#each layer is from a different stream

[leftysage]

whole bunch of stream doodles! these are from a while ago.

[alygator77]

ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony I ch 6 ᰔᩚ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse (emotional abuse but it can be a bit suggestive/interpreted as physical, from naoya not satoru) » 【note, this chapter contains explicit sexual content (dry humping, grinding)】

ꨄ words: 14.4k

ꨄ a/n. hello my lovelies!! :) life has been a roller coaster to say the least, but i'm so excited to share this chapter with ya'll. i'll see you at the bottom with my thoughts ♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

♬ playlist

series masterlist ꨄ︎ previous chapter ꨄ︎ next chapter → pending

ch 6 // drenched in truth

The gala was a night that promised perfection, elegance and ease…but the storm on the horizon had other plans for you.

As murmurs of conversation hum throughout the grand ballroom, it’s easy to forget the world outside—that is, until you hear the first distant rumble of thunder.

Before you know it, the once clear starry evening, slowly gives way to ominous clouds gathering the horizon, with the first raindrops of the evening arriving barely noticed beneath the layers of music and chatter—tapping against the expansive windows like an impatient guest requesting entry.

But the gentle taps soon evolve into a steady, insistent drumming, making the rain’s presence impossible to ignore as the water streams down the glass windows in rivulets—distorting the view outside and making the world beyond seem distant and blurred.

It’s getting late…

You subtly glance down at your phone to check the time, and as the screen illuminates, a picture of you and Haru at the park flashes across the display. What a bright and sunny memory—completely different from the now impossible to ignore presence of this unforgiving rain.

As the storm outside grows, your thoughts immediately shift to Haru. Is she okay?

The last time there was such a storm, Haru had been terrified of the thunder—each crack making her small frame shake, eyes filled with tears and voice trembling as she whispered mama, seeking comfort in your embrace.

Is the nanny capable of soothing her?

The sudden concern that she might be scared and inconsolable gnaws at you, making it hard to focus on anything else as you navigate the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with people whose names you’ll forget by morning.

The opulence of the gala, the sparkling chandeliers, the elegant music—it all feels suffocating, a gilded cage keeping you from where you truly need to be. Home. That’s where you should be, holding Haru close, comforting her through the storm, not trapped in this endless sea of strangers and small talk.

You glance at Satoru beside you—a picture of calm, hand resting in his pocket as he engages in light-hearted conversation with a group of guests, smiling and laughing. It’s all so natural, so effortless as their chatter seems to exist in a world far removed from the storm—both outside and within you.

As you stand there, nodding along to the conversation without truly listening, your eyes begin to drift across the room and you notice a few other couples discreetly making their way towards the exit, coats draped over their arms—if only you could do the same.

You find yourself fidgeting with the hem of your dress—you really want to go home.

Glancing up at Satoru again, you wait for a brief lull in his conversation where the chatter dies down just enough for you to discreetly speak to him without interrupting.

Once the opportunity arises with the laughter fading and the conversation shifting to another topic, you seize your moment. Leaning in close to Satoru, your shoulder brushes against his arm as you softly whisper under your breath.

“Hey… it’s getting late and with this storm, maybe we should think about heading out soon?”

Your words are careful, quiet, meant to blend into the background noise of the gala so that no one else notices your request, and Satoru’s gaze flickers to you, his expression softening as he takes in your concern. But then he sighs quietly, his hand gently brushing against your arm, a small gesture of reassurance.

“I know,” he murmurs, “but there’s just one more obligation I have to fulfill for the event—a quick thank-you speech to the sponsors. I promise, we’ll leave right after that.”

He begins to turn back to the conversation, the group’s voices already beginning to rise again, but just as he starts to pull away, a low rumble of thunder reverberates through the room, and your gaze instinctively flickers to the windows, where the rain beats against the glass with increasing ferocity, the relentless sheets of water streaking down like tears.

Without thinking, your hand reaches out, lightly touching Satoru’s arm—a small, almost hesitant gesture. As your fingers brush against the fabric of his sleeve, your subtle plea for his attention makes him pause and turn back towards you, concern flickering in his eyes.

“Satoru…I’m really worried about Haru,” you confess, keeping your voice low to avoid drawing the attention of those around you. “She hates storms… she’s terrified of thunder.”

Before you can say more, he shifts slightly, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you gently into his side. You are met immediately with the warmth of his body, the subtle scent of his cologne and the steady rhythm of his breath. His hand moves in slow, comforting motions up and down your arm, as if trying to transfer some of his calm to you.

He tilts his chin down towards you and he speaks in a low gentle murmur, meant only for you.

“Haru has the nanny. She’s safe. I’ll make sure she’s okay, and this won’t take long—I’ll be quick, I promise.”

His words, paired with the comforting rhythm of his hand, are meant to ease your worries, to reassure you that everything will be alright, but for some reason they land with a dull thud in your chest.

You know Haru has the nanny…but you can’t shake the feeling that it might not be enough for her. You’ve been Haru’s rock throughout everything—Naoya was never there for her, and she hasn’t had anyone else.

“I know, but…” you glance towards the windows again as another rumble of thunder reverberates through the room. “Haru gets so scared. Last time, she cried for hours and couldn’t sleep without me.”

Satoru’s eyes flicker between you and the group of guests nearby, a momentary glance that betrays the tug-of-war happening within him.

“I get it. I do,” his tone is still gentle but with an edge of urgency now. His eyes lock onto yours, pleading for understanding even as they flit once more to the gathering around you. “This is important, though. I made a commitment to be here, and it’s crucial that I see it through. But I’ll make it quick, I promise. We’ll leave as soon as I’m done, and we’ll be home before you know it.”

A mix of frustration and helplessness begin to bubble through you as you watch his gaze. There is a sense of sincerity, yet it feels divided—part of him here with you, with another part already back in the spotlight, where the murmurs of the gala grow louder.

You know he’s committed to the cause, that his presence here holds weight—it’s not that you don’t understand—it’s just that… does that really matter right now when Haru might need you?

“Alright…” you say reluctantly, the word heavy on your tongue. “Just… don’t take too long, please.”

ꨄ︎

Perhaps this storm isn’t just weather—it’s a harbinger.

Your attention shifts between watching Satoru on stage, giving his speech to the sponsors, to the large windows lining the ballroom. Outside the once vibrant red carpet is now a sodden strip of fabric, abandoned to the elements.

The storm has worsened, intensifying with each passing minute, and with it, your sense of dread. Your fingers tap idly against the polished surface of the round dinner table as the wind howls like it wants to be let in, the rain lashing against the glass with a ferocity that seems malevolent.

You try to focus on Satoru’s words, but a movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. A man, tall and imposing with raven hair, weaves his way through the crowd, his presence almost too casual for an event like this. He’s dressed well enough to blend in, but there’s something about him—something in the way he carries himself, the scar upon his lips—he feels out of place.

He's somewhat…intimidating—like a predator stalking its prey.

Once the man approaches your table, you stiffen slightly, instinctively pulling your shawl tighter around your shoulders. He’s close now, close enough that you can make out the sharpness in his features, the cold glint in his eyes.

But…why is there an air of familiarity about him? You can’t quite place it. He stops just short of your chair, a smile curling his lips, though is doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Mind if I sit?” he asks—and he doesn’t wait for your answer before pulling out the chair beside you.

Caught off guard, you nod slowly.

“Sure…”

Settling into the seat with a casual ease there's a small, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. A subtle tension radiates from him as his gaze flickers to you.

“Enjoying the event?” he asks, voice smooth, almost too smooth, like oil on water.

Great. This is really not what you need right now. It’s hard enough playing your part when you have Satoru’s support, but now, you’re by yourself. What if you slip up and say something wrong?

Unease bubbles inside you, making it difficult to muster more than a faint smile upon your lips.

“Yes, it’s been lovely,” you nod politely.

“Mm… quite the storm out there though,” he comments. “But then again, a little chaos never hurt anyone, right?”

His tone sends a cool shiver down your spine. This guy gives you the creeps, but you force a polite smile, unsure of what to make of him.

“I suppose not…”

He leans back in his chair, his gaze shifting to Satoru on stage before flicking back to you.

“You must be proud, seeing him up there,” he remarks. “It’s not every day you get to stand beside someone so… influential.”

His words, though innocuous on the surface, feel laden with meaning—like there’s something he’s not saying, something he’s implying, and you feel a chill that has nothing to do with the storm outside.

Who is this man, and why does he seem so familiar?

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“It’s important to keep an eye on those you care about, wouldn’t you agree? Sometimes… things aren’t always as they seem.”

The statement hangs in the air, heavy with implication, but before you can respond, he straightens up, his gaze flickering to the stage again where Satoru is now wrapping up his speech. The unsettling smile returns to his face—a smile that carries a shadow passing over his expression.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” he stands from the chair. “Enjoy the rest of your evening,” and he turns on his heel, disappearing back into the crowd as quickly as he appeared.

But the chill he leaves behind lingers, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

Weird…what a creep.

You shake off the lingering sense of unease as Satoru beings to step down from the podium, exchanging pleasantries and goodbyes with a few lingering guests.

His eyes flicker to you, and then towards the window, catching a glimpse of lightning as it illuminates the darkened sky, and for just a second, you notice a shift in his expression as he takes in the worsening weather.

Excusing himself from the crowd, Satoru steps to the side discreetly with practiced ease and pulls out his phone. You watch as he dials, his back turned slightly from the attendees, and although you can’t hear his words, you know what he’s doing—a rush of relief washes over you as you realize he’s calling the driver to come pick you up.

Finally.

The thought of being on your way home, of holding Haru close and reassuring her, makes the wait almost unbearable.

Satoru’s conversation is brief, but you watch it with growing anticipation, and once he slips his phone back into his pocket, he meets your gaze from across the room again.

Wait…there is something in his expression…an unease that wasn’t there before. Concern.

He weaves through the crowd with purposeful strides, and your heart sinks—it slowly becomes more apparent that something isn’t right, and the chatter in the ballroom grows quiet as guests murmur about the worsening weather.

Once Satoru reaches you, he doesn’t speak immediately. Instead, he pulls out the seat beside you, flipping it around so that the back of the chair presses against his chest as he sits, arms folded across the top of it. The movement is casual in appearance, but the way his fingers tighten around the wood, his knuckles whitening just slightly, betrays the calm facade he’s trying to maintain.

“So…” he leans in a little closer, voice low, almost reluctant. “We’ve got a bit of a situation.”

“What’s wrong?” anxiety builds inside you.

He hesitates, just for a moment, his eyes flicking to the side as if searching for the right words, before meeting your gaze head-on.

“There’s been an accident on the main road leading out of the city… it’s caused a major blockage, and with all this rain, the roads are practically flooded. My driver’s stuck on the other side and won’t be able to reach us for hours… maybe not until morning.”

Oh, you see red.

The storm outside suddenly feels like a mirror to the one brewing inside you—fierce, relentless, and impossible to contain.

If only you had left sooner, if only Satoru hadn’t insisted on staying for that last part of the gala—if only he had understood the urgency you felt—you wouldn’t be in this mess.

And now, Haru is alone at home, frightened and vulnerable, and you’re stuck here, trapped by circumstances beyond your control.

The thought makes your blood boil.

“So, what do we do?” The words escape your lips with a sharpness that even you didn’t anticipate, cutting through the air like a knife.

Satoru’s eyes widen and he runs a hand through his hair, a rare display of uncertainty flickering across his usually composed demeanor. His eyes shift away from you, scanning the room as if searching for a solution hidden in the lavish surroundings.

“…let me figure this out. Wait here,” he murmurs as he pushes back his chair and stands.

Watching his tall frame cut through the crowd, suddenly the sound of the rain beating against the glass now seems almost accusatory—a relentless reminder of this absurd situation you are now stuck in.

This night suddenly feels like it’s teetering on the edge of disaster—the thin veneer of control slipping from you with each passing second. But there are faces around you, and although they blur into a sea of indifference and hallow chatters, you are acutely aware that people are still watching.

You take a deep breath attempting to calm your frustration. There must be something Satoru can do. He has money and power—there must be some sort of solution he can find to this. Haru needs you.

