow. 

You opened your laptop, typing in the song names people speculated she wrote for you and queuing them all. Not one was the one you heard during her first show, and it made you feel even worse by the time the doorbell rang. You moved off of your bed, wiping your eyes and going to the door to buzz her up to your apartment. 

You waited by the door, balls of your feet kicking at the floor as you crossed your arms and waited for her to knock. It was the same rhythm she used to knock in, and where it usually made you smile, it made you cry more. God, you missed her, and you didn’t even realize how much until now. You took too long to open the door and you heard the lock click. She still had her set of keys, and that made you feel worse, too. She’d probably texted you about returning them, and you never got to see it. Nothing was making you feel better as she opened the door, and seeing her face just made it worse. 

“God,” she muttered, immediately bringing her arms around your waist. She tucked her head into your shoulder, shutting her eyes as your arms went around her shoulders. Her hands held you like you’d disappear the minute she let go, thumbs running soothingly back and forth over your shirt. “I missed you so much,” she said. “They all wanted me to get over it, but I knew there was no way — I knew we had something more than just — fuck, I know you better than they do. I know I do.” Her lips brushed your skin with every word. “I missed you so fucking much,” she repeated, hugging you tighter. 

Just her touch made your tears slow to a stop, relaxing into her hold and hugging her so tight, but she didn’t care. She was happy to be back in your arms. Your hand drifted to her hair, cradling her head to your shoulder. You could remember the nights you spent playing with her hair until you fell asleep and the thought made you run your fingers through it. She sighed, pulling her head back but refusing to let you go. 

There was a silence as you moved her hair out of her face, tucking the strands behind her ear. Slowly, your hand cupped her cold, flushed cheek. She leaned into your touch, eyes falling to your lips as your thumb stroked her cheek. 

“Ellie,” you muttered and she hummed, turning her head to kiss the inside of your palm. “I missed you, too,” was all you chose to say despite the wanting in the way you said her name. Her hand took yours as she kissed the inside of your wrist. “So much…” Her kisses trailed up your arm, with more of a meaning behind them than any of the kisses you’d given each other before. 

You moved your hand back to her face, turning her head toward you. She met your eyes, hers shining in the low light. They fell to your lips again and she leaned in, kissing your cheek. She kissed away every tear stain, still wet and warm. She moved closer and closer to your mouth, but never kissed you, kissing away the stains on your other cheek instead. 

Then you turned your head, catching her lips for a brief moment before she pulled back. There was a moment of hesitation, neither of you able to speak before she pressed her lips to yours. They were still cold from being out in the snow, but they warmed as you kissed her back, pressing your body impossibly closer to hers as she sighed into your mouth. She couldn’t tell you how long she had wanted this, but she knew it was long enough that her waiting for you was pathetic.

[pucksandpower]

Lessons in Anatomy

Charles Leclerc x medical student!Reader

Summary: studying can be hard … good thing your boyfriend is more than happy to let you get some hands-on experience

You let out a heavy sigh as you flip through the anatomy textbook in front of you. As a first year medical student, you’ve been spending most late nights recently trying to memorize every muscle, nerve, and blood vessel in the human body.

Lately you’ve been completely absorbed in learning about the upper limbs — the shoulders, arms, hands and fingers — and it’s all starting to blend together.

Closing the textbook, you stand up and stretch your arms above your head, feeling the pull in your deltoids and biceps. You’ve read so much about the muscles, it might help to actually palpate and feel where they are on your own body.

You lift your right arm out to the side until it’s parallel with the floor, palm facing down. Gently, you place your left hand on your right deltoid and feel the round contour of the muscle. You trace your fingertips along the borders, visualizing how the muscle attaches on the humerus bone.

“What are you doing?”

You jump at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice behind you. Lost in thought, you didn’t hear him come home.

“Oh, I’m just, uh, palpating my deltoid muscle,” you say sheepishly as you drop your arm back to your side. “Trying to get a feel for where the muscles actually are.”

