#but it’s finally been long enough that I’m out here enjoying a | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uconnwbbcrashout · 2 days ago

Text

last winter break

chapter iii: “i think i’m gonna kiss you”

paige x azzi

word count: 6.5k

content: swearing, some fluffy banter, and a healthy dose of angst

chapter list: here

author’s notes: after a long wait, it’s finally here!! i wanna apologize for the 100th time for how long this took me to write. as you can tell by the word count compared to chapters i & ii, this one kinda got out of hand. but i'm happy w/ how it turned out and i hope it's worth the wait!! :) enjoy!

Winter 2022-2023

AZ: hey, i saw the news

AZ: about your acl i mean

AZ: i hope you’re doing okay p

p (IGNORE): thanks. good as i can be yk

p (IGNORE): surgery went well and all

p (IGNORE): but hey

p (IGNORE): delayed not denied right ?

changed user’s contact name to “p”

AZ: right

AZ: you’ll be okay

AZ: i know it

p: i hope youre right

*****

p: did you see the schedule

p: we play you guys

p: dec 11

p: well i wont be but

AZ: i did!!

AZ: you guys don’t stand a chance btw

p: damn way to kick a girl while shes down az

AZ: sorry?

*****

AZ: happy birthday paige

AZ: you’re so old

p: shut up

p: thank you azzi

*****

p: happy bday az

p: yOu’Re sO oLd

AZ: ok i had that coming

AZ: but thank you :)

*****

p: just saw the clip

p: hope you and your knee are ok <3

p: rest up azzi

AZ: thanks p

AZ: looks like we’re both gonna be on the bench next week

AZ: we’re still beating you guys though

p: well see bout that

*****

AZ: told you so

p: i couldnt even play bro

AZ: and i could??

p: whatever

p: we beatin you in march idc

AZ: sure p sure

*****

Azzi sighs, stretching her thumbs again where they hover over the keyboard on her phone. She’s laid out on her parents’ couch, legs propped up on a pillow, feeling utterly ridiculous as she tries to muster up the courage to send a text to Paige. She scrolls back up through their conversations from the past few months for what must be the eighth time today, overanalyzing every word.

It shouldn’t be this difficult, really—it’s hardly the first time this year that she’s been the one to reach out and text Paige. And she’s literally just trying to ask her if she’s going to a party. It’s an extremely low stakes conversation topic.

And yet here she is, practically ripping her hair out at the thought of pressing "send."

In all honesty, it’s a pretty good way to sum up what this year has been—so much more difficult than it ever needed to be.

And to say it’s been a weird fucking year would be an understatement.

After a disappointing tournament run in March, Maryland’s team changes significantly, so much so that Azzi has a hard time keeping track of it all. Graduations, transfers out, transfers in, new freshman—they're basically an entirely new team by the time the season starts up again in the fall.

And then she meets a girl, Maya, late one night in February when she’s cramming for an exam in the student union. She’s on the track team—a sprinter—tall, and devastatingly pretty. She’s unwaveringly confident, too, sitting across the empty table from Azzi and striking up a conversation with her easily. They end up talking for so long that night that the cleaning staff have to kick them out.

Things just click after that.

It's nice. It’s safe. It’s fun.

It’s sneaking into team housing well past curfew. It’s study dates at their favorite coffee shop on campus. It’s stolen hoodies and cold winter nights, huddled together for heat. It’s good luck kisses and lingering hugs before away games or meets. It’s late-night FaceTimes when there’s hundreds of miles separating them. It’s flower bouquets and greeting cards left on kitchen counters.

It’s something that feels a lot like the beginning stages of love.

And, above all, it makes Azzi happy.

There’s just one persistent, unavoidable problem—there's never enough time. Differing practice schedules. Basketball games and track meets. Press conferences and weight training. Midterms and March Madness. Conference championships and long flights across the country.

And it’s unfortunate, really, because a big part of Azzi thinks things could’ve been different. That maybe in another life—one where they met at a different time—things might have stuck. Things might have been long-term, could have worked out.

But in this life, they don’t.

After that it’s fairly quiet. Some random hookups here and there over the summer. A couple dates that fizzle out by the end of the night.

In the end, nothing she really regrets, but nothing that's as real as those few months were with Maya.

And then she reinjures her knee in December, forcing her to be sidelined. An unfortunately familiar seat on the bench with her name on it.

And then, of course, there's this weird situation with Paige. One that Azzi herself more or less created when she first reached out in August after Paige tore her ACL. It isn't like texting a stranger, but it also isn't like texting the old best friend she once knew. It's something in between, some strange acquaintance-like relationship that leaves Azzi entirely confused as to what she should or shouldn’t say.

Even if it is a bit strange, and maybe not quite ideal, she has to admit that it's still nice to have Paige back in some capacity. And enough time has passed, enough people have come and gone, that Azzi's just starting to warm up to the idea of someday calling Paige her friend again. Just a little bit.

Oh, and maybe Azzi also still finds her to be incredibly attractive.

But that's hardly relevant.

Her phone vibrates in her hand, catching her so off guard that she nearly drops it on her face. Her heart starts pounding in her ears, her stomach fluttering with anticipation—

Damn, it’s just from Diamond.

Azzi groans, clicking the notification.

d💎: you text her yet

Azzi rolls her eyes at her friend’s impatience.

AZ: almost

d💎: you’re actually killing me here

d💎: gimme her number

d💎: i'm gonna text her if you don’t

AZ: absolutely not

AZ: i regret telling you anything

d💎: no you don’t

d💎: now quit stalling and text. her.

AZ: oh my god FINE

Azzi swipes out of their conversation and taps back into her one with Paige.

Here goes nothing.

AZ: hey, you going to that stupid party again this year?

She turns her phone off immediately and slams it face down into the couch cushions, bringing her hands up to cover her face.

Her phone chimes not more than 30 seconds later, and Azzi half expects it to be another text from Diamond asking for updates.

But it isn’t.

p: yo

p: the one at that football players house??

p: maybe. ion know yet

“Oh my God,” she mutters, fingers already flying over her keyboard.

AZ: dude

AZ: it’s literally tomorrow

AZ: how do you not know

p: dude

p: ima busy person

p: my time is valuable yk

p: wbu tho

Azzi tries to fight the smile that’s forming on her face. She thinks for a minute, deciding to answer honestly.

AZ: i was thinking about it

Azzi watches with bated breath as the three dots on the screen disappear and reappear several times.

p: then maybe i will

Azzi sighs, closing her eyes and pressing the side of her phone into her forehead.

I’m never getting a straight answer out of her, she concedes.

*****

If anyone were to ask Azzi, she would argue that a cropped cami tank top with a pair of ripped jeans is perfectly reasonable attire for a casual house party in early January. The below-freezing temperatures are simply irrelevant.

It, of course, has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Paige is likely to show up tonight. Azzi doesn’t think about how Paige had hugged her from behind and mumbled, “Looks so good, baby,” the last time she wore this shirt in front of her. She also doesn’t think about how Paige always seems especially distracted when she wears her hair up in a bun like this, blue eyes constantly straying to the lines of Azzi’s neck and collarbones.

She absolutely does not, under any circumstances, think about that. At all.

Azzi just likes to feel and look good is all. She’s got the former down easily, and she thinks she’s managed the latter, too, if the number of people who have come up to her tonight is any indication. Guys, girls, people she recognized and people she didn’t—it didn’t really seem to matter. It felt like there was an endless stream of drinks being offered, numbers trying to be given out, and suggestive conversations directed at her. It was flattering, sure, but none of them had the right tint of blonde hair, the exact shade of blue eyes, the correct build of muscle she had been searching for all night.

She downs the last of her drink, crushing the plastic cup in her hands and tossing it in the trash can behind her. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, checking the time. No texts.

Lifting a hand up to rub at her eye, she yawns and scans the room one more time, debating whether she should just call it a night at this point.

And then she feels it—the soft graze of fingers along her lower back, just above the waistband of her jeans. A warm, featherlight touch, then the familiar scent of vanilla and sandalwood and a low voice in her ear.

“Azzi.”

She spins towards her quickly, her breath catching in her throat at the proximity of Paige’s face to hers, just inches away. Azzi leans back a bit, mostly to give herself a chance to breathe, and feels the hand on her lower back slide to lightly press on the side of her hip.

Azzi drags her eyes over Paige then, unable to help herself, taking in the tech fleece pants hanging low on her hips and the black fitted T-shirt straining against the muscles in her arms. Azzi’s a bit surprised to see that she’s wearing her glasses—it’s not something she does very often. Paige is smirking, her blonde hair hanging loose around her shoulders, and Azzi swears she must have gotten taller since the last time she saw her.

She manages to catch her breath for a moment, flashing a smile that she hopes doesn’t reveal the nerves that she’s feeling. “Hi, Paige.”

Neither of them seems to know what to do after that because, honestly, what are you supposed to do in this type of situation?

To Azzi’s surprise, Paige makes the first move, stepping into Azzi’s space and snaking her other arm gently around Azzi’s waist. It takes Azzi a few seconds to respond before she leans into Paige and circles her arms around her shoulders. Azzi’s heart rate picks up even more when she feels Paige’s breath being released heavily against her, the tension leaving her shoulders.

“This okay?” Paige asks, her breath hot against the outside of Azzi’s ear. Azzi hums in agreement, settling her head to rest on Paige’s shoulder.

It probably should be awkward, and it is for just a second or two, but muscle memory kicks in and it ends up being more comforting than anything. It’s a hug after all, something they’ve done probably hundreds, if not thousands, of times over the years.

They could be there for a few seconds or a few minutes—Azzi really isn’t sure. At some point she feels someone bump into her as they walk by and that snaps her out of it, makes her realize that they are still at this party and people are definitely looking. She takes a step back and clears her throat, patting Paige’s shoulder once before dropping her arms to her sides.

“You look good, P,” Azzi admits, smiling softly.

Paige coughs and looks over her shoulder for a second before turning back to face her and—

Is she blushing?

She coughs again before saying, “Thanks. You do too, Az.”

Azzi smiles appreciatively, looking down at her hands. “Couple people here seemed to think so, too.”

Paige chuckles. “Yeah, saw ‘em all lined up for you.”

“You been talking to anyone else here?”

“Nah, not really,” Paige replies, waving her hand, and Azzi glances up to meet her eyes. Paige shrugs. “Only really came here for one person, you know?”

Azzi doesn’t have to ask her who that person is—the way Paige’s eyes are trailing across her face tells her everything she needs to know.

“Is that so?” Azzi crosses her arms in front of her, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“Mhm.” Paige glances around the room before leaning into Azzi’s space again. “Hey, wanna get outta here? We can go somewhere else or somethin’.”

“I guess I can swing that,” Azzi agrees, hoping she comes across as indifferent as possible.

“Aight, cool.” Paige pats her pockets, searching for her keys. “You take your car here?”

Azzi shakes her head. “No, I walked.”

Paige raises an eyebrow at her, an incredulous look on her face. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did,” Azzi tries again, patting her own pockets to prove that they're empty.

“You walked here,” Paige repeats, still disbelieving. “In this weather.”

“It was only, like, 20 minutes.”

“There’s no way.”

“It’s better for the environment!”

“You’re insane.”

“Oh my God, can we just take your car or not?” Azzi rolls her eyes.

“Always the passenger princess.” Paige remarks, looking smug. “But, yeah, let’s go.” Paige beckons for Azzi to follow her to the coatrack. Paige holds the door open as they pull on their coats, both of the waving their hands over their shoulders as some people call out to them.

The short walk to Paige’s car is quiet, the occasional crunch of footsteps on snow the only sound. Azzi slips into the passenger seat and clicks her seat belt on, watching as Paige does the same in the driver’s seat. Paige drums her fingers quietly on the steering wheel, and Azzi glances out the window to look back at the house they just came from.

“So, uh, where to?” Paige asks, breaking the silence.

Azzi thinks for a moment before turning to Paige with a grin.

“Slushies?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

*****

“There’s just no way he said that,” Azzi giggles, readjusting her feet where they rest on Paige’s dashboard. They’re parked outside of Azzi’s parents’ house, heat blasting through the vents, SZA playing softly through the speakers, conversation flowing freely, half-drunken slushies melted and abandoned in the cupholders between them.

“I swear it’s true!” Paige promises.

“He for real told you that you have ‘the shittiest shooting form he’s ever fucking seen’?”

“On God, he did,” Paige laughs, running a hand through her hair. “Coach can be ruthless when he’s pissed off, man.”

“And you wanted me to come to UConn because?”

“Oh, c'mon, Az. You know no one can stay mad at you.” Paige reaches out and pokes at Azzi’s cheek. “Not with that face.”

Azzi pushes her hand away, flustered. “Shut up, P.”

“You know I’m right.”

“Whatever.”

A comfortable silence stretches on then, the two of them taking a moment to enjoy each other’s presence.

Azzi glances down at her watch. “I should probably get going,” she admits regretfully, turning around and rummaging in the backseat for her coat.

“Lemme pull up for you,” Paige insists, putting the car in drive and turning into the driveway.

She feels Paige put the car in park again just as she manages to find her jacket. “Thanks,” Azzi starts, pulling the door handle—

It’s locked.

What the hell?

Azzi yanks on it twice to be sure before turning to level her a stare. There’s a mischievous glint in Paige's eye that she doesn't trust. “So, are you letting me out or what?”

Paige keeps smiling widely at her, not moving or saying anything.

“Paige.”

Azzi watches Paige nod her head towards the front of the house, and Azzi follows the motion to see Curry and Stewie poking their heads through the curtains, their barks echoing off the window. Azzi shakes her head and glances back at Paige. “What is it?”

Paige shrugs, bringing her hands up to rest on the wheel again. “You gotta at least let me see my kids, Azzi.”

“Are you inviting yourself inside my house?” Azzi feels her eye twitching.

“Please,” Paige begs, and then she honest to God pouts at Azzi. “Think I’m due a visitation.”

“You are actually so annoying.” Azzi leans her head against the cool glass of the car window, closing her eyes.

“Is that a yes?” Paige asks, her voice lifting excitedly.

“It will be if you unlock this.” Azzi pulls on the door handle repeatedly.

“Ha, let’s go!” Paige exclaims, pressing the "unlock" button immediately and sprinting out of the car. She’s on the front porch and jumping in place before Azzi even has the chance to close the car door behind her.

“Alright, chill out,” Azzi mutters, brushing past her and turning the key into the lock. Paige pushes the door open the rest of the way and stumbles through the doorframe, kicking her shoes off. She makes it about five feet into the house before she drops to her knees and starts petting and hugging the two dogs racing around her.

Azzi locks the door behind her, and she can’t help the smile that overtakes her face when she sees Paige laid out on the ground, Stewie and Curry clambering over her to lick her face.

“My kids,” Paige coos, cradling Stewie in one arm and scratching Curry’s chin with her other hand. “Don’t worry, Daddy’s home now.”

Shaking her head, Azzi tears her eyes away from the scene and flops onto the couch. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and makes herself comfortable.

Paige stands up after a few minutes and stretches her arms above her head, groaning dramatically. Azzi catches a glimpse of her shirt riding up and her boxers peeking out before she pulls her phone closer to her face, fighting the heat creeping up on her cheeks. Paige doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she luckily doesn’t say anything about it. She moves to peek her head in the kitchen and the hallway before she reenters the living room.

“Nobody home?” Paige asks, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Azzi grabs a throw pillow off the couch and hurls it at her, but Paige catches it easily. “Stop. They went to a family holiday party thing I think.”

“And how the hell did you get outta goin’ to that?” Azzi feels the couch shake as Paige hops over the back of it and settles in across from her.

She puts her phone down and looks at Paige more fully then. “Like you said, no one can say no to this,” she explains, flashing her signature dimpled smile and pointing at it with both hands.

“I was jokin’ when I said that,” Azzi thinks she hears Paige grumble as she hugs the pillow she’s still holding to her chest.

Azzi goes back to scrolling on her phone, and she sees Paige throw the pillow up in the air and catch it a few times in her periphery.

She hears a heavy sigh, but she ignores it, opting to respond to a few texts from her teammates instead.

Then there’s another sigh, somehow more emphatic than the last, and the push of a foot against her own.

“Azzi.”

Maybe if I ignore her for long enough, she’ll stop, Azzi considers.

“Azzi.”

Just pretend you don’t hear her.

“Azzi Fudd.”

When has that ever actually worked, though?

“Azzi, please.”

Oh my fucking God, why did I let her in my house?

She clicks her phone off and drops it at her side, glaring daggers at Paige. “What?”

“Dude, I’m bored,” Paige complains.

“Dude, you literally do not have to be here,” Azzi points out.

“Entertain me, please.” Paige is practically begging now. “Aren’t you supposed to do that for your guests?”

Azzi closes her eyes and throws an arm over her face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re extremely annoying?”

“Yeah, you. Multiple times today, actually.”

“I was so right about that.”

“Okay, but can we do somethin’?” Paige asks again, kicking at her foot. Azzi kicks back, sliding her arm off her face.

“2K?” she suggests, gesturing to the controllers on the coffee table.

Paige’s eyes light up and she’s up in a flash, grabbing the remote to turn the TV on. “Fuck yes. Imma be the Lynx, though.”

“Whatever you want.”

*****

“Damn, you letting me win now, Paige?”

“Bro, ‘course not.”

“What’s your excuse this time?”

“Not my fault you keep distractin’ me, Az.”

“Not my fault you can’t keep your eyes off me, P.”

“Shut up. One more, I swear. Then we can quit.”

“Only if you win though, right?”

“Bro, just play.”

“Fine.”

*****

It’s many, many, games later—the clock on the wall having ticked over to the A.M. hours long ago—before Azzi has to tap out, eyes bleary and energy drained.

“Alright, I’m done,” Azzi sighs, tossing the controller on the coffee table and standing up slowly to stretch her back.

“Finally givin’ up?” Paige challenges, raising her eyebrows at her. Amazingly, somehow, she doesn’t look tired in the slightest.

“No, I’m not 'giving up.' I’ll literally fall asleep if we play one more.”

“If you say so.”

“Paige,” Azzi whines, pouting at her. “I just want to go to bed.”

“Aight, let’s be done then,” Paige agrees, setting her controller aside and standing up to stretch out.

“Are you awake enough to drive home?” Azzi questions.

“Me? Imma be just fine,” Paige assures her, moving toward the door. She bends down to pick up her shoes and pulls the curtain aside with a finger to peer outside. “Yeah, it’s no problem—oh, shit.”

Azzi strides over, reaching for the curtain to open it. “What is it?”

“Uh, well,” Paige starts, voice slightly muffled behind the thick fabric. “There’s a—”

Azzi grabs hold of the curtains, yanking them away to reveal the scene outside. Her jaw drops.

“—blizzard,” Paige finishes.

A fresh layer of snow, several inches deep, covers the ground. The wind lifts it up, blowing it around wildly, creating near whiteout conditions. Azzi can barely see Paige’s car parked in the driveway, a mere ten feet away.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Azzi mutters, staring disbelievingly out the window.

Paige furrows her brow, seeming to think something over for a minute. “Nah, I’ll still drive home.” She sits down on the recliner, untying the laces on her shoe.

“Like hell you will,” Azzi scoffs.

Paige looks up at her, pausing her movements. “Bro, chill. It’s, like, a couple blocks.”

But Azzi is persistent, moving to guard the door, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not letting you go out in that.”

“I can drive slow.”

“I don’t think you’re capable of that,” Azzi retorts, readjusting her arms. “Just stay, please. It’s too dangerous.”

“If you’re sure,” Paige concedes, tossing her sneakers behind her.

“I am.”

“Cool,” Paige stands, stretching her arms again. “I got the couch then.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, punches Paige’s shoulder playfully. “Don’t be stupid, P.”

Paige brings up a hand to rub at the spot Azzi hit, wincing in mock hurt. “Ow. Stupid ‘bout what?”

“You can just sleep in my bed. You are a guest after all,” Azzi points out, referring back to what Paige had said earlier.

Paige wiggles her eyebrows for the second time tonight, and Azzi considers punching her again, harder this time. “You want me that bad, huh?”

“Oh my God, stop. Look, I’ll take the couch, you take the bed? That fine?” Azzi offers, rubbing at her eyes.

“That’s dumb. You’re not gonna sleep in your own bed?”

Azzi throws her arms up in the air exasperatedly. “What do you suggest then?”

“I’on see why we can’t both just sleep in the bed,” Paige shrugs, not really meeting Azzi’s eyes.

How the hell did we get here?

“Whatever, sure,” Azzi relents, even though every fiber of her being is urging her to do the exact opposite. “I’m too tired for this. My family is gonna be home soon and I wanna sleep at least a little before they barge in.” She turns away and starts dragging her feet down the hallway to her room, hearing Paige padding quietly behind her. She pushes the door open with her shoulder and immediately goes to her closet, searching for something more comfortable to change into.

In the corner of her eye she spots Paige, shuffling about the room, eyes roaming over her pink bed sheets, the assortment of unicorn stuffed animals on her desk, the rainbow decals on her mirror. “Haven’t really changed much, huh?

Azzi grabs a pair of fleece pajama pants and a T-shirt, chuckling. “I don’t exactly live here anymore.”

“Good point.” Paige nods her head, running a finger along Azzi’s trophy shelf. Her eyes spot one item in particular and she takes it off the shelf. She flips the medal over to study the engraving on the back. “‘2018 Minnesota State Tournament: Class AAAA Champions’,” she reads with a scowl on her face. “Still can’t believe you guys beat us.”

Azzi walks up to her and snatches the medal from her, setting it back in its place. “Still can’t believe you’re not over it. This was, like, five years ago.”

“Aw, c’mon now. That last foul call was bullshit and you know it,” Paige grumbles.

“I think you’re just mad I dropped 30 points on your ass,” Azzi teases.

Paige frowns, crossing her arms. “No one was helpin’ me on defense.”

“Uh huh. Look, I’m gonna get dressed and stuff,” Azzi calls over her shoulder on her way to the bathroom. She pauses in the doorway and points a finger at Paige accusingly. “No touching anything else.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Paige promises with a mock salute.

Azzi changes into her pajamas and gets ready for bed as quickly as her fatigued body will allow, which is to say not very quickly at all. By the time she’s done, she’s so drained that she’s sluggishly dragging her body back to her room.

She’s rounding the corner into her room, dirty clothes from the party in hand, when she happens to look up. She chokes on air, clothing falling out of her hands, and stumbles to regain her balance.

Paige is sprawled out on her bed, hair splaying across her pillows, the light of her phone screen lighting up her face.

But none of that is the issue here.

The issue here is that Paige is wearing a sports bra and pair of boxers and that’s it.

The lines of her hips are visible, her abs pulled taut, and Azzi suddenly feels like she needs to cover her eyes, unless she wants to start choking on air again. “What the fuck are you doing?” she squeaks out, hands covering her face.

She hears Paige laugh. “It’s hot as hell in here. I’on know why you keep the temp at, like, 75 degrees all the time.”

“So you had to take your clothes off?”

“It’s nothin’ you haven’t seen before anyways.”

“Paige.”

“Azzi.”

Azzi leans against the wall, dropping her hands from her face but keeping her eyes screwed tightly shut. “Can you—God, can you at least put a shirt on or something?”

I’m not sleeping a wink tonight if she doesn’t.

She hears the bed creak slightly and assumes Paige must be sitting up now. “If I gotta.”

Azzi takes that as agreement and blindly feels her way to her closet, searching for the closest T-shirt she can find and pulling it off the hanger. She tosses it behind her in the direction of the bed.

“Okay, Imma get ready too then, I guess,” Paige is saying, the sound of her footsteps becoming more distant as she exits the room.

Azzi expels all the air out of her lungs, finally allowing herself to open her eyes. With shaky legs she makes her way to the bed, tucking herself under the covers. She takes a few more steadying breaths.

Pull it together, Fudd.

Paige is back sooner than Azzi is ready for her to be, but she stops a few feet into the room and gestures at her shirt. “This funny to you or somethin’?”

Azzi takes a moment to actually look at the shirt she unknowingly picked out for Paige and barks out a laugh, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

The shirt has "St. John’s – State Champs" written across the chest in bold letters, her old high school’s logo below it.

“Okay, I promise I didn’t mean to pick that one,” Azzi swears, unable to contain her laughter.

“I’on believe you,” Paige grunts, sliding into the empty side of the bed. “You know I’d get beat up if anyone saw me wearin’ this, right?”

“Good thing it’s just me then, huh?”

“Guess so,” Paige grumbles, pulling the sheets up to her chin.

“Don’t worry,” Azzi says, smirking. “Your secret is safe with me, Cadet.”

Paige glares at her before rolling over and turning her back to Azzi. “I’m actually done talkin’ to you. Night.”

Azzi turns her bedside lamp off, encasing the room in darkness, save for a few bands of a dim streetlight poking through her blinds. “Night,” she echoes, settling to lay on her back.

She wills herself to sleep then, waiting for the exhaustion she’s been feeling for the past few hours to finally take over.

It doesn’t come.

It shouldn’t be this difficult.

But Azzi’s mind is racing, all thoughts on her former best friend stretched out beside her. Paige, lying in her childhood bed, clad in one of Azzi’s old basketball T-shirts and a pair of boxers, the warmth radiating from her enough to scorch Azzi’s skin even from half a foot away.

“Hey, P?” Azzi whispers, her gaze still glued to the ceiling.

She sees movement in her periphery, Paige angling her head back slightly in her direction. “Hm?”

Azzi swallows hard, attempting to dislodge the lump forming in her throat.

There’s been one question turning itself over and over in her mind all day. A thought that wouldn’t leave her head no matter how hard she tried to shake it out.

God, this is such a bad idea.

“Did you have a New Year’s kiss this year?” she hears herself ask.

Everything is silent then, and Azzi can’t think of many other times in her life where she’s felt as vulnerable as she does now.

The quietness stretches on for an agonizingly long amount of time. It lasts for so long, in fact, that part of Azzi begins to wonder if Paige might have fallen asleep.

“Nah,” Paige mumbles, breaking the silence. She turns fully back onto her side to face Azzi, resting her hands together underneath her head. Azzi feels her heavy stare piercing through the darkness and shivers. “You?”

Azzi shakes her head, sighs, “Me neither.”

She moves to face Paige, mirroring her position, her heartbeat thumping wildly in her ears.

Azzi wets her lips, locks her eyes onto Paige’s.

Fuck it.

“Did you want to have one?” she breathes out.

She doesn’t know what she’s expecting. Maybe for Paige to shove her playfully or smile at her or something like that.

But Paige brings her bottom lip into her mouth, waits a beat, then nods her head.

Oh.

She wants this, too.

Azzi isn’t sure which of them is leaning in, but suddenly Paige’s face is just inches from her own, her breath warm against Azzi’s lips.

“Are you sure?” Paige whispers.

Am I sure I want this?

Absolutely.

Am I sure we should be doing this?

Well...

Despite her doubts, Azzi swallows and nods her head.

Paige is the one to close the gap between them, hesitant, at first, and gentle, just the soft press of her lips against Azzi’s own. A tentative reunion, two aching souls finally coming back home to each other.

And then the kiss turns needy, hungry, and Paige is bringing a hand up to cup her face, sliding the other down to Azzi’s waist. Azzi does the same, tugs slightly to bring Paige to hover slightly over her. Paige is kissing her hard now, pressing her into the bed, exhaling heavily, making Azzi’s heart flutter uncontrollably.

Azzi makes a decision then, pulls back just slightly and uses her tongue to part Paige’s lips, shivering when she feels Paige sigh against her mouth. The action seems to spur Paige on further because she’s shifting again, slipping her leg in between Azzi’s, applying just a hint of pressure, building up a low heat there.

Paige is relentless, kissing her with such fervor that it makes her head spin. Azzi feels a thumb dip below the waistband of her pants, caressing against her hip, and for some reason that snaps Azzi out of the dizzy haze she's found herself trapped in.

Azzi breaks the kiss, lightheaded, because if she doesn't do it now she thinks they might never stop.

Paige rests their foreheads together for a moment. She leans back, shifts her body off Azzi’s, her pupils blown out and her chest heaving.

“There,” Azzi hears herself say, breath uneven. “Happy New Year.” Then she rolls away from Paige, heartbeat still erratic in her ears, shaking hands pulling the covers back over herself.

She feels the bed shift a minute later as Paige wordlessly turns away from her.

Azzi brings her fingers up to touch her mouth, the sensation still lingering there.

It’s hours before sleep finally finds her.

*****

Azzi wakes to the afternoon sunlight hitting her square in the face, and she pulls a pillow over her head to block it out. Groaning, she blindly sticks an arm out beside her, feeling for a warm body next to her to shake awake.

Her hand comes up empty.

She shoots up in her bed, panic swarming her as she scans across the empty room. Her chest tightens, her throat constricts.

Fuck, she’s gone.

Tears are just starting to prick at the corner of her eyes when the sound of boisterous laughter bounces off the walls of the hallway.

Curious, Azzi follows the sound, finding its source relatively quickly.

The sight is strange enough to raise Azzi’s eyebrows—her dad and Paige, seated on opposite sides of the dining table, laughing over empty breakfast plates.

Paige notices her first, nodding her chin towards her in acknowledgement. “Hey, Az.” She pats the chair next to her. “Sit.”

Azzi doesn’t move, eyes moving skeptically between her dad and Paige. “Hi. What are you guys talking about?”

“Oh, it’s nothin’,” her dad says, but the snickering between the two of them afterwards is saying something completely different.

“This.” Azzi points a finger back and forth between the two of them. “This I don’t like.”

“C’mon, we’re just messin’,” Paige assures, still grinning devilishly.

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Azzi responds sarcastically, opening the fridge door and sticking her head in it, searching for something to settle her rumbling stomach. “So, what are we doing today?”

“Packing, I guess?” Paige replies.

Azzi picks her head up at that and closes the fridge. “Huh, why?”

“Got a flight to Connecticut in the mornin',” Paige shrugs, and Azzi’s heart drops to her stomach.

“You do?” she asks, failing to keep the sadness from creeping into her voice.

Paige looks apologetic, casting her eyes downward. “Yeah. I’m sorry. Forgot to mention it. Speakin’ of, I should head on out soon.” She stands, putting her dishes in the sink before clapping Azzi’s dad on the back. “Good to see you as always, Tim.”

He smiles up at her fondly. “You too, Paige.”

“Imma grab my stuff,” Paige says, brushing past Azzi into the living room. Azzi moves on autopilot, trailing behind her.

It takes Paige all of three seconds to get ready, having only really come here with her phone and the clothes she wore yesterday, which she must have changed back into at some point. Azzi watches her pull her sneakers on, shrug into her jacket.

“Guess this it then,” Paige starts, eyes looking anywhere but at Azzi.

Azzi wrings her hands together, trying to figure out where to go from here. “Well, uh, I guess I’ll see you around then, P.”

Azzi is going to leave it at that, moving her arms to give Paige a quick hug, but then Paige is grabbing her arm and pulling her in closer, lowering her voice. “Don't we need to talk 'bout somethin'?”

“Last time you said that you broke up with me.” Azzi pries Paige’s fingers off her arm.

Paige bristles at that, rubbing at the back of her neck nervously. “Okay, but still. We need to talk.”

“About?” Azzi asks, even though she already knows where this conversation is going. She looks at Paige expectantly.

“We kissed, Azzi. You don’t think we should talk ‘bout that?” There’s a crease between her eyebrows. “I mean, like, what does it mean, you know?”

There are two ways Azzi can play this. She can be honest, tell Paige that she lost hours of sleep over it, that it’s the only thing she’s thought about since she woke up, that it shifted her world off its axis. Can tell her that all those feelings she tried to push down have risen rapidly back to the surface, demanding all of her attention. Can lay it all out in front of them, knowing it could be months before the next time they see each other again.

And then there’s a second option.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Azzi is saying, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

Maybe it's time for the ball to be in Paige's court now.

Paige shakes her head exaggeratedly, her face screwed up in utter confusion. “It doesn’t?”

“Not unless we want it to,” Azzi continues, making her expression as unreadable as possible.

“Well, do you?”

Azzi hums noncommittally, looking down at her nails. “Probably easier if we just forget about it, right? I mean, it was only one kiss.”

There’s conflict painted clear across Paige’s face, her mouth opening and closing several times like she can’t quite figure out how she’s supposed to respond to that. She bites her lip hard, so hard that Azzi is a little concerned that she’s about to draw blood.

“I—I, uh,” she stutters, and Azzi can’t remember the last time she saw her look this flustered. “No, yeah. For sure. Just a kiss.” She nods her head once, like she’s trying to convince herself.

“Good, I’m glad we agree,” Azzi replies, even if she doesn’t really mean it.

Paige scratches at the back of her neck again, clearly not anticipating the conversation to go like this. “Yeah. So...maybe I’ll see you in March or somethin’?” She offers a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

Azzi shrugs. “Maybe you will.”

*****

She doesn’t.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #paige x azzi #pazzi #pazzi fics #lwb fic #i really hope you guys enjoy this one :)#inbox open tell me whatchu think

206 notes · View notes

burymagdalene · 18 hours ago

Text

Rocket Fuel - S. Reid x Reader

After a week apart, Spencer and reader have a day tucked away from society together. Resulting in stolen coffee, Spencer tries to make it up to you with his own trial of coffee making. pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: Good old fashioned fluff tags: established relationship, sharing (stealing) coffee, season 6 Spencer, lots of kisses– PURITAN REALLY wc: 2.3k a/n: Based on my little headcanon here, I expanded my idea a bit for you guys! Kisses, I hope you enjoy!

You hadn’t seen Spencer in a painfully long time. With a quick departure from work to Louisiana, it had been a week since you’d last seen him. Of course, you have gone longer, but something about this case dragged out how eternal it felt, each day becoming more drawn out like the beginning of the summer solstice. That being said, your copious hours apart have finally ended as Spencer calls you once you’re off work.