Suddenly, you catch sight of Satoru weaving his way back towards you, his stride purposeful and his expression carrying a hint of relief. For a brief moment, hope flutters in your chest—perhaps he’s found a way out of this mess.

When he reaches you, he shoves his hands into his pockets, leans in slightly and speaks with a sense of accomplishment.

“So… good news. I spoke with the event coordinator. Given the circumstances, the hotel has offered us one of their VIP suites for the night. It’s just upstairs, fully equipped with everything we need until the roads clear up.”

Yeah…that’s not the solution you wanted.

A suite? He wants you to stay overnight? When Haru is at home, probably terrified, clinging to her blankets with wide, tear-filled eyes? Does he really think that’s what you wanted to hear?

“That’s considerate of them, but what about Haru?”

The words escape your lips before you can temper them, clipped and laced with the sharp edge of your rising aggravation. As they slice through the air, the flicker of surprise that crosses Satoru’s face is immediate.

Fuck.

You’re still in public, at this stupid gala. You have to stay composed; you can’t afford to lose control—not here.

Your eyes scan the room for any prying eyes, anyone who might have caught the slight outburst. It doesn’t seem like anyone noticed… thankfully. The last thing you need is for your moment of panic to become another piece of gossip for the night.

Taking a long deep breath, you attempt to regain some semblance of composure, but as you lower your voice, the tension still coils tight in your words.

“She’s back home, we can’t just leave her alone.”

“But she’s not alone,” he counters, tone firm but gentle. “Haru’s in good hands with the nanny, she’s safe. I’ll make sure everything is handled. I’ll compensate the nanny for staying overnight with Haru.”

He is clearly not on the same page as you—he doesn’t understand. Safe? Maybe. But comforted? No. Compensation won’t calm Haru’s fears; money can’t replace the warmth and reassurance of her mother’s arms when she’s trembling in fear.

But you can’t say that here—you don’t trust yourself to soften the words, not with the eyes of the gala on you, prying, ready to dissect any sign of discord between you and Satoru. So instead, you grasp for something, anything—another solution, another way out of this mess.

“Isn’t there something else we can do? Another route we can take?” you press, the desperation seeping through despite your efforts to keep it contained.

Satoru’s shoulders tense ever so slightly, a subtle shift that only someone who knows him as well as you do would notice. There is a flicker of frustration in his eyes as they narrow, and you watch him take a moment to briefly weigh his words.

“Y/n this is the best solution I can come up with,” there’s an undercurrent of firmness that brooks no argument. “It’s not safe for us to leave right now. The roads are flooded, and I can’t risk us getting caught out there.”

For a moment, the two of you are locked in a silent standoff, each of you grappling with the weight of the situation, the reality pressing down like the storm outside. He’s right—you know he is—but that doesn’t make the situation any easier to swallow. The knowledge sits heavy in your chest, a bitter pill that refuses to go down smoothly.

Why couldn’t Satoru just listen to you when you suggested you leave early?

The thought fuels your frustration simmering just beneath the surface. You should have been more persistent. But now, here you are, trapped in this gilded cage while your daughter is home, scared and needing you.

Satoru exhales softly, the tension in his shoulders easing and the hard edges of his demeanor softening just slightly as he steps closer to you—he’s trying to bridge the growing chasm between you.

His hand reaches out, and you want to pull back, but you are in public, you can’t. There’s a softness in his touch, a quiet desperation to connect, but you can feel the gap widening under the weight of everything left unsaid.

He tilts his head, caressing your hand as his gaze searches yours.

“It’s just one night,” he murmurs, and there’s a tenderness there, an unspoken plea for you to understand, to see that he’s trying to make the best of a bad situation. But to you, the words feel hollow, like they’re echoing in a void that’s too vast to bridge with simple reassurances. “We’ll be back first thing in the morning before Haru even wakes up.”

But will she be okay?

The question burns in your throat but you keep it to yourself—it wouldn’t come out nice anyway.

You are trapped—trapped by the storm, trapped by this situation, trapped by the need to maintain this perfect, unblemished image for everyone around you.

So instead, you force a tight-lipped smile, one that doesn’t reach your eyes. It’s the best you can manage, a fragile mask to hide the storm inside.

“Guess we don’t have a choice….”

“I know…we’ll get through this though. Just one night,” he echoes, as if saying it again will make it more true, but the repetition feels like an empty promise.

You nod, the motion stiff and reluctant.

“I understand,” the words taste like ash. “Let’s go upstairs then,” you rise from your seat, not waiting for him to respond.

ꨄ︎

As the elevator doors slide open with a quiet ding, you step inside with clipped precision, your movements sharp and purposeful. The elevator is empty—thank God.

The last thing you need right now is to plaster on a fake smile and pretend that everything is fine when you’re anything but. You don’t have the energy to pretend—not in front of strangers, and certainly not in front of Satoru.

You barely acknowledge him as he steps in behind you, your focus narrowing on the glowing buttons as you swiftly press the number for your floor. Once the door closes with a soft thud, instinctively, you gravitate to the far side of the elevator, creating as much distance between you and Satoru as the small space allows.

There’s a brief pause as Satoru hesitates, his eyes flickering over to you before he pulls out his phone, and the soft glow of the screen casts a muted light over his features, highlighting the tension in his brow.

As the elevator hums quietly, beginning its ascent, you catch sight of Satoru dialing the nanny’s number from the corner of your eye, lifting the phone to his ear.

“Hey, listen… there’s been a situation with the roads—they’re flooded, and we won’t be able to make it back tonight. Can you stay with Haru until morning?”

He pauses, listening intently to the nanny’s response, and although you can’t make out her words, you see the way Satoru's brow furrows, the lines of tension etching themselves deeper into his features.

The muffled sound of the nanny’s voice filters through the phone, indistinct and far away—until another sound reaches your ears, clear and unmistakable.

Haru.

Her small, trembling voice carries through the phone, quivering with fear as she calls for you, confirming the gnawing dread that had been eating away at you all night. You were right, of course, but there’s no satisfaction in that—not when your daughter is scared and crying for you, and you’re trapped miles away, helpless to do anything about it.

Satoru’s jaw tightens. “Haru’s okay, right?” tone softer now, almost hesitant.

There’s a pause, a heavy silence that stretches out as Satoru listens, and you watch as something in his posture shifts—his shoulders slump ever so slightly, a small, almost imperceptible movement, but enough to tell you that the news isn’t good. He closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling quietly.

“Tell her that her Mama will be home in the morning… and I’ll make sure everything’s okay. Just... stay with her, please.”

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Satoru fixes his gaze on the floor, unable—or perhaps unwilling—to meet your eyes. He offers no words of comfort, no apology. And you, in turn, make no effort to break the silence either.

Maybe it’s for the best—because right now, the storm raging inside you is just as fierce as the one outside, and you’re not sure you can contain it much longer. The lid holding down your frustration is teetering dangerously on the edge, threatening to spill over, and as the pressure builds, your emotions coil tight like a spring ready to snap.

If you open your mouth now, the floodgates will burst.

So, you’ll wait—you’ll discuss this with Satoru when you’re more level-headed. Right now, all you want to do is crawl into bed—away from Satoru, away from this night, away from everything that feels so suffocatingly wrong.

The silence stretches on, thick and unbearable, and once the elevator finally reaches your floor with a soft chime, without a word, you step out, your heels clicking against the polished floor, with Satoru following a step behind—silent and distant, the space between you feeling wider than ever.

ꨄ︎

The moment you step into the VIP suite, the first thing that strikes you is the sheer size of the room—it’s more like a luxurious apartment than a mere hotel room. The high ceilings are adorned with intricate chandeliers, rich furnishings and artwork that probably costs more than what your entire apartment had cost.

The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of the city below, and there is a beautiful patio overlooking the city with the lights twinkling against the stormy backdrop, but instead of feeling awe, it’s only a reminder of how trapped you are.

In the common room, a plush, oversized sofa commands the space, flanked by elegant armchairs and a coffee table that looks more like a piece of art than something meant for everyday use. You set your purse and shawl down on the polished surface and begin to explore the room.

Your gaze wanders to a nearby dining area, where a table is set for two, the fine china and crystal glasses gleaming under the soft light. Beyond that, a sleek bar catches your eye, stocked with an assortment of premium spirits. At the center, a bottle of champagne chills in a gleaming silver bucket, waiting to be uncorked—a celebration you’re far from feeling.

Curious, you open the first door you come across, but it’s just a closet. Moving onto the next, you’re half-expecting to find a bedroom, but instead, the door reveals a marble-clad bathroom, which is more of a private spa than anything else, with a deep soaking tub and a rain shower that beckons with promises of relaxation.

Finally, you reach the last door, and as you push it open, your breath catches in your throat. The bedroom is vast, with high ceilings and draped curtains, but amidst all the space, the luxury, the sheer grandeur…

There is only one bed.

It’s massive, adorned in rich, inviting linens that seem to promise the best sleep of your life. The headboard is a work of art, appearing as if it was carved by hand, its craftsmanship impeccable. But despite all its luxury, one glaring fact stands out—it’s a single bed.

A bed meant for two.

You stop in your tracks, staring at the bed in disbelief. Your mind races, trying to make sense of the situation. Did you miss a door? Could there be another bedroom somewhere in the suite?

Without thinking, you begin to backtrack, your footsteps hurried and purposeful. You retrace your steps through the suite, opening doors you’ve already been through, peering inside with a growing sense of urgency.

The bathroom—no, just the spa-like marble bath and rain shower. The closet—no, just storage. The living area—no, just the oversized sofa and elegant chairs. The dining area—no, just the table set for two and the sleek bar.

Where’s the other bedroom? There has to be another one, right? How can a suite this big, only have one bed?

Is this a cruel joke? A final twist of the knife in an already unbearable night? Is the universe pushing you further out of your comfort zone, testing the limits of your patience, your composure, and your control?

Your movements grow more frantic as you circle back, convinced you must have overlooked something, anything. But there’s nothing else. It’s just that one, luxurious bed, waiting for the two of you.

Scanning the suite one last time, you notice Satoru sitting nonchalantly on the plush couch, leaning back with one arm draped casually over the back of the sofa. He loosens his tie as he tilts his head, watching you with a mixture of confusion and mild amusement.

“What are you looking for?”

You stop dead in your tracks, your breath hitching as you stare at him in disbelief.

“There’s only one bed.”

Perhaps vocalizing the absurdity of this precarious situation might somehow conjure a second bed out of thin air.

Oh, you wish.

Satoru blinks and raises an eyebrow. Without a word, he slowly rises from the couch and walks towards the bedroom. Once he steps inside, he takes in the sight of the massive bed and the luxurious linens—staring at it for a moment as the situation sits in.

Then, he turns to you, with an exaggerated shrug.

“Huh. Looks like the hotel’s playing matchmaker tonight.”

…

You narrow your eyes at him, not speaking, letting the flicker of annoyance smolder into a flame. The corners of your mouth tighten, and your arms cross defensively over your chest.

Satoru matches your silence, watching you with an unreadable expression, and then he shrugs again, the movement casual, almost dismissive.

“What?” carrying a note of faux innocence. “They probably figured we wouldn’t mind getting cozy. We are husband and wife, after all. Of course they wouldn’t think we’d need separate beds.”

He’s not making this any better for you right now…

You shake your head, rubbing your eyes in exasperation as if trying to rub away the absurdity of the situation. It’s all too much—the storm, the delay, the night that refuses to end. You can feel the weight of it pressing down on you, and each word from Satoru just seems to add another layer to the frustration.

“Wow…this is unbelievable,” you huff.

“Mm, you know what they say, nothing like sharing a bed to break the tension,” Satoru quips, plopping down at the edge of the bed as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He bounces slightly, testing the mattress, and glances up at you with a glint in his eye. “Well, I suppose this is where we’re supposed to start arguing over who gets the left side?”

…

Is he serious right now?

You can hardly believe it—the casualness of his demeanor, the way he seems completely unconcerned about the reality of this situation. It is almost infuriating.