Charles grins, his bright green eyes twinkling with amusement at finding you in such an odd pose. “My talented girlfriend, always studying so hard,” he says.

You can’t help but smile back at him. The two of you met in school years ago, long before Charles became an F1 driver and your life became a whirlwind of travel, media attention, and hardly getting to see each other when coupled with your own studies. Moments like this — relaxed, easy, normal — have become few and far between.

Charles walks over to you and surprises you by taking your hand and placing it onto his upper arm.

“Here, feel mine instead so you don’t have to contort yourself,” he offers. “I’ll be your anatomy model.”

You laugh lightly and begin palpating the hard, defined muscles of his arm through his thin t-shirt. You locate the boundaries of his deltoid, impressed by the athletic development.

“Very nice delts,” you say teasingly.

“Why thank you, I work out sometimes,” Charles replies with a cheeky wink.

You roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile. His playful arrogance is one of the things you love most about him.

Slowly, you map out the contours of his shoulder, mentally labeling the muscles — supraspinatus, infraspinatus, teres minor. Charles watches your focused expression with affection.

“How’s it going so far?” He asks. “Am I a good model?”

“Mmhmm,” you murmur absently, engrossed in your exploration.

You move down his arm, wrapping your hands gently around his biceps. You note the two distinct heads of the muscle.

“Can you flex for me?” You ask professionally.

Charles obliges, flexing his bicep and causing it to bulge up under your hands.

“Excellent, thank you,” you say, impressed by the muscle definition. Your fingers drift down his arm to his forearm, tracing the brachioradialis.

You are hyperaware of Charles’ eyes following your every movement. There’s an intimacy to having your hands on him like this that makes your heart beat faster. You try to remain focused, but with him standing so close, his warmth radiating onto you, it’s difficult to think clinically.

When you take his hand in yours, turning it palm up to examine the tendons along his wrist and fingers, you’re struck by its elegant beauty.

His hands may spend most days encased in racing gloves, but they still hold such graceful strength and capability. You find yourself tenderly tracing along the lines of his palm, the indentation at the base of each finger.

You look up to see Charles watching you, his expression soft and affectionate. Impulsively, you lift his hand to your lips and place a kiss along his knuckles. His eyes widen slightly in surprise before he smiles.

“I don’t think that’s part of the medical curriculum,” he says, his voice low.

You grin. “Just conducting some independent research.”

Charles lifts his other hand to lightly trace his fingertips along your jawline, leaving a trail of tingles along your skin.

“Well in that case, I think you need to continue your in-depth examination,” he murmurs.

Your pulse quickens as his fingers trail down your neck and along your collarbone. Gently, he turns you around so your back is to him and sweeps your hair over one shoulder. You shiver pleasantly at the feeling of his hands gliding along the slopes of your shoulders.

“It’s important to know the trapezius muscle,” he says close to your ear. His fingers skim down from the base of your neck, tracing the borders of the trapezius down toward your shoulder blades. You close your eyes, focusing on the sensation.

“Mmm yes, very important,” you breathe.

His hands span across your upper back, gently kneading into the muscle. You let out an appreciative sigh, the tension you’ve been carrying in your back dissolving under his touch.

Charles places a kiss to the curve of your neck as his hands work their way down your spine, counting each vertebrae.

“The vertebral column is quite elegant, don’t you think?” He murmurs against your skin. You hum in agreement, eyes still closed.

When his hands come to rest just above your waist, your breath catches in anticipation. His touch is driving you crazy but you don’t want him to stop.

Slowly, he slides his hands around your waist to your stomach, splaying his fingers possessively across your abdomen. He pulls your back against his chest until no space remains between you.

“How am I doing as your study partner?” He asks, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“Mmm, top of the class,” you reply a little breathlessly.

He grins against your skin. “Maybe we should move this study session somewhere more comfortable.”

You turn around to face him, draping your arms lazily around his neck. “I’ll have to clear my schedule. My boyfriend’s this really busy, important Formula 1 driver, you know.”