“Baby, I just landed. Are you busy? Can I see you?” He quickly rushes out, combining all the words into one jumbled, excited mess. You can hear the chatter in the background and the wind blowing as he’s stepping off the plane.

Resting your phone on your shoulder as you wiggle your key into your apartment, you smile at his voice. “Hi. Yeah, I’m just getting home from work. I can get pretty and we can go out?” You shut the door behind you.

“Hmm. Can I just come over and stay with you? After this week I kind of feel like seeing you and nobody else again.” Spencer’s voice tapers off to a whisper at the end, not wanting to risk the BAU hearing and getting offended. Which they heard anyway, earning him a soft slap upside the head.

“If you won’t feel stir crazy, yeah I’d love that. You can help me with a new braid I want to try, I’ve been practicing and it’s killing me…” Spencer is very much used to these calls of help. When you wanted to learn how to do a french braid, you made him watch a video and come over to do it himself since he retains what you’re supposed to do so easily.

“Perfect. Do you want me to pick you up? Coffee? Are you tired?” Not being able to hold it back, you chuckle a bit. Spencer’s frantically trying to supply you with anything he might’ve missed while he was gone. He’s always like this, desperate to bring you little treats after a case, like a crow leaving shiny gifts on the doorstep of those who feed them.

“I’d love a coffee Spence. I have this incurable sweet tooth I’ve adapted since you’ve been gone,” you tease while letting out a dramatic sigh “not enough sweetness in my life.” Spencer whines out a sorry on the other side of the line and asks what you want.

“Okay, a raspberry mocha with an extra shot for the beautiful girlfriend. Sounds… interesting.” Spencer replies and after quick goodbyes he slides into his car to drop off his luggage at his apartment, feed his fish (that you had won during a carnival date and gave to him) and is off walking to get you your artificially flavored coffee that will make your dentist cry.

Spencer loiters around the aggressively hipster coffee shop you frequent because of its good prices (uncommon in D.C.) waiting for your drink while smiling softly at himself at the idea of smelling you again, shoving his head in the nape of your neck while embracing you, touching your hair, being in your apartment surrounded by your things.

He’s at a point of hazy daydreaming where he doesn’t hear the “mocha for Spencer!” shouted by the barista until minutes later when they make eye contact and he sheepishly realizes he needs to get himself in gear.

Taking your drink he texts you letting you know he’s on the way and starts heading towards your apartment. The past week Spencer has been crammed inside offices, cars, the plane, so walking over and stretching his legs is making him bright eyed and bushy tailed.

Just bright eyed enough that the chocolate-y sweet aroma wafting from your coffee peaks his interest. Spencer brings it closer for a better sniff and makes a little “hm, not so bad” sound. Spencer and you share a similar taste in sweet coffee, though Spencer usually goes for a mountain of sugar added, not really any of the different kinds of flavoring you typically order. He takes a curious sip.

Before he knows it Spencer is on sip number two and is offhandedly thinking about the rise of modernist architecture as he walks past the corporate apartments downtown, devoid of individualism and expression. In fact, he thinks, 420,000 apartment buildings were built in America this year, a world record. With how quickly apartments are popping up, 200,000-300,000 are being destroyed because of the cheaper and less expensive materials that are being implemented currently-

The cup feels significantly lighter than it did when Spencer first bought it. He gives it a few swishes to gauge his damage and winces a bit. That’s okay! You’re the most understanding and sweet person he knows. He doubts you’ll bat an eye that he stole some sips. Sharing is caring after all.

The neighborhood finally starts to become more homely and familiar as he makes his way towards your complex. He’s already consumed his fair share of airplane and office coffee today, now with your sugary double shot, Spencer is bouncing with every step knowing he’s about to see you momentarily.

Spencer understands the energizer bunny to his full extent right now. Bounding up your front steps and knocking to the tune of “doot doola doot doo” and reflecting on a memory of an energizer bunny commercial he had seen as a kid. He was terrified of it.

And right before his eyes his angel finally appears.

You swing the door open and hug him tightly in the doorway, immediately shoving your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. The laundry detergent on his clothes was not holding up while he was gone to how he actually smells in person.

“Hi, my baby,” Spencer mutters into the top of your head. He pulls you back gently by the back of your neck so he can get a good look at your face. “I missed this face so much.” He giggles, he can’t believe how badly he’s been longing for you this week. Pulling Spencer to your living room, you’re still embraced in a hug.

“You don’t even understand. I’m coming jammed in your suitcase next time you have to leave.” You smile back at him, softly running your thumb along his jaw. Spencer blushes sweetly and breaks eye contact.

“Anddd your rocket fuel.” In his bliss he’s forgotten all prior sips of your coffee and hands you the drink.

You take his offering, smile dropping when you’re holding it yourself. “What the hell?”

Spencer remembers immediately. “I was checking for poison.”

“What the hell?”

“You know, so that if there was poison I’d be the one-”

“This is almost gone?” You can’t help but laugh a little bit at the absurdity.

Spencer pulls his best guilty face. “I’m so sorry. It smelled so good so I had to try it, you know scent accounts for around 75 to 95 percent of the impact a flavor can have. So, I could’ve been doing an experiment to attest to how it tastes in regards to how it was smelling. But I wasn’t actually, I just got carried away. Did you know that if you tried plugging your nose while eating a potato and an onion that without smelling them, they would taste essentially the same? We have to try that some time.” He’s nervously rambling.

You laugh and hand him back the cup. “It’s all yours, Spence.” You turn and walk into your kitchen, knowing he’s going to be following at your tail.

“I am sorry. Are you sure?” Spencer scratches the back of his neck nervously. Though he stops feeling bad once you turn around and lean against your kitchen counter with a grin.

“Yes, I’m sure. However, you’re about to sift through my kitchen and whip me up the most delicious coffee that my cabinets have to offer. Okay?”

Spencer nods with a bashful smile, sipping the coffee again. “Okay. Truce?”

“Hmm. Not so fast, it’ll be a truce if and when the coffee you make knocks my socks off.” You tease.

Spencer kisses your shoulder and gives another kiss under your ear like this second chance has a life changing outcome. A queen giving her jester another chance at entertainment before his beheading.

Conversation flows sweetly as you stand together in your kitchen. You have new flowers on a small table that he comments the origins on. “Why am I jealous that you got yourself flowers and I didn’t?” Spencer half jokes as he rummages through your options of crappy instant coffee.

“Hmm. But you did go out of your way to buy me that coffee I wanted… oh wait.” You poke back at him lightly. Spencer sighs good naturedly and asks you to turn around.

“I want the drink to be a surprise, don’t look at what I’m pulling out.”

Turning around, you roll your eyes. “Yes, chef.”

Spencer starts concocting his masterpiece and puts away the ingredients after they’re combined. He turns around, moving your hair to the side, away from your neck and places a kiss on the back of your neck. He hums against your skin and places another kiss. “Okay, you can look again.”

You spin on your heels and wrap your arms around his waist, against his back, chin resting on one of his shoulders as you watch him stir together a warm and milky mix of God knows what. You’re a little bit scared.

Pouring the mixture into the mug he gave you on your last birthday with your first name initial across the front, Spencer hands it to you with a ginormous, proud smile.

Pulling it up to your nose you give it a sniff to see what you’re about to get yourself into, though you guess this could be an onion and potato scenario, or whatever Spencer was saying to save his ass. You take a sip.

It’s not very good. You can taste each ingredient separately and together simultaneously. Way too milky that it drowns out the already weak coffee grounds you have. Spencer definitely makes coffee in a unique way, you’ve tried it once or twice.

“Mmm, this is so good, baby. Perfect.” You smile against the rim of the cup anyway.

“Really?” Spencer grins, taking a sip of your coffee again, one that you’re mourning more than ever now.

“Yeah! Thank you!” You lean over and kiss the side of his mouth. Spencer shifts to the side to catch you in a proper kiss. He overzealously pulls you in closer, hands cupping your cheeks, the coffee he made you spills a bit with his movement.

“Mm- babe,” you pull away to wipe the rim of your cup with a napkin. Spencer just hums in response, that he is not sorry for.

“Let me try?” Spencer asks sweetly after watching you take another sip, curious to know what he did to make it taste so good.

“Uhh, yeah. Sure.” You give a tight-lipped smile, your facade slowly breaking.

Taking the cup from you, Spencer takes another one of his greedy sips. He gulps it quickly, offendedly, and looks at you with a crazed expression. You burst out laughing.

“What?” You choke out through giggles.

“This is awful.” Spencer deadpans.

“Nooo, it's good!” You remedy. You don’t really care how it tastes, it’s just nice to be drinking something he’s made you after all this time. You don’t even care anymore he has your sweet drink either, he deserves it. Sweet thing.

Spencer starts laughing along with you, pulling you in by your wrist and peppering your face with kisses as you try to boost his confidence. “Seriously. I couldn’t have made it better myself.”

“You couldn’t possibly have made this yourself. That’s just awful. I was confident too.” He shakes his head with a smile. Spencer pours out half of what he made you and lifts the top of the remainder of what you actually wanted, and pours it in. He mixes it with his finger, pops it in his mouth to taste. No poison. And hands it to you.

The mixture was pleasant actually, a lot of the flavoring from the coffee shop fell to the bottom, so it made his milky coffee flavorful. You hum in genuine pleasure this time.

“I can’t believe you tried to lie to me about that coffee. You never have to grin and bear anything for my sake.” Spencer responds seriously as he watches you drink his combination.

You can’t help but feel like when a parent turns a funny story into a life lesson, but you suppose he’s right.

“You looked so proud! I didn’t want you to feel disappointed. I don’t really care about you drinking my coffee. I just care that you’re here.”

Spencer laughs and rolls up his sleeves as he talks, “I swear tomorrow your socks will officially be knocked off with the delectable coffee you’re about to receive.” He picks back up a joking tone.

“Oh I bet.” You kiss his cheek.

The rest of your evening together was full of caffeinated updates either of you may have missed in the past week, Spencer filling you in on a prank he was particularly proud of devising against Derek.

Spencer held up his end of the bargain as well. You woke up from the first good rest you’ve had all week since Spencer left to a raspberry mocha by your bedside table. You hadn’t even heard him leave.

You skip into your living room to find an empty cup of the same coffee Spencer picked up for himself this time to find him hunched over your coffee table fixing a bouquet of flowers into a vase.

He looks up at you and walks over, giving you a warm hug, slipping an arm up the back of your hoodie and traces your skin. “I was supposed to wake you up, angel.” He mumbles into your shoulder.

Pulling away, you walk over to inspect the new vase of flowers he got you. You put your hands on your hips and smile over at where he’s standing.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Truce.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer x reader

80 notes · View notes

greengoblinswifey · 18 hours ago

Note

I would def love another Nicholas, Cooper and reader story. Maybe it takes place at a party or club and the reader is vibing dancing until nick and cooper take special notice of her 👀

pairing— nicholas chavez x cooper koch x actress!reader

warnings— grinding/dry humping, oral(m&f receiving), slight degradation, praise kink, unprotected sex, double penetration, choking, anal, double creampie, aftercare.

a/n— apologies for the long wait, enjoy <33

The music pulsed through the club, vibrating through your chest as you swayed to the beat, lost in the moment. Tonight was about letting go, about celebrating, you’d just wrapped filming on your latest project, and the energy of the crowd was fueling.

But as you spun lightly on your heels, you froze for a moment, your gaze locking onto two familiar faces at the bar. Nicholas Chavez and Cooper Koch. Actors whose work you admired, whose talent you’d occasionally gushed about in interviews. They were here, laughing and looking like they owned the room, and for some reason, their attention was suddenly on you.

Nicholas was the first to move, his brown eyes glinting under the neon lights as he crossed the room. You could feel his gaze as he approached, slipping behind you, the warmth of his presence igniting something electric down your spine.

“Mind if I dance with you?” His voice was low, barely audible over the thumping bass.

“Not at all,” you said, breath hitching, but you nodded, leaning slightly into him.

Nicholas placed his hands lightly on your hips, his movements syncing perfectly with yours as you danced. He was confident but not overbearing, his touch firm but respectful. You let yourself melt into him, the proximity making your heart race.

Then your eyes flicked over to Cooper, who had been watching with a smirk. Feeling bold, you extended a hand, beckoning him closer. He didn’t hesitate, slipping into place in front of you, his hands gently on your hips as the three of you danced together.

“You’re stealing the attention of two guys tonight,” Cooper teased, his lips close enough to your ear to send a shiver down your neck.

“Maybe I’m just that good,” you replied, smirking.

“She knows her power,” Nicholas said, chuckling behind you.

It was playful at first, but the sexual tension built quickly. Cooper leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, exploratory kiss. You responded instinctively, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt as the kiss deepened. Then you tilted your head, your lips finding Nicholas’ next. His kiss was different, slower and deeper, his hands holding you securely as though he wanted to take his time with you.

Nicholas pulled back to meet your gaze. His voice was a low murmur against your lips. “Want to get out of here? Our hotel isn’t far.”

Your answer was a simple nod, your heart hammering in your chest.

The car ride back was filled with heat and hands. Nicholas sat to your left, his fingers tracing slow circles on your thigh, while Cooper’s hand rested on your other leg, his thumb brushing against your knee. Every touch felt intentional, the promise of more hanging in the air.

When you finally arrived at the hotel, the anticipation was almost unbearable. Nicholas opened the door for you, offering you a sly smile. “After you, beautiful.” You slowly walked in, hips swaying.

Without hesitation, Nicholas stepped forward, his hands finding the tie of your dress, tugging it free with a pull. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, as the fabric slipped off your shoulders and pooled at your feet.

Cooper was just as eager, his lips brushing along your neck while his hands traced your sides. “We’ve been waiting all night for this,” he added.

Before you could even catch your breath, their clothes joined your dress on the floor. Nicholas’ hands found your waist as Cooper dropped to his knees, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before he leaned forward. His lips pressed against your pussy, soft and wet, then leaving a trail of kisses down your inner thigh.

“Relax for us,” Nicholas coaxed, his fingers brushing your chin to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. His lips ghosted over yours as his hand slid into your braids, anchoring you in place. “You deserve this.”

Your response was lost in the moan that escaped your lips when Cooper’s mouth worked against your wetness. The precision of his tongue sent waves of pleasure through your body, and you couldn’t stop the way your hands clutched at Nicholas’ muscular forearms for balance.

“That’s it,” Nicholas praised. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart.”

The combination of Cooper’s relentless tongue and Nicholas’ reassuring praises left you breathless. When the flick of his tongue became overwhelming, you reached for Nicholas, your fingers unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down. You didn’t have to ask for guidance, he stepped forward, his hand resting at the back of your head as you took his big, hard cock into your mouth.

“Perfect little cock sucker,” Nicholas murmured, his voice faltering slightly as your head bobbed. His hand tightened in your braids, a low moan escaping him. “So good, baby. You’re making it hard to not cum.”

Cooper’s tongue became more purposeful, his grip on your thighs firm as he brought you closer to the edge. The sensation was intoxicating, overwhelming, and it wasn’t long before your body tensed, the pleasure hitting you like a tidal wave.

The moment your pussy squirted, Nicholas followed suit, his voice hoarse as he murmured your name, his grip on you tightening for a brief second before his load shot down your throat. You leaned back swallowing it, your breaths ragged as the room spun slightly. Nicholas pulled you up gently, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he smiled down at you. “You’re fucking amazing,” he said softly.

Cooper rose to his feet, his lips curving into a satisfied grin as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “You’re shaking baby,” he observed. “Nervous? Or just needy?”

“I’m fine,” you said softly, but your tone betrayed you.

“Oh, I think it’s both,” Nicholas said, tilting your chin up with his fingers. “Look at her. So desperate, she doesn’t even know what to do with herself.”

You blinked up at him, his gaze pinning you in place. “I’m not desperate,” you replied, trying to sound confident, but your voice wavered slightly.

“Sure, baby,” Cooper chimed in from behind, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “That’s why you’re standing there like you’re about to beg us to fuck you.”

“Maybe I am,” you admitted, the boldness surprising even you, “fuck, I need the both of you.”

Nicholas chuckled darkly, his hand trailing down your arm as he leaned in close. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Then let us give you what you want.”

Cooper shifted back on the bed, gesturing for you to climb into his lap. You hesitated for only a moment before crawling onto the mattress, settling back against his chest as his arms encircled your waist. Nicholas moved to kneel in front of you both, his fingers spreading open your wet pussy as he smirked up at you.

“You look so pretty like this,” Nicholas said, his voice low and taunting. “Your holes are ours, aren’t they?”

You nodded, your heart hammering as his words sank in. Cooper’s hands roamed over your waist, his touch firm but measured. His veiny cock circled your hole before he slowly sank inside. At the same time, Nicholas collected your juices on the tip of his cock before inching inside at the same pace Cooper went. “You’re doing good,” Cooper whispered into your ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. “But don’t think we’re going to go easy on a slut like you.”

Nicholas hands slid higher, his grip going around your neck as his smirk deepened. “She doesn’t want easy,” he said. “Do you?”

“No, I don’t, fuck me hard,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s what I thought” Nicholas murmured, his tone almost mocking as he leaned closer. “Now be good for us, sweetheart, and we’ll make sure you feel exactly what you’ve been begging for.”

Nicholas and Cooper maintained a steady, their cocks in your holes were perfectly synchronized, your orgasm approaching with each passing moment. Nicholas’ hand rested tighter around your throat, his fingers curling ever so slightly to exert just enough pressure to keep your focus entirely on the pleasure.

“You’re doing so well for us,” he murmured. “Look at you, so perfect, just like this.”

Behind you, Cooper’s hands were everywhere, groping you, holding your hips and guiding you on their cocks. One hand drifted lower, his touch soft as he rubbed your clit, drawing moans and gasps from you that you couldn’t contain.

“Those pretty moans,” Cooper whispered.

Your breaths came in short gasps, and your body trembled as the pleasure built. Nicholas leaned down, his lips brushing against your collarbone before trailing lower to press a gentle kiss to your tits. “I can feel how close you are,” he whispered. “Don’t hold back, baby. Cum for us.”

Your head tipped back, overwhelmed by the sensations. “I— I’m about to—”you stammered, your voice shaking.

“It’s okay baby,” Cooper reassured you, his lips brushing against your neck. “Cum for us. Be a good girl.”

Nicholas tightened his grip on your throat, his eyes locked on yours. “Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxed. “Show us how good of a whore you can be.”

With their words urging you on, everything came crashing down at once. Your body shook, the sensation overwhelming as you lost yourself, the release leaving you breathless and weightless all at once as you squirted all over their cocks. Cooper pressed soft kisses to your neck, murmuring praises in your ear.

“That’s our girl,” he said. “So good for us.”

Nicholas slowed, his hand slipping from your throat to brush against your cheek. “You were incredible,” he murmured, his voice softer now.

You barely registered the moment they followed, their thrusts stilling as they came inside your holes. Cooper’s hands held you close as Nicholas’ forehead rested against yours briefly, grounding you both.

The room was quiet for a moment, save for the sound of your shared breaths. Nicholas pulled away first, his hands gentle as he helped you adjust. Cooper slipped out from behind you, moving quickly to grab a warm towel.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Cooper said, his tone soft and affectionate.

Nicholas stayed by your side, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You did so well,” he said. “We’re so proud of you.”

Cooper returned, dabbing your skin with the towel as Nicholas helped you lie back against the pillows. They both climbed into bed with you, pulling you close between them.

“How are you feeling?” Nicholas asked, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back.

“Perfect,” you smiled.

Cooper kissed your forehead, pulling the blankets up around all three of you. “Good,” he said. “Because you deserve nothing less.”

Tags: @blackynsupremacy @hoffmansgirl @nicholaschavezslut69 @rain-likes-purple

98 notes · View notes

where-fading-princesses-live · 3 days ago

Text

Thoughts on WICKED (2024)

So I finally saw WICKED after procrastinating after its opening weekend. I wanted to wait a bit longer (as excited as I was to see it) because I knew the theaters were going to be packed (they were) and my friend and I got tickets at the last minute before they sold out for that day’s showing. I’ve been a fan of the musical since childhood and I loved the books as a teen and I knew they were making a movie (or talking about it) since I was in middle school. Well it was worth the wait.

I admit the first teaser trailer did not impress me (it looked too much like a spectacle and some of the CGI effects looked over the top and corny). I was going to see it anyway but my initial expectations were low. but the later trailers were better and I was getting more excited to see it. Well the movie did not disappoint. Though I’m a big fan of WICKED, the movie was better than I expected. I definitely want to see it again (preferably at home with less people even tho the movie was made for the big screen, especially with all the tiny details I didn’t notice before when viewing TV spots and clips on my phone and laptop… ) I’d rather watch it on the big screen BUT.

My enjoyment of the movie was almost completely ruined because of the people… no one sang along, thank God, but there were so many distractions and now I remember why I haven’t been to a movie theatre in years. not only did so many people come in late and have to climb over you to get to their seats, but the person sitting next to me whipped out their phone in the middle of the movie and started texting, plus their bright ass screen was so distracting (rude much?). Worst of all, one person thought it was a good idea to drag along their noisy toddlers who kept asking over and over ‘’when’s the movie going to start’’ during the previews, and even when the movie DID start, the kids could not sit still throughout the movie and kept loudly asking their parents for ‘’skittles’’ like I wanted to turn around and tell them to keep their kids quiet or leave. FINALLY they got up and left for good before the Emerald city part, like goddamn if your kids aren’t mature enough to sit through a 2 ½ movie, don’t ruin it for the rest of us. >_<

That being said, I still enjoyed the movie, and you bet your sweet Oz there was a round of applause after it was over, I mean it was THAT good. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to a movie where the audience clapped at the end. I think maybe ‘’The Artist’’ back in 2011… which won Best Picture at the Oscars that year. That was a damn good movie, prolly the last one I saw in theaters. I knew WICKED was going to be a big; it’s one of the longest-running shows on Broadway with almost daily record box office sales; its fan base is like Harry Potter-levels huge, so I guess it’s impact was long overdue. Better late than never.

here’s some quick thoughts (I literally have not stopped thinking about it and I saw it about a week ago… suffice to say, I’m obsessed):

The Costumes!!!

So at first I hated Glinda’s bubble dress. I thought it looked cheap compared to the Broadway costume (my dream dress btw) but overtime the design grew on me…

I have no issues with the dress being pink (after all, the non-replica Brazil production did a pink gown).

I still think the Broadway bubble dress is prettier (esp. the way it sparkles and glitters in the stage lighting and I love the blue color… Susan Hilferty was very original with her designs) but I do like the movie costume being a slight nod to the 1939 Wizard of Oz, plus it looks like a quinceañera dress.

I would’ve preferred the dress with puff sleeves, or off the shoulder cap sleeves for modesty, but one detail I really love that is not noticeable unless you’re watching on the big screen is that Glinda has butterfly gems on her shoulders (literally the first time I noticed it was in the movie theatre).

It’s such a nice detail because butterflies seem to be her theme, as a nod to the butterfly choker necklace Billie Burke wears as Glinda.

I actually do like Paul Tazewell as a costume designer. He also did the costumes for ‘’Death Becomes Her’’ on Broadway; his designs are very unusual and elaborate and I loved his visions for Oz.

That being said, I pretty much love Galinda’s whole wardrobe at Shiz (some people complained that they ‘’Barbie-fied Galinda’’ because her style lacks variety esp. when she wears the same color scheme throughout the whole movie) and tho it’s true I’d like to see her in different colors (we will in PART 2), I do think the pink was a nice symbolism. Her Ozdust ballroom dress is esp. unique. (I do like how the dress in the stage show was originally blue to hint at her becoming Glinda the Good Witch; basically she and Elphaba looked like mini versions of their future Witches counterparts… then they changed the dress to pink, so the symbolism was lost).

and it was nice the movie went back to that. So now it makes sense that the bubble dress is pink.

My only complaint is Elphaba’s costumes. Don’t get me wrong—they’re gorgeous—but I’m not sure the designs really reflect her character arc. Costumes aren’t just meant to be pretty… they are literally telling a story, and illustrating the growth of a character. Sometimes characters have to be dressed in something more appropriate for the purpose of the setting and where they’re at in the narrative even if it isn’t the prettiest garment off the rack… it’s not just about looking their best, and I think Paul Tazwell missed this mark. He clearly wanted Elphaba to be a fashion queen—but that’s not her character.

In the musical, Elphaba appears semi-frumpy on purpose. She’s beautiful but insecure due to her skin color and so she covers up in a bulky blazer, she braids her long hair, and wears a cap over her head, as though she is attempting to draw the least bit of attention to herself.

No one recognizes her inner beauty because she lacks the self-confidence to be herself. In the movie, she first appears to us in a beautiful black corset dress with puff sleeves and buttons (Cynthia is absolutely stunning and kills this look) but I’m not sure if Elphaba should look so drop-dead gorgeous when we first meet her (plus she’s fixing her hair in the first shot and it seems so OOC for her… I know Cynthia’s version is softer and more vulnerable than the Broadway version, who’s a bit bold and sarcastic and self-defensive… but Elphie fixing her braid? Not that it’s vain but her hair is the least of her worries in the stage show). And the dress… like I said… much too pretty. I do love her glasses tho.. and I do like the Gothic fashion... it reminds me of A Series of Unfortunate Events... the first dress is just too pretty for a character introduction. I'd like to see her wear this later in the film...

Maybe it wasn’t the intent… the dress is old-fashioned and could be ‘’spinsterish’’ to some, but she looks far from frumpy. Elphaba is already naturally beautiful, but in the stage version she doesn’t undergo an outward physical transformation until after the Ozdust ballroom scene. In the movie, she’s dressed fashionably all the time… and looks beautiful outside and inside. her Shiz uniforms are not Galinda, oh, sure, but she looks incredible in these form-fitting pinstripe suits with these flamboyant shoulder pads, and I feel it doesn’t match Elphaba’s story at all… she’s supposed to be hiding at the beginning of the story (I don’t think you’d catch Broadway Elphaba dead in pinstripes and shoulder pads). Galinda in the show helps bring her out of her shell. But even her Ozdust dress in the movie is a knock out… with the black lace and everything. In the musical, she just wears her plain uniform frock to the dance because she has nothing else.

The movie doesn’t have to copy the stage show exactly, but yeah… I wanted to see Elphaba go through a transformation in her fashions. I wanted to see her start dressing prettier towards the end of the movie, after ‘’Popular’’… like, see, her inner beauty was always there, and it makes her beautiful on the outside too! but she was already dressing pretty and fashionable before that, so it lessens the impact it’s supposed to have as the other students slowly begin to accept her. and after ‘’Popular’’, Elphaba is seen wearing this outfit she wears earlier in the film. Only difference being her hair is not braided, so she really doesn’t look ‘’Galinda-fied’’ to me as the line suggests (she was already ''Galinda-fied'').

In the musical it’s more apparent when she goes to looking like this (something she’s never worn before and doesn’t fit her typical style):

Again, it’s just a minor gripe I had. They probably wanted Elphie’s ‘’make over’’ to be more subtle which is fine… like Elphaba is ALWAYS beautiful… but still.

Nessarose’s Ozdust dress was actually one of my faves in the whole movie. She truly looked like the Belle of the Ball. I love that she’s wearing a poppy necklace…

And those big doe eye of hers... I'M DEAD

If Galinda is butterflies, Nessa’s whole theme seems to be poppies. AND THESE SHOES ARE FIRE I want them and I want the dress. There I said it.

Also her dance with Boq is my favorite scene in the whole movie. It was always my favorite part in ''Dancing Through Life'' and it's so wholesome... knowing how tragic this ends for them both (the rehearsal footage was admittedly better but they both ate and left no crumbs)... give the choreographer all the awards.

As for the other characters, I like the Shiz uniforms and that they maintained the variety and individualisms from the stage show. I kind of wish Fiyero was dressed in something that stood out more. He doesn’t wear his Shiz uniform until after ‘’Popular’’ in the stage version. We first meet him in a riding outfit (he kind of wears a riding outfit when he runs into Elphaba in the movie… but not a bold red one… and red seems to be Fiyero’s color… it fits him better than blue but that's just my opinion).

If it was my choice, I would’ve dressed all the main characters in different outfits and/or colors that stand out from the rest. In the stage version, Galinda and Elphie are technically still dressed in uniforms, but they wear a solid color—Galinda in all cream/ white and Elphie in all navy blue—so they stand out.

I like that they kept this in the movie (only Galinda being in pastel pink tones and Elphie in all black).

Fiyero, Boq, and Nessa should’ve been color coded too. Yes, Boq and Nessa in the stage show wear similar uniforms to everyone else, but they have little details that make them stand out (for instance, Nessa has this headband, and Boq has this little red hat that later productions added… it didn’t exist in the original production, but the costumes kind of evolved over time). I still like Boq’s uniform in the movie (esp. the shoes). I do kind of miss his white boots from the stage show, tho (RIP Boq’s cute white boots).

Unfortunately in the movie they had so many people dressed like Boq that he disappeared into the background, but maybe that was for a reason? Boq is a wallflower; we're not supposed to notice him. I get it. He still should've had something to signify him... a hat, maybe. These sweater vests are sick tho... where can I get one?

The Cast!!!

Ariana and Cynthia of course nailed it. I was skeptical of the casting when it was first announced but they proved me wrong and they were the perfect choices. No one could have played Galinda and Elphaba better. I usually don’t like pop stars in musical movies… I prefer classically trained theatre actors, but since Ari does have a musical theatre background, she ended up surprising me more than anyone else in the cast (esp. where it concerns her operatic notes. I say that because tho I’m familiar with her on 13! the musical, she was terribly miscast as Penny in Hairspray Live! She did not disappear into the role… she was basically playing herself) and I was deathly afraid she would popify the hell out of Galinda. Well, she understood the assignment, she really became Galinda. So props to her.

Not gonna lie. The whole cast was phenomenal but Dr. Dillamond (voiced by Peter Dinklage) was my favorite part in the whole movie. I love the scene where Elphaba takes him by the hoof. She was so compassionate and you really feel her heartbreak when he's arrested. Yeah the CGI goat was the best actor I just loved him.

😭😭😭

Fiyero is the Arjiki prince (who was a very minor character in the book and, in my humble opinion, is the least interesting character in the book and the musical), made that much worse when he's traditionally whitewashed… because he was a dark-skinned black man in the book… sure some black actors have played him on stage but I had a feeling they’d cast a white actor in the movie… part of me wished they casted a black actor... well, at least he gets a cool song. HOWEVER I really did love Jonathan Bailey’s portrayal. He wasn’t bland like some of the other actors who’ve played him, and though he’s prince charming good looking, he’s also incredibly funny. I was not expecting to laugh so much at his entrance. Yeah, I liked Fiyero more in the movie. He’s still not my favorite character but hopefully he gets a big meaty part in PART 2. Is it wrong I never shipped Fiyero/ Elphaba? I always thought their chemistry was so boring and forced. Wicked was always a love story between two women anyway. I totally ship Elphaba and Galinda (it’s canon in the book anyway). I loved the scene where Galinda and Elphaba run out of the ozdust ballroom together hand-in-hand and literally leave Fiyero biting the dust.

----

(SPOILER ALERT: That’s how the story should have ended. Who needs a man right? Let the witches be lesbians… a house falls on Nessa, so Boq could end up with Fiyero (since the women they love are in love with each other) let Fiyero be bisexual (Jonathan’s Fiyero already radiates bisexual energy because all the women AND men were falling in love with him). Let him be bi and hit on Boq (Tincrow fans come get your food… you can’t convince me they’re straight). Elphie and Glinda get their happy ending. Problem solved. Everyone’s happy.)

Nessa was awesome. She’s a character everyone loves to hate, but yeah, I wish she was in the movie more. Marissa Bode ATE

---

(SPOILER ALERT: In Part 2, she will becomes more Wicked when she assumes the position of the tyrannical Eminence of Munchkinland. Owing to her brutal religious persecution, we'll do well to remember her as the infamous ''Wicked Witch of the East.'' I love me a badass female villain).

---

Speaking of badass female villains, Michelle Yeoh absolutely COOKED as Madame Morrible, and her costumes were more beautiful on the big screen. Part of me wanted Kristin Chenoweth to play Madame Morrible… she slayed as Velma Von Tussle in Hairspray Live! Her rendition of ‘’(The Legend Of) Miss Baltimore Crabs’’ was seriously gas. She plays a very convincing villain, but then they’d have to write her a villain song (not that I’m complaining). Michelle may not be a singer, but she was so quietly sinister as Madame Morrible… I loved her.

I personally wanted more Bowen Yang in the supporting cast (specifically flirting with Fiyero).

Despite the haters (and say what you will), but Ethan Slater was perfectly cast as Boq Woodsman aka the Munchkin Boy. Despite unpopular opinion, I wish he was in the movie more. When I read the book, he looks almost exactly like how I pictured him (mop of curly hair, freckles…). Boq was blonde in the book if I remember correctly, and he wore glasses… so my vision of him was a blonde Daniel Radcliffe… but honestly, the red hair works so well (even better than blonde). And I love that they ended up basing the Munchkins’ look off of Ethan. They all had red curly hair. That was a cool detail.

Boq the Munchkin Boy was actually a major character in the book but the musical shifts Boq's prominence to Fiyero for some reason and this always bothered me. Yeah, Fiyero unapologetically steals Boq's thunder (and I will never forgive the musical for that unnecessary change...) and apparently the movie was going to flesh him out more and make him friends with Elphaba like in the book… they were really close friends and Boq actually played a bigger role than Galinda... in fact, Galinda was very minor in the book compared to her role in the musical.

You wish your squad was this dope.