“This is not happening…I am not sharing a bed with you,” you say, more to yourself than to him, a whispered mix of disbelief and determination. You cross your arms tightly over your chest.

But Satoru just leans back on his hands, completely unbothered, his relaxed posture a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside you. Tilting his head slightly, he flashes you an easy grin.

“Hey, it could be worse,” he says with a nonchalant shrug, patting the space beside him. “At least it’s a king-size. I mean, we could practically build a wall down the middle if you want.”

You stare at him, incredulous.

How can he be so flippant about this? So completely unconcerned, so utterly unaffected by everything that’s happened tonight?

Every word that comes out of his mouth further makes your patience slip through your fingers.

“…are you serious right now?” there is a tremble in your voice as you attempt to keep your frustration in check, but it’s a losing battle.

“Yup,” he shrugs, completely unfazed. “Looks like it’s just you, me, and this king-sized dilemma.”

Wow. You’re standing in the middle of a situation that has gone from bad to worse, and he’s making jokes? The disbelief turns into something hotter, something sharper, as you feel the last remnants of your composure start to crumble.

“Are you kidding me, Satoru?” you snap and the frustration you’ve been holding back all night finally spills over. “You are absolutely unbelievable. This isn’t funny! None of this is fucking funny! We’re stuck here, and you’re making jokes?”

The playful smirk that had been dancing on Satoru's lips vanishes instantly, replaced by a look of irritation. He leans forward, fixing you with a hard stare, and the lightheartedness drains from his posture as his elbows rest on his knees.

“Oh, okay, I’m sorry,” he retorts, a sharp edge to his voice. “Y’know, I was just trying to lighten the mood. Didn’t realize you were going to blow up at me for trying to make the best out of a bad situation.”

“Lighten the mood?” you echo, your voice rising in disbelief. “Do you really think that’s what I need right now?”

A scoff escapes your lips as all your frustration bubbles to the surface. The weight of everything finally presses down on you, and his indifference feels like a slap in the face.

You can’t even look at him right now.

With a dismissive shake of your head, you turn away, briskly stepping towards the living room.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” you mutter under your breath, the words more to yourself than to him, but loud enough that you know he can hear.

“What don’t I get?” Satoru challenges, his voice growing sharper as he pushes off the bed and follows after you. His footsteps are clipped as he closes the distance between you, not willing to let the conversation drop. “What don’t I get, y/n? Tell me.”

You whirl around to face him, your heart pounding in your chest, the tension crackling like electricity.

“Satoru—Haru needs me, and we’re stuck here, miles away, in some fancy hotel suite. But you don’t even care.”

The accusation slips out and you can no longer hide the mix of anger and hurt that laces your voice. Satoru’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenching as he tries to rein in his own frustration.

“You think I don’t care?” his voice is sharp, insistent, almost incredulous as he steps closer. “You think I’m not worried about Haru too? y/n we literally had this conversation in the limo earlier. Jesus, just because I don’t show my emotions like you it doesn’t mean I don’t care. I hate this situation just as much as you do, but it’s not like I can control the weather or the roads!”

The intensity of his words strikes you, but the anger simmering beneath your skin refuses to let you back down.

“Yeah, well, if you really cared, we would have left as soon as the storm started, like I wanted! Then we wouldn’t even be in this situation!” your trembling voice increases an octave and you throw your hands up in exasperation. “But no—you had to stay for that last part of the gala, didn’t you?”

Satoru’s reaction is immediate. He runs a hand through his hair, the movement rough and frustrated while a bitter laugh escapes his lips, one that sends a chill down your spine. His eyes flash with something darker as he glares at you.

“Oh, so now it’s my fault that we’re stuck here? Because I stayed for the speech? I had obligations, y/n! I couldn’t just leave!”

“Obligations?” the word drips with sarcasm as it leaves your lips, your voice thick with disbelief and a touch of something more, something wounded. You narrow your eyes and the anger within flares hotter as you shoot a glare back at him. “We could’ve left earlier, but instead you just had to be the perfect ‘Satoru Gojo.’ Your precious image, your obligations—everything always comes first, doesn’t it?”

A flash of anger sparks within the depths of Satoru’s eyes, and his voice drops lower, more measured, with an edge that makes your heart jump.

“You knew what you were signing up for,” the words are clipped and his tone is cold and biting. “I told you there would be expectations, that there would be obligations that came with this agreement. Don’t act like this is some surprise to you.”

His words hit their mark, the truth in them sinking in like a stone dropping into a deep well. The realization settles over you, heavy and cold.

Oh…this truly is just a business arrangement, nothing more.

This is…what you agreed to…isn’t it?

For a brief moment, you had almost forgotten that this marriage—this life you’ve been trying to build—wasn’t real. It was never based on love or trust or any of the things you’d once dreamed of. It has always been a contract, an arrangement, and you were just another piece in the game he was playing.

You feel the sharp, unmistakable sting of hurt, a wound that cuts deeper than you anticipated. And with that hurt comes regret—regret for allowing yourself to believe, even for a second, that he might be willing to take a leap of faith for you, for Haru.

You should have known better.

He’s Satoru Gojo, after all, the man who holds his obligations and his image above everything else. The man who never allows himself to be vulnerable, to be anything other than perfect in the eyes of the world.

“So that’s it, then?” the words slip out with a quiet tremor, your voice breaking slightly under the crushing weight of your emotions “You’ll always put your commitments first, no matter what? No matter how it affects us? No matter how it affects Haru?”

For the briefest of moments, Satoru’s expression softens, a flicker of regret passing through his eyes, as if he’s momentarily aware of the pain his words have caused.

You can feel the tears burning at the back of your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to let them fall. You won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words have cut you, how deeply the reminder of your place in his life stings.

Instead, you draw in a shaky breath, steeling yourself, and forcing your voice to steady. It takes every ounce of strength you have to keep your composure, to keep from breaking in front of him.

“It’s always about your image…isn’t it?” you whisper, the words barely audible, but they carry the weight of your realization, heavy and bitter. “I thought… maybe just once, you’d be willing to choose something else. Someone else. Guess I was wrong.”

The silence that follows is suffocating, thick with the tension that has built up between you. Satoru opens his mouth to respond, his expression shifting as if he’s searching for the right words, but you’ve already had enough. The frustration, the anger, the hurt—it’s all too much, too overwhelming, and honestly, you don’t think you can take the weight of his inevitable rejection right now.

Before he can say anything, before he can shatter whatever fragile composure you have left, you turn on your heel and stride towards the suite’s balcony.

ꨄ︎

The moment you step out onto the balcony, the cold night air wraps around you, but you welcome its icy embrace, and as the heavy door slides shut behind you with a dull thud, it seals off any lingering warmth from the hotel suite, leaving you alone with the elements.

The balcony, partially sheltered by a gazebo, offers little protection from the fierce wind driving the rain sideways. But as the droplets hit your skin, cold and sharp, you don’t flinch. Instead, you let the rain wash over you, soaking into your dress and chilling you to the bone, as if the cold might somehow numb the emotional turmoil raging inside you.

Gripping the railing, you stare out at the city below, the wind whipping around you, tugging at your dress as the storm batters you from all sides. But the physical discomfort barely registers—it's nothing compared to the storm brewing within. Because now, the anger that had fueled your argument with Satoru begins to ebb, giving way to a deep, aching sadness that you can no longer hold back.

You sink down onto one of the chairs, ignoring the fact that the cushion is already soaked through. The wet fabric clings to your skin as you huddle there, pulling your knees up to your chest, and as you take in the downpour, you allow the rain to mingle with the tears that finally begin to slip down your cheeks.

If only the howling wind was loud enough to drown the thoughts swirling in your mind.

But it’s not.

The first thing you hear is Naoya’s words, echoing in your ears. His cruel taunts, sharp and insidious, have haunted you ever since your encounter at the coffee shop—a seed of doubt planted deep within you.

And now, those seeds have taken root, growing in the shadows of your heart, feeding off your insecurities until they’ve become impossible to ignore. Maybe he was right all along… you don’t belong beside Satoru. This life you agreed to—this carefully crafted facade—it has always been a deal, nothing more. A deal struck for reasons that now seem distant and blurred.

And then there’s Satoru.

The man you’ve grown closer to, despite everything. The man who, on occasion, looks at you with a softness that seems almost out of place, a trust that makes your heart ache under the weight of your own secrets… and your own growing feelings. But tonight, you saw the bitter reality of who he truly is—a reality that you’ve always known, yet somehow tried to push aside. It’s a reality that places duty and obligation above all else, that keeps his heart locked away behind walls you know you’ll never breach.

You understand it, you really do. But understanding doesn’t make it any easier to bear. It doesn’t make the hurt go away.

You think about Haru—your sweet, innocent child, who’s at home right now, likely scared and alone, flinching with every crash of thunder.

The thought of her, small and frightened, tugs at your heart, and the guilt twists inside you, sharper than any blade. It cuts through your defenses until all that remains is the raw, unrelenting pain of a mother’s worry, a mother’s fear. You should be there with her, holding her close, whispering reassurances that everything is going to be okay, that the storm will pass.

But you’re not.

You’re here, drenched on a balcony, struggling to hold yourself together while everything around you falls apart. And that reality—knowing you’ve left her to face the storm alone—makes the tears fall harder now.

They stream down your face, mixing with the rain, until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. The sobs come, wracking your body with their intensity, as you bury your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking with the force of your grief.

It’s all too much—the pressure, the expectations, the lies, the fear.

And then there’s the love.

The love that’s beginning to bloom for Satoru, despite the circumstances…and it only makes it more complicated, more painful. It’s a love that you know you shouldn’t feel, that you’re terrified to acknowledge—and it wraps itself around your heart like a thorny vine, beautiful yet painful, tightening its grip with every passing day.

And your worries never end—the contract, the obligations, the appearances you have to maintain. This agreement that had once seemed so clear, so necessary, but now feels like a chain around your neck, binding you to a life that’s growing more and more suffocating by the day.

You didn’t sign up for this, not really.

You didn’t sign up for the way your heart had started to beat in sync with Satoru’s, for the way his touch lingers on your skin long after he’s gone, or the way his voice is capable of soothing the deepest parts of your soul.

But here you are—trapped, ensnared by duty and honor, by a love that’s growing despite the walls you’ve tried to build around it. A love for a man who might never fully understand the depth of the sacrifice you’re making.

A man who will never love you back the way you wish he would, or put you first.

You continue to cry as the storm proceeds to rage against you, both inside and out—but you hope that maybe this rain will wash away some of the pain, some of the doubts, some of the fear.

Ah… but you know better. Because once this storm passes, the reality of your situation will still be there, waiting for you.

The contract, the expectations, the life you’ve chosen, and the choices you must make—none of it will disappear, no matter how much you wish it could. And despite how much you long to rid yourself of this burden, the love you’re beginning to feel for Satoru…that too, will remain, complicating everything in ways you’re not sure you’re ready to face.

The sound of the sliding door opening barely registers in your mind, lost in the cacophony of the storm as you remain huddled on the chair, lost in your thoughts. You don’t look up, not even when you sense his presence behind you—the presence of that familiar warmth, one that has the potential to cut through the cold that’s seeped into your bones.

Why is he here? You can’t bear it.

He stands there for a moment, silently taking in the sight of you curled up on the chair, small and vulnerable against the fury of the storm, and then, with a resolve that seems almost fragile, he steps forward.

The rain immediately begins to soak through his clothes, just as it did yours, and slowly, he kneels beside you, his movements careful, almost hesitant, as if he’s afraid that any sudden motion might shatter what little composure you have left.

“y/n,” he says softly, voice almost lost in the storm, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

You can’t bring yourself to respond—the words are trapped in your throat, tangled in the rush of emotions his apology stirs within you. Confusion, sorrow, a desperate yearning for things to be different—they all swirl within you, too intense, too raw to process.

The pain is overwhelming, and right now, you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. You’re terrified of what you might see in his eyes. What would you feel if you looked at him now?

You’re too scared to find out.