Charles smiles, leaning in close until his nose brushes yours. “I think he can make time for you.”

He closes the remaining distance, bringing his mouth to yours in a kiss that curls your toes. You melt into him, all thoughts of anatomy and studying dissolving from your mind.

In this moment, it’s just the two of you, wrapped up in each other. The chaos of life fades away and you’re reminded why you endure the challenges of his demanding career.

Because at the end of the day, you have this — your love, steadfast and true. The rest of the world falls away and you’re home.

[hyewka]

warnings. switch!beomgyu, idol!au, brief mention of choking

cant stop thinking about trainee!reader and idol!beomgyu, where gyu first introduces a fuck buddy relationship after sleeping with you one time, not aware that alone would be the sole reason his obsession and attachment manifests. just imagine dom gyu whos used to fucking with no strings attached due to the nature of his occupation and who thinks itll be the same with you until he feels bored enough to leave your messages on delivered. but idol!beomgyu who one day lets out his frustrations, too roughly and mean that when hes done and sees the hurt, the less than normal distance, gets some clarity to immediately melt into apologies, inspecting every inch of your body to be sure you’re okay.

beomgyu who for once, lets someone sleep in with him after sex all because of what he assumed was really bad guilty conscience. awkward as he attempts to scoot for some room, letting you cover your body under his blanket, just completely rigid as he stares at the ceiling with his hands to his sides like some soldier.

then…he does it again, he lets you sleep in, this time its because he’s tired and he can feel your exhaustion radiating off you. he’ll feel bad letting you walk all the way to your flat. but due to how frequent you get together, his arms feel more comfortable wrapping around your figure as you drift to sleep.

when he lets it happen the third time, it’s a problem.

you didn’t fuck, not even a quickie or a makeout session, just him, for whatever reason, asking you to cuddle. cuddle. “i’m stressed, with the comeback and all.” he mumbles lamely, biting down slightly on his lip, trying to convince himself as well.

“when you’re stressed… we fuck.” you say slowly, and skeptically.

just when hes about to backtrack and take it back you jump in his bed anyway, “whatever i’m not gonna refuse a good mattress.”

and then when you sleep with your face turned towards him, he feels like hes been sucked in, looking at every detail as if hes trying to have a picture in his head forever.

beomgyu who gets attached way too fast and way too quick that after the fourth time you‘ve fucked around and sees you flirting it up with soobin he absolutely loses it.

“i just got him a gift to congragulate him for landing the mc gig..why’re you acting like i murdered your entire bloodline?”

because thats what it feels like.

he inexplicably presses harder on your throat, shutting you up more by pressing his lips on yours, kissing and kissing till your lips were swollen, his brows furrowed deeply as you pathetically attempt to roll your hips into his. fucking you against the wall in a random artists’ green room, five minutes before a pre recording…hes fucking lost his mind.

god, he’s addicted.

imagine when your dynamic slowly flips, none of you are aware until you realize how often he follows you around like a puppy fan—you don’t think he was ever this clingy. beomgyu being the one who tries to meet up any chance available even paying you a visit secretly in the practice room at midnight, sneaking in snacks.

then its the sex— he’s more vocal, more sensitive when you touch him, moaning so loud you would have to clasp a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. his eyes glaze over at times when you praise him and holy shit what the fuck was up with choi beomgyu.

the beomgyu you met that one day, fucked at a random hotel, and quite literally introduced hard kinks almost immedietely nows in front of you, crumbling down to his knees with his glossy eyes peering up at you like you were a god, begging you to use his face to get off. ruin his makeup. ruin him, please.

[dearieshima]

MOONLIT DREAM

✦ SUMMARY

╰┈➤ Based on Zayne's Moonlit Dream card, but expanded. Zayne and you are transported back to the Qing Dynasty by a jade pendant infused with protocore energy after it activates unexpectedly in Zayne's car. Reunited after being separated, you both set out to recover the pendant and return home, leading you to a skilled but strict jade craftsman.