It seemed like they were going to add more things from the book. Unfortunately, a lot of his scenes got axed (I would watch a full five hours with all the deleted scenes). But Ethan Slater was still good with what he had to work with. Okay, maybe they had to delete his scenes with Elphaba. But I personally wanted more scenes with him and Fiyero… it seems like something was going on between them in ‘’Dancing Through Life’’ (not in that way; Ethan explained in interviews his Boq looked up to Fiyero and tried to emulate him and that makes sense) like a parallel storyline to Elphie and Galinda’s budding friendship. Boq seemed to come out of his shell more around Fiyero, kind of like Elphie gaining confidence around Galinda. I would’ve have minded a scene with Fiyero rooming with Boq and seeing the boys get ready for the dance.

In fact, we just needed more scenes with the Charmed Circle hanging out together in general. They teased us with these scenes for months leading up to the film’s release… only to delete them!!! WE WERE ROBBED

A two-part movie and they still had to sacrifice so much for time constraints.

That was my only other gripe with the film. The lack of development in the friendships of the characters…

This is why the movie really needed to be a TV series spanning multiple seasons, and they could have added so much from the books. Everyone would watch the living crap out of it, and we could have had more character development and world building. Someday I’d love to see an animated tv series based on the books (minus the smex). With all the lovely fanart coming out of this fanbase, think of the cool possibilities for character designs. Yeah a tv series based on the books are in order. (Probably couldn’t get the movie cast but I think Ethan Slater should reprise his role as Boq because he just sounded so much like how I pictured him from the book… he probably fits my vision the most out of everyone who was casted.)

A funny thing happened after the movie… my friend said, ''Why is Boq taller than Glinda?'' And I was like, ''out of the whole 2 1/2 hour movie THAT'S what you got out of it???'' (Anyway most of the actors who played Boq on stage were taller than Glinda by a head or two. He's a ''tall munchkin'' and they should've kept this line in the movie so people wouldn't be confusified.)

Anyway, yeah, despite the minor things, the movie is a solid 11/ 10 stars for me.

They had ONE job. And they nailed it.

#personal shit #wicked #wicked musical #wicked film #wicked (2024)#cynthia erivo #ariana grande #jonathan bailey #ethan slater #marissa bode #costume design

21 notes · View notes

rapmonjoon94 · 20 hours ago

Text

Desire

Summary: You hate working your bartending job on New Years Eve. The only thing getting you through is your best friend Jimin, and knowing there is a cute new hire who seems to be down for some fun

Word Count: 10k

Paring: Taehyung/Jimin/Reader (Side Vimin)

Rating: 18+/M minors do not interact!

Tags: Smut, porn with little plot, Jimin is a flirt, Taehyung is a flirt, grinding with clothes on, make outs, dirty talk, Tae gets called good boy a lot and he likes it, dom Jimin, threesomes, hand jobs, blowjobs, vaginal fingering, tae's hands get tied up, eating pussy, use of cock rings, use of vibrators, edging, sub tae, fingers in butts, Jimin fucks, Tae fucks, reader gets fucked, use of condoms (Be safe!)

Authors note: This idea has been floating around my head for MONTHS and finally I was like eh lets do it and here we are. This is smutty and filthy and yeah just....yeah. Enjoy!

-------

Your heels click-clacked against the concrete as you walked around the block from your day job. You hoisted your bag higher on your shoulder and let out a grumble when soft snowflakes began to fall from the sky. The air was bitingly cold, and you wrapped your stylish coat against your body, cursing under your breath as you wished you had brought your big puffer jacket.

The temperature was dropping rapidly and you let out a weary sigh as you pulled the neck of your coat higher against your cheeks to ward off the chill.

This was going to be a long night. You didn’t even know why you agreed to pick up an extra shift at The Luxe Lounge, on New Year’s Eve of all times but you knew your credit card bills would come in soon from Christmas and the extra income would be nice.

You hiked your bag higher and finally after ten minutes of walking you came across the sign illuminated against the grey sky as the snow started to fall harder.

It was only five p.m., but people were already starting to line up outside, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

In your opinion, New Year’s Eve was always overrated. You would much rather stay home in comfy clothes and watch movies instead of paying for overpriced booze and standing with a bunch of strangers who were desperate for a midnight kiss.

Or maybe that was the cynic in you.

The line already had at least thirty people in it and you brushed past them all, not bothering to give them the time of day or take in their complaints as you cut the line to where Jimin was standing in a chic black puffer coat.

His hair was dark and stylishly pushed back from his face, he had minimal eye makeup, just enough to make him look dangerous and sexy and you wondered who he was dressing up for tonight.

One girl let out an annoyed huff and you whirled on your heel to face her.

“I’m not cutting the line. I work here.” You bite out already annoyed with the night and it had not even started.

She just rolled her eyes and you let out your own huff of annoyance as you waited for Jimin to catch your eye.

“Oh Hey!” He calls after a minute of you standing in the cold.

You shuffle forward cutting off the girl who gave you attitude earlier and stand in front of him as he pulls you into a crushing hug.

“Jimin! I’m going to be late for my shift!” You say between giggles as he holds you for a moment then pulls away flashing you a bright grin.

“That‘s a lie darling and we both know it. You don’t start till six. I was surprised to see you on the staff sheet tonight. You hate New Year’s Eve. You’re going to be miserable.” He all but cackles as you roll your eyes to the sky.

“Yes well, Christmas bills and all. Plus I didn’t want to miss out on your gorgeous face. Last time I see it before the New Year.” You teasingly flirt as this time Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Always such a charmer. Okay well, you can head on in. I know I don’t have to check your ID corporate girl.”

You scowl at him.

“Yes, corporate girl by day killer bartender by night. What a glamourous life I live.” You deadpan as Jimin stands there and grins.

“Well, hopefully, you brought some slutty clothes to show off your….assets. Big tips tonight you know.” He teases with an eyebrow raised as you smack his arm.

“I dress modestly.” You argue back.

“And that’s why you complain about money. Be slutty get more tips. It’s bartending 101.” He says as more people cue up behind you to get into the bar.

“Well I think this skirt shows off enough of my assets and it’s uncomfortable as fuck so I’m going to head in and change thank you.” You say as Jimin throws his head back and laughs.

“Yeah Yeah head on in. I’ll be out here freezing my ass off with this bunch.” He gestures to the long line of people.

“Show off your assets. Maybe it will make it more enjoyable.” You parrot back to him as you brushed past but a hand on your arm stopped you and you turned to see Jimin grabbing your arm, his face close to yours and eyes alight with mischief.

“Speaking of assets. If you want to see some good ass…ets you should see the new coat room guy. Holy shit I think I might actually be in love. Check him out. Let me know what you think.” He says voice low.

“Why am I screening your potential dates?” You groan pulling your arm from him.

“Because you have great taste in men. And who else am I going to ask? Namjoon? Yoongi? Please.” He huffs out.

“What time does Namjoon come in to take over?” You ask Jimin thinking fondly of the big burly security guard who looks intimidating but is soft as a teddy bear.

“Eleven. Thank fuck.” Jimin says.

“I’ll scope him out. Come find me at eleven and we will talk.” You say as you give him a salute and he smiles at you.

Your body is met with warm air as you finally enter The Luxe Lounge entryway and cant help but smile at the music already bumping from upstairs. Jungkook must already be working on the track for tonight. No doubt Hoseok is next to him helping him pick out good dance music.

You take the narrow hallway beside the stairs where the staff lounge is and punch in the code on the keypad.

Seokjin was nice enough to give everyone full-sized lockers so you cram most of your stuff in there, spinning the lock before grabbing your change of clothes and heading to the staff bathrooms which just so happen to be next to the coatroom.

Doors don’t officially open until six and you snicker when you imagine Jimin standing out in the cold probably flirting with every man or woman that he sees.

That man was such a shameless flirt you wondered how in the hell he didn’t have a date yet.

Just as you passed the coat room someone cleared their throat and you stopped in your tracks because Holy shit.

If this was the man Jimin was talking about

He was gorgeous.

He was tall with dark fluffy hair that fell into his eyes and miles of tanned skin. His chest was wide, stretched by a plain black tee shirt but his hands and fingers were delicate, almost looked like he could be a piano player with those long delicate fingers.

His lips parted into a smile when he saw you and your heart lept in your chest.

Holy shit.

“Hi um, we’re not actually open until six…I think.” He says in a low voice that sends a shiver up your spine.

“Oh uh, yeah I work here. I just came from my other job so I have to change.” You stammer as his dark eyes widen and he flushes a pretty rose colour.

“Oh, I’m so sorry tonight is my first night and I haven’t met everyone yet. I’m so sorry wow that’s embarrassing.” He stammers and you walk over to him and smile.

“It’s okay the staff rotates a lot so you will be meeting people for weeks.” You encourage as you introduce yourself holding out a hand for him to shake.

“I’m Taehyung.” He says as his hand takes yours and you look down to see how his large palm and long fingers engulf your hand. Something about that is so sexy you feel beads of sweat start to form on your forehead.

“Well, Taehyung welcome to the craziest night of the year. Are you ready?” You tease as you switch your bag to the other arm.

“Yeah, I mean. Seokjin explained it to me and I had training yesterday. Coat room can’t be that hard right?” He asks voice full of worry.

“Nah not usually. New Year’s Eve though. You're going to be busy.” You warn him.

His tongue darts out to lick at his lips nervously and you can’t help but feel intrigued by him.

He was no doubt gorgeous, but also his shyness and nervousness were cute. Someone tonight was going to try to make him their New Year’s kiss, you were sure of it.

“I bartend here. Usually try not to during holidays because it’s always insane but the money is good so why the heck not? It’s only one night.” You say softly as you stare into his dark eyes.

“Yeah, that’s how I feel. Seokjin didn’t want to throw me in on tonight of all nights but I figured why not. I have nothing else going on.” He says tapping his fingers on the counter.

“Nothing else going on? You don’t have anyone at home waiting for you?” You ask as he blushes and your stomach swoops with how forward you are being.

“I’m sorry it’s not my business I shouldn’t have asked.” You apologize as his face breaks into a soft smile.

“Nah it’s okay. We’re going to be working together we should get to know each other. No, I live alone. No girlfriend no boyfriend. Just me and my dog.” He says shrugging.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll have tons of people lining up for you tonight.” You encourage as his eyes widen.

“You think so?” He asks, voice dipping lower and a teasing look in his eye.

“I mean yeah. You are gorgeous and everyone gets drunk and horny on New Year’s Eve. I’ve worked it enough to know.” You say not sure why you are so bold with him as you only just met. However, something about him just drags you in and you never want to leave his captivating gaze.

“You think I’m gorgeous huh?” He teases with a lift of his eyebrow.

So he was a master flirt like Jimin.

Of course, he was

“Yes, but I think you also know you're gorgeous. And it’s not just me. Other people have noticed Taehyung.” You say flirting back and resting your forearms on the counter getting closer to him and inhaling his scent.

“Hmm and who would that be who is also noticing? Jimin by chance?” He coos with a wink.

“He’s not very subtle huh?” You comment as Taehyung lets out a small giggle and also props his arms on the counter bringing his handsome face closer to you.

“Are you friends with Jimin?” He asks biting at his lower lip.

You nod.

“And let me guess. He put you up to this to see if I’m interested?” He asks as you feel yourself lean in even closer, taking in the small beauty marks on his handsome face.

“Can’t tell. Scouts honor you know.” You whisper as the tension around you crackles.

Taehyung lets out a soft laugh and your eyes are instantly drawn to his pink lips.

“Well, you can tell Jimin I think he is hot. Like really hot. And just for future reference, I think you are super hot too.” He says with a wink which has you flustered in more ways than one.

Your body feels on fire and your cheeks are stained red. The way this man can switch from innocent and cute to downright smouldering sexy makes your head spin.

“Though I think I’ve held you up enough. Don’t want Seokjin breathing down your neck because you're late for your shift.” He says voice low and dangerous as you swallow hard.

“Go get changed. I’m sure we will see each other again.” He says dismissing anything you had to say as he shoots you another wink and pushes himself back from the counter, grinning when he sees how flustered you are before turning around and unboxing more hangers.

By the time you are changed and behind the bar with Yoongi you feel a little less affected by Taehyungs charms.

But only a little bit.

The second you locked yourself in the stall you got out your phone and texted Jimin in all capitals about what happened.

Your fingers were flying over the keyboard and the message was littered with spelling mistakes but you knew Jimin would know what you meant as you hit send and quickly got dressed in black jeans and a forest green body suit.

You hurried to put on your gold jewelry and do something with your hair and when you exited the bathroom Taehyung was nowhere to be found and you had to admit you were slightly disappointed.

Yoongi gave you a small smile when you got behind the bar with him and when the doors opened at six you didn’t have time to think about Taehyung as you were too busy serving drinks left and right.

Yoongi was a good companion behind the bar because he was a hard worker and because you had worked with him for so long you both got into a groove, weaving behind each other with ease, passing each other bottles before the other asked for it.

You both worked as a well-oiled machine.

By Nine you were coated in a thin layer of sweat and the dance floor was packed.

Bodies were all pushed together as people danced and sang and ground on each other.

You grinned when you saw Hoseok take to the dance floor and Jungkook jumping wildly behind his DJ setup.

You passed Yoongi the vodka bottle and he shot you a grateful smile as the girl he was serving was giving him the most shameless “Please fuck me eyes.”

You snickered when she began to suck on her straw like it was a cock and Yoongi moved behind you with grace and hissed “Don’t say a word.” In your ear.

You snicker but continue to pour drinks as it seems like most girls have their eyes on Yoongi tonight.

One guy slithers up to the bar smelling of cheap cigarettes and the way he stares at you makes your skin crawl.

Normally Yoongi would take these customers but he was over his head with a group of girls all in bedazzled tops so you took him instead.

“What can I get for you?” You asked throwing the bar towel over your shoulder and trying to breathe through your mouth at his stench.

“Are you on the menu?” The stranger cackled causing you to force a tight smile on your face.

“No sir unfortunately I’m not. But we have a wide selection here so what can I get for you.” You say trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice as he leans against the counter.

“Well, that’s a shame. Though I do like the sir thing.” He says with a teasing wink that has your skin prickling and before you know it Yoongi is at your side snarling at the man.

“Sir It’s New Year’s Eve. We are swamped and she clearly isn’t interested in you. Order something or move on.” He barks at the man who frowns and orders a beer.

Yoongi serves it to him and before you can blink he disappears into the crowd.

“Thanks.” You say to Yoongi who gives you a curt nod before going back to his side of the bar and taking orders.

By eleven you are sweaty and sore. You see Namjoon making his way across the floor and you grin to yourself when you realize that your relief person would be coming soon as well.

Kiri comes behind the bar and wraps you in a warm hug dousing you in her strong perfume as you struggle to pull away from her, not wanting her to be covered in your sweat.

“I’ll take over enjoy your New Year’s Eve girl!” She calls over the music taking out a new bar towel and taking over your position with ease.

You nod to Yoongi who nods back a silent Happy New Year as you exit through the side of the bar and navigate the dance floor hoping to make it back to the Staff room to at least freshen up before you meet Jimin.

Making it across the dance floor was near impossible and the stairs were even worse as there was a line up to get up into the loft area where the dance floor was.

You scramble around people, trying to shove your way down the stairs and not take anyone out but the crowd is so thick it feels like it takes you forever just to get down the twelve steps.

You make it to the staff room and just as you are fixing your hair the door opens and Jimin walks in, hair still perfectly slicked back and cheeks pink with cold.

“How did it go?” He asks as he takes the locker next to you and shucks off his coat revealing a skin-tight black top that is slightly sheer so you can see his chest and abs.

“Very tiring. I mean the tips were great but I don’t want to talk to another human for at least a week.” You groan as you finally get your hair looking back to normal and you plop down in one of the chairs and let out a long sigh.

“Even if the human is me?” He teases as he follows suit and plops down beside you.

“Oh well, you’re the exception Jimin.” You say smiling at him.

“What about Taehyung? Is he the exception too?” Jimin says, voice low with a teasing smile on his lips.

You shift in your seat.

“I mean…he’s. Honestly, I don’t even know how to describe him.” You breathe out as your earlier interaction with him flashes in your mind.

“Oh, I know. He got you good, didn’t he? I had to read your text several times just to know what you were saying.” Jimin jokes as you shove his arm and overhead you hear people yelling in glee.

Jugkook must have turned on a popular song to get the crowd hyped.

“I was rushing because he held me up. And I was going to be late.” You argue back crossing your arms as Jimin cackles beside you.

“Admit it you were all flustered because he is hot.” He teases you nudging your arm.

“Hey, you’re in the same boat as me here!” You shoot back.

“Yes, but I’m not trying to hide it. He’s hot. I want him. I’m very open about my feelings.” Jimin says eyes dancing in the low lights of the staff room.

“Well, you saw him first so you can have him. You called dibs.” You say feeling slightly defeated.

“You want him too?” He questions.

“Yes didn’t you read my text? I said he was hot as fuck.”

Jimin laughs.

“All I saw were spelling mistakes.” He goads.

“Again I was in a rush!” You defend yourself but Jimin knows how to get under your skin and he just sits there and giggles.

His giggles go silent as one of your coworkers walks in. She quickly grabs her stuff and waves to you both before leaving. You know she has a boyfriend back home and is probably going to try to get to him before midnight.

“I don’t mind sharing you know,” Jimin says when the room falls silent again and your head whips around to stare at him, expecting to see a smile on his face but he looks dead serious.

“Jimin, you’re my friend, I adore you, I do, but I don’t want you sloppy seconds. Even if they are as sexy as Taehyung.” You explain.

“It doesn’t have to be sloppy seconds you know?” Jimin starts and you stare at him in disbelief.

“Were you secretly getting drinks when you were standing out there? How drunk are you?” You ask as you feel heat rise to your cheeks and you stand up feeling the need to pace the floor.

“Sober as fuck. But also horny as fuck. Come on we have been friends for the last five years. We both think he’s sexy. If I read your texts right he thinks we both are sexy. We could just….share?” Jimin suggests with an eyebrow raised.

“You want to share Taehyung? At the same time?” You ask as you stand in front of him, hands on the back of your chair to hold yourself steady.

Jimin shrugs as if it is not a big deal.

You take a second to think of it. You had sex with guys, sure. You just never had a threesome before. Especially with a friend you had known for so long. The whole thing was wildly erotic but also made you nervous.

“It wouldn’t be…weird? I don’t want to lose you Jimin.” You say in a small voice as your eyes meet his.

“You wouldn’t. It would be a night of fun. Both of us feasting on the same gorgeous man. We can do sexual things to him. We don’t have to do it to each other.” Jimin comforts as you see his hand disappear from the table and onto his lap.

“Are you? Are you hard because of this conversation?” You blurt out unable to stop yourself as Jimin chuckles.

“I can’t help it. The thought of you sucking his cock is making me hard. Fuck I don’t know what I want more. My lips on his cock or yours.” He admits now palming himself through his tight pants.

You had to admit Jimin’s lips were something you were always jealous of. They were so much more plump and fuller than yours and picturing them stretched around a cock was giving all sorts of feelings and making wetness coat your underwear.

“Okay fuck it let’s do this.” You say before you lose your nerve and Jimin stands up and adjusts his cock before smiling at you.

“That’s my girl. Now come on let’s go get our man.” He says looping an arm around you and dragging you out of the Staff Room.

After hitting up the bar and getting Yoongi to make you a strong drink you and Jimin lean on the bar and your eyes scan the crowd.

It doesn’t take long for you to find Taehyung and you nudge Jimin when you do.

His fluffy hair is matted to his face and he is surrounded by women. At least three girls are trying to grind on his cock all at once and his lips are curled into a sultry smirk as he laps up all the attention he is receiving.

You see his hands make their way onto a pretty blonde-haired girl’s waist and she throws her head back against his shoulder as he grinds his cock into her backside.

“Is it possible he somehow got hotter? Because Holy fuck.” Jimin hisses in your ear as your breath catches in your throat when his fingers push her hair to to side and he presses a hot open-mouthed kiss to her skin.

You stand there and feel your body burn up. It should be you he has his hands on, it should be your skin he’s kissing and jealousy rises in your body as you down some of your drink.

“Let him do this. The more he teases and flirts the more punishments he will receive once we get our hands on him.” Jimin growls low as he takes a swig of his drink and you stare up at him.

In the lights of the club, his eyes look darker, almost predatory as they are focused on only Taehyung. He holds his head high as if he is unbothered by the whole thing and you can’t help but shiver when his gaze snaps to yours.

“You’re a Dom?” You ask as your eyes flit back to Taehyung who is still living it up on the dance floor.

Jimin snickers.

“For him? I’m whatever he wants me to be. He’s that fucking hot.” Jimin mutters as he brings the drink to his lips.

You nearly choke on your drink when dark eyes from across the dancefloor lock onto yours as Taehyung has finally spotted the two of you staring him down like hungry animals.

He doesn’t seem intimidated, nor does he stop the act.

Instead, he winks at you and doubles down on his efforts. Letting the blonde girl and her friend grind against him. They push their asses into his crotch and he holds them both steady as the music thumps loudly.

“Our boy is such a slut.” Jimin muses in your ear as you finish the rest of your drink and throw the cup out in the nearby garbage.

You can’t tear your eyes away from Taehyung as he sways to the music, throws his head back to sing and has women swarming towards him in droves as he gives them all just enough attention to keep them hooked.

“He’s loving this.” You admit as you feel arousal pool in your panties. It is hot to see him like this, licking his lips, touching women lightly, whispering in their ears things you could only wish he would say to you.

Jimin finishes his drink and runs his hand through his hair as Taehyung makes eye contact with you both again.

His mouth is curled into a dangerous grin that almost begs you to go over and claim him and it seems Jimin’s patience has run out as he grabs your arm and drags you through the crowd as Taehyung gets a little too handsy with one of his admirers.

You push through the crowd and by the time you make it to Taehyung, you are sweating. The music is too loud, everyone’s bodies are everywhere and you are so close to Taehyung it makes your head spin.

You stand behind Jimin as he leans down and whispers something to Taehyung who grins and apologizes to the girls saying he had to go.

Most of the girls look crestfallen as Jimin grabs his hand and drags you both through the crowd to the far end of the floor where the lights don’t reach and is a lot quieter.

“Fucking finally,” Taehyung complains as Jimin grabs him harshly and pushes him so his ass is flush against Jimin’s crotch.

You stand there mesmerized as Jimin holds Taehyung’s hips harshly and begins to grind into him at the beat of the music.

“Took you long enough,” Taehyung complains as Jimin chuckles darkly in his ear and you stand there frozen watching the whole thing go down.

“We thought you liked the attention Tae. Liked all those strangers touching you. Trying to claim you.” Jimin growls as you watch his hands travel up and down Tae’s sides as he grinds his hard cock into his backside with ease.

Taehyung’s eyes flutter closed and he throws his head back against Jimin’s shoulder exposing his long neck and sharp jaw.

“W-Wanted it to be you.” He admits as Jimin’s eyes find yours and with a curt head nod you press your backside into Tae’s front as his eyes snap open and his long fingers grab for your hips as he presses his hard cock into your ass.

You moan when you feel how big he is against you.

His fingers hook into your belt loops as he tugs you closer so your ass is fully pressed into his cock and when he grinds into you with enthusiasm you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

“Did grinding on all those people make your cock hard Tae. Or was it us watching you that made you so fucking erect.” Jimin growls as Tae grinds himself harder into you and his hands are holding your hips so hard you wonder if there will be bruises tomorrow.

“Y-You watching me. I wanted you to see. Wanted you to want me.” He admits as Jimin presses a kiss to his neck which makes Tae moan and grind himself into you.

“You want us don’t you Tae? You want two lovers tonight instead of one. Such a greedy boy.” Jimin growls as you whine at his words and grind your ass harder against Taehyung desperate to feel his big cock.

“Yes God fuck please.” he cries out as Jimin snickers and pulls away nearly making Taehyung topple over.

The music stops and everyone turns to look at the DJ booth as it shows there is only one minute until midnight.

“Well I wanted to make you cum as we rang in The New Year but you decided to play slut and we ran out of time.” Jimin clicks his tongue in disappointment.

“Please I’m so fucking hard. I’ll be good. Just make me cum.” Taehyung wails as the countdown to midnight begins.

“I’m thinking we ring in The New Year then we get the fuck out of here. My place is closest.” Jimin offers as he looks at you and you nod.

Taehyung nods as well as the whole room counts down from five, anticipation and excitement palatable in the air as the clock strikes twelve and it is officially a new year.

Jimin grabs Taehyung and pulls him in for a bruising kiss as you watch their hands tangled in each other’s hair.

Jimin pulls away before Taehyung gets to fully experience it and when Tae juts out his lower lip in a pout Jimin laughs.

“Come on let’s get out of here.” He demands as the three of you head for the stairs and grab your things.

Cabs are waiting outside so you are lucky to snag one before the crowds get to them and you all squeeze in the back as Jimin gives the driver instructions.

The car ride is quiet as you are squeezed between both men, their knees are hitting yours and you can’t help but feel wetness coat your core as you sit between them.

Jimin taking control and whispering filth in Taehyung’s ear makes you clench your thighs together as the sexual tension in the cab feels suffocating.

A hand reaches down to your knee and you nearly jump when you see it is Taehyung’s hand.

Your eyes snap to his but he isn’t looking at you, instead he’s staring at Jimin with a questioning look.

Jimin gives him a small nod and soon his long fingers climb higher up your leg and you are trying not to moan when they make their way to the seam of your jeans.

You open your legs slightly and Taehyung snickers when his thumb presses into your core through your jeans, rubbing against your clit on the first try.

The image of his delicate fingers rubbing you through your jeans is erotic and you can’t help but grind yourself down on him as your pussy throbs.

You feel shuffling beside you and you look down in time to see Jimin openly palming at his hard cock. He’s not subtle about it as he palms the head through the tight material of his pants and his eyes are zoned into where Taehyung is rubbing you through your jeans.

It seems Taehyung is bold enough to take it further as his lips attach to your neck and he begins to rub you with more vigor as he presses hot wet kisses to your skin.

You throw your head on Jimin’s shoulder to give Tae more access as his thumb continues to rub circles on your clit making you wet and needy.

His lips are warm against your skin and when you turn to see Jimin palming himself even harder at the sight you can’t help the small moan that falls from your lips.

“Enough.” Jimin hisses as Tae withdraws his hand and you nearly cry at the loss of contact. Your pussy throbs painfully as the car slows and you are in front of Jimins house.

Taehyung gets out first and you follow suit, wincing when you feel your panties sticking to your core.

You stand in the cold as Jimin pays the driver and Tae throws his arm around your shoulder as you lean into him to stay warm.

Once the cab is paid you follow Jimin up the driveway to his modest two-story home. Taehyung still has his arm around you as Jimin unlocks the door and when you step inside you are met with light-coloured walls and modern furniture as Jimin moves around flicking on lights and the faint boom of fireworks can be heard as people ring in The New Year.

“Jimin your place is so nice!” Taehyung comments as you toe off your shoes and coat Taehyung follows your lead. Jimin smiles and gestures for you both to join him on the couch and you tuck your knees under you as you sit between the two men.

“So should we go over things before we get started?” Jimin asks, dropping his dominating tone completely and instead opting for a softer voice.

“What is there to go over? I want you both. Clearly.” Tae says as he gestures to his cock which is stretching the fabric of his jeans in a way that makes your mouth water.

“I know I took the dom roll back there but I wanted to make sure you both were okay with that,” Jimin says nervously running a hand through his hair as Tae nods enthusiastically.

“Just tell us what to do Jimin.” You speak up as Taehyung nods again clearly into being dominated and Jimin chuckles.

“Okay let’s head to the bedroom then, I have everything I need in there,” he says standing up as you and Tae follow suit and he leads you up the stairs.

“Fucking finally I think my cock is going to rip these jeans if I keep them on any longer,” Tae grumbles as you giggle and make it to Jimin’s bedroom.

It’s a simple room with light walls and a king-sized bed and when you both make it over the threshold Jimin stares at Taehyung with his arms crossed.

“Tae you kneel on the floor like a good boy while we get things set up. Keep your head down. And unbutton your jeans. Don’t take them off just unbutton them. I don’t want your cock hurting because of those tight-ass jeans before I can get my mouth on it. Or her mouth on it.” Jimin says nodding to you as Taehyung drops onto the small decorative carpet on the floor and his nimble fingers pop the button of his jeans leaving room for his cock to expand and he sighs out in relief.

“We are going to grab some things in the other room and you be a good boy and kneel here until we get back,” Jimin demands as he gives Tae’s cheek a playful smack and drags you from the room to the spare bedroom.

“We’re just going to leave him there?” You hiss as Jimin closes the door to the spare room and starts to go through the closet reaching for a basket at the top causing his shirt to slide up and show off his back tattoo.

“Yes for two reasons,” Jimin explains as his fingers curl around the basket and he takes it down and places it on the bed.

“Number one. I said in the club we were going to punish him for acting like a slut. This is part of his punishment. This is too.” Jimin said as he opened the lid to the basket and you gasped when you saw what was inside.

A huge variety of sex toys and objects. Vibrators, cock rings, handcuffs, leather riding crops. Jimin pokes around until he pulls out a small black vibrator, lube and a long silk scarf.

“Holy fuck Jimin.” You breathe out as he snickers at you.

“We’re going to show him how to be a good boy and not be a little slut.” Jimin confirms as he puts the lid back on the box but doesn’t bother putting it back in the closet.

“Reason number two is I want to make sure you are okay with this. I know I’m taking over the scene so I wanted to check in first. Anything you like? Or want?” He asks as you stand there and contemplate.

“I want to suck his dick for sure. He looks so fucking big. Did you see the way it stretched his jeans? Other than that I’m good to just see how it plays out.” You admit.

“Want him to fuck you? By the time I’m done with him, I think I could make him do whatever I wanted.” Jimin asks as his eyes flick down to the toys he chose and a sinister smile tugs at his lips.

“Yes please.” You nearly moan.

Jimin lets out a soft laugh.

“I gotta say Jimin. You’re a hot as hell dom.” You complement as he makes his way to the door and throws it open.

“Oh, pretty girl you haven’t seen anything yet.” He teases you with a wink as you follow him back to the room where Taehyung is.

Taehyung is still kneeling on the floor with his head down and his fluffy hair falling into his eyes. His pants are unbuttoned and you can see the band of his underwear and the hard swell of his cock as he stays in position on the floor.

“What a good boy you are Tae.” Jimin complements as Tae’s mouth stretches into a smile.

Jimin makes his way to the side table to deposit his toys for Taehyung as you stand over him and stare down at him.

“Stand up. Strip off all your clothes except your underwear and lay on the bed.” Jimin demands as Tae scrambles to follow his instructions.

He stands on shaky legs quickly shucks his pants down his legs and kicks them off somewhere in the room. His shirt goes next exposing his broad chest and lean torso.

Before he can get on the bed Jimin clicks his tongue and Taehyung freezes, eyes snapping to Jimin.

“Good boys don’t just throw their clothes around now do they Taetae?” He coos as Taehyung drops his head in shame and walks around the room gathering his things and folding them nicely.

Once that is done he scrambles on the bed and pushes himself back until he is resting against the headboard and staring at Jimin awaiting instruction.

“Fuck such a good boy for us,” Jimin mutters as he brings a finger out to trace Taehyung’s tanned skin.

He arches up into Jimins touch and you can’t help but walk over to get a closer look.

“Tae I have to be honest with you, you look delectable. So delectable I think I’m going to let her suck your dick for being such a good boy for us.” Jimin says as his eyes meet yours and you nod slowly.

Before you can climb onto the bed Jimin demands Taehyung raise his arms and you see the silk scarf in his hand as Tae’s eyes widen and Jimin grabs both his wrists and ties him to one of the bed posts.

“Comfy?” He asks Taehyung as you look down to see his eyes blown out wide with lust and his tongue darting out to lick at his lips.

“Yes. Very much yes. Fuck this is so hot.” Tae whines as you giggle when you see his cock twitch in his underwear.

“We’re going to use a colour system tonight. Green means good. Yellow means slow. Red means Stop. Got it?” Jimin says as you both nod and Jimin’s plush lips curl into a smirk as he presses something into your hand out of sight from Tae’s lust-blown eyes.

The cock ring is now in your hand and when you look at Jimin he gives you a nod and you know exactly what he wants you to do.

You climb up on the bed keeping it hidden by placing it on the bed by your knee as you lean down and begin to pepper kisses along Taehyung’s heated skin.

His body arches up into your lips and he lets out sinful moans as you take your time kissing down his body licking and sucking at his skin.

With his hands tied up, he has no choice but to take it as Jimin pulls a chair up by the bed and quickly takes his restrictive pants off and sits down opening his legs wide and palming at his cock.

Taehyung doesn’t know where to look as his gaze bounces between you on top of him getting closer to his cock with each passing minute or Jimin’s hands grabbing at his cock and stroking it.

You can feel Taehyung’s attention slipping so you decided to boldly suck his cock through the material of his underwear Taehyung lets out a broken moan and throws his head back as you suckle at the head and lick along the shaft.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” He chants almost in prayer as you hook your fingers into the band of his underwear and pull them down.

He lifts his hips to help you and when you finally get them off his hard cock smacks against his toned stomach.

He is big. Bigger than you have ever taken and your mouth waters and your pussy throbs when you take in his length and girth. The head of his cock is an angry red colour and beads of precum ooze out from the slit.

You lean down and grab his cock before suckling on the head causing a broken moan to slip from Tae’s mouth and Jimin to chuckle darkly beside you.

You suck him down hallowing out your cheeks and stroking him in tandem. Saliva pools in your mouth making everything wet and the glide feels amazing as you bob your head taking him further each time.

Your other hand comes down to fondle his balls which feel so enlarged you can’t help but whine against his shaft when you get your hands on them.