Satoru seems to sense your hesitation, your fear. His hand reaches out, and you feel the gentle pressure of his fingers on your shoulder, tentative and light, as if he’s afraid you might pull away. But you don’t. There’s a warmth in his touch, something that defies the cold rain soaking through both of you—a warmth that, despite everything, makes you want to lean into it, to draw strength from it.

“y/n, please…” his voice drops quieter, almost pleading. “Look at me.”

His request hangs in the air, and for a moment, you feel as if time has stopped.

Why is this so hard? Why can’t you accept that this is nothing more than a contract, an arrangement born out of necessity rather than love?

His touch fills you with a bittersweetness that is almost unbearable—a longing that you know is not realistic, that you know you shouldn’t entertain. But the plea in his voice, the vulnerability you hear in those simple words, chips away at your resolve.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, you lift your tear-streaked face to meet his gaze. The rain has flattened his usually neat hair against his forehead, and his clothes are drenched, clinging to him, but it’s his eyes that hold you captive. Because once your eyes finally connect, the world around you seems to fade into the background, the storm reduced to a distant hum.

His usually composed, confident expression is different now—eyes, softened by regret, vulnerability, and that same softness that has been tearing you apart since the moment he became deeply intertwined in your life.

It's that same softness you’ve tried to ignore, that you’ve convinced yourself was nothing more than an illusion, but that still holds an undeniable power over you.

“I’m sorry…” he repeats, voice trembling with an underlying thickness, as if he’s struggling to keep his emotions in check. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I never wanted to make you feel like Haru doesn’t matter to me, like you don’t matter.”

Your head shakes almost involuntarily, tears continuing to fall, mingling with the rain. Denial wraps around your heart like a protective shield, reminding you that this man doesn’t love you, that you cannot—will not—get your hopes up. You’ve been down this road before, and you know better than to believe in things that aren’t real.

But Satoru’s eyes soften even more as he reads the pain in your expression, and without a word, his other hand comes up to cup your cheek. His touch is warm against your cold, rain-soaked skin, and he gently brushes away the tears that mingle with the rain on your face—a touch so tender that it almost breaks you all over again.

“I really fucked up tonight…” he sighs, his breath hitching slightly as the words escape him. “I’m so sorry for that. Please… let me make things right.”

You can feel the conflict within you, your heart warring with your mind, urging you to push him away, to protect yourself from the pain that seems inevitable. You can’t afford to give yourself hope—not when the risk of being shattered again looms so large, so close.

“Look… I’m really not good at this. I’m not used to… letting people in,” he admits, his voice faltering slightly as he grapples with his own vulnerability and inadequacy. “But with you, I want to try. That’s why…”

He pauses, taking a deep breath, the sound shaky as he gathers the courage to say what’s weighing on his heart.

“I need you to know that everything I said during the interview tonight… it wasn’t just for show. I wasn’t saying what I thought people wanted to hear.”

Your breath catches at his words and your heart pounds furiously within your chest. The weight of his words and the sincerity in his eyes makes it impossible to look away.

“Those were my real feelings, y/n. When they asked me what drew me to you… I meant every word.”

Your body begins to tremble, a shuddering wave of emotion crashing over you like the relentless storm around you, threatening to pull you under. The tears begin welling up again and you feel yourself unraveling at the seams.

“Don’t do this, Satoru,” you plead, voice cracking with the weight of your fear. You bring your hands up instinctively, as if to shield yourself from the intensity of his words, to create some distance between you. “Don’t say these things… I can’t… I can’t handle being hurt again.”

For a moment, Satoru hesitates, his eyes searching yours, but then, with a gentle yet determined motion, he takes your trembling hands into his own and the warmth of his touch seeps into your cold skin. Slowly, he lowers your hands onto your lap, his grip firm but tender.

“No, let me say this,” he insists, his voice steadying, becoming more resolute, though it’s still laced with a gentleness. “You deserve to hear it. You deserve to know how I really feel.”

His thumb begins to stroke the back of your hand and his gaze softens as he searches your face. There is an earnest tenderness within the depths of his expression, and it makes your heart ache.

“You’ve brought something into my life that I didn’t even know I was missing,” Satoru continues, “You’ve made me feel… grounded, in a way that I’ve never felt before.”

There is a raw honesty in his eyes, one that begins to erode the walls you’ve built around your heart. You feel your resolve crumbling, piece by piece, as his words chip away at the fear and doubt that has kept you from fully opening up to him.

“I’m not perfect,” his voice wavers slightly and his hand tightens around yours, seeking reassurance even as he offers it. “Far from it… but you’ve made me realize that’s okay. And now, because of you, I want to do better, to be better… not just for you, but for Haru too. And for myself.”

What is he saying?

Your breath hitches, a small, involuntary gasp escaping your lips as you process his words.

“I’m… confused,” you whisper, your mind racing to catch up with your heart. “Isn’t this… just a contract?”

“Yeah…well…” a wry smile tugs at the corner of his lips, though his eyes remain serious. “Guess I broke the clause, huh? So much for no emotional entanglements…”

Your breath catches again, this time in realization.

Wait… he feels the same way? This is really happening?

The realization hits you like a wave—the truth of it crashing over you, leaving you breathless, and you can’t stop the fresh surge of tears from falling down your face.

Satoru’s brow furrows with worry, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he watches you cry. Leaning in closer, he rests his forehead gently against yours. His eyes search yours, desperate for some kind of response, some kind of reassurance that his words have reached you, that he hasn’t misread the situation.

“Please… don’t cry,” he whispers with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. He closes his eyes, breath warm as it fans across your face, and his hand, still holding yours, gives a gentle squeeze, as if to remind you that he’s here, that he’s not going anywhere.

“I… I want to believe you, Satoru,” you manage, voice trembling with the weight of your fears and doubts. “Believe everything you’re saying, but I’m so scared. What if I’m not enough? I don’t think I could survive that kind of heartbreak again…”

Satoru’s eyes open slowly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“You are enough, y/n. You’ve always been enough.”

There is a firmness in his resolve, as if he’s trying to engrave the words into your very being.

His free hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away another tear that had escaped.

“And honestly… I’m scared too.” His voice drops even lower, almost a whisper now. “Trust is something I’ve never given lightly. But with you… I want to trust. I need to trust. And… I need you to trust me too.”

Trust—there’s that word again.

It lingers in the air between you, heavy with meaning, with all the complexities and the promises it holds.

Trust—It’s such a simple word, yet it carries the weight of a thousand unsaid things, a thousand fears, a thousand hopes. It’s the foundation of everything, isn’t it? The one thing you’ve always struggled with, the one thing that has kept you from fully letting go, from fully giving yourself to him—or to anyone, for that matter.

Trust—It’s what you’ve been afraid to place in someone else’s hands, for fear that they might not handle it with care. And why would they? After everything you’ve been through, after all the disappointments, the betrayals, the moments when you’ve been left to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart, why would you ever trust again?

But… maybe trust isn’t about being certain, about knowing for sure that everything will turn out alright. Maybe… it’s about taking that leap of faith, about being willing to risk the hurt because the potential for something real, something meaningful, is worth it.

You look at him, really look at him—his usually confident demeanor is stripped away, leaving only the man beneath, exposed and uncertain, yet somehow more real than you’ve ever seen him.

This is… Satoru.

In that moment, something shifts within you.

Ah… perhaps trust isn’t something you just give; it’s something you build, together, piece by piece, moment by moment. And maybe… as terrifying as it is, you’re ready to start building that with him.

The realization hits you like a warm rush, spreading through your chest and making your heart ache in a way that’s both painful and beautiful. You want to tell him, to find the words that will let him know that you want this too. But the emotions are too overwhelming, too all-consuming, and you find yourself at a loss, unable to articulate the flood of feelings coursing through you.

So instead, you do the only thing you can—you decide to show him.

Your hands move on their own, driven by an urgency you can’t contain. Grasping the collar of his shirt, your fingers curl into the wet fabric, pulling him closer with a force that leaves no room for hesitation. The distance between you disappears in one desperate, crashing motion as you bring your lips to his.

It’s a fierce kiss, filled with a force that’s as much an admission as it is an apology—an admission of your own feelings, of the vulnerabilities you’ve tried so hard to hide, and an apology for every moment you’ve tried to protect yourself by pushing him away.

The intensity of your need is met by Satoru’s immediate response, his arms wrapping around you with a fervency that matches the storm raging around you, pulling you flush against him as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

The rain soaks through your clothes, but all you can focus on is the heat of his skin, the way his mouth moves against yours with a need that’s as insistent as it is consuming. You swallow the low, desperate moan that escapes from him, the sound vibrating through you, sending a shiver down your spine.

God, you wanted this.

His tongue grazes your lower lip, seeking entry, and without hesitation, you part your lips for him, allowing him to deepen the kiss even further, kissing you as though you’re the very air he needs to breathe. Once his tongue meets yours, the sensation is electric, sending sparks of pleasure through your entire body.

God, he wanted this.

He’s losing himself in the kiss, like he’s been holding back for far too long, and now that he’s tasted you, he can’t get enough. And you let him, wrapping your legs around him and allowing him to lift you up with ease as you thread your fingers through his damp hair. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t falter, as he carries you toward the balcony door, sure and driven by a need that can no longer be contained.

With a swift motion, he presses you against the glass door. The cold rain continues to hammer down, but you’re barely aware of it—there is a fire that seems to burn hotter with every second your lips remain locked, and you are lost in the sensation of his hands gripping into the plush of your thighs, holding you firmly in place.

“Satoru…” you gasp between kisses, and the sound of your breathless voice drives him further into the depths of his desire.

“Fuck… could get used to hearing you say m’ name like that,” he groans, mouth dropping to your neck, lips tracing the line of your jaw before pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your throat.

You arch your back and tilt your head, allowing him access, but the sudden sensation of his hips pressing against your core causes a whimper to escape your lips.

Fuck. You now realize just how much he wanted this. The hardness pressed against you is unmistakable and that alone heightens your own desire, making a tingling heat begin to pool in between your legs.

Your hands slide down his back, nails digging slightly into his skin beneath the wet fabric of his shirt, and you press your hips forward, seeking more of that friction, and he responds with a low growl rumbling from deep within his chest as he begins to grind against you.

“Fucking hell…” he rasps, voice thick with desperation, “you have no idea,” he whimpers, breath hitching as his lips brush against your ear, “no fucking idea…” he grinds harder, with renewed intensity, “how much I’ve wanted this…” his eyes flutter shut, lost in the sensation, “how much I want you…”

Every nerve ignites as an intense heat courses through you.

Fuck. This is bad. This is really bad.

You’re losing any trace of reasoning; you’re lacking any semblance of control. How can you think straight when he talks to you like that? When he touches you like this?

You can’t. It’s impossible.

This is moving really fast, and every coherent thought is slipping away, replaced by the overwhelming need for him, the need to feel every inch of him against you, inside you. You’re losing yourself in the way his body moves against yours, in the way his voice trembles with need.

“Satoru… I—” you start, but the words catch in your throat, choked off by that delicious sensation of him shifting his hips, pressing harder against you in just that right spot. “I can’t… fuck. I can’t think when you’re like this…”

“Don’t think,” he murmurs against your skin. “Just feel… let me take care of you…”

And then he’s kissing you again, his mouth claiming yours with a hunger that makes your head spin. Oh, fuck it, you don’t care. You don’t care about anything else in this moment.

In one swift motion, without breaking the kiss, he carries you away from the rain, and into the warmth of the suite. His steps are quick and determined until he reaches the bedroom, and once he sets you down your feet barely touch the floor before his hands are on you again.

The urgency in his touch is undeniable, frantic as his hands begin to work at the wet fabric of your dress, peeling it away with determination.

Oh god, this is really moving fast.

The realization hits you like a wave, but it’s quickly drowned out by the sight of him shrugging off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. And once you catch sight of his toned muscles, the way they flex beneath his skin, how can you think straight?

You can’t.

Your hands move instinctively, reaching for him, running over his chest, savoring the warmth, the strength beneath your fingertips, and his hands are equally on you, exploring your body with a reverence while his mouth moves against yours with fervor.