"I pride myself on my thoroughness," he added, his voice now a deep, sensual rumble. "I promise I won't miss a single detail."

✦ C.W

╰┈➤ AFAB!reader, a little nibbling, some boob worship (f. receiving), teasing, switch!zayne, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, a little roleplay with Zayne's status, praises, 4000+ words, idk public sex maybe, established relationship

As the sun began its slow descent, casting warm hues across the sky, Zayne decided to skip class, inviting you to a secluded picnic on the hillside, just beyond the city's edge. The air was fragrant with the scent of wildflowers, and time seemed to stretch lazily, each moment steeped in tranquility. You both lingered there, speaking in hushed tones as the world around you softened, the village fading into the distance like a dream.

The day gently gave way to the cold of dusk and Zayne’s modest home, nestled within his shifu’s Siheyuan, beckoned you back with warmth. The evening sky, now awash in the twilight’s embrace, slowly surrendered to the rising moon. Its soft, pale glow spilled across the landscape, transforming everything into silvered stillness.

After sharing a quiet dinner, you wandered together to the riverbank, where Zayne’s work table stood. Scattered across its weathered surface were fragments of jade and a small carving knife. Your gaze drifted to a jade pendant, rutty yet holding a quiet charm.

The pendant was rough and dulled in its crevices as you traced the intricate patterns with your fingers. Curiosity tugged at you, “Zayne, can I try?”

Half-expecting a gentle refusal, to your surprise, Zayne stepped aside, offering you the knife. “Go ahead then.”

Settling into his lap, you tried to mimic his movements from earlier, the jade cool beneath your fingers. Your hands fumbled awkwardly and it made you look like you were sharpening the knife sgainast the rock, when Zayne’s warm fingers enveloped yours, steadying them.

"Here, you need to use a little more force," he murmured softly, his breath warm against your ear. “Try again.”

As you grew more confident, he quietly let go, allowing you to work on your own. Minutes drifted by in the soft silence of the riverbank, where the boats occasionally knocked together, their gentle echoes lulling the air. You’d long since abandoned the pendant, drawn instead to the lake, dipping your feet into its cool waters as you gazed at the rising moon through its reflection.

“Do you think there's a moon as beautiful as this watching over Linkon right now?” you mused, your voice soft as the night, turning to look at Zayne.

His head was supported on his hand, eyes once cradling hazel nebulas, now sealed in peaceful slumber. He was propped facing you, as though he had watched you until sleep claimed him.

With a mischievous smile, you scooted near him and reached for the ink brush on his table and lightly trailed its tip down the bare skin of his chest, revealed by his loosely draped robe. His breath hitched, a shiver coursing through him at the gentle stroke. It was only when the brush dipped toward his stomach that he stirred, his hand catching yours in a swift yet lazy motion, his eyes fluttering open with a smile that matched the moon’s glow.

"Someone gets distracted easily between carving jade and admiring the moon," he teased, drawing you into his lap.

You laughed, wriggling in his hold, but Zayne wouldn’t let you go. In a playful tumble, you both fell together, with Zayne landing gently on top of you. His weight was warm, grounding, and for a moment, you simply stared into each other’s eyes, the world around you fading. Almost caught in a trance, you let go of the brush that was hanging from your hand over the patio, feeling the tiny splash kiss your fingers.

With a subtle motion, his fingers intertwined with your newly-found free hand, warm and steady, sending a shiver down your spine. You wrapped your legs around Zayne's waist, pulling him closer, feeling the heat of his body against yours. His breath quickened, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "During this period," he murmured, his voice teasingly casual, "the only practice in protection was abstinence."

"Really?" you purred, your voice low and sultry.

He shifted his weight, his body pressing firmly against yours, the heat between you discernible. His fingers traced a delicate path down your arm, forcing your sleeves to ball downwards. "Yes," he murmured. “Abstinence was considered the only effective birth control and prevention for sexually transmitted infections.”

"Interesting," you breathed, your eyes lowering to meet his desire flickering in their depths. "And why is Dr. Zayne enlightening me on this?"