You begin to work him harder and faster, feeling drunk on not only the alcohol but the feeling of finally having this thick cock in your mouth and you almost miss the warning noise Jimin makes in the back of his throat as your eyes snap up to Taehyung and you can’t help but grin around his cock when you see how gone he is.

His head is thrown back against the pillows and his whole body is taught, fighting the urge not to cum too quickly. It should be a crime to be as good at blowjobs as you were and Taehyung was fighting for his fucking life.

You grab the cock ring and attach it to his cock as you pop your mouth off of him Taehyung’s eyes snap open and he looks down to see the black cock ring fit snugly around his base forcing him to stay hard but not be able to cum.

“Holy fuck you have got to be joking.” He breathes out as a sheen of sweat covers his body and he lets out shaky breaths.

You smile down at him before hopping off the bed and wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

“You think we were going to just let you cum after the stunt you pulled? Letting all those strangers feel you up in the club. Flirting with us. Teasing us. Please.” Jimin scoffs as he comes around the bed to sit at the end of it between Taehyung’s legs.

His thighs twitch with anticipation and he feels his cock twitch painfully as the ring holds him erect.

“Now here is what is going to happen. She is going to sit on your face and you are going to eat her pussy. Meanwhile, I’m going to fuck you open on my fingers got it?” Jimin demands.

You can’t help but shiver as you strip down and feel two sets of eyes on your body.

Taehyung moans when you unhook your bra and your tits pop out and when you shimmy out of your jeans and underwear he straight up whines at the sight of your naked body in the low light.

“Damn, you’re fucking hot.” Jimin comments with a wink as you playfully roll your eyes at him and settle yourself on the bed hovering your pussy over Taehyung’s pretty pink lips.

“Please.” he croaks out as you lower yourself down and Tae wastes no time in burying his face in your folds. You grip the headboard and cry out as he works you expertly with his tongue. Lapping at your arousal and nuzzling his nose against your clit.

It takes everything in Jimin to pull himself away from the sight of you sitting on Taehyung’s face and his cock throbs when he can hear the wet noises of your arousal mixed with Tae’s tongue lapping it up.

Jimin squeezes the base of his cock and gets to work lubing up his fingers.

He also makes sure to grab the small black vibrator as he has plans for that too.

Jimin’s finger prods Tae’s entrance and Tae jolts on the bed causing his mouth to bury even deeper into your folds.

Taehyung doesn’t know what to do. He feels like his brain is mush as he can’t deal with all the sensations in his body. There’s you with your perfect pussy which he is happily lapping up. The way you taste is so addicting he can’t help but grind his nose into your clit as his tongue dances along your folds.

Then there’s Jimin who has a finger buried in his ass and is slowly pushing it in and out. Taehyung is fighting the urge to grind down on that finger and his cock is fighting against the cockring as it twitches pathetically on his stomach leaking precum everywhere.

“Fuck Tae you feel so good.” You whine out as his mouth latches onto your clit and he sucks it harshly making the coil of pressure in your stomach wind tighter as you grind yourself down on his tongue.

You look down to see his eyes clouded with lust and when you look over your shoulder to check on Jimin you see he has two fingers buried in Tae.

Holy fuck.

Your pussy throbs on Taehyung’s tongue and you bury your face in your arms as you let out a warning moan that you are getting close.

You tried to stave off your orgasm as much as you could because Tae’s tongue just felt too good but your orgasm was creeping up on you like a speeding train.

“Cum on his tongue,” Jimin demands as you throw your head back and feel your orgasm wash over you. Your thighs clamp around his head and you let out a broken whine as you cum hard. Taehyung laps up everything you give him as he works you through your orgasm feeling high from the taste of you on his tongue and cheeks.

Once you come down from your high you slowly sit up and throw your leg over so you are sitting on the bed next to him breathing heavily.

Taehyung loves how you look right now, cheeks and chest flushed, eyes blown wide, if he could taste you for eternity he could.

“Fuck that was so good holy shit.” You breathe out unable to stop yourself from looking down to where Jimin is still working Taehyung open with his fingers.

“M-More” Taehyung croaks when Jimin curls his fingers and nudges his prostate making Taehyung throw his head back.

“More pussy? Or fingers?” Jimin teases as Taehyung’s cock twitches against his stomach and the amount of precum that is smeared on his skin is obscene.

“M-More whatever I just need- please fuck feels so good. ‘m so hard.” Tae cries out as you take a look at his cock which is an angry red colour and shiny with precum.

“How are your hands? You have been tied up for a while?” Jimin asks calmly as he adds a third finger and curls it just right to make Taehyung see stars.

“I fuck I don’t know I can’t concentrate when you do that.” Taehyung moans as Jimin’s fingers leave him and he cries at the loss of sensation.

Jimin slowly leans down and begins to kiss Taehyungs thighs, his eyes sharp and dangerous as they stare at Tae unblinking.

You curl into Tae’s side resting your head against his chest where his heart is beating at an alarming rate as Jimin continues to kiss his skin, teasing him to the point where Taehyung is close to begging.

He doesn’t have to though because soon a blunt object that is not Jimin’s fingers is pushed against his hole and when Jimin pushes it in Taehyung can’t help but arch off the bed and cry out when he feels a small vibrator being inserted.

“Holy fuck. Fuck. Shit.” Tae chants as he throws his head back and the muscles in his neck strain as he feels you laugh against his skin.

This must have been what you both went into the other room for.

Fucking shit.

“Knew our slut would like having something in his ass. And look. It vibrates too.” Jimin teases as he turns it on and keeps it pressed against Taehyung’s prostate.

Taehyung can’t breathe

He can’t focus

He can’t think

The vibrations are strong and wracking his body in convulsions as he grinds his ass down on the toy desperate for more.

His cock leaks steadily against his stomach and he cries out when Jimin slowly starts to fuck the vibrator inside him.

“I-Fuck Jimin I can’t. I’m gonna cum. Fuck it feels so good. I can’t.” Taehyung cries as tears spill from his eyes.

You look up to see Taehyung crying out in pleasure and when you circle your hand around his cock he croaks out a moan as you gather the precum and slide it down the shaft giving him the most agonizingly wonderful hand job he ever received.

“Color?” Jimin asks as his sharp eyes are once again on Taehyung.

“Green so fucking green but please I need. Something Please.” He cries out.

“We are giving you something baby. Jimin has a toy in your ass and I’m stroking your cock. Such a greedy boy.” You coo as Taehyung cries in frustration.

His cock is hard. So fucking hard and his balls are so big and heavy and all he wants to do is cum until there is nothing left inside him. Everything feels tight and sensitive and when Jimin moves the vibrator inside him again Taehyung loses it.

“Please. Please fuck me. Let me fuck her I don’t care. Jimin please I’m so sorry I let those people touch me at the club but I need you. I fucking need you both so bad I can’t. I seriously can’t. I want to cum so bad. Please.” He cries as you look down to Jimin who looks satisfied.

He stands up but leaves the vibrator pulsing in Taehyung as he rids himself of his shirt and underwear and his cock stands hard and proud against his stomach.

“You gonna be a good boy for us?” He demands giving a light smack to Taehyung’s thigh as he cries out and nods, tears falling from his eyes as he jerks on the bed from pleasure.

“Untie his arms. Don’t touch her though Tae or we will tie you right back up.” Jimin demands as you crawl on top of him and untie his arms with ease.

Taehyung lets out a sigh as the blood flow returns to his arms and he shakes them out.

“Good boy.” Jimin coos as he grabs Taehyung’s ankles and pulls him to the end of the bed.

You grab a pillow to put under Taehyungs head as he is still a crying begging mess on the bed.

“Now here is what is going to happen. I’m going to fill you up with my cock and you are going to fill her up with your cock. Cock ring stays on. You can only cum after we cum. Got it slut?” Jimin asks as he grabs two condoms from the bedside drawer and throws one to you.

You watch as Jimin lubes up his cock and rolls the condom down.

He tosses the lube to you and when you lube up Taehyung’s cock he hisses through his teeth.

“Sensitive.” He warns as you roll the condom down and add more lube.

Before you can straddle Taehyung Jimin reaches for the vibrator and pulls it out slowly making Taehyung cry out and grip the sheets harshly.

He feels like he’s going to explode, either his head or cock will but something has to give because this is too fucking hot and he feels his cock twitch.

The head of Jimin’s cock pokes at his entrance and Taehyung hisses when he breaches his rim and slides in slowly.

The fingers and vibrator helped but Taeyhung still feels tight around Jimin’s cock as you slowly begin to also slide down on him.

The feel of your wet pussy around his shaft and the feel of Jimin’s cock stretching him out is too much for Tae as a fresh stream of tears runs down his face and he can’t help but moan.

“Yellow!” Tae calls out.

All three of you stop and take a breather. You look down at Taehyung and see how truly fucked out he looks. His eyebrows are furrowed and his teeth are biting into his lips so hard you wonder if he made himself bleed.

“Speak to us Tae. What’s going on?” You say softly as his eyes open and he stares at you. His cheeks are stained with tears and you take your time wiping them away.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry!” he cries out as you press your body into his chest and wrap him in a hug letting him softly cry.

“Never apologize for saying a colour Taehyung. That’s what they are there for.” Jimin soothes as you can hear Taehyung’s erratic heartbeat in his chest.

“I want to be your good boy. Oh god.” He cries out as you press soothing kisses to his skin, soft small kisses as you don’t want to overwhelm him more.

“You are our good boy. The best boy. Now talk to us. What’s going on,” Jimin says.

Taehyung doesn’t speak at first. Instead, he takes several shaky breaths and tries his best to calm himself down.

“It’s just. Holy fuck you two are so fucking hot and I know I can’t cum because of the cock ring but I feel like my cock is going to explode.” He admits.

You sit in comfortable silence for a beat before Jimin speaks.

“Want her to take the cockring off?”

Taehying lets out a small laugh.

“If you do I’ll instantly come inside her. I’m not kidding my cock has never been so hard in my life. My balls fucking ache too.” He says

“I don’t mind you cuming inside me.” You tease as Taehyung’s eyes close and he huffs out a laugh.

“You’re trying to kill me. Both of you.” He laughs.

Jimin slowly thrusts inside Taehyung and he lets out a deep groan as Jimin takes his time and gives Tae the smallest amount of pleasure against his prostate.

“Is both of us too much? We can do one at a time?” Jimin asks as he continues to fuck into Tae lightly gauging the boys’ reactions.

“No, I can take both just g-go slow.”

You stare at Jimin who nods and you slowly fuck yourself on Taehyung as Jimin slowly fucks his cock inside at the same time.

The air is filled with the noises of grunts and moans as you work up a pace Taehyung can handle. His tears seemed to have stopped and instead, he grabs your hips and starts to fuck himself up into you with vigour.

“Oh fuck Tae!” You cry out as he grabs your hips harshly and drills his cock into you.

“Our baby boy is feeling better huh?” Jimin teases as Taehyung growls and continues to fuck into you harshly.

“I’d feel a lot better if you fucked me harder you know.” Taehyung teased back as Jimin let out a surprised laugh but did as he was told and began to fuck into Tae harder.

The sounds were wet and obscene as you let Taehyung use you as Jimin used him.

You could feel your orgasm approaching again and when you whine out Taehyung’s name he gets the hint and begins to fuck into your harder, adding a grind at the end which has the head of his cock rubbing against your g-spot in a way that makes you cry out his name.

“Cl-lose.” You warn as Jimin fucks into Tae harder wanting to cum alongside you both.

Taehyung feels his balls draw up and his cock is twitching deep inside you as your walls flutter around him, a warning of what is to come.

"Take his cock ring off,” Jimin demands as you pull yourself up to unlatch the cock ring, freeing Taehyung of his restraint.

The noise that comes out of Taehyung is wild and obscene as you push yourself back down on his cock and within one thrust you are cumming.

Taehyung’s cock twitches and his balls draw up even more. His hands are grabbing your hips with such force as he fucks into you wildly chasing the high he had been at the edge of for way too long.

Jimin is still fucking his ass, you are cuming around his cock and Taehyung loses it and cums hard inside you.

The feeling of Taehyung cumming sets Jimin off and he drills his cock inside one more time as he buries himself to the hilt and cums hard in Taehyung, crying out his name as he lets his orgasm wash over him in waves.

You slump over keeping Tae’s cock nestled inside you as you curl up against his chest and bury your face against his skin.

Jimin slowly pulls out and slumps down on the floor taking his time to come down from his high as Taehyung lays there motionless trying his best to get air back into his lungs.

He had never cum that hard in his entire life.

Jimin is the first to stand and he smiles when he sees you cuddled in Taehyung’s arms.

He makes his way over to the bathroom and takes off the condom and throws it out. He also gets a small washcloth and wets it before heading back to the room.

Taehyung had pulled out of you while he was gone and his now soft cock rested on his stomach. Taehyung’s eyes were closed and he was pressing soft kisses to your hair as Jimin approached and carefully slid the condom off.

“Sensitive,” Tae warned as Jimin threw the condom out.

He handed you the towel and you got yourself cleaned up and excused yourself to use the bathroom.

Jimin cracked open a window to get rid of the sex smell as Taehyung snuggled deeper into the covers worn out from the activities.

Once you make it back Jimin throws both you and Taehyung clothes to wear.

“Sleep here tonight. It’s late.” He says as you both take the clothes and slowly get dressed.

Taehyung helps Jimin get the bed set up as you clean up the room and once you three are snuggled under the covers with Taehyung in the middle he rests his head on Jimin’s shoulder and mutters out a thank you.

Jimin pets his soft fluffy hair and thanks him back

You however don’t hear any of this as you are already asleep, face pressed into Taehyungs shoulder.

Tag List

@kingofbodyrolls

#kim taehyung #park jimin #bts #bts smut #bts fic #taehyung/reader #jimin/reader #taehyung smut #jimin smut #bangtan

22 notes · View notes

thestarlightforge · 1 year ago

Text

As I approach the end of graduate school/college, which feels like the end of the world—since, like many of my peers, college is the only thing I’ve done with my life since moving away from home—I want to thank the universe, Suzanne Collins, and the entire TBOSAS film team.

“Mental health should be managed holistically” yes, yes. But almost never had I needed a hyper-fixation (or good friends) this badly. Blessings on all their households 😂

7 notes · View notes

fellhellion · 1 year ago

Text

🚬….

#am going to exhibit mental illness in the tags as heads up shdhdjfjf also dw none of what I say is #abt or concerns folks here but #yeah. as a tldr very Gabrielcore of me haha but yeah #I wondered for a long time how I could go years without #when a crumb here awakens a voracious hunger in me for affection and approval #and there is simply an element of ego to it - to enjoying the idea that those I admire like what i say #but I think the larger part is simply that I’m myself here #in a way I’m not irl. I’m not…I can’t be vulnerable to people. I can’t let them see me. I don’t want to be rejected I think #but here I am simply. unaware to people who don’t click with me. no one interacts w me unless they’d like to #and there’s a certainty to that which just isn’t quite present irl #so I think the reason I get so easily attached IS because it’s me. because it’s my true self. and I don’t. I don’t know how to not want that #approval and affection beyond just letting the feeling fade with time. beyond removing myself from spaces where it occurs #because it’s not. it’s not fair to foist that onto people who didn’t enter that knowingly. I don’t #I don’t want to be too much. I always feel like I’m too much. too serious too intense feeling too deeply and on and on #I m want to be just enough. not too little or too much.#and yet that’s not healthy nor is honest to those you want to connect w #and people aren’t obligated to connect w you - it’s egotistical to simply think you can correct social step your way into someone’s regard!#but ah I don’t know. it’s been a night. I just wanted to say it plain and honest and finally get it out #but this isn’t like shdhdj asking for pity and such. I’ll be okay it’s all just part of it #vent.txt

10 notes · View notes

waltricia · 9 months ago

Text

I genuinely love this candle symbolism.

For her, it’s been burning. For him, it’s finally igniting.

( And actually his candle is already low and a liiittttle bit lit, implying the love was always there, burning so low as to not be noticed, but surely burning nonetheless 🔥♥️ )

Edit: I let this go on long enough. I’m putting an editor’s note on it. As we should all know by now, this symbolism is what the season 3 part 1 trailer was trying to convey. In the show, Colin’s candle shot is reversed. The candle goes out. Of course this can mean different things, but I believe we can all basically agree, given the context of the scene, that he’s recognizing his time is running out. His hope of being with Penelope is slipping away.

Yeah, I felt like a bit of a clown when I saw the scene and it turned out this post, which had already garnered thousands of notes by then, turned out to be a total fuckin fabrication. But how was I supposed to know the team that cut the trailer would reverse a shot??

Yes, it is still basically true- she was always in love him and he finally fell in love with her. Something was always there for him with her, but really he didn’t start falling for her until he started seeing her as a woman and they kissed and, ya know, here we are.

But anyway, my basic point is this: trust no one. Don’t trust me. Definitely do not trust the Bridgerton trailer editors. Just stay vigilant, alright?

I release you from the burden of liking and reblogging this post. Be free!

And enjoy Bridgerton 💚🐝

#i will eventually shut up about the magic candle but for now #OBSESSED #polin #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton s3 #netflix #nicola coughlan #luke newton #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #bridgerton trailer #love

11K notes · View notes

hoshigray · 4 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | s. gojō + s. ryōmen

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Three powerful empires, two childhood companions, and one you. What is supposed to be a peaceful alliance is slowly turning into a rocky relationship between royal friends...Is there any way you can save it?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo + true form! Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - royal-like + fantasy AU! - porn with plot - Gojo + reader is age 28 + Sukuna is older; mid-30s - mutual pining + confessions - size differences - threesome - double penetration; anal & vaginal - virginity loss - fingering (f! receiving) - back-to-chest + cowgirl dp positions - clitoral play - cerfix-fucking - overstimulation - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, dove, human, little one, pet, sweetie) - marriage proposals - cameos: Utahime and Miwa - Gojo and Sukuna can't stand each other, obvi - humor + drama - mention of drool, blood, spit and tears - will be proofread later.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 15.4k words (BRUH, i hate it here.)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: aight, after 10 whole months, it's FINALLY dropped! this took foreverrrr, ughhhh. anyways, sorry for the long wait, hope you enjoy this one, and thanks again for 11.2k starlings, ilysmmm!! ☆☆

“…”

“—y Lady…My Lady!”

“Huh?” You blink and face the door where the voice is coming from. “Oh, I’m sorry, Utahime. You can come in.”

“Jeez, I was knocking for a whole minute.” Your lady-in-waiting, Utahime, closes the door behind her when entering your chambers, walking up to where you were sitting by the mirror. “And I thought I told you to refer to me by my last name, my Lady.”

You smile at the reflection of the other coming behind you, kneeling and readying the iron basin filled with warm water and rose petals. Her hand and the washcloth swish the surface for the floral scents to enter your nostrils. “Well, we’ve been friends for how long? I’ve referred to you by your first name for all my life, even before you became my handmaiden.”

“Hmph, even then,” Utahime scoffs before taking your feet and dipping them in the warm water. “You don’t see me dare call the sole, precious child of this empire’s greatest warrior by their given name.”

“No, but I always tell you I don’t mind. Besides, you usually do it when we’re alone, and that’s enough for me.”

“If that’s what makes my Lady hap—“

“It does.” You look at her with a pleasant aura, and the dark-haired one snickers before straining the washcloth.

“As you wish…Y/n.” You puff your chest with satisfaction; however, your handmaiden isn’t done talking, “But I know the matter of my name isn’t something that’s having you lost in your thoughts.” Her observation takes you slightly aback, and her brown orbs peer up to capture your attention. “Would you like to tell me what’s corrupting your mind?”

With a heavy sigh, your back touches the chair as you slouch. Your eyes glance to the open window as the blinds drift gently with the calm wind. The swaying motions of the curtains almost convince your stress to wither away along with the quietness. Almost.

“Utahime,” you begin with her name, still facing the window. “…What do you think about Lord Satoru Gojo?”

“Tch,” you didn’t have to turn to know that the woman had the most disgusted expression, the click of her teeth was telling. “What is there to think?”

“Hehe, well, we’ve known each other since we could walk—“

“Yeah, and — pardon me, my Lady — but that bastard is such a nuisance, even if he just became the crowned heir of the Gojo bloodline and the holder of the Six Eyes.” The dark-haired woman scrubs your feet with vigor, but you don’t say anything, containing your laughter. “That man–ugh! Every time he visits the palace, he will never stop teasing me for deciding to leave my family and become your lady-in-waiting. Who does he think he is!”

The laugh you try to hinder seeps out in hushed giggles. “Well—ahem—what about Lord Ryomen?”

Utagime stops her hand and washcloth between your toes, her face in your direction. Both brows trenched with a thin line of her mouth. “……As of recent…Scary–no, intimidating would be an understatement...my Lady, perhaps the visit and stay of the two lords is what have you down?”

Another heavy sigh, “I guess that would be the case…”

You reside in the founding empire of the great continent. In the ancient past, it is said that the Great Saint Tengen came from the heavens and blessed this world with miracles, living in the country that you’re standing in right now. It was said that Tengen was the benevolent child of Gods and the Parent of Beings who graced everyone – both human and non – with compassion, kindness, and love through their sorcery. When they disappeared, the world fell into a divide, their people sticking amongst themselves while following the teachings and words of Saint Tengen.

As the centuries came following this tale, the countries of this world have maintained a relatively peaceful union. However, the main continent – your continent – is home to three major empires: the North, the East, and the West. As mentioned before, you live in the founding Western nation, also known as the homeland of Tengen.

You are a royal of this land and the sole heir to the throne right after your father, a mighty war soldier and sorcerer respected by his people and allies. As the crowned king of the Western capital, your father has done his job in using his strong leadership to maintain a functional structure for the people, using his wisdom to tread on matters with a tranquil mind, and making decisions that would not only benefit his own people but also his allies. Sometimes, you forget that such a great man could be your father. Yet his undying love for you, his sole child and princess, proves how lucky you are.

In the Northern Lands above are known as the land of Sorcery. Your father may be a powerful sorcerer, but the empire he rules does not harbor the majority of the population who practice sorcery (or lack thereof). That would go to the snowy Northern Empire, a land where many of Tengen’s scholars and practitioners have come from and implemented their teachings. The current head of this nation is bestowed to the affluent House Gojo, who recently crowned their heir after the death of its late king. Satoru Gojo, the first royal after a century gifted with two of the most intense abilities made by Saint Tengen – the Six Eyes and Limitless – sits on the Northern throne. And is also a dear family friend.

To the East lies a country mostly comprised of harsh deserts and dangerous forests, filled with creatures that aren’t of the human imagination. Once referred to as the land of “Tengen’s True Children,” the eastern empire is known worldwide as the Demon Country. Creatures reside in this part, beings that can easily overpower the average human – or worse, kill. They are ruled by the King of Demons, Sukuna Ryomen. As the scariest, cold-hearted, and violent beast of the empire, Sukuna is regarded as Tengen’s “Fallen Star,” a soul that embodies the precise opposite nature of the saint. And yet, this brutal master is also a cherished companion in the company of you and your father.

“What about their visits seems to make you upset?” Utahime lifts the bottom of your nightgown to scrub further up, the warm, damp towel scraping the skin of your left femur.

“I don’t know…I suppose it’s because things are different than a decade and a half ago.” It was one way of speaking the truth.

“Why, of course, things would be different now. You expect I’d be looking after a tiny heir all my life?” She giggles. “Although, that would be quite nice.”

“Oh, to be young forever would be a treat, wouldn’t it?” You add on to her humor. “Yet, that’s not what I meant. It’s been so long since the three of us been in this palace together – let alone in any space together. The War of the Blood and Magic has been ongoing for years now. Whenever my father wishes to speak with them about an issue, one must be here while the other is in their respective territory.“

“Mmm, I have observed that…But still, even with this war going on, it shouldn’t negate the fact that you three have been friends for so long. I still remember the day young Gojo came to the garden where you and I were making flower crowns.“

You smile at the memory. “I remember how upset you were when he grabbed my hand one day and took us to his guest room to show his Limitless.”

You try your hardest to keep in your laughter when she glares up at you – not at you, but at the recollection instead. “That fool, even as a child, knows nothing of boundaries. He was a bright boy — still is, I’ll give him that. But my Gods, the way he would do everything in his power to impress you was so cocky of a young lord, especially in the presence of the next heir to the continent. The nerve of him…And then! The time he had the nerve to question me when I told you I wanted to be your handmaiden. That little blue-eyed weasel said, ‘You? The daughter of a mediocre house, as the princess’ personal maid? You should try and aim lower or marry someone who’d tolerate your un-ladylike attitude.’ I was too stunned to speak…I should’ve choked his ass out!”

“—Pfffthahaha, stop, you’re scrubbing too hard!” You halt your lady-in-waiting with stiffened giggles, the poor woman sighing for displaying such aggression unbefitting for her title. “You could never stand him, and to think I thought you had a crush on him.”

“Please, my Lady, never say that aloud, or else my father would try to make my worst nightmare become reality.” She shakes her head, putting your left leg into the basin and switching to the right.

“And the day I introduced you as my maid to him, you had the smugest smirk that couldn’t be wiped off that night.”

“You’re goddamn right, my Lady!” That coarse remark had the both of you in a fit of cackles, water damn near splashing out as you wiggle your legs. “Ahhhh, but those were the days. I believe Lord Ryomen came into the picture after that. I remember the first day your father accepted the young demon king’s wish to seek an audience; he was a bit shorter than his current eight-foot-tall stature. Four arms were tiny like a teenager, and his,” she waves a hand up and down over the left side of her face. “This was distinguishable.”

You hum along with the description of the once young teenage demon king. “His human mother died during childbirth, and his father a demon who was exorcised for impregnating the poor woman. He was the first hybrid sorcerer of his time to utilize sorcery with the dark techniques of demon arts, becoming the most powerful and making a name for himself in the Eastern empire. He was alongside my father during the Great Demon War, using his powers to take down opposing cursed forces from outside nations. The two earned each other’s respect – more on my father’s part.”

“That, he was…truly a hard one to read, outside of always looking like he’d cut something out of boredom. I worried for the day he’d catch sight of me looking at him the wrong way and slice my throat,” the mere thought of the deadly being’s scowl was enough to send goosebumps up Utahime’s way. “Even the spars he had with your father and Gojo, I’m amazed to see this palace still standing in one piece.”

“Hehe, imagine how I felt when he’d catch me watching and then pull me aside to train with him — not asking, demanding that he teaches me how to wield a weapon.”

“Ohhh, my Lady, my nerves were never calm whenever he instructed you. Fearing for your life was my biggest sport. He couldn’t stand the fact that the sole heir of the greatest warrior didn’t have the drive to wield and charge.” She places your other leg down, rinsing the washcloth with more water before asking for your right arm. “It’s not like your father ever dared to entertain the thought of you entering battle anyway! That man, truly a scary thing…”

You throw your head back, resting it on the rail of the chair. “For my eighteenth year, he gifted me my own sword — handmade and light for my hands.”

“Men.” Utahime shakes her head once again. “Yet, despite how odd he and Gojo are, they seemed at ease whenever you were around. Whether it be visits from them to discuss with the King or attending events here at the palace, those two acted a lot more…calm.”

Her observations stuck with you, closing your eyes to think more. “I only wonder if we could revert to those days when we were close. Unfortunately, with this current war between the two, this vision is impossible to imagine….”

You and the two lords have been friends for years – decades, even. And you were no fool; it was apparent that this relationship would dwell into something less familiar once the two become distant. And the war between the two empires proves this statement true…

It was your twenty-fourth year when you heard the news of the War of Blood and Magic. A year prior, an incident in the northern empire occurred where a sorcerer and his company were butchered by invading demons. Enraged, many men would go down to the demon continent to pillage and exorcise demon villages and towns as a form of justice. However, it only sparked the increasing tension between the factions into a conflict past the phase of talk and civilized words.

Taking matters into his own hands, Sukuna found the men responsible for the rampage and had their bodies sliced within seconds, sending their bloody, severed heads back to the North as his declaration of war. In the coming years after that, there was nothing but ongoing bloodshed between the two; every battle and atrocity shared with your father made you squeamish – not just because of the brutality, but also the loss of Sukuna and Gojo’s relationship with every passing day.

It made you feel sick — powerless in wanting the two to remember their merciful ways and talk like men. But you knew that was child's play — the time for miracles and fairy tales vanished with Tengen. And now, as the fourth year of this constant battle between humans and demons of this continent shows no signs of stopping, your worrying nature is on edge more than ever.

“It may seem impossible to imagine, but it doesn’t mean it’s not worth the execution,” Utahime’s voice rings you back to the present, alternating to your left arm to wipe before dismissing herself from the night. “I’m sure your father believes that as well; otherwise, he wouldn’t have invited the two here for the first time in four years. I think he and all the people of this empire grow worrisome for the fate of this continent if all that’ll be left is a clash between two factions.”

“That may be true,” yet your tone was somber. “But if he can’t convince his two trusted allies to cease this fight, then I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do but see who comes out victorious. And I’d hate to see one stand and the other down in a pool of their blood…”

Utahime hums and lets the silence take over for a few seconds. And then she speaks again, “….Maybe, if not your father, then you should be the one to bring the two together.”

Me? “Me?”

“Yes, my Lady. You may be the princess of the greatest warrior, but you are also the dear friend of his allies. Your word means law to them — they trust your input when asked and see you as a perfect successor in line.”

“But that’s just based on titles and old conversations that don’t hold up to the now…Out of the three of us, I was the one who stayed put in this castle while the others played dirty, severing limbs and creating craters on this sacred continent. We are not children anymore, yet I feel like the one who’s still a naive babe with hands clean.”

“Now that is not true, my Lady!” Fierce brown eyes bore to you. “Just because you don’t have blood on your hands doesn’t make you unfit as a leader. You are the sole child of the King of the Western Empire, the land that Tengen once slept and walked on. That makes you the one next in line after your father.”

“That is my stated birthright—“

“And so!” You held your tongue; she was not done yet. “You have proven that birthright true from what you’ve done so far. I can count on my hands and toes all the times your father came to you for advice on a matter that didn’t sit right with him, knowing that your wisdom and compassion aid your judgment. And let’s not forget how you’ve kept a neutral stance on this issue thus far, knowing it’s the best and safest option for your father and his people. You are his child, after all…What I’m saying is that people change. And that goes the same for you; you’ve become a face I can trust and depend on, and I’m glad to have the right to watch over you until you see fit.”

You knew she meant every word, so you kept silent for her to finish.

“So, I say this with all the genuineness in my heart. I believe you can smack some sense up those two’s minds. You are the princess, but you are a friend above all else. Lord Gojo had just arrived today, leaving Lord Ryomen on his way in three days' time. Express to them how you feel, that you wish for nothing but an end to this bloodshed and to restore whatever’s left to rebuild their past alliance.”

There was nothing wrong with her words; everything was well-spoken with a perspicuous style and valid points. She was your closest friend – no one knew you better than she did. So, there’s no reason to try and find whatever flawed construct that was in her argument.

Finally, after she was done dapping your arm with the washcloth and drying your feet after taking them out of the metal basin, you smiled. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right; I’m your best friend!” Utahime stands with a puffed chest filled with pride, picking up the basin by the handles. “And as the right one, I reckon you should turn in for the night. Leave this matter for tomorrow so the solution you’re looking for will be easier to find.”

“Mmm, your advice is well-received like always.” You stand from the chair, stretching your limbs. When she approaches your door, you bid your handmaiden farewell for the night, “See you in the morning, Utahime.”

With a wink, she parts before shutting the door, “Sleep well and tight, my Lady.”

The warm presence of your friend is missed now that you’re alone in your room. The candles around your chambers exhibit a warm glow that should make you feel safe, but that wasn’t the case today. Even after your night routine, the cold still resided in your skin. You sigh again through your nostrils; the invisible weight on your shoulders makes it impossible to lift them.

You turn back to your mirror – your reflection brings up the conversation with your best friend minutes ago. Examining your features, placing your hand on your cheek to sense your skin, alone with your thoughts. Did I really change that much? Your face tilts to the side, but the different angle doesn’t seem to help give a proper answer. Hmm…Perhaps it’s something I’m not supposed to see.

With a yawn, you stand straight again, deciding to take up Utahime’s advice and retire for the night. You face your queen-sized bed, anticipating your figure sinking into the soft, comfortable mattress.

What you didn’t anticipate was releasing a big gasp when turning to your bedding, your body going rigid, and your blood stopping circulation.

“Hey.”

Something was sitting on your bed. No, someone was on your bed. And judging by the deep, guttural timbre of their voice, you are familiar with this person.

You turned to your left once you heard a word. A figure was coming into the lighted room from the dark of the balcony – a giant, no, ginormous figure. Based on the height, he was inches from touching the entrance frame, way taller than any royal you’ve ever met — or, at least, any human royal you’ve ever seen.

The body was broad and could engulf you even from ten steps away. Four burly arms protrude from the torso, and black nails that resemble claws match the black tattoos painted on his shoulders, biceps and triceps, wrists, back, and chest. The markings also reside on the right of his face that’s morphed with another, which holds four red eyes instead of two, along with earrings that stretch his big earlobes. Aside from his bloody orbs, one thing that contrasts his appearance is the rusty salmon color of his hair. And that was the first thing you saw — the first thing that had your mind recollect him.

“Lord Ryomen.” His name didn’t feel proper to say. It’s been almost a year since you last saw him, but he was still the same brutal man you’ve heard about all this time…yet a companion of yours nonetheless. “Father told me you would be here in two days. How did you—“

“You know I’m not one to wait.” He crossed his lower arms, the upper ones covered by a black robe that matched the black hakama pants he wore. “Especially when it comes to visiting this place.”

“And of Uraume?” The mention of the demon king’s trusted adviser quirks his brow. “Is it okay to leave them alone without you to watch over?”