“You’re so fucking pretty, so beautiful…” he breaks the kiss, “I can’t get enough of you…” and then his mouth is on yours again, desperate and hungry, leaving you breathless.

He guides you towards the bed, and once the back of your knees hit the edge of it, he gives you a gentle but insistent push. His body follows and once the mattress dips slightly under your combined weight, you’re suddenly hyperaware of everything—the way his hands are sliding down your sides, the way his lips are tracing a path from your collarbone to the swell of your breasts, the way he settles between your legs.

This is moving way…way too fast.

You need a moment to think, but your mind is constantly drowned out by the feel of his body against yours.

“Satoru…” you murmur against his lips, “Please I—” But before you can finish, he’s kissing you again, his mouth claiming yours with a fierceness that makes your heart skip a beat.

Your breath hitches as he begins to rock his hips against your clothed core, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through you while you gasp into his mouth. Before you realize what you’re doing, your legs are wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer, deepening the connection between you.

Damnit, that delicious friction is all-consuming, and you can’t stop yourself from arching into him.

“Ever since that night at the gala…” he murmurs against your skin, his lips trailing down the curve of your neck, “After we kissed, I haven’t been able to think about anything else… anyone else… just you.”

His words send a shiver down your spine. Fucking hell, he’s not making this easy. The way his breath hitches as he presses kisses along your collarbone, it’s clear he’s barely holding on to his own control. And you? You’re already starting to lose yours.

Fuck, he will ruin you.

“All I could think about was how it felt to kiss you… how much I wanted to do it again… how much I wanted more…” his breath hot against your skin as his hands grip your hips, pulling you even closer.

“I can’t… I need… oh god…” the words slip out, a desperate plea mixed with a moan as the sensation of him rolling his length against that sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs becomes almost unbearable.

Fuck… the pleasure is so intense, so overwhelming, that your vision blurs, your world narrowing to nothing but the feel of him, the heat of his body, the way he’s moving against you.

You’re seeing stars.

“What is it?” he whispers against the shell of your ear, and oh he sounds so fucking undone by you, as if he’s on the verge of losing control. “Tell me… tell me what you need baby.”

His words are like gasoline on the fire burning inside you. Damnit, you need him. But you also need time to process everything that is happening. As much as you want to give in, as much as your body is screaming for more of him, a tiny voice in the back of your mind is telling you to slow down, to think.

There is still so much that has been left unsaid…things you need to get off your chest.

“Satoru…” you whisper, your voice shaky as you thread your fingers through his hair, gently pulling him back just enough to look into his eyes. His gaze is intense, dark with desire, and it takes every ounce of your self-control not to lose yourself in it. “Can we… can we take it slow?”

His body stills, and for a moment, the intensity in his eyes softens. He’s still breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, but he nods slowly, as if he’s trying to rein in his own overwhelming need.

He leans in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, his hands sliding from your hips to cradle your face gently. The kiss is different now, less urgent but still filled with an undeniable passion that leaves you breathless. It’s a slow burn, a simmering heat that makes your skin tingle as his lips move tenderly against yours, savoring every moment.

The kiss tapers off naturally, his lips lingering on yours as if he’s reluctant to let go. When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t move far, his nose brushing against yours in a tender nuzzle that makes you smile.

“Yeah… okay…” he breathes out, voice rough and tinged with longing. “We can slow down… whatever you need…”

His fingers trace the line of your jaw, moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch light, almost reverent.

“Sorry it’s just…” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lower lip before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. Each kiss is gentle. He pulls back slightly, his lips ghosting over yours as he whispers, “You don’t know what you do to me…”

Your heart swells at his words, and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “I think I’m starting to figure it out,” you softly chuckle.

Satoru mirrors your smile and lets out a soft laugh.

“Well... it’s about damn time you caught on.”

He plops down beside you, pulling you into his arms with an ease that makes your heart flutter. as if being this close to you is the most natural thing in the world. He buries his face into the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply, a content hum leaving his lips as he wraps himself around you, tangling his legs with yours and pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. The warmth of his body seeps into yours, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against you.

“Was starting to think I’d have to spell it out for you,” he murmurs, breath fanning your skin, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

A light and airy laugh escapes your lips as you become engrossed in his warmth.

 “Well, I mean... you’ve always been a bit of a mystery,” you tease, your fingers tracing idle patterns on the back of his hand where it rests against your stomach.

“Hmm, a mystery, huh?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, sending a ripple of warmth through you. “Maybe… but I think you’ve always had the key, even if you didn’t know it.”

You turn slightly in his arms, bringing a hand up to gently run your fingers through his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingers like silk as you gaze into his eyes. Your heart swells at the way he leans into your touch, as if he savors each trace of you, and there’s a tenderness in the way his eyes hold yours.

And then, his lips curl into a wry smile, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Mm… told you you’d fall for my charm. Though I will say, you were a tough one to crack.”

You try to fight the smile threatening to break free as a warmth spreads across your face. It’s crazy to think this man was once the bane of your very existence.

“Tch…you have a way of growing on people, y’know that?” The grin on his face widens at your admission, making the heat in your own face intensify. You huff, rolling your eyes as you nudge him lightly with your elbow. “You’re like a persistent, overly confident weed.”

Satoru laughs. “A weed, huh? That’s a new one,” he sounds mock-offended, though his smirk tells you he’s anything but. His hand shifts, trailing up and down your arm tenderly as his fingers lightly brush your skin. “Mmm let's see…I think I’m more like a rare, exotic flower.”

“Oh please,” you scoff, eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re more like those persistent kind of weeds that pops up in the cracks of the sidewalk, no matter how many times you try to get rid of them.”

“Persistent, huh? Well I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” his tone softens as his hand trails down your arm, the warmth of his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake until his fingers find yours, threading them together as he interlocks your hands in a gentle, but secure grasp.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep growing on you until you can’t imagine your life without me,” he murmurs—thumb gently stroking the back of your hand—and your breath hitches at the sincerity in his words.

Satoru treats you like a treasure, something to be cherished and protected.

How did you get so lucky?

He’s everything Naoya isn’t—everything you’ve ever wanted but were too afraid to hope for.

But even as the realization crosses your mind, a pang of guilt twists in your chest. You’ve been keeping something from him, something important, something that could change everything. Naoya’s scheme, his attempts to ruin Satoru’s reputation… it’s been eating away at you, gnawing at your conscience every time Satoru looks at you with those warm, trusting eyes.

But the thought terrifies you—what if it changes everything? What if it drives a wedge between you?

You need to tell him. He deserves to know.

No secrets.

You can’t keep hiding the truth. Not if you want to move forward, not if you want to build something real with him.

“Hey,” you begin softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you pull back slightly to look into his eyes. The tenderness in his gaze gives you the strength to continue. “There’s something I need to tell you… something important.”

Satoru’s expression shifts immediately from the seriousness of your tone, his brow knitting together in concern as his eyes dim.

“What is it?”

Oh fuck. This is it. No backing down now.

You take a deep breath, and though your heart pounds in your chest, Satoru’s gentle grip tightens on your hand, offering you the silent support to continue.

“It’s about Naoya…” you begin, voice trembling slightly as you hesitantly hold his gaze.

The tension in Satoru's face is subtle but unmistakable. You briefly catch sight of his jaw tightening, a muscle jumping beneath the skin at the mere mention of Naoya’s name. Swallowing hard, your throat constricts with effort as you struggle to find the right words.

“There’s… something I’ve been keeping from you… and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I was scared. I didn’t know what to do.”

Satoru’s eyes widen just a fraction, his brows drawing together slightly in concern, but he remains silent—he doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t demand an explanation. Instead, he watches you intently, his gaze locked onto yours, a silent encouragement to continue.

But that intensity in his focus only makes your heart pound harder in your chest, each beat a drum of anxiety.

Here goes nothing.

“He’s been… blackmailing me,” you confess, eyes falling to the side, unable to hold his gaze. “He’s trying to ruin your reputation, to drag your name through the mud…and if I don’t do what he says…”

The words die on your lips as you trail off.

Fuck this is overwhelming.

This entire night has been a rollercoaster, and you’re reaching the breaking point of your own emotional endurance. You expect Satoru to say something, but the silence that follows is deafening.

Each beat of your heart is like a hammer in your chest, and your mind is racing with a thousand different fears.

Is he angry? Is he waiting for you to look at him? Is this it? Is this the moment everything falls apart?

Summoning every ounce of courage you have left, you will yourself to look up, to meet Satoru’s eyes. And yes, there’s anger simmering in the depths of his gaze, a dangerous edge to it, but there’s something else too—something softer.

“What will happen if you don’t do what he says?” he asks, voice gentle yet firm. His thumb brushes soothing circles on the back of your hand with a tenderness, urging you to continue. “What exactly is he threatening you with?”

You take a deep, shaky breath, feeling the lump in your throat swell as you struggle to push the words out.

“He’s trying to take Haru away from me… he’s threatening to file for full custody if I don’t cooperate.”

The impact of your words is immediate—Satoru’s entire demeanor changing in an instant.

His expression hardens, the fury in his eyes flaring to life, unmistakable and searing, and his entire body tenses beside you. A shiver rakes down your spine when you hear the low and dangerous promise slip through his lips.  

“He’s going to regret this.”

Before you can even process his words, he pulls you onto his chest, wrapping his arms around you with a fierce protectiveness that catches you off guard. It is almost startling how the gentle way he holds you is juxtaposed with the anger simmering just beneath the surface, and as his fingers begin to thread through your hair while he cradles you close to him, you feel he is shielding you from the very world that threatens to tear you apart.

“He’s not taking Haru from you,” Satoru vows, voice unwavering, a promise etched in steel. “Not over my dead body.”

Ah…the conviction in his voice—the words you needed to hear—it is your breaking point. Finally, everything crashes down on you. The fear, the guilt, the overwhelming relief that you’re no longer carrying this burden alone—it all hits you at once, and you can’t hold back the quiet sob that escapes your lips.

Satoru tightens his hold on you, one hand gently stroking your hair, the other trailing up and down your trembling frame as he whispers reassurances.

“Hey, it’s okay… we’re going to get through this.”

His heartbeat is a steady and comforting rhythm beneath your ear. You nod weakly as a shaky breath escapes your lips, the sound muffled against his chest, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head, lips lingering for a moment.

“When did this all begin?” he whispers, fingers gently massaging your scalp.

“Two days ago…” you murmur, “right before you agreed to watch Haru for me.”

There’s a moment of silence, a brief pause as Satoru processes your words. You feel the subtle hitch in his breath, the soft exhale that follows as he tries to contain the emotions swirling inside him. He pulls back just enough to look at you, and your heart drops at his expression.

“y/n…” he breathes out, low and thick with emotion as his jaw clenches with tension. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

The ache in your chest is unbearable, and the tears begin to prick at your eyes again. Unable to face the underlying look of his own disappointment, you instinctively look away.

“I was scared and confused… I didn’t think you felt the same way about me,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “And I kept thinking about our contract…about your condition…”

Satoru’s body softens underneath you as he gently tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, and what you find there isn’t disappointment, but understanding—a deep, unwavering understanding that cuts through your doubts like a beacon of light in the darkness.

“y/n, there is no contract when it comes to how I feel about you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing away a lingering tear that slipped down your cheek. “That contract… it was just a piece of paper. Besides, it’s void now because I broke the clause.” His lips curve into a soft, reassuring smile. “What I feel for you… it’s real. And it’s not something that can be defined by a contract.”

His words are like a balm to your wounded heart, soothing the fear that had been gnawing at you.

Why did you doubt him so much? Is it because this is a love you have only hoped for? But now it’s real—it’s yours.

A shaky exhale escapes your lips as you rest your forehead against his.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice trembling. “I should have told you sooner.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Satoru soothes, his hands moving up to cradle your face. “I understand why you were scared. But we’re in this together, okay? Naoya’s not going to win.”