"Consider it an added benefit of my profession,” Zayne said, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. His fingers continued to trace your skin, each touch igniting a fire within you. "As a doctor, I should make sure my patients are well-versed in the dangers of reckless sex,”

His fingers trailed back upwards to the pulse on your wrist. “And as a gentleman, I'm being cautious. But—"

His gaze darkened, a smoldering desire burning in his eyes.

"As a man, I'm testing the limits of my own restraint," he murmured.

"...Your shifu won't be too thrilled if you fail to hand over the finished pendant tomorrow."

"Then perhaps,” he murmured, his voice lowering to a sensuous tone before lifting off of you, “As a craftsman, I should direct my focus on finishing that pendant."

You pouted, your lips forming a perfect pucker as you reached out and grabbed him by the scruff of his neckline. The fabric of his shirt bunched up in your fingers as you pulled him closer, your eyes locked on his. With a sudden burst of passion, you pressed your lips against his, the softness of your mouth contrasting with the firmness of your grip.

Zayne's breath hitched in surprise at your boldness, his body tensing for a moment before relaxing into your embrace. He returned your kiss with equal fervor, his lips parting slightly as they moved against yours. His hands found your hips, fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes as he pulled you flush against him. You could feel the heat of his body radiating through your clothing, igniting a fire within you.

His tongue darted out, tracing the contours of your lower lip with a feather-light touch. The warmth of his breath mingled with yours, sending a tingle down your spine. His eyes, dark with desire, locked onto yours, silently asking for permission to deepen the connection.

Parting your lips, you welcomed his tongue into your mouth. A low groan rumbled in his chest as your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging lightly. The slight sting only fueled his growing arousal. Zayne's lips parted against yours as his tongue explored your mouth. He groaned softly as your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging lightly. His hands gripped your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he was afraid you might transform into water the next moment and slip through his hands.

As you both broke out of the kiss, gasping for air, you couldn't help but use your first gasp to call out Zayne's name.

The sound sent a jolt of electricity coursing through him, his arms encircling you tighter, almost involuntarily. You felt his nose press against the dip of where your shoulders and neck connect and giggled as his harsh exhales tickled you. His lips trail a hot path along your jawline, like hot wildfires spreading across it. When he reaches your neck, he nips at the sensitive skin, his voice a deep, husky murmur. "You're making this difficult," he confesses, his breath hot against your skin.

"Then should I make it easy?" You murmured as you hooked your finger over the open neckline of your robe. The anticipation was visible, and you knew that Zayne was watching your every move.

Slowly, you began to pull the fabric down, revealing the center of your chest where your breasts parted. The cool air against your newly exposed skin sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft gasp.

Zayne's eyes darkened with desire as he watched the fabric slide over your skin. His throat constricted, the dryness making it difficult to swallow, and he had to force his Adam's apple to bob, trying to regain control of his body's reaction.

His gaze, now heavy with hunger, lingered on the newly exposed flesh, as if tracing the landscape of your body, feeling himself get lost in the soft, inviting curves of your breasts, parted like two lush mountains on opposite sides of a valley. The peaks, hardened from the cold, were a delicate shade of rose, as if a secret garden of roses bloomed at their tips. Each breath you took sent shivers through your body, causing the peaks to quiver, as if tiny earthquakes were tearing through these mountains.

Zayne's mind drifted, imagining the weight of your breasts in his hands, the softness of your skin against his calloused fingertips. His imagination painted vivid pictures, each more explicit than the last, until he could almost feel your nipples hardening further under his touch.

Slowly, Zayne reached out, his fingers trembling with anticipation as they brushed against your skin, sending shivers through you. He cupped one breast, feeling the softness envelop his hand, and then the other, savoring the contrast between the warmth of your body. Your arms lingered above your head, curling into fists as you allowed him to do whatever he pleased with your body.