“You think I’m weak on my own?”

“N–No, of course not!” You were quick to refute — you had to be when it came to him. “It’s just that I would feel bad; they’d worry about where you are.”

“And here you are worrying about them worrying about me. Hmph, humans,” he scoffs, and the mouth on his stomach grins. “Uraume knows to look after the ship when I’m gone or be my eyes when I’m not around. I’m not a child that needs protecting.”

You bow to him. “Of course you aren’t, my Lord. Forgive me for having you think as such.”

He hums, tilting his head while examining you. “Good. Lift your head.” You do as you’re told, watching him take a few steps closer to you. “It’s cold; why is your fire not set?”

You look at what he’s referring to, seeing that your fireplace harbored no flame. “I told my maids that I would be fine tonight without it, the heavy blankets will do—“

Your eyes travel back to Sukuna, only to see he isn’t where he stood. He vanished, nowhere in your room to be found. You turned behind, but he wasn’t there either. But once you heard heavy feet thunder on your floor again, you spun around to see the beast carrying four logs, one in each hand. You were marveled; you only heard talk of his speed, now it was a little scary seeing the real deal.

Sukuna bends down in front of your fireplace, setting the logs down perfectly. “Ignoring the cold’s existence is an ignorant game. A princess should be warm during this time of night.” Once the logs are set, he makes a sign with his upper right hand, bringing his thumb and forefinger together to his mouth. He blows, and a string of fire spits out to the logs. The sound of crackling bark from the flames confirms his work. “You are not me; you should fear the cold.”

You nod to his lesson. “Thank you, Lord Ryomen.”

“There’s no one here. You have the right to refer to me by my first name.” Sukuna straightens himself up. The light from the fire has his face aglow, and the crimson in his eyes flicker while they hook onto you.

You don’t know why — maybe it was because of the instant heat touching your neck instead of the sudden allurement you’ve noted from the demon king. Regardless, you avert your gaze downward. “Yes, Lord Sukuna.”

“Hmm.” He croons, walking towards you to prompt your chin up with a hand. Your eyes widen at his action; this is the first time in forever since he’s laid a hand on you. Talks of those he touches die shortly after spark in your mind. “You still have the sword.”

It wasn’t a question – an observation. He noticed the weapon lodged above the fireplace, like a memento meant to be honored rather than used. You smile, “Yes, I make sure it’s nice and clean from dust.”

Sukuna scoffs. “I give you a present, and you treat it like a trophy.”

“It would be wise to treat a gift from the demon king like a treasure. It wouldn’t sit right with me knowing I used or damaged a present given to me by someone I care about.”

He tilted his head again. “And when I give a weapon to someone I wish to protect,” The word caught you off guard. Protect? “I expect them to use it as it’s intended. I will allow it this time, but I won’t be too forgiving the second. Understood?”

You heard him, but your mind was still wrapped around the word. Protect? Lord Sukuna wants to protect me? What for?? You didn’t mean to say it aloud; it just slipped. “Protect?”

His mood shifts into neutral. A subtle softness is displayed in that inhuman structure of a face — or maybe you imagined it because of the late hour. Your breath hitches when you feel his lower hands pull and wrap around your right hand; the way your palm dwarfs in his hold is appalling. And then he kneels. Sukuna, the eight-foot-tall demon king, kneeling before you. This was a bizarre night, candidly.

“Princess,” he starts with your name. It was the perfect method as he fully has your undivided attention. “You know why the King has wished to see me despite what’s occurring outside these chambers. He believes there is still room to talk, and I believe he's wasting his time because I'm close to setting the entire Northern front ablaze and nailing this score for good.”

You knew he meant that, and it scared you because if he really could, he would. He actually possesses the mentality and the drive to do it. And yet, all three parts of the continent continue to stand. Why?

“But that would result in more problems for me. I’d have the entire world after my head for terrorism. All the leaders will not rest until I’m gone — your father would have to come put me down. And I would kill him, all of them.” His eyes were on you, dead serious. “…But that would make you upset, and it pisses me off that you'd hate me for my drive for survival.”

“My Lord,” it was your turn to speak. “I wouldn’t hate you. Being upset would be justified. But when it comes to war, survival is the paramount destination. I only wish to avoid such significant losses – both for the people of our nations and the people I hold dear.”

“Mmm.” He took your words. There’s no need to say anything, knowing Sukuna heard your piece is good enough. “I can see where you stand in this, stubborn and naive like your father. So, I come to you with a proposition. Something I need for you to listen before I consider seizing this battle.”

The way he spoke had you on edge, truthfully. Yet, if he’s coming to you in the middle of the night to hear your piece, who are you as a friend to push him aside? You give him a nod, “Yes, my Lord?”

“Princess, I want to—“ he stops mid-sentence, his pink-slitted brow suddenly drew up before it furrowed at the next second. He lets go of your hand in a hurry, standing up in a flash. It had you squeak. “He’s here.”

The sudden change in tone had you blink up at the giant, startled. “Wh–Who?”

“….No, they will not be seeing you. The hour is late; they are heading for bed!”

“Oh, c’mon Utahime — an hour, give me one hour!”

“Don’t you DARE open that door—HEY!”

You and Sukuna’s eyes dart to your chamber door, which opens with an abrupt vigor as if it was kicked open — it was kicked. The foot that was prominent at the front goes down and swings in a figure that brightens the area. Baggy white paints contrast with a black dress shirt mixed with white, intricate, and alluring designs. Subtle blue patterns map around the black collar and cuffs, dancing down the white material behind gold buttons. It’s covered by an ocean-blue shawl that drapes the figure’s left side. But the most significant detail that gave away who the person was – outside of their voice alone – was the snow-shite hair that decorated the top of his head.

Your wide eyes take in the person before you, and a dainty smile comes to your lips when you say his name. Unlike Sukuna, who sucks his teeth with a deep scowl. “Lord Gojo, it’s—“

“PRINCESS~~!” Chipper as ever, Gojo greets you with a happy tune that is so familiar to the ears. His sky-blue eyes gleam and narrow whenever he’s in your presence, just like he’d do during your childhood years. “Glad to see that I’ll be able to see your beautiful face tonight, after all. And I thought I told you to call me by my first name, like when we were kids!”

His jest has you giggle, “And I thought I’d told you from the last visit to knock on my door before entering. You have my poor handmaiden chasing after you at this hour.”

“I second that notion wholeheartedly, my Lady.” Utahime comes into view, approaching from Gojo’s shadow. If looks could kill, she’d stab Gojo’s throat with dual-wielding daggers. Not that the white-haired man was paying her glare any mind. She sighs heavily before bowing to you, “My apologies, my Lady. Lord Gojo caught me leaving the stairs towards your hall, figuring he’d come to speak a word with—Holy Tengen!” Your lady-in-waiting gasps when she lifts her head to see that you aren’t alone in the first place. “L-Lord Ryomen!? F-F-Forgive me for not noticing your grace before.” She quickly returns her head for a bow, hoping the trusty, short right-hand retainer and advisor, Uraume, wasn’t here to lecture her.

But thankfully to her anxious stars, the demon king grunts, “You’ve been forgiven, human. I came here not too long ago to discuss matters with the heir.” His red eyes leave the bowing woman to look at Gojo, whose lighthearted cadence is stilled. “Alone.” The final word was all for the white-haired lord’s watch to switch to a silent, menacing tone, shaded by his bangs but perfectly seen by Sukuna.

“Yes, my Lord, I shall leave you two to yourselves then,” Utahime replies to the salmon-haired creature, lifting her upper body ready for dismissal. But she then grabs for Gojo’s arm and tugs. “That includes you as well, Lord Gojo.”

“Ehhhh, me? What about the giant freak across from me?” Gojo questions the woman who pulls him to the doorway. “I also have things to discuss with the princess I’ve expressed earlier for when I have the time, which is now. At least I made my appointment known. Unlike him, who came into their quarters unannounced.”

“And here you are, barging into their room!” she almost popped a vein; you worry for the poor woman dragging the tall figure out of your room. “Kicking their door and making yourself known doesn’t modify the definition of being unannounced. Come back tomorrow – I’m sure my Lady will be available to listen to your quarrels then.”

It was now that you finally decided to interject. “It’s all right, Utahime. Sleep still evades me for me to rest.” You look to Sukuna, his gaze already on your figure, and then to Gojo, who awaits your assertion. “…I will listen to both Lords and have them dismissed before I retire for the night. You may let Lord Gojo go now and get sleep yourself.”

Utahime gives you a concerned look, yet she silently lets go of the man when you give her a tiny nod. “As you wish. Have a good night, my princess. Lord Sukuna. Gojo.” She slams the door at the last name she says, her stomping footsteps and grumbling curses fading into the night.

And now here you were, alone in your room, with the two lords of two superpower empires – two childhood friends. Nevertheless, it’s back. The suffocating tension you’ve mentioned before returns and drapes over the three of you that the word “friend” feels teeny within it. You can’t lie to yourself; you’re weary to have either of them in your chambers, let alone be in the same space as you. You knew there would be a day when the two would come together; however, you were far from being prepared for said event.

Then again, it’s better now than never, right? You three used to be the best of friends – close companions that you could depend on and trust. Close companions that you desperately wish to continue trusting and having an unbreakable bond with. If not for you, then for your father’s and respective empires’ sake. So, with a deep breath, you exhale and think of how to go about this predicament. Be the heir that your father raised you to be.

“So,” You turn to Gojo to start with. “Lord Gojo—“

“Oh, c’mooon, what did I say about using my last name?” Gojo flashes a quick smile at you. “We’re friends, no? It’s not fair you refer to Maiden Iori by her first name; you should know mine like the back of your hand!”

His little pester does help swade a bit of stress off your shoulders. “My apologies, Satoru. It’s just that I must be respectful to my royals, even if we are long-time friends.”

The white-haired man chuckles, taking steps to be closer to you. “Even so, I want my princess to call me by my name, for you are the one I trust and hold dear the most. And I don’t want our familiarity to be tarnished by titles.”

“…If that’s what will make you happy, Satoru.” The address to the northern prince made you avert your gaze to the ground, and your cheeks dial in warmth. Who knew that he thought so deeply about a little gesture? And then there’s what he referred to you as—

“Your princess?” Sukuna’s voice snaps you back to the present situation: you and Gojo are not the only ones in your room.

Gojo takes his eyes off you and places them on the giant behind your shape. He taunts, “Yes, my princess, as they are the fair heir of this great empire who will rule after their great father. I’d say they are as much my princess to me as the other Lords and Maidens. But I’d be lying since I see them as more than that.”

Sukuna’s quadruple eyes darken as they narrow at the man before him. “Every time I see your scrawny self, you prove you’re the biggest fool than all the other senile jokes of Lords I’ve ever dealt with.” Two steps is all he takes to be right behind you. You can practically feel his shadow on you. “The person before us is indeed a royal above many – above you. So, I find it amusing that you would be dumb enough to emphasize such a ludicrous claim. You fail to know your place when in their presence. And in mine.”

Oh, that ticked something inside Gojo. Because the prince was no longer smiling, his attention was wholly on Sukuna. Many wouldn’t dare to glower at the giant creature the way Gojo was — let alone look at him. “Hah, you sure know how to make unfunny jokes, Sukuna. Because I’d rather eat demon shit than have you think for a moment that you are above me.”

“Hmph, I’m surprised your childish behavior has gotten you this far,” you can see from the shadow on the floor that Sukuna folds his lower arms. “Don’t think that you’ll be lucky with me.”

“Oh, believe me, my childish manner has gotten its fair share of tongue lashings and trouble, but I’ve been able to talk my ass out of shit ever since I was a kid. But I guess talk is too cheap for an oversized brute like you, huh?”

“Very. I’m a being of action—“

“Action? Or destruction?” The light blue of Gojo’s eyes shifts to that of a deep, cold shade under his bangs, with no sign of backing down. “Because from all I’ve heard about you, everything can crumble beneath you with just a swipe of the fingers. Outside of your lands, who’s to say you’re worthy of ruling when your methods and policy are more forbidding than mine? Or better yet, who gave you the gall to think that such a monster like you has a right to even be amongst civil people like me and the princess? Hell, the fact that you snuck in their room as you please sickens me to the core.”

“I can say the same for you, Satoru Gojo. Your entire occupancy does worse than bore me. Standing here with the man governing the family who’s killed many of my kin and demons fills me with inextinguishable anger. You have no idea how much excitement I’ll have for the day I cut that head of yours clean off, but because of my business with the princess, your death will be pending.”

“Not if my business is taken care of first.”

The demon growls. “Like hell, it will.”

“My Lords, please!”

The tense atmosphere is relieved by the abruption of your voice, bringing the lords’ quarrel to a standstill to face you. You squeak when their eyes land on you, forcing yourself to turn to the fireplace and deal with the growing storm of anxiousness inside you.

Gods, I should’ve had Utahime here with me! You curse yourself for being in this situation. Why tonight of all nights must you deal with this? It was as if your lady-in-waiting had this all planned — or worse, your father, having you treat the matter of your allies. You groan internally to your hands, letting your frustration be released.

You twirl back to face the two men before you, a deep inhale before saying, “Lord Satoru, what would you like to discuss with me at this hour?”

“Hah?” The disapproving mood of the demon king had your heart sink to the floor. “I was here first.”

“Yes, you came to my room first tonight. But Gojo was here first at the palace. He told me earlier that he wanted to speak, so I should hear him.” You could only hope your reasoning satisfied the tall being, who puffs his tattooed chest. And Gojo quickly flashed the other a vexatious look at Sukuna before you pivoted to him. “Now, Lord Go—“

“Aht aht!”

“…Lord Satoru,” He beams a big grin. “What do you wish to speak with me?”

“Well, although this is something meant for the two of us,” meant to be a stab to the other person in the room, who couldn’t care less about his presence being unwanted. “But this’ll suffice; it doesn’t hurt to have an audience.” You watch the silver-haired man take your left hand, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing on your knuckles.

“My Lady,” he looks at you with delicate azure eyes, his gaze so captivating that it locks you in position. “I’ve known you for quite a long time. Before I met you, my life as a royal was barren. Nothing sparked joy in me. The mundane tasks to uphold as the next heir, being pampered and sheltered as the gifted member of the Gojo House. I felt trapped in a mold — a mold that I resented having as my birthright, so much so that I wished to claw my eyes out at the age of five.”

You could tell he was speaking from the heart, his hands gripping yours tighter.

“But then, three years later, my father took me to meet the King of the western lands; at the time, it sounded like such a chore having to meet all these old, disgusting guys that I had to ‘maintain a good relationship’ with. And then, like the sun peeking through dark clouds, I saw you. I’ve met many royal kids before me, most snobby or kissing up to me for my good graces. Yet, none of them have been as alluring and breathtaking as you have been.” He pauses for a light chuckle. “I can still remember how your sweet voice addressed me when our fathers introduced us together. You stood tight to his leg, but your grace was ever present.”

“Mhmm, and I recall how angry your father was when you didn’t take a knee and instead greeted me with a handshake.” The two of you share a laugh, unaware of the disdained aura of Sukuna right next to you for a moment. “There are many things I hold close to my heart — you and our friendship being part of them.”

“I agree. I mean it when I regard you as one of my greatest treasures. This friendship we’ve had these years – decades, even – has been a blessing that I do not want to take for granted. Even with this war on my shoulders, I wish for it to be put to rest so I can finally have you by my side again. And that’s why…”

Gojo lifts your hand to his face; the soft feeling of his pillowy lips on your fingers has you holding your breath. Just like Sukuna…

“Princess, merciful child of Tengen’s Blessed Ground, I ask for your hand in marriage.”

It all took one second — one mere second.

One second for your world to come to a complete standstill, the cracking of the firewood no longer poking your eardrums and the breeze from the outside no longer grazing your skin. Your body instinctively refuses to move so much as a toe to disrupt your processing.

One second for your thoughts to absolutely vanish. No words of your own occupying your brain, no guesses on where this conversation was going. There was nothing. Nothing except the last seven words Gojo said that replay in your head. Over and over and over again.

One second for you to be in a perfect state of perplexity. Right before Sukuna grabs your free hand and yanks you to his side the next. Three giant hands wrap around you while one grips your wrist tightly.

He snarls, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Gojo sucks his teeth before straightening yourself. “Ehhhh, is your demon brain screwed on right? You don’t know what a marriage proposal is?” His question struck you more than it did the beast. Huh? A marriage proposal? Marriage!?

The fingers of Sukuna’s upper left-hand grips your shoulder, claw-like nails poking your skin as if to draw blood. “Hmph, the nerve of you humans never fails to disappoint me. Especially you, Satoru Gojo, who remains a thorn in my foot. Must I kill more of your men to keep you at your place as you did to my demonfolk?”

“Khh, don’t act like you ever cared about the lives sacrificed on your behalf. It’s gross.” Gojo takes one step, and Sukuna swiftly lifts his upper right hand at him, his fingers positioned at the same sign when he made flames for your fireplace. Your eyes widen, please, not in my room! Gojo takes a stance for battle. “Acting human doesn’t suit you at all, fuckface.”

The roar of laughter that the demon bellows out was chilling to hear. The vibrations coursing from his body to yours rocked you to your core. “Hah! Me, human!? There’s a reason I let go of that part of myself a long time ago. It made me weak – held me back from my full potential. You are right, though; it’s beneath me to care for those below me. However, I don’t tolerate those that mess with what’s mine.”

The word had Gojo’s eyes taper. “Let them go.”

“No. If anything, I should skin you here and now for even laying a finger on them in front of me.” You peered up at Sukuna, your anxiousness refusing to settle down during this high-stakes scenario. “Because any man that dares touch my wedded deserves to be torn and shredded by my hands alone.”

You couldn’t hide your gasp. It snuck past you – the perfect reaction to what you heard. H–His wedded? Me? Lord Sukuna’s wedded-to-be!? No wonder he was acting like that…!

“Your wedded?” Gojo was just as taken aback as you were. “You’ve got some huge balls to declare that right after bearing witness to me proclaiming my request for their hand.”

“Tch, bastard, why do you think I was here before you?” Sukuna flashes his big teeth, pride exuding from his form. “Did you honestly think I’d allow the princess to end up with the likes of you? Now, aren’t you too old for fairy tales?” You’re still in shock of this madness. Two marriage proposals within the same hour? Both from your childhood friends who unequivocally despise each other’s existence? Any regular person would feel as if they’re experiencing a whirlwind right now.

Wait a minute…

“Oh, we’re talking fairy tales, you repugnant jackass.” It’s Gojo’s turn to get a kick out of this. “From what I can tell, the princess is meant to spend the rest of their life in comfort with a handsome human prince who swears to protect them and those they care for. Not a creature whose source of joy comes from killing and mayhem. You? Capable of love? Heh, be real. Not even your own dead mother was able to show you real love for her abomination of a—“

He stopped talking when he felt something warm roll down his cheek, a red fluid streaking to drop from his chin. You see a cut and blood, and a wave of dread hits you like a wall. It was Sukuna’s doing, no doubt. Your best friends were fighting in front of you, in your safe space. Your nerves have long forgotten what it meant to be in a state of calm.

Please, wait, stop—

“I already told you your death has been postponed, you northern shit,” red eyes darken, Sukuna's tone and aura unveiling a sense of brutality that shadowed your very being. It had you trembling. “But I don’t mind severing your tongue to make a point.”

The skin around the cut on Gojo’s skin begins to morph to find each other, seaming itself back to mint condition with a blue glow. Healing magic fixed his cut and cleared his blood, but the anger boiling inside him was prevalent in those striking eyes. Wanting nothing more than a bleeding head between his hands. “I’d like to see you try, you ugly prune.”

NO, STOP IT!!

This was all too much for a single night. This whole ordeal was far from your expectations. It was already stressful enough thinking about what would happen when the two lords were in this palace together. Now, in your quarters, you’ve never experienced a more life-and-death crisis having your friends — companions you used to laugh and engage with together — wanting to rip each other’s throats, especially for your hand in marriage. And, Tengen forbid, if you were to accept one’s proposal over the other…that would ignite a war above all wars. The bodies that fall on this mainland would all be in your undoing. The thought enough was too much to bear!

“I accept both!!”

The hostile complexion of the room vanished into the air in the blink of an eye. The sound of burning logs and dancing flames filled the space like before; the crashing ocean waves could be heard from your balcony. Nature was speaking without noises to interrupt it. It was quiet, too quiet.

You didn’t know what you just said until the last morphemes left your tongue. You silently remove your figure from Sukuna, covering your mouth in disbelief. And without having to see for yourself, you could tell that the two lords were just as flummoxed from your sudden sentence. What…What did I say just now?

“What did you just say?” As if he could read your mind, Sukuna relays your inner turmoil to be addressed.

Your heart was beating at an unbearable rate, your ears ringing like they’d soon set off and bleed. The trembles get worse with every second, and wiping your face off this Earth at this exact moment is all you wish for. You were so nervous that you were mere seconds away from the brink of tears. Oh, Tengen, why did I say that? What was I thinking?!? What am I to do? What do I—

“…Express to them how you feel, that you wish for nothing but an end to this bloodshed and to restore whatever’s left to rebuild their past alliance…”

And then, like a strange flash of an angelic tune, the words of your lady-in-waiting come back to you, instantly calming you down and reminding you who you are. You are the princess of the Western Front, the next heir after your father. This matter was bound to fall onto your lap one way or another — preferably less drastically and excitingly like this.

I am the princess, but their friend above all else…You remove your hands from your face, exhaling a shaky breath before standing tall. “….I accept both marriage proposals of my Lords.”

The men’s bewildered expressions were expected, just like the dismay in their voices. “Both of our—…! Surely you don’t mean that—” Gojo was the first to speak, silver brows screwed with confusion.

“I do.” A deep breath before you answered him. “I will only accept the proposals of both you and Lord Sukuna.”

The demon took one thunderous step, the vibrations crawling up your bones. “And just why is that?”

You exhale through your nostrils, chewing on your bottom lip. “Understand that I am humbly flattered by your perspectives — it fills me with gladness to know I can be hospitable to my dear friends again…As you both mentioned, I, too, cherish the two of you profoundly, and my trust for you two will never be extinguished. To be asked for my hand by either of you is an honor I’ll forever appreciate….But I cannot choose one over the other.”

“Bullshit,” Sukuna folds his upper arms, the lower resting on his hips. “You can; you just choose not to.”

“No, I care for you both, and choosing one alone would have people hurt. Both between us three and the people of this continent…” You maintain eye contact with both lords while your hands fidget with your nightgown to ease yourself. “A rivalry is happening between the Eastern and Northern fronts; blood’s already been spilled and soaking Tengen’s soil. If I were to choose one proposal, I can’t be guaranteed that this onslaught of violence will cease. Or, would either of you guarantee that you wouldn’t take the life of the other?”

That question had the two royals look at each other briefly, followed by their scowls and groans. Gojo is the next to speak, “What happens between us shouldn’t concern you, my princess.”

“You’re wrong; it concerns me tremendously. It is a concern that’s been eating me alive, watching my allies – my friends – fight each other on the sidelines, refusing to pick a side with my father. Now, you two come here, bend your knees, hold my hands, and ask for my hand, silently requesting my involvement for more bodies to drop like flies under my reign?… No, I would not find rest from this night forward, knowing that more innocent lives plummet from my answer.”

“It wouldn’t be blood on your hands.”

“…But it would be blood that I paint with my very shadow.”

The response sounded foreign to him, yet you stood tall, making sure your heart didn’t falter with your stance. Silence welcomes the three figures again, an old friend that goes well with the tense atmosphere. Two pairs of red observe you, like cerulean orbs that stay on your appearance.

A few seconds go by, and Gojo screws his eyes shut. “So, that’s it, you accept both proposals.”

A curt nod. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Your final decision?”

“Correct.”

The snow-haired man nodded aimlessly, slouched with a large sigh, turned, and headed for your bed to flop face down — like it was his bed. “Haaaaaah, you are your father’s kid, all right,” you could make out his words even with his face in your sheets. “A pacifist heart.”

“Hmph, such a dumbass reason,” Sukuna huffs with absolute annoyance, and you’re amazed he hasn’t already skinned you and Gojo. “You are not a child anymore. You can’t possibly be serious about taking up two husbands for the sake of peace.”

“You’re right: I am no child, for I’ve never been as serious as I am now.” Look at you, sticking up for yourself in the presence of the demon king. Although, you know he can hear the quiver in your voice trying to crawl out. You swallow, “It’s either both of you or nothing at all.”

His left eyes squint as they examine your features, the mouth on his belly gritting its teeth. “Tsk, both or nothing…Meanwhile, you know I can’t be in the same room with him. Not even Tengen could command me to share you with this brat.”

Gojo swifts on the covers to lie on his back. “Finally, something I can agree with the devil himself. He’s right, though; there are many things in my life I would rather not share with anyone — you being the top of my list.”

You take their concerns with patience and a lifted chin. “I understand you both, but if you two can’t let the fog clear and talk with each other, how can I see myself—“

“Let the fog clear?” Sukuna repeats with furrowed eyebrows. “Sorcerers came into my land and ransacked my villages — sorcerers from this bastard’s empire!”

“An action that validates your anger and course of action,” you remind yourself to take tiny breaths. “…However, Satoru didn’t order the attack himself; they went against procedure and stormed your country with poor judgment.”

The tall demon rolls all of his eyes and clicks his teeth. “Ridiculous.”

“No, what’s ‘ridiculous’ is how you fail to acknowledge why those sorcerers went to your zone.” Gojo’s turn to interpolate. “One of the noble sorcerers and his company died because of your demon folk invading my country without permitted passage. That noble had a family, students that followed his footsteps—“

“Are you saying my people didn’t have kin of their own to return to, Gojo Satoru?”

“Your people sure kill like they don’t—“ Another swipe of Sukuna’s fingers glid the air; this time, Gojo’s Infinity was on guard, ricocheting the cleave to mark a scratch on one of the curtains. “Hah, just like their leader.”

Sukuna flexes his knuckles to crack, black fingernails appearing sharper. “The demons who killed that sorcerer acted on their own accord. Just like the many men of your land who came to mine, whom I corrected for your lack of oversight.”

“Then allow me to fulfill my mistake,” the silver-haired man’s eyes glow. “And let me kill the demons responsible — just like you did to my men, fucking cretin.”

“Over my dead body, human trash.”

“My Lords!” The men concurrently exchange their gazes back to you. “This is why I will not be accepting either proposal solely. You come to my home to ask for my hand because you see me as of value, correct? Well, you both are people I care deeply for, and the thought of walking beside either of you for eternity is something I’d accept unmistakably under different circumstances…But, please acknowledge my position in all of this: I am the princess of an extraordinary continent and heir to the throne after my father, a man who has maintained peace and harmony all these years. Now, that peace is hanging on the brink of death and will soon be a matter I should issue alone, and the men who’ve grown with me and cherish me combating each other until one stands tall….or none stand at all.”

Word spilled after another as if a dam had broken down — fingers jitter even when clasped together. Your throat dries up after every sentence, yet your unwavering resilience pushes you to keep going.

“I’m sorry if what I’m saying or doing is selfish, and…you may be right that I’m going at it with the whims of a child. But, please,” Do not cry, do NOT cry. “Standing idly every passing day watching the men I’ve grown to—“ Love? Isn’t that too intimate of a word to assume? “…treasure kill themselves and others without doing anything wounds me enough. And if you think I can sit here in this palace and watch my intended go far and yonder to kill another person whom I cherish with no guarantee that they will return to me wholly, think twice.”

Your shoulders threaten to tremble; of course, you’re frightened beyond belief by what you’re saying. But you’re sure if she was here, Utahime would pull you in for a hug and acclaim how well you’re following her counsel.

“Please, I just…can’t bear it.”

Uncomfortable muteness gnaws you alive within the muteness of your room. You’re bound to draw blood on your bottom lip with how much you’re chewing it. If only your father were awake in this hour, his guidance at a moment like this would be beneficial, or merely observing from afar how you’re managing would give you some hope. Alas, you know he’s in deep sleep halls away. It’s just the three of you in this space — or just you versus the huge opposing auras thick enough to be slit by Sukuna’s cleaves.

Speaking of whom, the demon king watches you the entire speech. Same with Gojo, whose blue eyes dwindle back to their typical hue. The two men don’t dare break the silence as you stand before them, mentally swimming in thoughts alone to yourself….Well, at least the northern prince wouldn’t dare to do so first because Sukuna initially ripped the stillness to shreds. He says, “And how would your father respond to this feckless plan of accepting two marriage proposals?”

A worthy question to ponder. “…I’m sure he’d come to an understanding once I explain my reasoning,” the belly of the eastern king grumbles. “I’m sure he’d be contended at the fact that his two trusted allies would want to join houses.”

Gojo sits up straight atop your bed. “Well, that sounds all nice and dandy on that front. But, the problem still lies in us acting like…a ‘real couple.’ Face it, princess; you may seem okay with being with us both, but that doesn’t mean we’d be on the same page.”

Sukuna nods curtly. “I’d rather eat every human alive than entertain the thought of someone other than me touching you.”

The other shrugs. “Even if the world’s fate depends on it.”

The men’s grievances are valid arguments for why your plan can backfire, particularly when suggesting a relationship where two people can’t stand each other. What you’re posing is an action that has been practiced before yet isn’t entirely favored in the public eye. Nevertheless, your stance doesn’t change; you refuse to go back on your word, believing that it’s a better alternative to condone than the others. The only tricky part is convincing your childhood friends…

…Which is why what you’re about to do is indubitably unlike you.

“…What are you doing?"

But despite that, it’s a course of action that highlights your determination.

“—Woah!! Princess?! Why are you undressing??!”

Even if it’ll go down as the most downright humiliating thing you’ve done to yourself.

Your nightgown meets the ground of your feet, the cool air wrapping your nude frame with the heat of the fireplace hovering on one side. Arms free of sleeves, nipples easily spotted now with the dismissal of clothing, the region between your lower thighs bare, and delicate skin exposed for only the men in the room to see. And even then, your face doesn’t decline the miserable hotness. Embarrassed? No doubt about it.

“My Lords,” you croak, balled fists muster to contain whatever left of dignity you can. “This form…isn’t meant for any regular eyes to see — an offering only a slim few I’d trust to witness. Tonight, I want you two to see me like this.” You slowly step forward, gradually getting closer to Sukuna’s giant size. “As your princess, I offer my whole to you both, as you are mine…and I am yours.”

Sukuna blinks at your small figure close to his; the intensity of his stare is enough to have your heart sink into a pool of regret. Until he bends to scoop you with his lower arms, you yelp at the sudden action with hands finding his sturdy shoulders to grab. Now, he is way closer than you anticipated, his very chin inches away from brushing your naked chest. Holy shit.

“You are mine, and I am yours?” he lifts his eyebrow. “Was that not true already?” You gulp thickly before answering, daring to cup his cheek with a hesitant hand. Again, you’re surprised to see it still attached, let alone see him lean to your palm.

“You’d have to prove it true — here and now, make this ceaseless battle end by claiming me as yours…You too, Gojo.” You and the demon holding you turn to the man sitting on your bed. The pale skin of his face now harbors shades of pink that cascade across his cheeks and the dip of his ears, expression dumbfounded to what he witnessed. “Demonstrate how serious you are for my hand, or you and Sukuna can leave my room.”

Sky-blue eyes blink absentmindedly, words hard to pick and choose for the human prince in this bizarre minute. Sukuna then speaks with a huff.

“Well, are you going to start moving or what? Because whether you stay or not, your princess will become mine tonight.” He grins before leaning in to lick your skin, and you hold a whine when the mouth of his navel lightly chews on your tummy. “And on the many nights coming after.”

The beast’s words flip a switch, causing Gojo to chuckle and shake his head while unbuttoning his shirt. “Not if I have something to do about it, four-eyes…”

You drew in breath while watching Gojo undress, more of his milky skin stripped out of his clothing, revealing parts of the prince that you could only imagine in your fantasies. Heat flourishes to your ears, and another gasp is pulled out when Sukuna sneaks his free lower hand to cusp your buttcheek. He then brings an upper hand to your chin to face him and his sneer.

“You’ve made this night a whole lot more interesting.”

And that was the last time the sound of the fire cracking caught your attention.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Mmmm…Ahh—Ahhh!!”

“Keh, sure are tight as hell; definitely a virgin.”

“Fuck, I can hear the sounds from here…Oh, fuuck…!”

The sea breeze climbs up to your terrace, crawling into your room to swing the curtains of your canopy. The candles around your room continue to flame and provide light for the room to glow. The scent of lavender and rose from your bath and lotion an hour earlier remains in the air and sticks to your skin. The midnight hour isn’t yet, but the sky is dark enough past the twilight hues.

Expected as the former home of the Great Saint Tengen, the palace is as enormous. Harboring many rooms, halls, and floors for the company of the royal family and their subjects, the castle is unchallenging for a newcomer to get lost inside without a proper guide. Every room is catered to a specific event, person, meeting, or occasion in this place. On top of that, multiple guest chambers are meant for the guests invited under the King’s audience to rest.

…But it seems that Gojo and Sukuna are not retiring for the night anytime soon.

How could they sleep when you’re being a courteous host, letting your childhood friends spend the late hours in your room? Just like when you were young and playmates or learning to master a weapon. The only thing is that these two aren’t the same as two decades ago; they are men, branded with titles and responsibilities, blood already stained their knuckles, and duties hold them to a high expectation that you know all too well.

And, like all men, they have a salacious curiosity only appropriate for the bedroom. An interest you knew would one day be prevalent in your life if you agreed to take either as a husband…Yet, you’re not as prepared on the chance you’d face both realities simultaneously.