His hands gently tilt your face upwards, and before you can respond, he leans in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. His lips move slowly, languidly against yours, savoring the moment, and you melt into the kiss, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your fingertips.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours once more, and you linger there in the aftermath, letting the warmth of his breath fan across your lips, the closeness between you wrapping around you like a cocoon. A content sigh escapes your lips as the tension from everything slowly ebbs away, and you lower yourself onto his chest as Satoru’s fingers gently trail up and down your back.

Finally, everything has been laid bare. No secrets. Just the two of you, connected in a way that feels unbreakable.

But then, Satoru shifts slightly beneath you, “You’re shivering,” he murmurs, voice laced with concern as his hand moves to gently rub your arm, trying to warm you up. “We were out in the rain for too long…”

You hadn’t even noticed—your focus had been so consumed by everything else. Now that the adrenaline of the moment has begun to fade, you realize how cold you are, and how you’re both still in your underwear. The chill from the rain has started to seep into your bones.

“You should take a warm bath, get comfortable,” Satoru suggests, loving but insistent as he brushes a few stray strands of wet hair away from your face, tucking them gently behind your ear. “It’s been a long day, and we have to wake up early to get home to Haru. You can go first. Go on, I’ll wait for you here.”

You nod, reluctantly pulling away from the warmth of his embrace as you make your way to the bathroom.

The hot water feels like a balm against your chilled skin, and you take your time, letting the warmth seep into your bones and soothe the lingering tension in your muscles. It’s a quiet, reflective moment—an opportunity to process everything that’s happened. As the steam rises around you, you feel the weight of the day slowly lift from your shoulders.

After finishing your bath, you slip into the comfortable pajamas the hotel provided and find yourself wrapped up cozily under the blankets in the bed, waiting for Satoru as he takes his turn getting cleaned up next. The room is quiet—the rain outside has finally settled down as the once insistent pattering is now reduced to a soft, comforting drum against the window. You let your eyes drift closed for a moment, savoring the tranquility and the subtle scent of Satoru that lingers on the pillow beside you.

Tonight, has been exhausting—so much has happened, and it’s a lot to take in.

When Satoru finally emerges from the bathroom, he is dressed in the comfortable hotel linens, hair slightly damp and tousled. He flashes you a tender smile, one that makes your heart skip a beat, and you can’t help but smile back, warmth spreading through you.

But instead of joining you in the bed as you would expect, you watch with growing curiosity as he makes his way towards the closet. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you tilt your head slightly, your brows knitting together in confusion.

“What are you doing?” you observe him gather extra blankets and pillows, tucking them under his arm.

Satoru glances over his shoulder, offering you a small, almost apologetic smile.

“I’m, uh… gonna sleep on the couch tonight,” he says casually, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You blink, taken aback by his words, and a frown tugs at your lips.

“Why? You don’t have to do that. The bed’s big enough for both of us.”

He hesitates, as if weighing his words carefully.

“Y/n,” he begins, low and rough, “Believe me, I really want to,” he lets out a sigh and scratches the back of his head. “You have… too much of an effect on me. I meant it when I said we could take things slow, but if I’m lying next to you, I don’t know if I can control myself.”

His admission sends a warm flush to your face, your heart skipping a beat at the honesty in his words. You see the tension in his shoulders, the way he’s struggling to do what he thinks is right, even though it’s clearly not what he wants.

“Satoru…” you begin, your voice softening as you start to sit up, but he shakes his head gently, cutting you off before you can say more.

“If you want to take it slow, it’s probably for the best I give us some space to figure things out without making it harder than it already is.”

Damnit, he is too cute for his own good.

For a moment, you’re tempted to tell him to stay, to ignore the rules you’ve set for yourself, to just give in to the pull between you. The warmth of his presence, the comfort of his touch—it’s all so inviting. But you can also see how much he’s trying to do right by you, to honor your wishes, even if it means sacrificing what he wants.

“Okay,” you say softly, your teeth gently grazing your bottom lip as you consider your next words, “but just know that although I want to go slow, it doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t mind… doing things with you.”

Satoru lets out a groan, closing his eyes briefly as if battling with himself.

“You’re not making this easy, you know that?”

“Mm… never said I would,” you challenge, a playful glint flickering in your eyes as a crooked grin tugs at your lips.

He chuckles, tinged with both amusement and exasperation.

“I swear you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, shaking his head slightly, but the smile that accompanies his words is soft, filled with affection.

The two of you share a quiet laugh, soft and intimate, like a shared secret. As the laughter fades, a comfortable silence settles over you both. His gaze locks with yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. The intensity in his eyes, the way they darken with something deeper, makes your breath hitch.

“Goodnight, Satoru,” you murmur as you settle yourself back into the pillows.

“Goodnight, y/n,” his smile widens as his gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he turns to leave the room. “If you need anything,” he adds, pausing at the door, “you know where to find me.”

As the door softly clicks shut behind him, you’re left alone in the dimly lit room—left to your thoughts.

Tomorrow holds so much for the both of you—decisions to be made, obstacles to overcome, and a new chapter in your lives to navigate together.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t feel alone. The burden isn’t yours to carry anymore. The thought brings a sense of peace, a calm that wraps around you as you pull the blankets closer, cocooning yourself in their warmth.

There’s still so much left unresolved, and the threat of Naoya looms large. But tonight, as you drift off to sleep, all you can think about is the way Satoru looked at you, the promise in his eyes that you’ll face whatever comes next together.

And somehow, that alone makes everything seem a little less daunting.

hi hi, thank you all so much for your kind words with this fic and for sticking around. this chapter was a lot for me to write, and i really kept second guessing it tbh. i think bc it's such a pivotal point in the story and it's pretty emotional, so i really wanna thank my lovely beta readers for helping me 💕 (@strychnynegirl & @gojoslefttoenail) hmm... who is this mysterious man that approached y/n at the gala? 🤔 i wonder if you guys can take a guess based on the description 😉 also of COURSE there is only ✨one bed✨ how can there NOT be? 🤭 i had a lot of fun writing their steamy kiss 😩 as much as i wanted them to do more i also wanna reiterate how much the slow burn in this story means to me. idk, with everything going on in y/n's life it didn't feel right for her to be like "cool lets fuck." especially since she still needed to tell satoru the truth, plus she is a mom with a kid and has been through a really shitty relationship. trust isn't something that just POOF appears yk? thanks for all your kind words and for reading!! school has been picking up for me, so again my updates will likely be longer in between. love you all 🥹 -aly 💕 → you are currently all caught upꨄ

taglist :

@geniejunn @fortunatelyfurrygiver @rosso-seta @acowboykisser @mikyapixie

@shokosbunny @fire-child-kira @aluvrina @laviefantasie @kurookinnie

@poopypipi @painted-hills @stillserene @mira-lol @k-kkiana

@sebastianlover @blueberrysungie @kalulakunundrum @doireallyhavetonamthis @lingophilospher

@ichikanu @artist1936 @christianacj27 @watermelon-online @jkbangtan7

@angelina7890 @aruraa @han11dh @jonesmelodys @k1ttybean

@a-trashbag @jotarohat @khaleesihavilliard @tsukistopglazer @elliesndg

@maskedpacific @that-redheadd @lovelyartemisa @eolivy

@valleydoli @voids-universe @sukunadckrider @aishies-stuff

@saccharine-nectarine @ilianasau @pinksaiyans

[epicthemusicalstuff]

My Thoughts On The Vengeance Saga!

I’m Not Sorry For Loving You: I feel we pretty much had the full song before hand? So it’s not too much new? But the vocals were so pretty!! Definitely the most grounded song in the saga!

Dangerous: First of all- the little Full Speed Ahead? With the 600 men bit? That had me so emotional already- the fact that there was no response when he said ‘with one goal in mind’ and there was a silence where they normally would have said ‘make it back alive to our homeland’. THEN HERMES IS BACK! WITH THE WINIONS???? AND THEY HAVE THE BAG AGAIN FOR HIM??? I went crazy over that- did they get Aeolus’ help? Did the winions go rogue and since they liked Odysseus they trapped it themselves??? Anyways. RUTHLESSNESS MENTION.

Charybdis: I love the overall vibe of this song! Again- very much like the snippets we heard- but that doesn’t make it less awesome! (I will also say I loved durning the animatic when he started getting all blurred with his speed). HE SAW ITHACA AND IT WAS SO TOUCHING THEN HE DIDNT GET TO GET THERE YET!!!

Get In The Water: I LOVE THE OPENING INSTRUMENTAL PART. CHILLS. I was screaming- I still am screaming as I relisten to it! POLITES, EURYLOCHUS, AND ANYICLEA JUMPSCARE! One of the songs that I feel so much better about listening to this morning, with just the music and none of the chaos of last night or the stream.

Six Hundred Strike: Okay- lots of thoughts on this one folks- the Six Hundred Men being chanted part? Amazing- does that count as when I said the vocals of his crew would be back? HE WILL GET BACK TO HIS SON. AND HE WILL GET BACK TO HIS WIFE. He avenged his comrades!!!!

Speaking from a position of just listening to the song instead of the provided visuals- I visualize something different happening. Like in terms of the wind bag, I like the idea it is used to blow away the layers of Poseidons water shell- to leave just him in the middle. And then the 600 Strike bit- perhaps the ghosts of all his crew appear and each get their own strike at Poseidon, with Odysseus dealing the last one before Poseidon starts singing again?

YOU IDIOT got me. THE ODYSSEUS’ WENT ABSOLUTELY FERAL? STABBING POSEIDON??? LIKE WHAT? I WAS SCREAMING- the raw vocals were amazing too-

NEXT TO MY WIFE

[headspace-hotel]

nature things that a lot of people don't know about and weren't even taught about adequately, but they're actually really fundamental and important to know about

how rivers work. Where do they get started? how do they decide which way to flow?? what makes one river muddy and the other one clear?

[They flow downhill. Always. If a river is flowing a Way, that way is Downhill. They start with rain flowing or soaking downhill until it forms into a little trickle through a channel like a gully or drainage ditch, and the farther it flows the more other trickles flow into it from the land around it, until you have a stream, and the streams all flow downhill until they run into each other, and eventually you have a river which finally reaches the ocean. Rivers never flow FROM the ocean because the ocean is the most downhill you can possibly go. I don't think rivers usually split in two—a fork in a waterway is usually two rivers joining together.]

[On the subject of pollution, rain is usually supposed to soak slowly through the layer of leaves, roots, and dead plant material that covers most biomes. But if you tear up the plants and leave bare mud, or replace a forest with a muddy cow pasture, there's no filter, and mud and contaminants wash into the river. Just plain mud can be pollution.]

how soil works. What makes different soils different? Why are some soils good for growing a garden and others terrible? Does it need more fertilizer?

[The sand, silt, clay diagram is very simplified and only deals with one aspect of soil. Roots, soil animals, fungi, and dead plant material are all part of soil and affect its structure, making it spongy and full of holes and passages for nutrients, water, and new roots. Tilling can break hard soil, but tilling doesn't make soil light, fluffy, and permeable—disturbing the soil as little as possible, protecting it with a layer of plant material, and allowing the natural life forms of the soil develop their networks and tunnels and slowly break down the plant material layer does. This is also very simplified. Soil is COMPLICATED.]

what fungi are, and whether they are dangerous.

[fungi cannot harm you unless you eat them or unless they're growing inside your house and you're inhaling their spores in a concentrated space. There's like, one species in Japan that causes skin irritation. You can touch any other species without any harm whatsoever. *Most* of them don't harm your garden either—in fact, most plants connect their root systems to the fungal mycelium in the soil and receive nutrients from the fungus in exchange for the products of photosynthesis.]

Whether lichen harm trees

[no. They're just hanging out. But a LOT of lichen on a tree might be a sign that the tree is dying. It's not the lichen's fault though.]

What moss is??

[it's a plant, but a very simple plant that doesn't have any vessels for transporting water, so it has to live somewhere damp and soak it up like a sponge. There are hundreds of species of moss, and different species live on the side of a boulder vs. the top, or a living tree trunk vs. a fallen dead tree trunk!]

where bugs go in the winter? I straight up had a book as a kid that told me that they just die, without explaining how the species doesn't go extinct if the winter kills them all.