Zayne's heart raced as his fingers explored the curves of your breasts, tracing the delicate lines and contours that made your body uniquely yours. He could feel the heat radiating from your skin, a stark contrast to the coolness of his own. As he gently squeezed, he marveled at the way your flesh yielded to his touch, soft and pliant beneath his fingertips.

"You're beautiful." He squeezed them in his hands once more before lowering his head to take one nipple into his mouth.

He sucked gently, the soft pull of his lips causing you to arch your back and moan softly. Zayne switched to the other nipple, repeating the tender ministrations, reveling in your responsiveness. He trailed kisses down to the center of your chest, turning his head slightly to nip at the swell of the breast.

"Your pulse has picked up," he murmured, his voice low and gruff.

The deep timbre of his voice resonated within you, making your heart race even faster. "I would be nervous if it didn’t," you said, your voice coming out breathier than you intended. "Yours did too."

“I wonder why that could be," he said, his voice laced with mock innocence.

"You're the heart doctor, you tell me why."

A slow smile spread across Zayne's face at your choice of words. "’Heart doctor’?" he drawled. "Yes, as a heart doctor, it could be because we're sitting so close together," he murmured, his voice dripping with innuendo. "Or it could be that I'm thinking about how you look right now, underneath me."

He shifted closer still, his body pressing against you more than before. "It's hard to say," he added softly, his breath warm against your neck. "Without a thorough evaluation, of course.”

"Evaluation?" you whispered, maintaining a playful tone. "That sounds scary."

Zayne's warm breath tickled your neck as he smiled. "Don't worry," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "It's nothing you haven't gone through before."

His hand on your hip slowly gilded upwards, finally fully parting the two sides of the silky robe that had been hiding your curves. The cool air caressed your exposed skin, sending a shiver down your spine. His thumb shifted lower, rubbing against the soft, sensitive skin of your abdomen, inching ever closer to the bundle of nerves below.

"I pride myself on my thoroughness," he added, his voice now a deep, sensual rumble. "I promise I won't miss a single detail."

Zayne noticed the subtle change in your breathing, and the way your eyes darted away from his. A soft, dark chuckle escaped his throat. "You're getting shy now," he teased, his hand slowly making its way down your body.

His strong, calloused fingers gently gripped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his intense, smoldering gaze. His dark eyes bore into yours, demanding your full attention. "No hiding," he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. "Look at me while I touch you."

His command was both thrilling and intimidating. You couldn't look away even if you wanted to. Your heart raced as he slowly, deliberately, pushed one long finger inside you. The sudden intimate invasion made you gasp and arch your back. He watched your every reaction, drinking in the way your body responded to his touch.

"That's it," he encouraged, his finger sliding deeper, stroking along your inner walls. He added a second finger, pumping them slowly, teasingly. His thumb found your sensitive clit, circling it maddeningly.

You were panting now, your hips rocking instinctively against his hand. Pleasure built inside you with each thrust of his fingers, each brush of his thumb.

He added his third finger to your tight space, the forefinger. He quickly put it to work, pushing it deeper and curling it just so to hit that perfect spot within you that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

You whimpered, your thighs trembling with the effort of keeping them spread wide for him. The obscene squelch of his fingers pumping in and out of your dripping cunt filled the room, mingling with your needy moans. "Keep looking at me," he commanded, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. You looked back into his eyes, swirling with lust.

Zayne held your gaze, his eyes intense and unwavering. "Good," he murmured, his movements slow, methodical, almost torturous.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as waves of pleasure coursed through your body. "Are you still with me?" he murmured, a hint of a tease in his voice.

"Yes," you groaned, your voice thick with desire. You weren't sure if it was an abrupt groan or a response to his question, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the feeling of his hands on your body, igniting a fire within you.

Zayne lifted an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I fear I might’ve lost the patient. I think I should check her vitals," he whispered, his voice low and rough. His free hand found its way trailing up your body with deliberate slowness.

He pressed his palm firmly against your chest, feeling the rapid, fluttering beat of your heart beneath his touch. "Mmm, listen to that," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Your heart is racing, thundering against my hand. It's like a wild animal, desperate to break free."