All three of you are stationed in your bed, clothes decorating your floor to leave you all bare for each other to see and marvel at — more so on your part. You lie on your back to a giant broad chest and stomach, Sukuna right behind you with his lower arms holding your feet by the back of your knees. Knees spread apart, your naked lower half is out, free for the monster to insert a single thick digit of his left upper hand into your wet chasm while the right fondles your left tit.

Never in your life did you think you were capable of producing such indecent noises. Low whimpers are embarrassing to recollect as the demon king plays with your most tender parts. His big fingers tweak your nipple, and the digit – way thicker than yours – inside your cunt is enough to stretch your opening, wiggling and scratching the inside. Fingering yourself never felt like this, your body experiencing a refreshing sensation you hadn’t known of. And to have the eastern king of all people to bestow this feeling on you brings just as much awe as humiliation.

Nonetheless, that indignity doesn’t cease. Gojo stands on his knees before you, propped between your sunder legs, while his hand strokes an erect limb. Yes, as a virgin maiden, tonight would be the very first time you ever see a living, breathing member, and the northern lord takes that honor with a lustful smile. His solid cock gets stiffer with every jerk, a left curve protruding the more your appearance excites him. To be observed and used as material as your slit is fingered? How lewd!

“Nnnn, ahaahn…” Sukuna’s finger rubs on your velvety surface, your legs wanting to squirm despite the monster’s hold. “Oh Gods…Ohhh!!”

“Damn, you look so good,” Gojo mutters under his breath, precum drizzling his fingertips. “Looks like it feels good, huh, princess?”

“Sure feels like it,” every word that Sukuna utters causes tremors to pass down his abdomen to your back, the very vibrations crawling on your skin like the tongue that licks your back to make you arch. “Hm? Tell us how you really feel, little one.”

The usage of that name causes your vaginal walls to twitch; he has never called you as such, and picking such an intimate time to do so makes your frame feel awkward and warm. “…I-I—fffmm!—don’t know…”

“Hmph, you dare lie to me,” he bends to your ear, and his deep chuckle ignites your stomach to knot itself. “Like your body doesn’t speak for itself, clenching on my finger like you want to snap it off.”

“Th-that’s not—“The graze of your upper wall cuts you off, and your hands struggle to find places to grab, gripping the skin of Sukuna’s thigh and grabbing tuffs of his apricot hair.

The demon king snickers more when his middle finger teases your taint, pressing a kiss on your cheek before a quick bite. “Only one finger in, and you’re already wailing like a common whore; be lucky that I haven’t added another, then you’d really be prepared for me…” You feel something brush up against your back, the tips of Sukuna’s cocks reminding you of his eventual promise.

“Wooow, calling the future heir a whore; must’ve forgotten whose room we’re in.” The white-headed man had something to say about that, satisfyingly ruining the mood for the demonic being.

“They don’t seem to mind, at least their cunt doesn’t,” uncouth cords that speak truth, your vulva squeezing his finger constantly. “Who would’ve thought the beautiful, refined, and compassionate princess,” each enunciated word has consequences that are a lick and bite to your helix. “Was, in fact, a dirty, nasty girl?”

“Holy shit,” Gojo’s hand goes faster, his dick ready with stiffness. The image of you melting under the Fallen Star’s hold is too hot for the young man to witness. “God, I wanna fuck you so bad, baby…”

Sukuna clicks his teeth. “Well, hurry the hell up and do it before I change my mind and fuck them myself.”

“And have them bleeding to death because of your giant dicks on their first time? Fuck that,” He ignores the four rolled eyes as he maneuvers closer to you, Sukuna pulling his finger out of your wet slit and slithering further down to your anus. He coaxes you to relax your tense muscles, pushing his digit into your puckered hole second by second. The gasp you release once it’s added sends shivers up Gojo’s shoulders. “A princess should be treated like a pearl – tended to with the utmost care.”

“Go–jooo…” You whine as the human heir cups your cheeks to squeeze.

“What did I say about using my family name?” He scolds with a cheeky tune, gauging your reaction as he disposes his cockhead to the folds of your vagina.

“…S-Sa—Mmmph!” The push of his pink tip is a new sensation.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” He coos, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Relax, just focus on me.” Your eyes lock with his, distracted by the twinkle and swirl of his azure irises, like a whirlpool sinking into the darkness of his dilated pupil. “What’s my name, cutie?”

“Saaa…Sato—Ohhh!!” And just like that, the tip of his limb enters inside, bypassing your knowledge until the wince of pain snaps you out of your distraction. “…to’ruu…”

His teeth glisten under her grin. “That’s my good girl.”

Gojo keeps propelling himself inside you, gradually shoving every inch of his lengthy girth. You bite your quivering lip at the stretch of your opening, accommodating the foreign body part burrowing inside your inner channel. The left curve of his has his penis rubbing on parts of yourself you hadn’t thought possible; a graze of your G-spot causes your legs to quirk and toes to curl.

But then, once his silverish pubes meet your outer labia, he reaches the depth of your cervix and gives it a chaste kiss. And your frame suddenly shuts down briefly, your senses running cold before you cry aloud without knowing. Your hands rush to cover your mouth, but the damage is too late.

Sukuna raises a brow. “What a shout.” He then uses your reaction to add another digit into your ass.

“Ahhhh, there it is,” Gojo swallows thickly, hips speaking for themselves as they sway. “That was cute as hell–the way you twitch feels so good…” Another poke to your cervix, and your legs can’t help but wrap around Gojo’s waist.

“Satoru, please…!” You plead with knitted eyebrows. “Pleasee, be gentle with me…”

Blue eyes narrow. “God, who told you to be so adorable?” Gojo angles down to your face, his nose mere centimeters to yours. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll treat you right tonight…Hmmm.”

The man leans in to place his lips on your forehead before his own, and the pace of his thrusts quickens to mediocrity. The rubs on your silky texture become frequent, lightly pounding his shaft into your to till his testes knock your chasm, the whimpers you try to repress boost to a louder volume. His left curve spikes up your nerves with every push and pull, easing the itching heat that permeates around your lower half.

Hands writhe around to calm around Gojo’s cold back; you say his name in prayers. You can feel something coming, and if he keeps rutting to you like this, it’s bound to come earlier than expected. “—Nnaaa, Sat’ruuu, w-wait!! I can’t—Ahaann!!”

“—Mmmm! Yeah, just like that, princess, keep gripping on me like that…” He doesn’t listen, too lost in your warmth and wetness that he can’t stop. The flex of his abs increases, plunging into your pussylips desperately as if he can sense the eventual you fear.

“T-Toruu, wait, go slooww!!” Words mean nothing, hips not declining in their needing cadence. Oh Gods, I can feel it; it’s coming! Nerves climb to a peak way too fast for your comprehension, nails digging into Gojo’s skin before your orgasm hits you, choked squeaks leaving puffy lips as your cunt contracts around the prince’s girth and your asshole clamping around Sukuna’s fingers.

And Gojo is right there experiencing your climax with you, moaning under his breath and pressing his forehead to yours before he completely melts under the fluttering motions of your genitalia. “—Mmfff, ffffshit, so tight…!” He can’t stop thrusting into you, moving his pelvis slowly to draw out the sensation before he sinks into a crescendo of his own. “Fuuck! Yeah, cutie, that’s right; ride it out,” he snaps an abrupt drill to your aching entrance. “Ride it out…”

Sukuna scoffs lightly before whispering in your ear. “Done already, human?” Patronizing attitude to make you fidget. “Better be ready for me still.”

“Ehhh, but I’m not done here.” The snow-haired man retorts, massaging your waist out of the quakes.

A thread snaps in the wake of the other’s words, and Sukuna’s lack of patience drives him to push you and Gojo off of him. The two of you roughly position to where you are essentially straddling Gojo, his erection still inside your slick-coated cavern. The devilish man swiftly ends up on his knees before contorting his massive figure to dwarf both humans beneath him.

“Gahhh!! Sukuna, what the fuck w—Mmmph?!?” With the spawn of a mouth, the eastern king shuts the northern man up by slamming his upper left hand onto his mouth for an unexpected kiss. Gojo muffles under the other’s palm, the tongue shoving itself inside.

“Shut up,” Sukuna orders with annoyance. “So damn chatty…And you,” he uses his lower hands to steady your ass, and you stifle a yelp at the contact of something pressing up against the opening of your butt. “Stay still, or I can make it hurt real bad.”

His warning is enough to keep you immobile, following his instructions and stationing your breathing to a steady rhythm. Your hands-on Gojo’s chest ball to fists once Sukuna pushes his tip to your asshole, your mouth forming a permanent ‘o’ shape once he eventually gets the cockhead inside. Just when you thought this night couldn’t get any more extreme, you had forgotten about the taller individual’s well-endowed self: two hefty, girthy limbs that you NEVER, in your wildest dreams, imagine would put inside your body — not even one!

However, tonight was the night that would be put to the test, and at the very least, Sukuna compromised, using one of his members to ravage your interior while the other skims the crevice of your asscheecks. He goes excruciatingly slow; rather than just ramming the entire thing in one go, it’s better. Gods, no, you’d be shedding more tears than you already are. Every inch that’s plunged inside you pushes out shaky breaths, sobbing from the intrusion and bits of drool slowly escaping you.

“Daahhnn, ohmyG—Nnnm!!” It’s finally all in, all swallowed up by the ridge of your bottom. You call to him, “S-Sukunaa…fuull, so fuulll…”

“I bet you are.” He adds more weight, scrunching down, making it worse by caging you under his bow. Sukuna grinds his hips, which evoke sharp cries, “Hmmm, fuck, so tight…”

The salmon-haired behemoth rocks his enormous hips, the propulsion strong enough to rock you and Gojo concurrently. This time, unlike the northern man under you, Sukuna’s movements exude dominance; from his firm grip on your waist to the confident pull of his hips, everything he does is marked with a purpose. You can tell by how his big, weighty balls smack on your sexed union with Gojo.

Speaking of whom, the polar royal subsists in the kiss with Sukuna’s hand. Yet as the seconds turn to a minute, his expression morphs into a less perturbed display. Instead of fighting it, he kisses back with the palm and bucks his hips into you. The action of his cock rubbing on the sweet spots of your vagina while the one carves and churns your butthole and the other glides on your crack grinds your brain to turn into mush. Your nerves have yet to calm down from the prior orgasm, senses overloaded with constant commotion going on in your private parts.

Sukuna’s pushes become quicker and mightier, and the more he ruts, the more your clit grinds onto Gojo’s pelvis, sending shocks straight to your head. There’s no room for rest…! “—Ohhh, hooooh’Kunaaa, Kunaa, pleaseee…!”

“‘Please, please,’ please what?” He mocks you, knowing you’re powerless to reprimand him in this predicament. “Just whining and whining like a bitch in heat; have you no shame, princess?”

“Ohhh, I’m gonna—shtoooop!!” He licks your ear as you moan aloud, steamy tears striking down your hot cheeks. The pace increases, and so does the swipe of your clit and the bump of your womb. “Ohhhfuck, fuck, fuckfuuuuck…!!”

“Kehaha, look at you; the poor princess finally breaks their poised picture,” dark, pleased chuckles seep out of the demon king’s lips, biting onto your shoulder harshly to make you scream. And judging by him licking your added wound, you’re sure he drew blood.

“Ahhsshh—ohmyGod, ohmyGod!! S’kuna, don’t!!” Desperate pleads slur out. “I’m gonna break; y’re gonna break meee…!!!”

“Good, I want you to be broken,” he sneers as his upper right arm pushes you to face him. “Break for me; think of nothing else other than being mine. Right now, your mind, body, and soul are mine to torment and tear apart. You are my little dove, small and easy to break from now till your dying breath. Am I clear, pet?”

Scared? Of course. The way his scarlet orbs bore holes into your very being had you petrified; he doesn’t need his hellish aura and brawny hands that can snap a tree in half to assimilate fear into your heart. Witnessing the true power of the King of Demons with just his stare, nothing scarier than that…And yet, your anus and chasm can’t stop squeezing like crazy.

“…Yess, my Lord,” you croak, his finger wiping the saliva on his fingertip. “I am your pet from this—nnmm!!—this moment until the…very last.”

Anxiety doesn’t diminish when he broadens a devilish smile, but it transforms into perplexity once he slams his lips onto yours—your first kiss, taken by the eastern King, along with the chastity of your rear hole. And there’s Gojo, who is the very man who has taken claim of your virginity. Two men, your childhood companions, taking your firsts! Tonight, indeed, is marked down as an eventful occasion for you.

You sink into the passionate kiss, your tiny tongue swirling around with Sukuna’s, his fangs grazing the muscle teasingly before he nibbles on it to hear you shrill for him. All the while, his hips go erratic, motivating Gojo to increase his tempo. The feverish rhythm leaves you breathless, crying in the company of lust and rapture to the point that you’ve become numb. Your vision becomes blurry, your head foggy, and the air between you three misty. Noises of skin smacking onto each is all you hear, drowning you further into another spazz you couldn’t adequately foretell.

Gojo and Sukuna chase their climaxes together after your walls quirk and spasm uncontrollably, letting their fluids burst inside to fill your holes to the very brim. You howl in Sukuna’s mouth, who chews on your bottom lip roughly, same with Gojo’s with the palm before snatching his hand away. The snowy-headed man huffs and pants, nearly choking on spit as his midsection flexes with every jerk of his ejaculation. And the giant above you groans while rutting into your ass, not stopping until his high passes through, the free girth ejecting semen to paint across your sweaty back.

For a few seconds, it’s utterly hot and cold at the same time, your figure trembling with the acute shocks coursing through your bones. Eyes roll to the roof of your canopy, and limbs wobble and give way for you to slump after Sukuna releases you from his breathtaking kiss. Luckily, Gojo is there to catch you, the comely noble attending to you with kisses to your temple.

“Look what you did,” he spits to his left, wanting to rid his mouth of whatever remnants Sukuna left with that disgusting kiss. “You weren’t kiddin’ when you said you wanted to break them.”

“Hmph, don’t ever take me for a liar,” the demonic man stretches after withdrawing his length out of your butt, chortling at the sight of his essence sticking to you. “Oi, dove, you hear me?”

“Princess, you all right…?”

Whatever words the two were saying to you had begun to fade away despite their proximity. Your eyelids refuse to fight the urge to close, and your skin allows the cold breeze to blanket you. Everything goes black, your breathing returns to balance, and the sound of the fire cracking comes back to sing you to sleep.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“My Lady, are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Huh?” You snap out of being zoned out for the sixth time today. Your vision is now present with the gazebo view, the ocean glistening from the morning sun in the distance, contrasting with the beautiful greenery of your garden. Many flowers of different shapes and sizes, various colors painted on top of the veins and roots separated from the yellow brick road coursing around it.

You sit at the gazebo for your morning tea; it’s part of your morning routine after a nice bath and Utahime helping you pick what to wear for the day. Usually, when you sit here, you admire the tranquil sounds of the outside space and the sweet taste of your hot beverage.

“—Mmmm! Yeah, just like that, princess, keep gripping on me like that…”

“Stay still, or I can make it hurt real bad…Hmmm, fuck, so tight…”

Memories from last night flash one after the other, ringing your ears with nothing but the erotic noises and voices from the night before. Your cheeks dial in warmth, recollecting the senses of having both men — your childhood friends — so intimately close to you. The hotness of their breath touching your skin, the wet, teasing licks of the tongue from Sukuna’s stomach, Gojo’s slender fingers swiping and pinching your clitoris as he sucks on your nipple, and Sukuna using one of his arms to restrain your hands behind your back as he uses two others to keep your hips still to hammer your holes with his girth.

“Princess…” the way Gojo says your name, your stomach flips to the smooth tone of his voice. His striking blue eyes survey your expression like you’re his lost treasure. His hard body meshing together with your sweaty, soft figure is a sensation you’ll probably never forget…

“Princess…” Sukuna, with his red eyes and demonic face structure, put you in a paralysis spell, and his intimidating aura suffocates you to submit to his gaze and hold. Under his bow, you felt as though you were nothing but his and his alone. And you can’t tell if that is scary or intriguing…

“…—dy Lady….MY LADY!!”

“Y–Yes!?” Your attention swerves to reality, Utahime’s face mere inches from yours. Her brown eyes filled with worrisome confusion, scanning your expression.

“What on Tengen’s Earth is going on with you?” She says with a sigh, “Are you sick? Did you not get enough rest last night? Tsk, it must’ve been Lord Sukuna and that blue-eyed jerk. My apologies, my Lady. I hope their intrusion didn’t keep you awake for too long.”

You shake your head to your best friend. “No need to apologize, Utahime. And it’s all right; the Lords didn’t give me too much trouble.”

She gives a nod to your response, observing you picking up your teacup and taking a sip before setting it back down gently. “Still, I find it odd that both lords wished to see you so late at night. At the same time, too…If you don’t mind me asking, my Lady, what did they wish to speak with you?”

Again, she is your best friend, so you can trust her with the information you’re about to give. “…Apparently, both Lord Sukuna and Lord Gojo wish to have my hand in marriage—“

“MARRIAGE!!??”

“Shhhh!!” With haste, you stand from the table to cover your lady-in-waiting’s mouth from uttering another word. You swiftly survey the entire garden to see if anyone from the castle heard the shout. Luckily, it was just the two of you. “Please, Utahime, not so loud.”

The woman with her mouth covered blinks once, twice, before giving an assured mod for you to release her lips. She now speaks in whispers with you, “My apologies. But…marriage??”

“I know, it surprised me, too. It seems my father gave them his blessings to ask for my hand. It could be for the sake of our families and relations or to strengthen the bond of our empires to maintain the powerhouse that is our continent.”

“Mmm, those are valid reasons to consider, especially after the Great War, and that the bond of the three empires would give a good message…Or perhaps, did the Lords wish to wed you for more personal reasons?”

They did. That’s what you wanted to say. But instead, all you could do was think about their proposals from last night. The way they both stood on one knee and took two hands. Gojo’s eyes never looked so sincere and soft when looking at you, placing his soft lips on your left ring finger to gently kiss it. He looked like his princely self. But that night, he showed the caring and soothing cadence you had fallen in love with all these years. And Sukuna, oh Lord. Never did you think you’d live to witness the day this giant being before you took a knee for anyone – especially for you. Your right hand easily dwarfed in his grasp, brought to his lips that you’d only ever dream to have touch you. And those piercing eyes of his, red like blood, examining every single feature of yours as if you were the thing that made him strong yet weak. It was subtle, something only meant for your eyes to see. But most of all, it was genuine.

“…That might be it, as well.” You mutter under your breath, your cheeks becoming warm while reminiscing the scenes to yourself.

However, your chambermaiden was no fool at all. She could tell from your wandering gaze that something, in fact, did happen between the three royals that night. She lifted a brow at your response, “I think that is the case, seeing as though you’re trying to hide the smile from me.”

You squeak, immediately facing in her direction, seeing the foxy grin on her beautiful, scarred face. “I’m smiling?”

“Aha!” Oh no, I fell for it. “Gotcha! Oh my, it seems my Lady is having troubles with the heart. Could it be you are considering the marriage proposals?”

“W–Well…I don’t know myself,” it was an honest answer; you didn’t know the answer yourself. “The matter caught me off guard; I wasn’t expecting either of them to come to my quarters, let alone propose to me on the night of their arrival—“

“That’s not my question, my princess.” You gulp when she cuts you off, Utahime narrowing her feline eyes as she speaks. “It made you incredibly nervous that the three of you would be here at the same place, thinking those two would go at each other’s throats. Now, two Lords still stand, asking for you to be by their side, and you can barely keep a straight face. If you ask for my piece, I’m relieved they came here with the thoughts of marriage rather than spark up talk of another war in this continent.”

You hum along to your maiden's words, taking in her reasoning. Yet she continues, “And judging by how fidgety you appear to be on this fine morning, something tells me you’re on the fence of accepting. Who will take my Lady’s hand? Lord Ryomen? Gojo? Ugh. If it’s the latter, I’ll only deal with him for your happiness. And Lord Ryomen, oh my. Being the spouse to the most powerful beast of Holy Tengen's continent , it’s something out of a fairy—“

“Utahime, calm down!” You stop the lady from her excitement bubbling into something substantial. You can tell she’s itching to plan your wedding – whenever that be – once your tea time is finished. “I…I didn’t accept their proposals, not yet.”

The dark-haired woman drops her jaw; how unfortunate it is for you to lie to your best friend. “What do you mean!? You didn’t? Then how come you three were discussing for such a long time? I saw Lord Gojo return to his quarters in the middle of the night, and I figured it was because you all had an in-depth discussion.” You open your mouth, but your words are caught on the back of your tongue. You couldn’t formulate a proper excuse or lie in time. Because of that hesitation, Utahime’s brows draw upward with wide eyes, her mouth changing into a small “o” shape. It was at that moment that you realized you dug yourself a grave.

“Princess,” her voice was still hushed, speaking slowly as if not to jump so hard to her assumptions. “…What exactly were you doing with Lord Satoru and Ryomen?”

“PRINCESS! PRINCESS!!”

Saved by another voice entering the fray, you and your lady-in-waiting turn around to see another person coming to the garden, running down the brick road to your destination. As they came closer, you could tell from the bright blue hair and uneven bangs that it was Utahime’s apprentice, the lower-status handmaiden Kasumi Miwa. Your lady-in-waiting was the first to correct her before getting closer, “Maiden Miwa! I’ve told you about running so freely around the castle. What if you were to bump into someone?” When Miwa is in the presence of the two of you, she’s huffing and puffing. “And stand up straight!”

“Eek! Sorry, Lady Iori, but I come bearing news for the princess!” Miwa fixes her posture and messy blue hair while trying to situate her breaths steadily. “Princess, I’m here to tell you that Lords Sukuna Ryomen and Satoru Gojo wish to speak with you!”

Huh??!! “Pardon??”

“Yes, they wish to discuss their proposals with you from last night. At least, that’s what they told me…Oh, there they are!”

“Miwa, shhhh, don’t point!”

You pay no mind to your chambermaid lecturing her young student because your eyes follow the brick pathway up to the castle steps where two figures stand. Sukuna and Gojo stand at the entranceway to the garden, both wearing their respective clothing. Not that it matters, though, because the memories from last night with your nude bodies being connected still haunt your senses. And now they’re here, big grins on their faces that share the same reason. They know, and they know that you know. Who knew that such a night full of unexpected passion and heat would happen to you and with your closest friends since your little years, who have grown to become such strong, handsome, and powerful men.

Perhaps this was the union you’ve wished for — the union that could finally bring you three back together…Perhaps.

“…Tell them that I’m available to speak.”

4K notes · View notes

melzula · 10 months ago

Note

well since requests are open i wanted to request a zuko fic?

zuko x waterbender reader in which someone from team avatar walks in on them kissing?

i feel like it’d be funny idk lol 😂

a/n: i love this trope it’s so funny. also it’s like subtly mentioned reader is a water bender since i didn’t wanna just shove it in there awkwardly. anyway hope you enjoy!

summary: a private moment between you and your boyfriend is interrupted by your unsuspecting friends

“Are you sure no one saw you come in here?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Zuko says with a huff after closing the flaps of your tent. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“You know that’s not true,” you argue with a frown. “I just enjoy having some privacy. I know those guys are going to make a big deal about us being together, and I just want to enjoy our relationship without having to deal with any prying eyes.”

“I know,” he admits with a sigh. “I’m just tired of sneaking around. Do you know how difficult it is not to kiss you or check on you after a fight with my sister? It’s torture.”

“It’s just until the war is over. There’s a lot at stake right now, and it would be a weird time to come clean. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“I hope you’re right,” Zuko murmurs with a frown, one that immediately melts away at the feel of your arms wrapping around his midsection. It’s hard to be upset when you’re smiling up at him with the purest look of adoration in your eyes. Despite everything, all of his flaws and mistakes and cruelty, you love him, and it fuels the warmth inside of his heart knowing he has someone like you. Maybe he would have joined the Avatar and his friends sooner if he knew it would lead him to you.

“At least we’re finally alone,” he notes with a faint smile before leaning down to press his lips against your own in a long awaited kiss. He hasn’t been able to give or receive affection all day, and it isn’t until now with your chest pressed against his own that he’s finally able to truly feel relaxed.

Unfortunately, you’re both too engrossed in each other to notice the rustling of your tent flaps as Sokka and Toph let themselves in without a second thought.

“Hey, y/n, Toph and I are gonna head into town, do you want to- oh, gross!” He cries after catching Zuko and yourself mid lip lock.

You both jump at the intrusion, knocking your head together on accident and groaning in unison at the impact.

“Sokka!” You cry out in embarrassment. “Monkey feathers, don’t you knock?!”

“It’s a tent! There is no knocking!” He yells back defensively, equally as upset as you are. “I can’t believe you guys were kissing!”

“We weren’t kissing,” Zuko argues, his face red with embarrassment. “We were… hugging… with our… mouths?”

“Oh, spirits,” you groan, your palm hitting your forehead in embarrassment at Zuko’s horrible attempt at lying. For a Prince, he has a terrible way with words. You’d think all that time spent with his Uncle would make his vocabulary more eloquent.

“If Toph could see she’d be very upset right now!” Sokka scolds, but the girl beside him simply shrugs.

“Actually, this works out great for me. Katara owes me five gold pieces now,” she says with a grin.

“You guys knew they were dating and didn’t tell me?!” The water tribe boy says in offense.

“I had a hunch, but Katara disagreed, so we made a bet.”

“Enough already! This is mortifying enough as it is,” you groan impatiently. “Sokka, we’ll talk about this later. For now, I need both of you out!”

After getting the two to leave the tent, you shut it closed with an irritated sigh. You’re absolutely humiliated, and you don’t think you can show your face to your friends ever again.

“So much for keeping it a secret,” the fire bender mutters.

“You,” you say with an accusatory finger pointed at the Prince, “need to learn how to lie better.”

“I know,” he admits meekly, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Sighing, you open your water pouch and tend to the growing bump on his head from your previous collision. You can’t stay mad at him when he looks so flustered and sweet, so instead you merely throw your arms around his neck and pull him back in for another kiss.

You can focus on coming clean later. For now, you just want to enjoy your moment of peace with the boy you love.

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin @lora21

#zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #atla #atla x reader #atla imagine #avatar the last airbender #request

6K notes · View notes

parkerslatte · 7 months ago

Text

Different

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none

Summary: Ever since Feyre arrived at Velaris, they have only ever known Azriel a stoic and mostly serious. But once his wife comes home, she sees a different side to him.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Feyre watched as Azriel stood by the window. His shadows moved over his shoulders and around his ear as if whispering something to him. The expression on Azriel’s face was his same neutral one that only ever seemed to change the smallest amount. And only ever in the presence of the Inner Circle and even then there would only be a small hint of a smile.

It was late at night and everyone was enjoying a relaxing night with a few bottles of Rhys’s expensive alcohol. So far, Azriel hadn’t moved from his place at the window, his back was rigid as if he was expecting something, though that was the only indicator that he was. His face was his usual stoicism, giving nothing away.

“Az, are you ever going to get away from that window anytime soon?” Cassian complained.

Azriel turned his attention to Cassian and scowled. “I’m busy.”

“Not busy enough to spend time with the people you love,” Cassian teased.

“Az, sit down, you won’t miss anything,” Rhys chimed in.

With a final look through the window, Azriel walked over to the rest of the Inner Circle and sat in the armchair. His back was tense and he was not fully relaxed. Ever since Feyre had known him he had always been somewhat alert to everything.

While everyone continues with the card game, Feyre couldn’t help but pay more attention to Azriel than to the game. Like Feyre, Azriel didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the game either. Instead he stared at the table in front of him completely lost in thought.

Elain, who was sitting on the floor beside Mor, looked up to Azriel. “It’s your turn,” she said.

“Oh,” Azriel said before picking a card out of his hand and placing it on top of the pile.

“That isn’t a card you can even put on top,” Cassian complained.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Does it matter? You change the rules when you’re losing anyway.”

“I do not!” Cassian exclaimed. “I take this game seriously.”

“Until you are losing,” Nesta mumbled under her breath.

Cassian began to argue back, clearly becoming outnumbered in his argument. Feyre only watched on with amusement.

However everything was quickly interrupted by a new voice, one Feyre had never heated before, cut through the argument.

“I leave you all alone for a few years and everything goes to shit?”

Everything goes silent as everyone stares at the beautiful female who had just entered the room. Before Feyre could even process everything, Azriel threw his cards back down on the table and rushed up to the female.

The female giggled in delight as Azriel’s arms wrapped around her and swung her around. Feyre looked at her two sisters, each of them held the same expression she did. Confusion.

What shocked Feyre the most about the situation was the bright and wide smile stretching across Azriel’s face. She had only noticed now that he had dimples.

“I missed you so much,” Azriel mumbled.

“It has only been a few months for you,” the female replied.

“That is too long for me. I always wish for you to be next to me,” Azriel replied and pressed his lips against the females. His arms circled her waist, making sure there wasn’t a single gap between their bodies. The female threaded her fingers through his hair, causing Azriel to sigh in delight. Feyre couldn’t help but feel surprised by this display of affection from Azriel.

Feyre leaned back against Rhys. “Who is that?”

“Azriel’s mate and wife,” Rhys answered.

“What?” Feyre exclaimed. “None of you have ever mentioned her before.”

“That was Azriel’s decision,” Rhys replied, filling up his glass. “You see, Y/N works as a researcher all over the continent for me so she is rarely ever here so none of us can protect her. Azriel has made a lot of enemies over the years and if he were tied to her, she could be put in even more danger.”

“When was the last time they saw each other?” Elain interjected.

“For Azriel a few months ago,” Rhys answered. “Those two weeks just before Solstice when Azriel wasn’t here, he was on the continent with her.”

Feyre watched as Azriel buried his head into Y/N’s neck, holding her against him tightly. Feyre smiled at the sight.

“It has been at least two years since the rest of us have last seen Y/N,” Cassian chimed in. “It would be nice of her to greet the rest of us.”

Y/N pulled away from Azriel to smile at everyone else. “Give me a break, Cass. If you were to go without a hug from your mate in a few months, you wouldn't be jumping to greet everyone else first.”

“She knows about us?” Nesta asked.

Cassian nodded. “Whenever Azriel meets up with her, she always asks about you all. Apparently she has been excited to meet you all.”

Feyre watched as Azriel and Y/N walked over to join the group. Azriel’s gaze never left Y/N for a single second. Feyre’s gaze shifted down to their joined hands. She hid her smile behind her glass.

Y/N quickly greeted Rhys, Cassian and Mor with a hug and she gave a small nod to Amren.

Azriel sat down on the armchair first and as Y/N was about to sit in the arm of it, Azriel pulled her down so she sat in his lap instead. His arms locked around her waist as his chin rested on her shoulder. Feyre was sure she had never seen him look so happy before, so at ease. The smile on his face was one Feyre had never seen.

“It is great to finally meet you three,” Y/N said, her gaze flicking between Feyre, Nesta and Elain. “This one here,” she said, reaching to cup Azriel’s cheek, “has told me a lot about you.”

“It is great to meet you,” Feyre said with a smile.

“So now that introductions have finished,” Cassian begins, “can we get back to the game now? I was about to win.”

“Is that because you changed the rules halfway through the game?” Y/N teased.

Cassian rolled his eyes. “You know what, Y/N. I don’t think I missed you at all.”

Y/N chuckled. “We both know that’s a lie.”

Azriel laughed along with Y/N and placed a soft kiss to her shoulder. He looked completely different to the stoic and serious shadowsinger Feyre was used to. With Y/N, Azriel seemed like a completely different person. The tension had vanished from his body and his shadows, which were once sliding over his shoulders, were now caressing Y/N legs and arms. One of his hands caressed her thigh while the other threaded with hers. Feyre could see the goosebumps appear on Y/N’s skin wherever he caressed.

Azriel whispered something into Y/N’s ear which caused her to turn to him, smiling wide, her lips hovering just above his. The glimmer in Azriel’s eyes was prominent as he looked at her. It was as if she hung the stars. There was so much love and tenderness in his eyes that it could only be described as something out of a romance novel. She had never seen him look so at ease before. It was if everything else had melted away and the only thing left was Y/N.

Feyre couldn’t help but feel giddy at the sight.

“How long have they been mates for?” Feyre asked Rhys.

“Nearly three hundred years,” Rhys replied, wrapping an arm around Feyre. “They have been married for longer, the bond snapped nearly fifty years after they were married.”

“They seem happy,” Feyre said, her eyes not shifting from where Azriel and Y/N sat.

Rhys smiled at his two friends, friends he considered family. “They are. Azriel is always his happiest when Y/N is around. He always has been ever since they met.”

“Why does she go away for long periods of time?” Feyre questioned. “It feels like torture when I’m away from you for too long. I cannot imagine being mates to someone for three hundred years and only being able to see them every few months.”

“That is the way it has been through their whole relationship,” Rhys explains. “They both knew what each other did for a job and neither of them wanted the other to give it up.”

“How long is she back for this time?” Feyre asked.

“I hadn’t asked,” Rhys said. “But I have a small feeling she will be here for a while this time.”

Feyre frowned. “How so?”

“Because if I know anything about Y/N, it is that she would never decline a glass of my finest wine and so far she has declined every glass Mor has offered her,” Rhys observed.

Feyre looked at Rhys excitedly. “Does that mean—?”

Rhys smiled. “They haven’t said anything so I assume that they wish to keep the news between them for a little while longer.”

Feyre smiled over at Y/N and Azriel. She caught Y/N’s eye. The beautiful female only sent a wink Feyre’s way, a clear indication that she had overheard her and Rhys’s conversation.

“Az, it’s your turn,” Nesta said.

Azriel throws all of his cards onto the table. “I think I am done for the night.”

Cassian groaned . “Really?”

“Really,” Azriel said. “I want to spend time with my gorgeous mate and wife.”