[Tl;dr they're usually hibernating in fallen leaves and dead wood and plant material. Some do this as eggs or larvae/caterpillars; in this case the adults do die, but their children sleep peacefully through the winter to awake in the spring. And still others hibernate as adults. This is why you don't clean up your flower beds until late spring.]

How Many plants there are

[WAY more than you think]

How ecosystems work apart from "everything is out to get everything else and take resources from other organisms."

[Competition and cooperation are both important in ecosystems! Weeds are competitive and they can choke out other plants, but they also protect the soil from erosion and harsh sunlight, keeping it moist and helping organic matter to build up. A lot of plants, when they're young, need to be sheltered by other plants that protect them from dryness, heat, and herbivores. This isn't even getting into how some plants will send nutrients to seedlings or to understory plants in a forest! Before industrial agriculture made monocultures dominant, people used and were familiar with cooperative relationships between plants a LOT more.]

The range of creatures that are pollinators, and how important the variety is.

[Bees, wasps, butterflies, moths, flies, ants, beetles, hummingbirds, and bats are all pollinators, and flowers are usually shaped and colored and scented to attract particular pollinators. Bees can't do everything, and honey bees are only one kind of bee. Red flowers and long tube shaped flowers are often for hummingbirds, pale-colored flowers that open at night need moths, and flowers that give off strong foul odors often attract flies. It gets WAY more complicated than that—sometimes a flower is only pollinated by a single species of bee or wasp or beetle.]

How many bees there are besides honey bees

[LOTS. And you've probably never seen most of them, if you don't regularly spend time around native plants! There are 140 species of longhorn bee alone, and most people haven't even heard of longhorn bees! There are well over a hundred bumble bees too! Bees come in bright, metallic green, blue, and pure gold. In the USA where I live, some of the most endangered bees are the adorable, fluffy bumble bees—the American Bumble Bee is threatened, and we have some species, like the rusty-patched bumble bee, that are critically endangered.]

[Please, please, please do not use pesticides on plants unless it is a necessity, and please do a LOT of research on the specific pesticide you are using and its effects on non-target insects. If there is any alternative, Do Not Do It. ESPECIALLY not pesticides that come in dust or powder form, ESPECIALLY in the USA, because regulations are so loose here that regular people can buy pesticides in dust form that are horribly toxic to bees.]

[How horribly toxic? A pesticide like Sevin dust will cling to the fuzz on every single bee that visits your plant—like pollen—and those bees will probably die. And in social bees, before they die, they will take the poison back to their hive (like pollen) and potentially kill the entire hive.]

[egophiliac]

Ego how do u draw the shroud bros hair? Its so hard 😔

Atp i might as well draw them bald😭🙏

I don't draw them at all consistently (let alone anywhere near on-model), so I'm not sure how helpful this will be. :') but I can share how I break it down, if that helps at all!

standard disclaimer that this is just how I draw them, take from it what you will, et cetera and so on and so forth. I really don't draw them close to canon at all, so this is sorta specific to my process, I guess? (and I am SUPER bad at putting things into words, so my apologies if this all comes off as a bunch of incomprehensible "you just, you know, ~*~*draw it*~*~" nonsense. 🫠 I can make no promises, but I'll try!)

I always start by establishing the shape of the skull and roughly where the hairline is -- the Shroudbros especially don't look anything like themselves without their hair, it's terrifying. :(

really can't overstate how much drawing hair is helped by thinking about it as different sections! even you have a less cartoony art style, it helps a LOT to start out with it as big, simplified shapes and then breaking it down more and more as you go.

the thing about their hair in particular is that the closer it is to their face, the more hair-like it is, and then it gets progressively more fire-y as it goes back. so their bangs pretty much act like regular hair! Idia has long, downward-and-outward-swooping bangs in that classic Yana M-shape, while Ortho's are shortier and spunkier (they kinda, uhhh, "lean" more to his right in general).

Idia also has these little short spiky sections that cover his ears and ring around the back of his head. these also act more like regular hair than fire.

them they have these big sections that are brushed back from their bangs and stick up -- this is where their hair really starts acting more like fire, so it doesn't have to be super consistent, just getting some nice flame-reminiscent shapes. I think of it as being in three sections: a bigger center flame, then two sections of smaller flames that kinda frame that center one. (I tend to treat this bit as being kind of flat/frond-y, although that's probably not really how it's supposed to be. ( ᐛ )

then I kinda just...fill in the back of their heads with more flame-y shapes that layer over each other. Idia does consistently have this one longer curvy bit that sticks out on his left; otherwise I just try to keep his hair feeling brushed back and with that sorta downward swoopiness he has in general, with just the little flame-ends sticking up. Ortho, meanwhile, has shorter clumps with an upward swoopiness (and note that his hair is under his headphones, so it gets a little compressed by them).

Idia's longer hair is where it gets to be, like, just pure fire, so it's all about whatever Shapes I feel like doin'! it kinda just...flows down from the back of his head, if that makes sense? sorta like a cross between water and a stream of fire. (length-wise, it goes down to either the back of his knees or down to his feet depending on which reference you're looking at...it really isn't super consistent, so I'm not either. :')

and that's how I draw their hair! I don't usually shade it beyond that just 'cause I'm lazy, but the shading does help sell the fire effect a lot -- their hair shading uses a lot of curvy and weird shapes that darkens from the center of their hair clumps out, with highlights/transparency on the tips (and just a little bit where hair highlights would normally be, to get the feeling of the curve in there).

SO yeah, hopefully you're able to get something helpful out of all this! 🙇

[anundyingfidelity]

BLOOD, SWEAT & TEARS — Billy Butcher, Soldier Boy

Summary: A normal night where Butcher and his new pal, Soldier Boy, fuck just their stress out with a new toy, you.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x female reader x Soldier Boy

Word count: 1.5k.

Warnings: porn without plot, dom!butcher, dom!ben, one thought of dub-con but not really, double penetration, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, unsafe sex (creampie and switching holes basically don't do it, this is just porn), squirting, dirty talk, blowjobs, facial, degradation (usage of whore, slut, etc.), cumplay, some dacryphilia, choking, hair pulling, blood, mentions of violence, Ben and Butcher being kinda jerks, normal misogyny coming from SB, some ego competition, hints to aftercare.

Notes: You already know english is not my main language, not betad and barely revised, lol sorry for the mistakes in here. The amount of horniness I have for these two I swear is not fucking normal. Normally I'd apologize for writing this, but I'm ovulating.

the boys/jackles tags: @k-slla

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

A pair of rough hands held your legs open. Your empty pussy was throbing as Butcher knelt between your thighs rubbing the tip of his cock against your cunt.

You gasped, the man behind you spreading you further for his new team mate to get better access while he fucked your ass senseless. His cock reaching all the right spots. You moaned loudly, almost screaming when Butcher finally pushed inside you. Soldier Boy never seemed to cease his insane thrusts from behind.

"Luv, you're so fucking tight," Butcher grinned, your walls engulfing him perfectly.

They both soon set up a rhythm, one pushing in while the other almost slide out of your hole. Each stroke of their massive cocks inside you exploded something you never felt before. It was a new kind of spark eliciting from the deepest places, and you wanted to come undone there, over and over, forever, between their strong bodies.

"Oh, fuck! Yes right there, god!" you growled, screamed, and cried out incoherences as the two men continued fucking you to bliss.

A layer of sweat covered your skin and you rolled your eyes back, the familiar knot on your belly building up yet again. You didn't have an idea of how much time had passed since you arrived back to the dirty motel. All three of you arrived covered in blood, dirt and the weight of murder, and you still let them take you and you welcomed them the same way. You let them have fun with you however they pleased.

The last thing you remembered from that night was coming back from a mission. Your aching body begging for a shower and good sleep, but Butcher and the new supe found other ways to take their own stress out. You doubted at first. Of course you didn't know it could feel this good. They left bite marks all over your neck, nipped your tits, spanked your thighs open for their mouths to devour you while the other fucked your throat until tears streamed down your cheeks.

They continued bruising and marking your skin. Like a canvas, they left their prints, covering your flesh with different colors all over and used your mouth and pussy as they fucking wanted, granting access to the other, spreading your legs, manhandling you all over the disgusting, shitty room. Then Soldier Boy had the idea of using your ass, just for him, and at first, you were fucking scared. It was all too much. But once he had you ready and stretched enough with his fingers, you quickly fell for his rough touch and his dick, which was as huge as his ego. He was fucking addictive. Both were, in fact, fucking you amazingly hard.

One of Ben's hand wrapped around your neck, climax reaching its peak as Butcher rubbed your clit with his thumb. Your walls clenched around both of them and the vulgar sound of your pussy filled the place along with their skin hitting yours.

"Little slut, gonna cum for us?" Ben said, voice full of lust, pressing your back against his bare chest. You clenched again, his dark chuckle enhanced heaven down your cunt.

Wetness increased between your legs, and you moaned. Louder than ever. The whole place might already know what was happening in the room, but neither Ben or Billy made you shut up. In fact, they wanted you to scream your lungs out.

"Oh, she's definitely gonna cum," Butcher followed, a smirk on his lips. "C'mon sweetheart, don't be shy. Give us one more."

"I-I feel like- fuck!" with a loud cry you squirted all over them, their dicks sliding out of your holes. Shit, that was the harderst you came for the night.

Immediately you tried to close your shaky legs, but Butcher's hands held you in place, pussy clenching around nothing as your fluids coated their hard lenghts and thighs.

"Fucking hell. I'm gonna break you, sugar," Ben hissed, taking your legs and fixing your position on top of him, sliding you down his dick, but this time he claimed your pussy, pistoning in and out of you without any mercy. Even if your body still trembled and you were so fucking overstimulated. You moaned.

Butcher tskd as he watched you, tears streaming down your face and lost in pleassure. "That was mine, pal."

"Yeah, I don't give a fuck- Jesus, she's fucking tight!" Ben hoarsed.

He didn't care about Butcher, he just wanted to fuck you until you passed out and his name was the only thing on your mind.

You whimpered softly. "Please, please," you were getting there again, under the brunette man's dark eyes as the soldier fucked you insane.

But before you reached that sweet peak again, Ben pulled out of you. His strenght forced you to bend over the matress on your hands and knees, Butcher positioned himself right in front of your face. It was so fast and they moved quickly, like a dance already choreographed between them to take advantage of all you got to give.

"Open wide, baby" Butcher ordered. You complied happily, letting his cock touch the back of your throat smoothly.

Ben's rough hands gripped your hips, down your ass, giving a spank on one of your cheeks, making you jump slightly. He grabbed your ass cheeks spreading them to expose your hole, the tip of his cock teased your ass until he slid in a swift motion. You whimpered with your mouth stuffed. He filled you up perfectly and you fucking loved it.

"Such a good cumslut, taking my cock so fucking well," Ben praised, voice husky. He roughly gripped your hair, forcing yourself down more around Butcher's shaft. You gagged, he smirked. "Might just keep you around as my little, personal fuckdoll."

"Fuck- easy there, mate," Butcher warned, as you worked your tongue and lips on his cock as much as you could. "We have another deal, remember?"

Ben smirked cockily at him as you clenched around his cock. You let out a moan muffled by Butcher fucking your mouth. Both their thrusts harder than ever. "Still, I don't give a shit."

Ben's gaze admired you, hands on your hips, as he watched himself shoving into your hole. "You're gonna fucking cum again, you dirty little bitch," he ordered.

"Mmm..." You nodded as best as you could with the twitching cock on your mouth.

Butcher suddenly pulled out of your mouth, a string of saliva leaked down your lips to the tip of his cock. He kept your head in place as much as he could and jerked himself off with his other hand. He came with a hard groan all over your pretty face. His white seed painted your cheeks, lips and your tongue sticking out as you shut your eyes.

"Bloody hell, don't you look ravishing," Butcher whispered darkly. His thumb collected his cum, now mixed with your tears and a small stain of dry blood on your face. He dragged it to your lips so you could taste it. Your plump lips closed around his finger with a moan.

"Insatiable slut, just how I like them," Ben hissed, pulling out of your asshole, making you whimper. "Now, I'm gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy."