Your skin was hot to the touch, flushed with arousal and need. He could feel the heat radiating off you in waves, could see the way your chest heaved with each ragged breath. "You're so responsive," he breathed, marveling at the way your body reacted to even the slightest touch. "Every inch of you is alive, quivering, aching for more,"

As if to prove his point, your legs suddenly clamped down around his hand, your muscles tensing and quivering as you teetered on the brink of release

"All signs of a healthy woman.”

He could feel your body trembling, your muscles tensing as you teetered on the brink of ecstasy. With a final, gentle touch, he sent you over the edge. Your body arched, back bowing as the pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave. A groan escaped your lips, his name falling from them like a prayer as you surrendered to the intense sensations. He held you close, his strong arms supporting you as your body shook with the force of your climax.

He slowly withdrew his fingers, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "You're in perfect health," he said, amusement lacing his tone.

You huffed, breathless, your chest heaving as Zayne's lips trailed searing kisses along the column of your throat.

Zayne chuckled at your huff, his touch growing gentler as he traced patterns on the skin of your hip. He lifted you up, moving to sit with his back against the siheyuan walls, his legs stretched out before him.

You gasped softly as your fingers brushed against the prominent bulge straining against Zayne's jeans. "You're hard," you breathed, a delicious shiver running down your spine at the realization of how much he wanted you.

A deep, rumbling chuckle vibrated through Zayne's chest at your words, unnatural to his vocabulary. "I know," he murmured, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. "You can blame that on you."

His teeth caught your earlobe, tugging gently before soothing the sting with his tongue. Your head fell back, granting him better access as your pulse raced beneath his lips.

"I can help," you offered breathlessly, even as you knew Zayne was notoriously strict about safe sex. His hips rolled forward, grinding his hard length against your core, and you couldn't help but moan. "Please, Zayne... I want you.”

Zayne chuckled again, his hands squeezing your hips ever so slightly. "You're getting bold," he murmured, his lips brushing against your jawline. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his expression a mix of amusement and desire.

"I can take a Plan B when we return to Linkon," you said with a playful pout.

Zayne's jaw grew taut, his grip tight on your hips. He was clearly struggling with the temptation you were offering. "We shouldn't," he said, a hoarse whisper against your neck.

But his body betrayed him, his hands roaming further up your body, trailing up and down your back. He was clearly very tempted.

You straightened and kissed him, luring him in. Zayne groaned, his resolve slipping as you kissed him. His hands came up to cup your face, his fingers gently tracing the curves of your features. He hesitated for a few more seconds, his eyes locked with yours, before he finally caved.

Zayne groaned as you sat in his lap, his hands gripping onto your hips. The sudden heat and friction sent a jolt through him, he swallowed another groan, his breathing becoming shallow.

He kissed a trail down your jaw, his teeth grazing against your skin as he reached your neck. His body grew taut, every part of him screaming for contact.

His robe hanged loosely around his shoulders and with a slow, deliberate motion, he let the silky fabric slide off his body, revealing his muscular form inch by tantalizing inch. His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, his eyes burning with a desire so intense it could ignite a wildfire.

As the robe pooled around his waist, you couldn't help but let your gaze wander over his perfectly sculpted body, taking in every detail. The way his abs rippled with each breath, the defined lines of his pectorals, and the powerful thighs that could easily pin you down in a heartbeat.

With a gentle touch, you reached out to help him remove the last remnants of his clothing, your fingers brushing against his warm skin. Zayne's hands found their way to your thighs, sliding up.

His hands, slick with your arousal, reveled in the warmth of your skin beneath them. His gaze traveled over your exposed body, taking in every curve and dip, his eyes darkening with each passing second.

Without hesitation, you reached for his thick, pulsing cock, guiding it to your entrance. You felt the tip brush against your slick folds, and with a slow, deliberate motion, you entered him. Zayne's breath caught in his throat, a low, guttural groan escaping as you claimed him. His fingers dug into your hips, trying to maintain control, but the pleasure was too overwhelming, and he failed.