Cassian chuckled. “That is only an excuse because you are losing,” the general teased.

Azriel rolled his eyes and swooped Y/N up in his arms. Her arms locked around his neck. “If you need us— actually don’t even try to contact us at all.”

Y/N threw her head back and laughed as Azriel carried her out of the room. Feyre could hear them laughing loudly even when the door was firmly closed behind them. Feyre leaned into Rhys and linked her fingers with his.

“I am happy for them,” Feyre said, her eyes staring at the door where Azriel and Y/N had left.

Rhys kissed the top of Feyre’s head. “Me too.”

#acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff

3K notes · View notes

sugarverse · 1 month ago

Note

Hiii! I was wondering if I could request either long or short fic about Tenya Iida. Likes it can be set in a modern setting where's he's a senior college student who's majoring in business and he has to take one more class to get his degree. It just so happened that the class is in the art building, and it is figure drawing (aka nude drawing) . Since he's just now hearing of the extra class he has to take, he's suddenly shocked when the model is an old friend of his from back home, whom he had a childhood crush on. Not only does his feelings for her come back, but he also has to have 1 on 1 section with the model for educational purposes. I kinda want it to be smut and fluff or however you see it fit. Anyway, I hope it's enough+

hi babe! omg I love this idea I kinda went a lil crazy and made it way too long. I hope u enjoy :)!!

𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

word count: 3.5k

mentions of: This is really just the fluff portion of it, kinda suggestive bc he pops a boner and leads to sex in part two. I think I’m going to make a third part simply so the two of you can go on a genuine date andsotheresmoreiidaxblackreaderouthere.

a/n: hells yeah that’s enough, hopefully I did what ya asked and so sorry I went overboard I have serious problems. here’s the smut part bc a 6.7k fic is doing too damn much but i can’t stfu my fault gang

moodboard here!

Tenya Iida.

4th year, Senior in college majoring in International Business and minoring in Spanish at Angelwood College of Arts and Sciences.

The visual arts building had only been a few minutes away from the business side of campus, which he gladly enjoyed the walk. This spring all he needed to finish was two gen ed classes, the rest revolved around his major and minor. His counselor helped set up his ‘missing’ classes before winter break considering he had to fly back to Japan to see his family for the holidays. He was ecstatic to learn all he needed was an art class with lab and a communications class.

When he asked what the class entailed, all he was met with was “beginner artists learning anatomy.” It didn’t sound difficult, just draw what you see. It would be nice to try something new anyway. He was not much of an artist but like all things Tenya does, he planned to give this class his all. The first week had been pretty easy, learning how to draw what you see with the use of models, shapes, and lines. Nothing too hard to follow. He would practice drawing his friends on the sketchpad he bought specifically for the class as a form of studying in the free time he had.

He neverminded it for the most part, excelling his knowledge in different countries in his free time to get better at his major. Sure they could teach you the technical way to do things, but in the end, everyone is still human. It would be inconsiderate to do business with a country and know little to nothing about their culture! It took almost two weeks for him to finally be able to even start the art project anyway.

As time went on and the January snow grew less and less, it was time to start their first real project of the semester. One on One figure drawing. The class needed to fill out a form explaining their free hours due to the limited art space and everyone's different schedules. Tenya happily filled it out when it was posted, continuing to work on class work from the library so that the lecture room could also be used for said project.

Their professor had explained that in-person class would remain on Mondays and Thursdays. It just worked out better for the models and students to have so much space.

He made the small walk over to the arts building for his last class of the day, a small shine in his glasses as he entered the white light of the room. The walls were anything but bare, artwork and unfinished projects sat in every corner of the room. Paint racks, canvases big and small, even stacks of unused clay. There was a stool sitting on a small platform in the middle of the room, assuming where the model will sit.

He stood next to the stool for a moment, looking up at the grey February sky through the skylight. The natural lighting was great, almost like a spotlight. He adjusted the lights in the room a moment, dimming them slightly so the white light hadn’t been so harsh on his eyes. He headed over to a more organized table, setting out the art supplies how he liked. He knew he was early, but he wanted to make a good first impression. What’s better than being on time?

He pulled out his laptop, checking that the few assignments for today were done and submitted. A small frown tugged at his lips as he realized he hadn’t finished something completely, typing in the last few answers. He always double checked, technology was reliable.. When it wanted to be. He couldn’t hear the shuffle of slippers against the floor over his typing and frankly, loud thinking.

He could see someone walk past in a teal robe representing the university's colors. Glancing up from the computer to give the model a proper hello, Tenya opens his mouth to speak but pauses.

“Y/n?” He asked, almost in a whisper in case he was wrong. A small look of confusion caused him to tilt his head to the side slightly. He hadn’t been able to see you for awhile with such busy schedules, but he knew your silhouette by heart.

You turn at the sound of your name, mid sliding off the slippers and fumbling with the gold silk of the belt. “Tenya?” You smile, asking as you turn to slide your shoes back on and quickly shuffle your way over to him. He felt his face burn red, frozen in place for a moment with his jaw slack. He stood as if needing to detach from the seat, smiling at your happy demeanor and your quickness to wrap your arms around him.

“It is you! I know those shoulders from anywhere!” You beamed, feeling his hovering hands slowly place themselves on your back to return the hug. He was very hesitant, simply because you were only in a robe. You pull away, hands resting on your hips and giving him a big smile. “Now what are you doin’ taking a figure drawing class, Mister businessman?”

He let out a sheepish chuckle, “I needed an art credit, W-What are u doing here?” He never had any classes with you at Angelwood, A few honors classes and gym in highschool but other than that, nada. Throughout the course of growing up, your interests drove you to different classes.

However, classes don't matter when your families are as close as yours and the Iida family. Shared Holidays, playdates, game nights.. It wasn’t like you were some stranger. You both always made time to hang out a few times during the year to catch up without the family just to give a real check on each other. It was his favorite, almost like a mini holiday to talk to you.

He loved spending time with you. You were smart, articulated and incredibly creative. You never took slack from anyone.. Even in middle school he can remember you being the one to stand up and say something when things weren’t right. You were headstrong and determined in anything that you did.. Art majors always get a lot of grief but you never let that deter you. And that was admirable in itself! ..And he had always thought you were so pretty.

He felt like a kid again, heart feeling as if it’d beat out of his chest at the mere sight of you. It had been around Halloween the last time he saw you, and here it was. Almost Valentine's day.. Still as pretty and bright as he remembered. Your next hangout wasn't for another month or so, so it was nice to see you sooner than that.

“I'm your model, silly!” You head over to the stool, continuing to speak. “The art department asked if I’d help in modeling and I said yes! People were too scared to sign up for the most part. I’m surprised this is the class you picked. Did you want to learn how to draw people?” You slide your slippers off once more, untying the cute bow on your hip that held your robe shut.

Suddenly the room was very hot and he couldn't breathe. Now his heart really WAS beating out of his chest. He quickly did a 180, shielding his eyes and removing his glasses for extra measure. “WHY– do yoU have.. nothing on underrrrneath?” He croaked, voice cracking as his tone raised slightly.

You tilt your head at such a question, the gears clicking a little later than they should have. “Figure drawing is um.. Nude drawing, Tenya. You didn't know that?” You slide the robe back on, giggling at the flustered man across from you. You could see his shoulders tense, shaking his head slowly.

Now how the fuck could he have missed that.

“I um.. No, I didn't. I thought that it was.. I don't know what I thought. My counselor picked it for me and I.. Most models we've used so far have.. had skin colored undergarments… On.” He let out a nervous laugh, keeping his glasses off. He turns around, cleaning them with the end of his shirt but refusing to look up at you. He needed to mentally prepare his brain to be professional in a situation like this. Not that he minded the glance, he just never thought this would be how..

You prop your feet onto the edge of the stool, interrupting his thought. You held your knees up to your chest so he couldn’t see anything but your bare legs. “Oh Ten, I’m sorry! I can ask someone else to-”

“No! I am perfectly.. capable. It's professional and I can be.. professional..” He put his glasses back on, hand refusing to be steady as he did so. He let out a shaky sigh, smiling at you and finally looking at you once more.

You let out a small laugh at the blush on his cheeks. He was so handsome, but to see him so flustered over little ol’ you? It made your week. “We can start slow, that might help.” you slide the robe down your shoulders, slowly putting your legs back down so he could see your robed torso once more. You stopped at the top of your breasts, letting your collarbone show. “Do you have any specific poses..?” You ask quietly, trying to hold back your amusement.

He sits down, red faced and completely flushed. A nude model.. jeez. From sleepovers to recess, studying together to graduating, and now almost graduating for the final time together. That's something you don’t get to have in every lifetime. But why do these thoughts keep coming back to him now?

There was no way he could still have romantic feelings for you. He’d never put your friendship at risk like that!

..right?

“I um.. yeah, small.” He cleared his throat, “Could you um.. Could you stand slightly off of the um.. Almost like getting up?” He fumbled over his words, staring at the empty paper as if he could burn the quick image in his brain onto the page to get the embarrassment over with. He sighed once more, trying to focus as he began sketching circles and lines as a starter sketch of the pose he wanted.

“When you need to draw a certain part I'll move it, Sound fair?” You ask, resting one foot onto the stool and one onto the ground. Your hand gripped the seat as your butt sat on the edge, similar to when people do that supposedly hot thing where they throw their head back and pull some weird rope to have water get poured on them.

It was second nature at this point for people to see you. Of course some of them were flustered and it was pretty awkward at first, but normally not to the point of stuttering and stammering. It wasn’t often that you saw Tenya fall apart, but this was way different. Especially considering you flashed him without warning. He was one of the most endearing people you had ever met, there was no way you would have done that without proper context.

He could only nod in response, not wanting to further make a fool of himself. Lightly tapping the pencil against the table, He looks up at you. “You can um.. re.. remove the top part, y/n..” It was hard to simply draw your arms and collarbone without including the robe, so you might as well rip the band-aid off and start with the top.

You nod, dropping it happily and letting the robe pull around your hips and between your legs. You close your eyes, facing up toward the skylight in an attempt to make him less nervous. “Sorry for flashing you at first, I would have explained but I assumed you had already known..?” You laugh quietly to yourself at your own mistake. Why would someone like him even take this class if he knew what it actually entailed?

And God, did he feel like a pervert staring at your chest like this. The boner poking his thigh almost immediately didn't help, making it even harder to concentrate. Way to keep composure. He pressed his lips together for a moment before speaking. “I had no idea, I’m sorry for my r..reaction.” He answered, stopping the pencil tapping to actually begin sketching more than just circles and lines. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he felt like he was close to passing out.

“I think it was a pretty valid one.” You send a reassuring smile his way, seeing him send you one right back. Trying to ease the mood, you look back up at the ceiling and close your eyes to avoid staring at the ugly overcast sky above you. “How was winter break? You get to go home and see your family? How are they?”

His smile grew wider at your question, scooting under the desk a bit more so that you hopefully wouldn’t notice his body reacting. “They’re great, Tensei is getting married soon,” He sounded excited at the thought alone, incredibly proud of his brother.

“And my mother has started a hobby making soap, if you can believe it. She sent me some to bring back one that smells like lavender and another that smells like oranges mixed with I believe she said papaya.? She made a coconut smelling one for you– I was going to give it to you the next time we saw each other,”

The sound of his sketching stopped and started as he spoke, giving your body small glances as he tried to study each part of your upper torso. The way your stomach creased, The way your shoulder was slightly lifted causing your collarbone to be more prominent, the curve of your breasts.. “How was your Holiday, y/n?”

“No way, Tensei is getting married?!” You accidentally stop posing, fully facing him in genuine shock. The robe was still covering your lower half, you had tied the belt to avoid accidentally flashing him again but here we are. You watch his face become even more red, eyes very obviously not meeting yours but still like a deer in headlights.

You quickly get back to posing how you were, “Sorry Ten, That's amazing!! I hope everything goes smoothly for him and his soon to be wife.. And tell your mommy I said thank you for thinking of me. I can't wait to try it!”

A smile stayed on your lips as you thought about the times you’ve spent in the Iida household. His mother always had the best candles and incense burning, you were positive the soap would be the same. “My family is up to the same old shit, you know them..” You let out a small groan, the holidays weren’t an absolute disaster, but after not being home so long makes you remember why you aren’t going to school anywhere near home.

“I did get some cool stuff for Christmas though! I got some new clothes and they got me a few art kits. You know, where it teaches you how to crochet? I also have a new diamond painting kit, I haven't opened either yet because it's just been so busy.” You replied, tapping your fingers on the side of the stool where your hand sat.

You look up once more, this time because the skylight was beginning to be covered in snow. You watched as it fell, thinking back to old times when you and Tenya would spend the last three major holidays with each other. You’d always make sure to trick or treat together, your families have been sharing Thanksgiving for as long as you can remember, and spending the night in your basement on Christmas eve to wait for Santa until you were both too old. Then instead of waiting for Santa, you’d all eat at least one meal together on Christmas day. Sometimes homemade breakfast, other times a small trip to IHOP or Waffle House.

“God damn it.. It’s snowing again..” You let out a small laugh, looking over at him over your shoulder, fingers still tapping away at the base of the stool. “Hey Ten, Do you remember when we used to have those big snowball fights? The one near Red Fern?”

“Of course I do! You refused to wear any kind of gloves and my mother would make you at least put socks on your hands so you didn’t get frostbite!” The two of you shared a small laugh at the memories of being young and dumb.

“Gloves always made my hands too itchy! They still do– But I kicked your ass in snowball fights with gloves or not.” You retort, a smirk appearing on your face. “Ice queen y/n of everything.” You could remember the insane snowball fights the neighborhood kids would have every. time. It snowed. If there was enough to make a few snowballs, there was enough to start a war. Tenya was always on your team, but it never stopped you from throwing a few his way. The ‘winner’ was King or Queen of the hill and first to sled down, which often enough was you.

“Remember when you almost broke my glasses throwing one right at my face?” He snickered, watching your smirk turn into a small pouty frown. He knew you didn’t mean to, that same day you helped your mom make cookies for him and his family as an apology, even though he wasn’t upset to begin with. But you knew it could have broken his glasses and you would be devastated if you were the reason for it. You were a real sweetheart, even if you had a weird way of showing sometimes.

“Hey! You know that wasn’t on purpose, I felt really bad after! I even let you get me back!” Which was true, but he never aimed for your face. Always a spot on your fluffy coat, never your legs because you hated your pants being wet… and a face shot just felt wrong to him.

“Yeah, Yeah. I remember that part too,” He smiled to himself. “Those were really good times.. I remember Tensei always bringing us hot chocolate and we’d sit on your porch and draw things in the snow..”

“Oh! And when we’d come back all wet and mom already had spare clothes in her hands because she didn’t want it on the carpet. We’d put on too big clothes just to sit and watch Christmas movies..” You missed those times. But they never really had to stop, you two could have a huge snowball fight after this if you wanted to and the snow stuck. Was he too grown for that? Would it even sound fun to him?

“Do you still watch A Year Without Santa Clause every year?” He asks, breaking your train of thought. You nodded quickly at his question, grinning like a maniac. “Of course I do! And I watch Charlie Brown’s Christmas, Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer.. And sometimes Spongebob's Christmas Special. Do you still watch old Christmas cartoons?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t wanna ruin tradition.” He answered, pressing his lips together slightly as he stared down at the paper. You can tell he freezes a bit, the sound of his scribbling coming to a stop. He set the pencil down, rubbing the sweat of his hands onto his thighs.

“You can um.. remOove-..” He quickly cleared his throat, “The rest.” He let out a disappointed sigh at his inability to keep composure. This wouldn't be half the problem it was if it was someone else modeling. But this is you we're talking about.

“You sure? If you need a minute we can take a break, honey.” You gave him a sympathetic look, still smiling but this time more.. warm. The kind of smile someone gives to another when they genuinely care for them. Or love them for that matter. He adored it, it was the same smile you'd give him when saying he needs to take a break, the same smile you give him when the two of you out to get coffee and catch up. The same smile he's fallen for many, many times.

But to tell you the truth? It’s driving him crazy. All of this. Was driving him crazy. No matter how hard he tried to be professional, he could stop his wandering mind. You were a goddess. What else was there to do besides take a break and hopefully release some steam in the bathroom or something. Completely inappropriate, but the pain from being hard for so long was starting to cloud the best judgment.

He looks down at the sketch so far, then back to you as he rubbed his hand upward against his face. It pushed his glasses up, causing them to be crooked when going back down. “I um.. I think I do.. need a minute.” His voice died out as he watched you slide the robe back on, words failing him because couldn’t think completely straight.

© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot and helps me out. Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!

thank you @thecutestgrotto for the banners and thank you @fizzintine for coloring the top pic!

have a good day/night/whatever!

2K notes · View notes

poisonf0rest · 8 days ago

Text

Overc*mming Writer's Block 3

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐕

♱⋅── zayne x reader

♱⋅── about: Between being in the midst of your medical residency and being an up-and-coming author, it’s safe to say your personal life has been placed on stand-still. That is, until your editor decided that your next novel needed explicit smut scenes. That is, until your mentor and boss ends up striking a deal for you to help with “inspiration” for said novel. That is, until you fuck Zayne four times and your life changes forever. Partially inspired by manga of the same name by Nae Awaji

♱⋅── word count: 10.8k holy

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, bondage, oral, pussydrunk zayne, PRAISE kink, breeding kink, actual sex this time, no more blue balling, nightly rendezvous card

art credit to @/chimmyming on X

“So, you and Dr. Zayne?”

You damn near choke on your salad. Coughing, you place your fork down before turning to glare at Anvi. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She smiles, as if that was confirmation enough. “I’ve heard a thing or two from hospital gossips—“

“Vi, you are the hospital gossip.”

“—that the cold, yet steaming hot doctor was finally seen accepting the company of someone else. Not to mention at the gala last weekend he was by your side all night long. Or so I was told.”

Anvi leans in, smiling wide enough to burst her pretty face as you scowl down at your lunch, unable to meet her eyes. Fighting to keep your voice even, you nudge her off, stabbing a carrot. “You’re ridiculous. I’m not involved with Dr. Zayne, he’s too—“ Attentive? Intelligent? God don’t think of him eating you out right now. “He’s not my type.”

You feel your ears burn, but by the grace of some god Anvi doesn’t seem to notice. Pouting she sighs and sinks back into the cafeteria booth. “Aww man, I was really rooting for you, too.”

“Rooting for a nonexistent relationship?”

Anvi’s about to say something, big doe eyes almost frantically darting between yours before she huffs and shakes her head, something akin to pity tightening her smile.

You raise a brow but she only shrugs, going back to picking at her lunch. “Just as well, a relationship between a resident and her boss would be quite the juicy scandal. Something straight out of a romcom, no?”

Laughter rips from your chest, the sheer irony of both her words and your reality too much to bear. Anvi’s windshield wiper giggles join your own, and soon the two of you are wheezing under your breath as you get side-eyed by the other surgeons trying to enjoy their lunch.

Really, whoever your author was had a fucked up sense of humor.

But the moment is ruined by the buzz of your pager, and you barely say bye to Anvi before you’re rushed to the operating bay.

As of today, you have two days to finish your manuscript.

Today's shift was exhausting, but you’ve learned early into your career that writing is a discipline, and as fickle of a muse as inspiration is, a writer cannot simply wait for her to grace you with her presence. Whether you feel like it or not, this book has to get done.

Besides, what better mindset was there to churn out unhinged shenanigans than when you’re delirious and half-asleep, tucked away in the on-call room?

Okay, so perhaps not the best place to be, but logically if your shift finished only minutes ago and you had to page in at five AM yet again, you’re better off just staying here rather than driving back to your apartment and all the way back to the hospital again.

Opening your personal laptop, you tab onto your novel's draft, the flashing cursor taunting you as your editor’s comments blur into an overwhelming mess of red. While you’ve worked your way through just about half of her six-thousand comments, that still leaves far too many, especially on your novel’s villain slash love interest as the trope always goes.

You’re halfway through cutting cringey dialogue on a specific scene, but your thoughts keep drifting. Your conversation with Anvi keeps playing in your mind— romcom, dating, scandal, boss. You suppress the heat rising in your chest, trying to ignore the reality you really don't want to face.

Zayne is… too much. Too intelligent, too caring, too perfect at catching you off guard.

Shaking your head, you try re-focusing, but between sleep deprivation and the realization that you haven’t actually done anything physical with Zayne for nearly a week, you get far too distracted.

It’s not that you haven’t seen him since the gala. Far from it, really. Nearly every night if your shifts happen to end around the same time, he offers to drive you home. And when your shifts don’t align, you always make the effort to cook something together, breakfast or dinner, at ungodly hours of the morning or evening. And if neither of those happened, you would watch a movie, at least for a few minutes till one or both of you fell asleep on your ratty couch.

God, you’re a fool. You can’t help but want him by your side even now, loving the way he reacts to your inappropriate comments, loving the way he scoffs at your jokes, loving the way he notices even the most minute things about you. And yet there’s a distance you can’t explain, a growing space you’re both too afraid to fill.

You close your laptop with a soft sigh, rubbing your eyes as you lay back on the small cot, trying to block out the nagging ache in your chest.

Your phone buzzes from under the cot, and you glance at it absently. You nearly jump at Zayne’s icon flashing on your screen.

grumpy snowman: Under recent developments I’d like to inform you of two things. One, you are banned from the hospital all of tomorrow under strict orders by me. Two, I currently have Mr. Whiskers held hostage, and should you fail to return home by 02:59 I will be forced to perform pulmonary bypass puncture and stop his heart.

Dumbfounded, you stare at Zayne’s text, blinking in confusion. Did your sleep deprivation just hallucinate a text? Violently shaking your head, you look back at your phone with slightly spinning vision just to confirm that no, this was very much real and Zayne has very much lost it.

ms. author: Is this a threat?

Another text follows immediately after.

grumpy snowman: Consider it your last chance. Come back and save him, or else... this may as well be his final night.

An image sends then, your favorite calico cat plushy all tied up with what appears to be Zayne’s tie, dangling the poor thing as though being held hostage. Your gaze lingers for longer than it should on how Zayne’s hands look in the dim lighting of the photo, so busy trailing up the veins on his lithe fingers that you nearly miss his next text.

grumpy snowman: I’ve already called an Uber. It’s waiting outside.

You snort into the empty room, rolling to sit up straight.He’s the last person you’d expect to pull this sort of thing. It’s nothing short of ridiculous, but truly you don’t know the last time you’ve smiled this wide, and it’s precisely the distraction you need right now, especially if he’s already gone through the trouble of organizing it all himself. But like you’d go down without a fight.

ms. author: You’re being ridiculous, you’d never hurt Mr. Whiskers you devil. You don’t have the guts.

His reply is swift, almost immediate.

grumpy snowman: Do I now? Care to test that theory?

You can practically hear the smugness in his text, the playful challenge laced with a quiet but unmistakable sincerity. Your heart gives an unexpected flutter, the weight in your chest easing, if only slightly. Quite a villain, indeed.

You know what Zayne’s doing. He’s not just playing around; he’s pulling you out of your head, out of the self-imposed spiral you’ve yet again been retreating into. You’ve spent the better half of the week in it.

You bite your lip, considering your options. On one hand, you could brush him off—continue working, ignore the text, but something inside of you craves this attention. Craves his uncharacteristic ridiculousness. Craves the break from your mind that he’s offering.

ms. author: If you harm a single fur on my son’s head I’ll put an end to your tyranny myself.

Zayne doesn’t waste a second, sending only a single warning: Hurry.

You stand, grabbing your jacket and keys, and only then do you second guess this. The easy, safe choice would be to stay buried in your work, it would be to politely decline and place must-needed distance and formality back.

But for the first time in a while there’s something you want more than work, and as you slip out of the on-call room, the image of Mr. Whiskers hanging helplessly from Zayne’s tie is enough to pull you out of the hospital.

You push your front door open, the silence of your apartment making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The lights are off— odd, considering you could have sworn you left a lamp on. You always do, a force of habit since you live in a slightly less safe area of Linkon. Oh, the things you do for cheaper rent.

Pausing, your eyes scan the deceptively empty hallway and kitchen. Everything feels still, almost eerie, and your pulse quickens as you take your shoes off, right beside Zayne’s much larger dress shoes, to venture further into your apartment.

The faintest creak of floorboards makes you freeze. Your heart stutters slightly, the scare making you grip your chest as you whirl around, cursing out your cowardice. You’ve seen worse things wheeled into the ER. Please, get a grip.

You shake off the nerves just as your phone buzzes in your pocket, breaking the silence once more.

grumpy snowman: You’re cutting it close. Five minutes before Mr. Whiskers meets an untimely demise.

You can't help the amused snort that escapes you, the tension in your body breaking.

ms. author: You really went this far? What now, villain?

The response is almost immediate.

grumpy snowman: It’s a matter of life or death. I hope you're prepared.

Another photo attachment follows—your favorite Christmas blanket thrown over the couch cushions in disarray, the faintest corner of Mr. Whiskers peeking out beneath it. The living room. You shake your head, muttering under your breath about the audacity of smug geniuses with far too much time on their hands.

You make your way to the living room in the dark, you flick on a lamp as you approach the couch. Lifting the blanket to find… nothing but a sticky note.

It reads, in painfully pretty cursive: Nice try, but you’ll have to be quicker.

Another buzz.

grumpy snowman: You fell for that as well? I expected better. Already 02:56, time’s running out.

You scoff, unable to stop yourself from laughing despite the absurdity.

ms. author: Do you even have anything better to do?

grumpy snowman: Not lately. Someone’s been too busy to properly entertain me.

You read it once, twice, and still something in your chest squeezes painfully at that.

Folding up the note, you stare at the text a moment longer before you hear the echoing click of a door. It’s coming from upstairs.

Another buzz.

grumpy snowman: While you’re lost in thought again, care to explain why you’ve been running yourself into the ground?

You pause, stalling as you make your way to your stairs.

ms. author: I am writing.

grumpy snowman: Poorly, if you’re overworking. Can’t imagine the tension’s working out if it’s still stuck in your head.

ms. author: Gasp. Excuse you—

Another buzz interrupts, just as you make it to your bedroom door, old wood announcing your arrival with a groan. The culprit has to be just behind it.

grumpy snowman: 3 minutes remaining. Mr. Whiskers won’t be around much longer.

You can practically feel Zayne’s grin through the phone, and for a brief moment, you’re glad he’s here, even if it’s all in jest. He’s right although you might never admit it; this whole absurd situation—your plushie, the stupid texts, the teasing—has done what no amount of coffee or sleepless daydreaming could.

ms. author: If you harm a single fur on my son’s head, I swear I’ll come for you.

Your hand latches onto your bedroom handle, biting your lip as you pause to type one last jab.

ms. author: I don’t know why I’m indulging you.

grumpy snowman: Because you love it when I win.

A laugh bursts from your lips before you can stop it. Shaking your head, you push the door open.

Your bedroom is dim, the curtains drawn, but moonlight spills through the dusky purple veils, illuminating the bed.

Perched atop lies Mr. Whiskers, your darling calico plushie sitting in the center, fully unharmed even though his crystalline eyes speak of unimaginable horrors at the hands of his captor.

Before you can grab him, movement from the corner of the room nearly startles you into jumping halfway across the room. Zayne, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watches you with a slight upturned grin that makes your stomach twist.

“You’re a horrible villain.” You huff, all but lunging on your bed to hug Mr. Whiskers to your chest like a shield.

His lips twitch into a smile, the bastard, and you can't help but notice how handsome he looks with his hair a little mussed and his glasses slipping down his nose. He doesn’t have his coat or suit jacket on, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, a sight you haven’t grown tired of.

God, you really have a thing for forearms. Or maybe it’s just a thing for Zayne.

“Since we’re critiquing each other, you’re not much of a hero. Hiding behind a plushie doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

“Confidence isn’t my priority right now.” You clutch Mr. Whiskers tighter, narrowing your eyes. He’s not here to talk about morals and heroism, though. “I’ve been fine. Nothing more than proofreading left… that and a few problem-children scenes.”

“Then consider this me fulfilling my half of the contract,” Zayne says, effortlessly seeing past your usual bullshit. “For someone who claims they’re adequately inspired, you’ve been more distant than usual.”

“I don’t need a lecture.”

“No lecture.” He steps closer, “I just missed you.”

Again, Zayne's words catch you off guard, so blunt they make your chest ache. No empty flattery, no pretty words, simply stated as though they were facts.

He takes another step forward, and you have to lean back on your elbows— nearly lying back on the bed— to maintain eye contact as he looms above you.

And then, Zayne drops to his knees before you.

It’s a far more graceful movement than it has any right to be, all six foot something of him kneeling against the foot of your bed as you instinctively make room for him there. Slowly, his hands come up to your thighs, the two of you slotting together with ease.

“Admit it,” Zayne whispers, the sweet, minty heat of his breath caressing your lips as you shiver, leaning closer despite yourself. “This helped.” A wry smile, “and that I make a convincing villain.”

“What’s this, is the doctor Zayne fishing for compliments?”

“I don’t need compliments. I just want you to stop pretending in front of me– no more performances.”

Heat rises to your face, and your stomach twists. He's too close, he's always too close, but god, why has this domesticity become so natural around him?

Despite yourself, you look down at his hands again, taking in how easily his scarred palms cup your thighs, the pale contrast of his skin against yours. Lithe, long fingers, and the memory of how well they’ve treated you. You swear he must feel your heart pound where his thumbs brush circles against your inner thighs, your body nothing but responsive for him.

But if he does, he spares you the embarrassment. Zayne only continues to look up into your face, and just as you begin thinking of equally inappropriate jokes or fun facts to break the silence, Zayne moves closer, his knee pressing between your thighs as the mattress dips to accommodate his weight.

“Perhaps there is a performance you could help me with, since you’re clearly the expert here.”

You blink, one step behind Zayne’s master plan yet again. “What- help you?”

“Yes. See, I’ve been thinking about my next move as a villain, and…” Before you can even follow Zayne’s words, Mr. Whiskers is yanked from your grasp once more. One hand raises him into the air and the other lunges for your outstretched arms, pinning them to the bed as it creaks and groans under the sudden assault. “I think I’ll take Mr. Whiskers as my captive once again.”

A soft gasp leaves your lips as Zayne shifts above you, his knee grinding up just enough to have you aching between your legs. Everything spins, torn between the desire to rescue Mr. Whiskers and the overwhelming urge to give in, to pull Zayne closer, to finally, finally fuck him yourself.

But before you can decide, the hand pinning your wrists tightens, his thumb rubbing circles as he effortlessly restrains you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you curse, though the tremor in your voice betrays your excitement.

“Ridiculous?” Zayne repeats, arching a brow. “Perhaps you should start taking this seriously, my dear protagonist.” He drops his voice into something rich, dark, and deliciously villainous. The hand that pins you down holds firm, the other dangles your plushie overhead with mocking menace.

You scoff, though it comes out shakier than intended. “I could write circles around your attempts at being evil.”

“Could you?” Unbuttoning his shirt, Zayne gets only halfway before abandoning it entirely, letting the buttons skew across his chest. He watches with a growing smile as your eyes flutter downward against your better judgment. “Then why don’t you show me.”

Zayne nods to your phone, eyes narrowed from behind his glasses. “Open the doc, show me the scene. Any attempts to rescue the captive will be met with appropriate punishment.”

The way Zayne looks down at you, waiting—daring— to see if you would make him stop, sends a sinful flutter through your core, ricocheting up your spine. No longer trusting your voice, you nod and feel the pressure loosen ever so slightly on your wrists.

You only have time to pull your phone out from your scrub’s back pocket before Zayne captures your wrists again, the tie once used on Mr. Whiskers now knotted efficiently right above your wrists. It should be frightening, how easy it is for him to manhandle you, but you feel nothing but painful arousal at that fact.

You’re still growling out faux protests when Zayne plucks the phone from your hands, his knee keeping your hips firmly pinned against the mattress.

“Ah,” Zayne murmurs, scrolling casually through your doc. “A scene involving betrayal, a chase, and…” He raises a brow. “Passionate accusations of treachery.”

You thrash beneath him, trying to buck off his weight as your face burns in embarrassment. “Enough! You’re supposed to help, not—”

“Not what?” He glances at you briefly, lips pursed in a halfhearted attempt to mask his amusement. “Not put your villain to the test? I’ll admit I might have ulterior motives, but you’ll have to try harder than that.”

Zayne then waves the plushie just out of reach before dangling him on the windowsill for dramatic emphasis.

“I swear to god, if you harm Mr. Whiskers!”

He cuts you off with a chuckle. “Hush. You’ll want to hear this.”

Zayne clears his throat, the smirk on his lips unmistakable as he picks up where you left off in editing your manuscript. His voice drops into a faux-sinister drawl as he begins to narrate. “‘You can hate me all you want,’ the villain growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. ‘But that fire in your eyes only makes me want to break you more.’”

It's horrible, the way he reads the words, the tone and cadence he gives the prose, and worst of all, the way his unblinking gaze remains completely, utterly, fixed on you as he speaks.

“Zayne, please, don’t- this is embarrassing,” you beg to appeal to reason, still writhing against his tie, when you realize his grip against your hips has loosened.

Zayne’s attention is momentarily diverted as he scrolls through the doc, looking for another section to read, and you kick your knee up with a shout, jabbing it into his side as the two of you tumble across the bed.

Lunging, you manage to grab Mr. Whiskers for all of two seconds before Zayne hauls you up by your bound wrists, forcing you arms above your head as you are pulled back against him. He’s rough, forcing your spine to arch against his chest as you hiss on impact, head thrown back against Zayne’s shoulder. “Ah-ah. What did I say about attempts to rescue the captive?”

His tone is all mockery, grip iron against your waist even though you can tell he’s still holding himself back. Feeling each hot, ragged breath against the back of your neck, the smell of ambroxan and sandalwood surrounding you. You breathe in deeper, shaking despite yourself.

“Let go of me!”

‘’Close. I believe the actual line was ‘unhand me.’”

Zayne hauls you further up the mattress, hooking your bound wrists onto the post of your bedframe as this new position forces you to face the wall, all while his free hand adjusts his glasses, scanning the next few lines. “‘I’d rather die than let you win!’ she spat, her chest heaving with defiance—” He glances at you with deadpan incredulity. “Why is everyone always heaving in these scenes? Do they all have asthma?”

“You’re the worst,” you hiss, breathless from the struggle. See? Heaving, no asthma involved, just foreplay.

“And yet…” Zayne’s voice comes closer, and you feel his bare chest once again at your back, “you’re the one who wrote it. I’m simply giving you an immersive experience.”

“Can’t be fully immersive if I have yet to believe you, villain.” Scoffing, you turn around, craning your neck just to glare him in the eyes. “You don’t have what it takes.”

Zayne chuckles, then silence. Forcing your head towards the wall again, you feel him lean down, still out of sight despite the heat radiating off his body, his nose brushing down your bare throat as he spits out the next line.

“Brat.”

You hate how immediately your body responds to that. How you shiver and lean back despite the restraints, how a part of you wants to fight, to keep the act going, because god, the idea of letting Zayne do anything he wants to you is enough to make your head spin.

Zayne’s teeth press against your neck, just below your ear, and you whine, the sound so small and deprived that you instantly bite your tongue and curse yourself for reacting like this.

So then he does it again.

A pitched gasp.

A broken moan.

Each noise he elicits from you is another cruel victory, and when you grind your ass back against Zayne’s increasingly obvious erection, he all but tears your scrubs down your thighs, the cotton of your panties not standing a chance against his desperation.

In truth, Zayne had never been harder in his life. Did he intentionally pick the most on-the-nose dialogue just to watch you squirm? Perhaps. But he’d be lying if he said seeing you battle against primal desire beneath him, feeling your half-hearted attempts to fight him, accidentally grinding your ass against him with every squirm didn’t make him want to push you even further.

Every breath came out heavy, chest heaving as he continued his performative reading, large palms alternating between slapping and gently squeezing your ass.

“You’re greedy,” a kiss against your shoulder, shucking your scrubs down your knees. “Impatient,” another kiss, this time down your spine, throwing your pants across the bedroom. “And utterly disobedient.”

You’re already stripped bare from the chest down.

He can't deny the sight of you in such a compromising position is a sight to behold, and the urge to keep reading just to see how far he can push you is intoxicating. Panting, he pauses only to readjust his glasses, foggy and slipping down his nose.

You, however, are too impatient.

"Zayne, please, you got your point across. You win. Just— ah, just fuck me already."

It's the first time in nearly a week that Zayne gets to hear you ask for him, beg for him, and it's all the reminder he needs for his body to fail him, shuttering against you with a moan of his own. How did he survive so long without this? Without you?

Your voice rings against his skull, and it’s all he ever wants to hear. Moan his name, beg for him, scream it, call it out, anything. He needs you, irreversibly.

And not just for this.

So instead, Zayne looks back at your doc one last time, reading, “To think this is the city’s great hero. How I’ll enjoy breaking you.”

With a click, your phone turns off, tossed carelessly to the floor with a heavy thud that would have sent you into a panic had Zayne not chosen that exact moment to bite into the soft flesh behind your neck, thumb instantly finding your clit.

The sensation alone is enough to make you cry, arching further up against the bindings. His hand snakes back around your hip, grounding, just barely brushing against the heat of your cunt, and the way he breathes out a low, half-delirious chuckle at the sound of you panting his name has your core fluttering for more.

"Please, Zayne, please," you whine, and the second the pleas leave your mouth, his thumb presses delicious circles into your neglected bundle of nerves. You whine, loud and needy, the second his fingers sink inside, held up only by Zayne’s arm wrapped around your waist and the tie pinning you against the bed frame.

“Already begging? I wonder how much more obedient you’ll be after I fuck it all out of you.” And god, Zayne wanted to mock such an obscenely written line just to watch you blush all over, because what sort of villain would actually say such a thing?

But when he sees you whimper at his words, when you arch so willingly into his punishment, when he feels your heartbeat quicken under his fingertips, he suddenly can’t say he faults any of these romance writers, for he now knows he’d do far worse than any of their cardboard villains.

Zayne doesn’t even need to read the next line in the doc to know exactly what he’d do next.

All but falling to the mattress, Zayne pulls your hips up, up until you’re atop his face, sinking his tongue between your folds before dragging all the way up to your clit, sucking with enough tension to make you scream.

Your hands burn from where they chafe and fight against the tie, bucking violently against Zayne’s face, the cold kiss of his glasses frames making you jolt as he pulls your hips toward him like it’s the last thing keeping him sane.

“No,” Zayne groans between breaths, unable to part with you as he messily kisses your inner thigh before coaxing two fingers inside you with a thrust. “Don’t run. Do not run from me.”

Every scissor of his fingers forces obscene sounds from your cunt, silenced only by Zayne’s mouth and his own muffled praises. Granted, it didn’t matter how loud he was being, not with all of your delirious moans, completely unsuppressed as Zayne’s calculated ministrations took you apart thrust by thrust.

At least you can remember being thankful that your apartment walls were sound-proofed. Breath ragged, mind spinning, only mindlessly fighting back as you babble, “Wait, you’re so- ah- fuck. Zayne!”

Quite canonically to your villain, Zayne’s hips buck into empty air in time to every thrust of his fingers, imagining it was his cock fucking deep into you instead. It’s a line he’s fantasized about crossing time and time again.

But that’s where it stops. Fantasy. Because just the thought of it has Zayne groaning into your cunt, the taste and feel of you alone driving him insane, a point of obsession where he cannot allow himself to go any further. He can’t. He can’t, he really shouldn’t.

He’d never recover, he’d never stop wanting— needing you. He’s addicted enough as is.

Zayne’s shirt had almost fully unbuttoned but his trousers remained, bulging as his cock wept from its prison against his thigh, fabric dark and painfully restraining. The mere friction was too little and overstimulating all at once. Even so, he can’t help but chase the phantom feeling, grinding against nothing as you fall apart above him.

When your shaking thighs finally begin to lock around his jaw, he welcomes the cage, burrowing his face deeper as the strong arch of his nose presses against your throbbing clit. Zayne’s slick fingers are delegated to merely keeping your hips still, his tongue fucking you through your orgasm as his hips follow your same rhythm.

One touch, one touch is all he needs to cum with you, but Zayne refuses to do anything but work you through your high. He swallows the taste of you, open-mouthed and needy, a moan rumbling deep in his chest as you feel it hum through you.

Gasping, you look down, and immediately you feel your core flutter— the sight enough to have you wishing he was back in between your thighs already.

Zayne’s entire body shakes beneath you, dark hair mused and hands digging into your hips in ways you know will leave half-moon marks. But what has you trembling is the sight of his hazel eyes eclipsed to near black, completely blown out and teary as they try and fail to focus on anything other than your pussy still fluttering above him. Something you can barely see at all, not with the amount of cum that squirted across his glasses, foggy and skewed across his nose as it too glistens with your release.

It’s an obscene picture you only get for a moment before Zayne chucks his glasses off just to place a closer, deeper set of kisses on your cunt. Practically chasing every buck of your hips, he happily lets you ride his face until your room begins to blur yet again, weightless and utterly fucked.

You’re panting, vision still coming back in waves as you register Zayne untying your hands, all the while kissing the light bruises that remain.

And yet you can hardly think of anything other than the fact that he still hasn’t properly fucked you.

“Zayne,” you call, and god, something in your chest squeezes at just how fast he whips his head around, already ducking to meet your eyes as he scans down your face. There’s worry etched into his features, his eyes scanning yours like he’s already bracing for whatever you’ll say next.

“I’m sorry, I knew I should have taken better precautions. If your hands hurt I can get a salve from—”

“Fuck me.”

Silence.

Zayne blinks, his mouth parting and eyes squinting as though he misheard– or somehow misread– you.

“What?” he manages, his voice barely above a whisper.

You sit up on your knees, pulling off your shirt one swift movement so you’re completely naked, then lean forward until your noses nearly touch, his eyes dropping to your breasts. The boldness only shakes him further. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you run away this time. I want—” Reaching your hand out, your fingers trail down Zayne’s bare chest, hardly even pushing for him to fall backward. And for you to follow on top. “I want to do this for you. I want you.”

Zayne’s breath is deceptively steady, and if you couldn't feel the ragged rhythm of his chest, rising and falling as it burns against your palm, you wouldn’t have believed he was affected at all.

“You don’t-wait- have to—” he starts, but his voice breaks when your fingers trace the curve of his ribs, lips following suit as you place gentle kisses down his sternum, his slender abs, dangerously close to the v-line dipping into his pants that you can’t help but lick, smiling in delight as his words finally fail him.

“Neither did you. You’re rather stubborn, doctor,” you insist, soft but unwavering. Resting your head against his thigh, you coax his jaw down to look at you, the palm still resting against his chest finding the erratic thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch. “Let me take care of you for once. Don’t you know good patients listen?”

Zayne huffs a quiet laugh, the sound strained as he looks down at you, right side of his lips curving into a faint smirk despite the way his body seems to ignite at your touch. “Bringing in our professional titles seems a little underhanded, don’t you think?”

“Ah, but it got your attention, didn’t it?” You don’t let him stall anyone— already he’s managed to keep this from you for weeks, really it’s a shame you haven’t stripped him earlier— letting your tongue trace the dip of his hip once more, humming as his muscles tense under the sudden attention.

Greedy, your lips continue to worship every sharp edge and curve of Zayne’s abdomen, hands busy with his buckle until you manage to find a particularly sensitive spot just above his right hip bone.

All his composure, all his calculated confidence, you want to break it apart until there’s nothing left but Zayne. Just Zayne.

Zayne inhales sharply, eyes screwing shut as his mouth falls open in a picture of perfect debauchery you want etched into your mind forever. One hand fists into the sheets beside him, the other flying to your hair as your kisses turn to a dizzying mix of licks and nips. Hard enough to mark, you bite into skin, tongue flicking between your teeth, echoing across the room alongside the wet sounds of your mouth at work.

“Ah, fuck.”

Cursing already? Perhaps this would be easier than you thought, but where’s the fun in that?

You pull back, watching Zayne blink in confusion as his hips twitch up toward your mouth, and you have to force back a laugh as he stares, bewildered, like he can hardly believe the sight in front of him.

His voice comes out huskier than before, low and coated with desire. "Why did you stop?"

You pull back just enough to look up at him, cheek resting on his thigh as you play with his zipper, never looking away from Zayne’s eyes even as they flutter closed in frustration, desperate for more. Tension practically radiates off of him, but you only smile, taking your time as you trail your fingers away from his zipper and bulge, teasing the sensitive edges of his hip and the skin peaking just over the edge of his trousers.

“Don’t worry, doctor,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “I’ll be sure to complete your procedure just as thoroughly as you did on me.”

Oh, and Zayne must realize how utterly fucked he is, for you won’t be letting him go not until you’ve adequately paid him back for all the times he’s deliberately edged you to the point of tears, all the times he’s reprimanded your attitude, all the sweet punishments you’ve ensured that you’re going to give back to him tenfold.

But before he can try and sweet-talk his way into mercy, your teeth catch on his zipper, dragging it down as your free hand unlaces his belt, tossing it across the room by the time his bulge presses out from between the metal teeth all on its own.

Achingly hard already, and you haven't even begun.

The fact that you know he’s this hard just from eating you out certainly doesn’t help.

His boxers are soaking, the obvious bulge only emphasized by the way the damp cotton seems to stick to him, and god does the size of him make your core flutter.

Maybe next time you’ll get him to come just by eating you out.

Next time, though.

Without warning, your fingers wrap around his cock, freeing it from the confines of his boxers. A hiss grits out through Zayne’s teeth as his jaw clicks and a vein thrums against his neck from the pressure.

You're so used to having Zayne above you, between your legs, teasing you senseless as his fingers or tongue bring you to the edge over and over again. And now, here he is. Spread out, and all yours to ravage.

The realization alone has you throbbing, prior orgasm all but forgotten as you feel the want burn between your thighs again.

If only he could see how wet you were already.

How could he not, with the way your hips were rocking against his still-clothed thigh, searching for the friction he wouldn’t give?

And yet, despite your impatience, your eyes never leave Zayne, watching the way his muscles flex as he resists the urge to move, ever obedient for you.

"Good boy," you purr, meaning only to tease him further, but instead of the faux glare or inscrutable comment you were expecting, Zayne tenses beneath you, his cock jumping against your palm. Your eyebrows raise, a breathless giggle betraying your intentions as you lean in closer.

"Oh? Do you like that, baby? Being told just how perfect you are for me?”

You're not sure what's more arousing, the fact that Zayne is practically coming undone at your words, or the fact that he hasn't denied a thing.

God, his body feels hot. The mere praise has a dusky blush racing down his gorgeously sculpted chest all the way to the tips of his ears, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he looks down between the two of you, to where you’re still teasing the weeping slit of his dick. He moans before he could even stop himself. Fuck.

Shivering, Zayne reaches out to grasp your wrist, and for a moment you think he's going to put a stop to your little power trip. But his hand only comes up to guide yours, urging you to pump his cock a bit faster, stopping to put more pressure against the base, and you can't help but smirk knowing he must be truly desperate if he's already rushing you to jerk him off properly.

"My, my, doctor. I suppose I’m not the only one who’s been holding back.” You click your tongue, a teasing edge to your voice. "Were you really so desperate to feel me around your cock, hmm?"

Hazel eyes narrow at the pure filth behind your words, but you see the furrow between his brows, the way Zayne’s throat bobs as he throws his head back with a choked groan. If he looks so damn pretty now, you wonder what kind of faces he’ll make when he cums.

“You truly are horrible,” He groans, hesitating, hands clenching into the sheets before they fly up to your waist, gently bucking his hips into your awaiting palm. “Mhm- please.”

You hum, lazily sinking to your stomach so your bare chest presses against his still-clothed thighs. With each stroke you can feel his muscles twitch beneath you, see the way his jaw clenches and unclenches, the way his hand guides yours, tightening and loosening, urging you to go faster, harder.

Your mouth waters, and the urge to taste him is far too tempting to resist.

Plus, you’ve had enough with denying yourself, and more than enough of Zayne denying himself as well.

So right as Zayne’s head rolls back against the pillows you rock forward, licking a slow stripe up his dick, up between the gap of your fingers where they grip his base.

Zayne chokes on his breath, hand immediately tangling in your hair, rough enough that it has you wrenched away with a breathless whine. He groans, words shaking out in breathless huffs, “You, hah- this isn’t, fuck—”

"Ah, ah, pretty boy, let me take care of you, yeah?" You fight to come back to him, smiling as Zayne’s grip immediately loosened, and you kiss his tip in thanks.

Rubbing teasing circles into his thighs, your thumbs then move up, tracing his v-line, addicted to the way his muscles tense under your nails and to the red lines that follow. It makes you want to mark him up more. So you do, with your nails again, then with your teeth and tongue.

“Look at how- shit- how excited you are for me. So pretty.” You lean forward, pressing wet, messy kisses just below his navel and all around his already sticky thighs, heady and coated in pre-cum.

Another bite, and you squeeze his balls with just enough pressure as you watch his eyes roll back in time. "I'm going to make this so, so good for you, baby.”

Zayne all but sobs at that.

Every carefully restrained thought breaks completely at the praise, a raspy moan grinding through his teeth before his jaw falls open with every ragged huff of breath.

“Mhm that’s it, you’re doing so well,” you say, smiling at the way his cock twitches, violently leaking, pre-cum pooling into your palm and dripping down your wrist. “So pretty, so perfect just for me.”

With one last kiss on Zayne’s tip, your hands steadies itself against his abdomen before you kitten-lick around the tip of his cock, and then greedily shove as much of his throbbing erection as you can down your throat.

Zayne tenses, gasping, and the sound sends a thrill down your spine. You press further, tongue flattening along the underside of his shaft, and fuck he’s so thick you nearly choke, forgetting to breathe in through your nose as the lack of oxygen gets to you embarrassingly fast.

If only you had some more time to properly adjust, you'd force him to the hilt without a doubt. But patience has never been your virtue.

You’re already edging yourself with every slow grind of your clit against Zayne’s thigh, and you can feel his desperation in every throb along the underside of his cock in your mouth, letting his tip hit the back of your throat, breaching as deep as you could allow.

Zayne begins to buck forward only to freeze halfway, a low hiss leaving him as his hand twitches against the sheets, knuckles turning white as he fights his own self-restraint as you urge him deeper into your hot mouth. Trying to pull you off him, Zayne’s hand laces through your hair as a warning, large enough to cup the back of your neck entirely, but the action only lets you take him further.

Then he makes the fatal mistake of looking down at you, locking eyes with your teary gaze as you maintain eye contact before licking up his length, and then swallowing him back down, crying as mascara and drool runs down your chin. His hips stutter upwards, and then he catches the shallow bulge now pressing against the base of your throat. Up and down and back again.

The sight breaks him.

He throws his head back with a whine, and fuck, his sounds thrums against your skull, reverberating through your very being as he snaps, hips bucking wildly into your mouth, his powerful thighs trembling around your head. You’re being used as nothing more than a fucktoy now, hands scrambling for purchase against his abdomen for a semblance of control as you take it.

Fuck, maybe it’s the praise, because you make Zayne want to be greedy with the way you were gagging and choking around him.

The mere feeling of you drooling around his length, the way your moans come out muffled and wet with drool and his slick, like a messy kiss to his cock, has his hips stuttering deeper, arching up into your body until Zayne can practically feel the spark of his orgasm behind his eyes.

But no, that won't do.

After all, you won’t be satisfied until he’s finally fucking himself inside you tonight. He can’t cum anywhere else. You won’t let him.

And right when you feel his cock go rigid, you tighten your hand around the base, and pull off.

Heaving, you shakily prop yourself back onto your elbows, Zayne's length glistening with saliva between your bodies, twitching violently and leaking all across his abdomen and your chest from its angry red tip.

“S’pretty, Zayne.”

Zayne moans, hips chasing after the heat of your mouth, hissing when all he feels is the cold air. He wants to protest, wants to ask for more, but you shush him with a kiss.

Your tongue laps across his skin, tracing the ridges of his abs, lapping the pre-cum and sweat that gathers there. You lick a trail, following the sharp cut of his hips.

"What, is that all you can take?" you ask, a teasing smirk on your face.

Zayne curses, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “Depends.” His voice is fucked rough, raw, and you never want him to stop talking. ”Was that the full treatment?”

You hum, biting the inside of his thigh. He gasps, and it turns into a deep groan when you press an open-mouthed kiss over the forming mark.

“No,” you admit, “You’re not escaping until I get to watch you come undone.”

You smile at the shudder both your words and actions draw, the way his fingers tighten in your hair. “Ah, but not here. In me. I want you to fill me up, baby, make a mess of me. I can take it, I promise. And when you're done, I'm going to ride you until you come again. Sound good, my pretty boy?"

Zayne throws his head back with a moan, eyes squeezed painfully shut as though he can’t decide if this really is real or if a succubus was haunting his dreams to every sinful memory he has of you.

Zayne leans into your touch, following your palm as he nuzzles into you with a huff of hot breath. A little like a kitten in a man's body— a sexy body no doubt— but you wonder, not for the first time, if the reason he always holds back is simply because he was afraid. As you were. Until Zayne came to you, until he showed you what pleasure felt like.

So you take his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you, and then kiss him.

He lunges up to meet you halfway, licking into your mouth, fisting into your hair, breathing in every moan and whimper of his name as he hums it right back. Needy, so damn needy for it.

You smile through the kiss, grinding up and down his muscular thigh alongside the desperate smashing of mouths. Tongue-heavy, teeth scraping, sucking at the corner of your lips. So fucking hungry for you that he’s practically lifting you right off the mattress with just one arm.

His mouth distractedly chases down your throat leaving opened-mouth kisses before slotting back against your lips, hot and demanding and urgent.

“Zayne, ah—” you’re cut off with another kiss, “Mhm, please, need you,” another, Zayne looping two arms around your thighs, hiking your knees up to his shoulders, the stretch burning. “Need you in me, now.”

He moans into your open mouth at those words, eager enough that he chases you up, nearly pinning you beneath him until you break the kiss with a gasp, shoving him back down. Zayne whines at the break of your lips, brows furrowed as his back hits the mattress, trapped under you once again, panting.

"Need you, pretty boy." You whisper against his lips, and it sounds just like a promise. "Please, let me take care of you.”

Zayne takes a shaky breath, nodding, drunk on the praise and readjusts himself against the pillows. He watches, eyes half-lidded, as you straddle his waist. Rough hands find your hips and hold them steady as you settle climbing atop him, the head of his cock rubbing between the folds of your soaked cunt.

It isn’t lost on you how Zayne can barely stop staring at the slick that trails down your thighs, all of it coating his shaft in slick as your pussy hovers over him, connecting the two of you in wet, sticky strands.

"Like what you see, doctor?"

You lick down the milky column of his neck and Zayne groans, leaning back to grant you access. "You and your smart-ass mouth."

“You love it.”

Ya, he does. He could probably cum just from watching you like this.

Leaning forward, you line his cock up with your entrance, smirking at the way his eyes narrow, heart racing beneath your palms as you balance yourself on his pecks, shamelessly groping them.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've thought about this? How many times I've imagined riding your cock, hearing the sweet noises you make as I make a mess of you?"

Zayne opens his mouth, as if to say something, but whatever it is doesn't matter, not as you guide the swollen red tip of his cock through your folds, thick tip pushing and sliding past your entrance, unable to fit even with your combined slick. Teasing, swollen pussy lips drooling right down onto his leaky head when just a simple nudge of Zayne’s squirming hips would end this torment and have you fucked flush against him— raw.

"Please," he groans, his voice raspy and hoarse, eyes fluttering closed, glassy with lust, "I can't- I can't take this. Please,” a low moan of your name has you delirious, and god, you’d give him anything he’d ask for. “I admit it, I need you. So please.”

Were you more than happy to oblige.

Lifting yourself all the way up on your knees, you steadily apply more pressure to your entrance, working yourself further and further until you could feel your slick drip down your thighs and his cock, each movement now accompanied by an unholy squelch. You slide his cock over your cunt—back, then forward—stimulating your clit with the head each time he fucks it through your folds, desperate as your movements become rougher and more forced.

Zayne’s cock catches against your entrance once again, and a low, breathy moan escapes his lips. He could feel your cunt finally yield to the pressure of his large, overbearing cock, could feel the way your legs trembled, threatening to give way, and he can't help but wonder if this is how you would look, how you would sound and feel, when he fucked you.

As soon as he feels the flutter of your core against his tip, he knows he’s lost, the head of Zayne’s cock sliding into you with a lewd pop as you both moan.

"Mhm, yes," you moan, voice a high-pitched keen. "Just- ah, like that."

Zayne bites his lip, fingers digging into your hips, and fuck, after being edged not once but twice today he already feels deliciously overstimulated and close, too close.

So it certainly doesn't help when you rock yourself up onto your knees, then drop yourself all the way back down his shaft, taking him all the way in until his balls slap against your ass.

You even don't wait for either of you to adjust before doing it again, and the velvety hot squeeze of your cunt has Zayne seeing stars.

“Ah, f-fuck, oh, shit. S’good Zayne,“ you coo, "Feels so good, fuck."

You’re dripping down your thighs, gushing around him like a vice as he watches his cock disappear into your cunt with a creamy white ring already at his base.

It’s all turning Zayne delirious with the way you continue to feed him compliment after compliment. It’s all so much, too much, and a low moan is forced out of Zayne’s chest as he begins rocking his hips up to meet yours, hardly even letting you pull out before bullying his way back into you.

Fuck, you can feel him everywhere, his cock hitting your cervix, your walls stretched tight around him, a mixture of his and your slick pooling onto his abdomen as you chase your way up and down his length.

But god, what you feel is nothing compared to how absolutely wrecked Zayne looks.

His eyes are screwed shut, chest rising and falling rapidly, the flush from his ears having spread to his gorgeously marked-up chest, his neck, the angry red tip of his cock. His brows are drawn together, jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck and shoulders strained as he holds himself back, every part of him curling up to meet yours and press you down, closer.

But then he turns away, eyes screwed shut as you feel his tip jerk against your cervix once more.

No. No, no, no that won’t do.

Zayne has watched you come undone countless times. He’s been a worshiper and witness to pleasures you didn’t think you could feel, and this time, you want him to be the subject of all your adoration. To finally give him back all the love he’s taught you to feel and more.

So you lean down, cupping Zayne’s cheek with one hand as you continue to ride him. “Look at me, baby. Y-you're so, fuck, so big, Zayne, fuck—” You gasp a sharp breath as he twitches violently inside you at the praise, slurring your words. “Mhm, love your cock so much."

But you doubted he could hear you— fuck, you wouldn’t even be able to tell if Zayne was breathing at this point if it wasn’t for the throbbing of his cock against your walls in time to his erratic heartbeat— because his eyes rolled back into his skull, jaw slack as a silent moan rips from his chest, shuddering down his spine right before his hips snap up into yours, throwing you off balance, pinpointing your g-spot with cruel accuracy as you scream.

Your sounds and babble of praises have him dizzy, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he struggles to focus on your face. It almost looks like he’s about to cry, dark lashes wet with unshed tears. You’d tease him for it, had you the capacity to think at all. But no, each thrust continues to bully into that sweet, spongy spot inside you as you moan, and Zayne’s mouth falls open with a cry of his own.

You chase into it with a kiss, clashing your teeth as you feel his tongue lap against yours, sucking hard. You feel the wrecked, blissed-out smile on your face, breaking away from him just long enough for Zayne to see how ruined and turned on he’s making you.

"Y-you're close, aren't you, my sweet boy?" You ask, the words coming out strained as Zayne fucks up into you. Pumping upwards, it’s like he wasn’t even trying every time his weeping head rams your sensitive spots. Just stuffing you full of his cock he denied you for so long, furious enough to mold you to his very shape. "C'mon, cum for me, Zayne. In me, please–ah."

You pull away even as his lips chase yours, arching your back so that your full weight grinds back on his hips. Zayne all but whimpers at the change in angle, his hands gripping the bed sheets as he tries not to starve off his orgasm.

"Please, please," he groans, his jaw clenching.

"Look at me, Zayne."

He does, and his pupils are so blown, his eyes nearly black.

"Cum for me, baby," you beg again, grinding down against him as his hand comes up to grope your chest the same moment your palm leaves to cup his balls, and that's all it takes.

Zayne comes, a cry ripped from his throat, his cock throbbing inside of you. You can feel the sheer warmth filling you, his seed spilling out and leaking onto the sheets, and god, there’s so much of it that cum squirts out from between the two of you, splattering up his abs and your thighs.

He’s trembling, head falling back as his hips jolt and stutter, still fucking up into you as though it can’t bear to part. You’re probably not helping with the way you still rocking on his length, your cunt milking his orgasm, and he can't take it, it's too much, too fucking good, he can't stop, never wants to.

But, fuck, one look at his face, and you already want him to cum again.

Zayne looks like sin, sweat slicking his hair to his forehead, his body writhing and straining as he gasps for breath, his skin shining in the afterglow of his release. The muscles of his neck are taut, veins pulsing and straining, his lips bitten red. He is fucking gorgeous, and the thought that he has done this for you, to you, has another wave of arousal shooting up your spine.

“You…” Zayne’s brows pinch together, but his voice is low, dangerous. Unyielding. “You didn’t cum.”

“I already did, besides I-I ah, Zayne—!”

You’re cut off by your own pussy, lewd squelching accompanying every brutal thrust Zayne overstimulates the both of you with, bullying his own cum out of you with each rhythmless thrust back in. He plants his feet into the mattress, thrusting his hips up as you claw at his shoulders, chest, the slap of skin on skin ringing in your ears.

“No, that isn’t-” Zayne’s words slur, feverish and mindless as his gaze zero’s in to where the two of you meet, the sound of every wet, messy thrust and the slight bulge he now sees in time to his thrusts. “Not enough. With me. Please, hah, cum with me, love.”

Transfixed, one hand drifts to the bulge at your navel, and before he can stop himself, he grinds the heel of his palm against it. Immediately, overbearing pressure shoots up your spine, a broken scream leaving you as you tremble above him, arching violently forward.

You try and speak, protests leaving as nothing more than garbled whimpers as you claw at Zayne’s wrist, trying and failing to pry his punishing grip off you.

He doesn’t relent.

How could he, when you’ve finally given him yourself? When this was everything he’s denied himself and more?

Fuck control, fuck discipline, fuck holding himself back. Zayne wants you.

Vision blurry, drool dribbling down the corner of your mouth, your combined cum gushes out of your overfilled pussy and spreads in a lewd little pool beneath you. It’s all you can do to take it, Zayne overstimulating the both of you to insanity, but his hips keep the same punishing rhythm. Two slow, deep thrusts before something snaps and he hammers into you twice. Thrice. Then begins all over.

It’s effortless, the way he bounces your body up and down with one hand, the other remaining pressed against your abdomen, massaging the outline of his dick showing through with every grind forward, rolling your clit between his forefinger and thumb.

Large hands splay your thighs wider, closer, impossibly stretching you out until all you can feel is Zayne, Zayne, Zayne. You don’t realize you’re chanting his name out loud too. And you never felt more gloriously out of control than when he abruptly jerks his thigh upwards– driving you right along with it– hitting your cervix all at once.

There’s no rhythm. Not anymore. You’re hardly lucid, dropping your full weight down just to meet Zayne’s cock as he pulls you down prone atop of him to catch your mouth in an open kiss as he hits your g-spot again. And again. And again and again and—

“Love,” he all but moans it into your lips, low and broken and oh so addicting. “My love, please.” God, he’s still so painfully hard but the feeling of you fluttering around him, getting tighter each time he calls you love, must be a sort of heaven. “Please– hah, fuck– cum. Cum all over my cock.”

You whine, surging forward to kiss him again, and he feels it, couldn’t do or think of anything but it as you cum around his cock for the first time.

Zayne’s eyes open even as you continue to suck and lick into his mouth, brows furrowed and vision blurring, lost in every hot pulse of your walls as they coaxed him further and further in, your release squirting against him as you struggle to drag your hips off him again, pussy sucking his cock in deeper, unwilling to let him go.

Shaking, his hands find their way back to your hips, settling over the light bruises as he guides you up and down again, startling you as you moan into his lips.

“Zayne,” you whine his name between kisses, strings of spit snapping between you, Zayne chasing hazily after your mouth before you cup his face in your hands.

God, the sound of his name on your lips is enough to have him keening, pressing his forehead to yours as his entire body trembles.

You’re coming again before you even realize it, vision spinning in and out as Zayne continues to fuck you through it. Zayne makes a noise, something between a moan and a whimper, his hips slowing despite himself.

You're gorgeous, the sight of you atop him, still slurring out compliments, and it's too much, fuck, too fucking much, too fucking perfect, his perfect woman.

With a final snap of his hips, Zayne comes alongside you.

His orgasm has him gasping and his entire body bows forward, arms wrapping around your middle as he buries his face in your shoulder, kissing into the tender flesh as he just keeps cumming.

He can't find the need to hold back this time. Not when the pleasure is so intense that his vision is turning white, not when your cunt is hot and pulsing and clenching around him, not when the praise and encouragement keep pouring out of your lips, whispering into the crook of his neck, "good job, Zayne, such a good boy for me, you did so well, my sweet boy, my love, hah, I love you."

When you finally come down from your high your body is sore and aching, the feeling of his hot cum deep inside making you whine, the sensation so much better than his fingers or toys, so much more warm and full.

Zayne’s arms are wrapped protectively across you, hugging you down atop of him even as his cock remains motionless within you, not an inch of skin untouched as his hands rub careful circles down your spine and thighs.

You nuzzle closer, whispering more nonsensical praises into Zayne’s hair, raising a shaking arm to comb through it as he still keeps his face tucks into your shoulder, hidden and shaking softly still.

A shift, and you feel his hot breath on your neck, a sudden drop of wetness against your skin, and you realize with a start that Zayne is crying.

He’s crying. Soft, unrestrained sobs muffle into your shoulder as he tucks you close, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck between breaths. You let him. You curl up as close as you can get onto his lap and then closer still, one hand raking through his hair in gentle reverence as you let him cry.

It is silent, save for the sound of his sobs and his labored breaths.

"I love you, Zayne," you say, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "You really are perfect, thank you, thank you."

You kiss his forehead, then down his cheek and jaw until he finally relaxes under you. Tracing lazy patterns up and down his chest, you coax him down until he finally raises his eyes to meet yours with a flutter of tear-stained kisses to your palm.

The first thing you notice is the way his cheeks are flushed, his eyes wavering and hazy. The second is the way his lips are swollen, the marks on his neck and chest blooming darker with each passing minute. The third is how the sweat on his skin is beginning to dry, making his hair stick up in all sorts of directions.

The fourth is the look on his face.

The look on his face is soft, tender, and unsure. Nothing like the infallible surgeon the whole city reveres, or the smart-mouthed mentor you’ve grown to admire and respect. Just Zayne.

You brush the damp locks away from his eyes, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips, and he melts, his body falling forward onto you as he curls you into his side, tucking you down onto the bed alongside him.

“Stay with me?” He asks, his voice low, as though afraid to ask. Afraid to know.

Always.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

#lnd zayne #lads zayne #zayne x you #zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace #lnds smut #l&ds smut #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #love and deepspace zayne #poisonwrites #zayne smut #lnds zayne #l&ds zayne #zayne lads #love and deepspace

1K notes · View notes