Your eyes met his, both of you lost in the haze of lust and desire. Zayne's pupils were blown wide, his breathing coming out in ragged gasps. The room was filled with the wet slap of your bodies connecting, and the guttural moans that escaped both of your lips.

You began to move, setting a slow, sensual rhythm. Zayne's feet were firmly planted on the patio so he could thrust his hips forward to meet yours, his thick length stretching you in the most delicious way. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, building and building and building until you thought you might combust from the sheer intensity of it all.

Zayne's hands roamed your body, caressing every inch of your skin as if memorizing it. His lips found your neck once more, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. You tilted your head back, giving him better access, a breathy moan escaping your lips as his teeth grazed your pulse point.

The open night was filled with the sounds of your lovemaking, the slick sound of your bodies connecting, and the symphony of moans and gasps that spilled from your lips. It was primal, raw, and utterly intoxicating.

Zayne's movements became more erratic, his thrusts harder and deeper as he chased his release. You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within him, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. His hands gripped your hips even tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you closer, burying himself deeper inside you.

"Hah,"

You could feel your own release approaching again, the pleasure building with each passing second. Your body tensed, your muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap.

As Zayne's body shuddered with the force of his release, his hot seed spilling deep inside you, you felt your own climax crash over you like a tidal wave. Your body convulsed, your walls clenching around him as a wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over you. You cried out his name, your voice raw and primal, lost in the throes of ecstasy.

Zayne held you closer, his arms wrapped around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm. His breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding against your chest. You could feel the warmth of his shin, slick with sweat, pressed against yours.

The man's breath came in ragged gasps, his broad chest heaving with each shuddering inhale. You'd never seen him like this before - usually so composed and in control, but now he trembled against you, his powerful body wracked with the aftershocks of intense pleasure. His hair was mussed, dark strands falling across and sticking to his forehead in tousled waves.

He kept his face buried in the crook of your neck, his fuzzy jawline, from the days he spent here, scraping deliciously against your sensitive skin. His eyes were pinched shut, long lashes fanning out against his cheeks as he tried to regain his bearings.

"I'll... I'll accompany you to the pharmacy store," he managed to get out between labored breaths, his deep voice slightly hoarse.

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers unconsciously scratching and massaging the back of his head. Your own body still hummed with residual pleasure, your mind floating pleasantly in the clouds. "Okay," you whispered, a small smile playing on your lips.

Swallowing thickly, you gathered your courage and uttered the three words that had been on the tip of your tongue. "I love you."

The man's eyes fluttered open at your declaration, his dark gaze meeting yours with an intensity that took your breath away. A slow, tender smile spread across his handsome face, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"I love you too," he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple before reluctantly pulling back to look at you fully.

His hands came up to cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks with a reverence that made your heart swell. "You're incredible, you know that?" he said softly, his eyes roaming over your features as if memorizing every detail. "I'm the luckiest man in the world to have you by my side."

The jade pendant rests quietly in its box.

The old craftsman lifts it, his weathered hands gentle yet precise. His brow furrows, and for the first time, you catch a flicker of unease in Zayne's eyes, a vulnerability that rarely escapes him.

“Hmmm…” the craftsman murmurs, turning the pendant between his fingers. “The edges… a little rough. The details, perhaps, not as fine as they could be.”

Yet, even in his critique, a softness lingers in his gaze, a glimmer of admiration woven into his stern words. He pauses, studying the pendant as if searching for the heart of its creation. “Did you remember what I told you? To steady your hand… clear your mind… as you carved this?”

You glance at Zayne, and in that brief exchange, a shared warmth passes between you, but neither of you can hold the moment for long. Your eyes drop, averting away from each other in sudden shyness.

The old jade craftsman, wiser than you both, sighs, the weight of years in his voice. “Ah, nevermind. Take it back. I cannot keep it… for it was shaped from love, and that cannot be sold.”