He rubbed the tip of his dick on your slit and entered slowly. You felt every inch stretching you out and he slammed into you brutally, he was so fucking close. You could feel it. It surprised you how much they actually endured, their stamina was endless and you lost count of how many times they made you cum already. And yet, you felt that precious sensation anew, soft walls clenching repeatedly around him.

"C'mon whore," Ben gripped on your hair, pulling your back against his muscular chest, taking both your wrists with his other hand. "Cum around my cock."

Your cunt pulsed, he grunted. And you came, again, with shaky legs, shaky breath and the sight of a naked Butcher, who already had taken a seat on the couch in front of the bed. Your orgasm triggered Ben's, and he filled you up completely. You cried out when his fingers found your clit, the grip on your hair long gone now. He continued fucking his cum inside you, balls deep, until he started to soften inside you. His thrusts slowed down little by little.

Ben finally pulled out, letting go of your wrists and you collapsed on your hands and knees on the mattress. He spread out your pussy with his fingers and admired his white cum dripping out of you.

"Well, that was a fucking ride," he smiled. His middle finger wiped his seed and forced it back inside your pulsing cunt. "Fuck, where do you find these kind of women?"

Butcher shrugged. "I have my contacts."

"I'm still here, y'know," you breathed out, rolling on your back.

Ben hovered over your tired figure. Messy hair, cheeks stained with Butcher's cum, teary eyes, and some dry blood spots decorated your face. They did break you and put you back into pieces. He was damn proud of that. He leaned down and sucked into the skin of your neck. You moaned, your fingers tangled on his scalp as his lips carressed your neck, his beard burning on your soft skin.

"Ben, I'm tired," you said, and he stopped his kisses. He shared a suspicious look with Butcher and then locked his lustful green eyes with yours.

The supe winked at you. "Later, doll."

You rolled your eyes and heard Butcher standing up.

"Gonna prepare you a bath, luv," he said as he disappeared inside the bathroom. "Have to take good care of ya."

[pix-writes]

For the NSFW requests; what kinks do Stan and Ford have? 👀

👀 I've got you, anon 😉

18+ under cut, minors DNI

Stanford:

Edging - likes to experiment with it to see how far he can go, what are the limits of his patience? He's working out his self control like he's stretching out a muscle. And with you as well, how far can you stand to be teased? Knows it's worth it for the intensity of the orgasm(s) when he finally gives you what you both want. Likes the sense of control he gets from it too!

Biting - likes when you bite into him when you get close/overstimulated/want to keep quiet, makes his feral side come out, wants to mark you too as he nips and nibbles at your skin, all over. A darker, protective (*cough* possessive*cough*) part of him enjoys seeing the hickeys and marks he leaves on your skin. Ford has a lot of scars and other unwanted traces on his body (laser tattoo removal can only do so much), so he feels so loved when you leave marks on him.

Temperature/nipple play - warm wax (and ice) on his body gives a contrast of overstimulating sensations that feels nice to him, have no idea of how or when/if he finds this out though, perhaps it's a way for him to feel light pain in a good way? Likes when you pay attention to his nipples too as they're sensitive.

Clothed sex/dry humping - (kind of goes with the kink below) actually really turned on by dry humping, gets incredibly flustered even though neither of you have taken anything off yet.

Tights - idk why it just seems right to me. Ford loves how the fabric feels and how it smooths over your skin. Maybe he's always been attracted to how they look on people in the past, but it's not until you are grinding against him fully clothed that it really awakens! The silky feeling of your tights on his cock, the thin layer between him and your heat has him staining them with his pre cum. (EDIT: tights aka pantyhose or stockings, I always forget Americans have a different name for them sorry)

Praise - will praise you a lot but he likes it back the other way, I hc Ford is a perfect switch, so whether he's taking the lead or not likes to know he's doing well, has been starved of affection for so long so praise helps him to know he's doing good.

Stanley:

Restraints - here's the thing, Stan's been put in cuffs enough times to hate it, but he's also quite adept at getting out of them (as long as it's a situation where he can of course), he figures that he wouldn't hate it as much if his pretty partner is the one to do it to him 😏 ya know? Though most of the time, it makes him feel a bit too helpless/claustrophobic, but he'll tie you up or put you in cuffs any time (he always has them nearby), gets him going because he gets to tease the hell out of you and you can't do anything about it! (I have a hunch that he's a teensy bit of a brat tamer) Spanking is another he likes too, in theory more than practice, because he may be game for a lot of things but doesn't want to hurt you, feels conflicted about it. Kind of loves it when you give him a firm slap to his behind, as long as he knows you're going to do it (he's hypervigilant), likes when you say nice things about his ass.

Primal play - doesn't know that it's called that but there's something in the playfulness of chasing each other around the house etc., that does it for him in a more serious way, likes to chase you more, though doesn't mind if he's the one on top or bottom, sometimes is nice when his partner is doing the work and he gets to lay back and enjoy the view.

Sir and begging- likes to be called sir (the fact that Alex said this on a stream is WILD, joking or not, and it's been burnt into my brain ever since!), never been really seen as a figure of respect and melts his brain a little to be treated reverently, likes when you beg it's basically praise for him for pleasuring you so well

Marking - likes to mark you but loves it even more if you leave some on him, he'll keep it there for others to see, he's a taken man now 🥴 - that's his expression after you've kissed him and left him with lipstick all over his face

Painted nails - doesn't have to be those fake nails really, he just likes to see them with some colour on them, thinks it's attractive, the way they look when you're placing your hands all over him and maybe scratching across his chest?

[cozykali]

Heartbeats (Astarion’s POV)

I downloaded Baldur’s gate 3 and immediately feel for this sexy vampire the moment he tackled me to the ground and held a knife to my neck. I’m in act 2 right now (no spoilers!) and the brainrot is BAD. I’ve read some amazing period sex fics involving Astarion but I wanted to craft one from his perspective. Let me know your thoughts!

Master list can be found here!

Pairing: Astarion x fem Tav/reader

Rating: SMUT! NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI

Words: 4700

TW: (this fic is FLITHY), mentions of death and dying, biting (duh), drinking blood, period sex, blood kink, oral (fem receiving), unprotected P in V, kissing, fingers, stalking, multiple Os, passing out, blood-loss, mentions of past torture/trauma, tension, begging, fluffy ending, ‘who did this to you?’,

Notes: Tav and Astarion have been travelling together for a few weeks. No romance scenes have happened yet, but she allows him to feed on her nearly every night. She hasn’t seen his scars yet. Tav is on her period and it’s making her vampire friend go crazy. Tav has feelings for Astarion but hasn’t acted upon them. This story is told from Astarion’s perspective. Tav can be any race or class you want (probably not durge though).

Bonus: Check out this massive playlist I made inspired by Astarion!

The fading fire crackled softly; its once licking flames now reduced to gentle, glowing embers. A thin line of smoke ascends into the damp air that coats the earth in a delicate layer of cool dew.

Astarion lies beside the fire on his bedroll, flat on his back, with his arms slightly splayed at his sides. Most nights, he is grateful that he doesn’t need sleep like his companions do. He can immerse himself in the peaceful sounds of the night, meditate, slow his breath, and calm his mind without slipping into unconsciousness. This ability had saved his life on more than one occasion.

However, tonight is different. Tonight, he wishes for sleep to claim him. He longs to drift away and escape the torment of the spell unknowingly cast upon him by Tav. He turns his head to gaze through the soft light of the fire in her direction.

Tav is laying on her side facing the fire, her mouth slightly open as she emits soft snores barely audible over the crackling flames. But what troubles Astarion tonight is her scent. It wafts through the acrid smoke of the fire like a gentle breeze through a sail, sweet as usual, but it’s currently mixed with blood and musk.

Astarion has been avoiding Tav for the better part of two days now. Whenever she drew near, he held his breath and averted his gaze. He knew he must keep his distance from her, because the alternative would be ripping her apart, which would not win any favors with the rest of the party.

Tav has also been careful around him. She must know that he can sense her menses. Despite inviting him to feed on her each night for nearly two weeks, tonight she did not proposition him, nor the night before. Last night, his attempt to catch a deer had been futile, leaving Tav as his last meal.

Lying on his bedroll, Astarion stares up at the stars, after a seemingly endless eternity for an immortal being, he hears Tav stir slightly. He glances over at her curiously, hoping she doesn’t notice his gaze. She lets out a quiet groan, clutching her lower stomach before curling into a fetal position, her face contorted in pain. Moments later, she slowly starts to rise.

Tav stumbles to fetch a flask of water, guzzling it down greedily. Astarion envies her ease in quenching her thirst while his own thirst rages inside him. Before long, he senses her absence, her scent growing fainter. He debates whether to leave her to sort herself out, but the primal urge to hunt and stalk his prey cannot be ignored.

Rising slowly, Astarion follows her scent through the trees to a nearby stream. His movements are fluid and silent as he approaches her. Tav is kneeling in front of the water, wringing out a blood-soaked cloth.

"Seems such a waste to wash that delicious blood away, darling," Astarion's voice, silky and smooth as velvet, slices through the night like a dagger. Tav lets out a startled squeal, spinning to face him.

"Astarion!" Her voice cracks with surprise as she stumbles back, but his hand shoots out to steady her, his touch cool against the small of her back as he prevents her from falling into the rocky stream.

His gaze is locked onto Tav's eyes, wide with astonishment, her pupils are dilated so only faint rings of color remain around dark voids. With his keen elven senses, he can hear the rapid thrum of her heart beneath her chest. Releasing her gently, Astarion steps back, his posture graceful and poised.

"Sorry, my dear," he says, softening his tone to one less intimidating. "I was merely ensuring no creatures were stalking you in the night as you wandered off. There are far worse dangers in these woods than bears, you know?"

"You mean like you?" Tav's words are sharp, but Astarion detects the faint quiver of her bottom lip.

"I just prevented you from bashing your skull on those wet rocks, and this is the gratitude I receive?" Astarion scoffs.

"I wouldn't have nearly slipped if you hadn't snuck up on me, asshole," Tav retorts, pushing him in the chest, though his feet remain firmly planted.

"Oh, my, you look adorable when you're angry," Astarion can’t help but smirk at her.

Tav lets out a frustrated grunt, attempting to stomp away, but Astarion catches her arm before she can pass him. Confusion clouds her face as she searches for an explanation for his unusual behavior. The facade of his usual sassy indifference had vanished, replaced by a tumult of desire and longing.

"Are you here to bite me?" Tav's voice trembles, strained as if she’s fighting back a scream. "I thought you were better than that. You promised me you wouldn’t feed on me unless I asked you to."

Astarion reaches out and takes the wet cloth from her hand, the hunger gnawing at him like a demon. Shamelessly, he presses it to his face, inhaling deeply. His vision is blurred, his head swimming in the intoxicating scent of her body that lingers on the fabric.

"Astarion, knock it off! You’re freaking me out," Tav snaps, snatching the cloth back and tossing it into the dirt.

"Tav," he whimpers, hating the desperation in his voice. Slowly, he releases her wrist, turning away to pinch his brows in an attempt to ease the splitting headache caused by her overwhelming scent.

"What in the hells is wrong with you?" Tav's voice remains cold, but concern flickers in her eyes as she speaks. She feels sorry for him.

Astarion straightens his stance, clearing his throat. "I apologize that I disturbed you. I’m not thinking straight," he announces before turning to walk back to camp.

"Wait," Tav said, and he freezes.

"I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you. That I haven’t asked you to bite me the past few nights. I know you must know I’m on my period," she admits, her gaze fixed on the ground. "I didn’t know how you felt about it. I can see now that it’s driving you to madness, but I thought ignoring it was the best course of action. It’s embarrassing, really, and I’m having terrible pains in my stomach."

Astarion closes the distance between them in two swift strides.

"It’s hard to see you like this, so crazed with hunger, and I…" Tav's words falter as Astarion gently places his hand under her chin, lifting her face to meet his.

"Shh, Tav, my sweet. You’re going to put me in a second grave," he murmurs.

To his surprise, Tav presses her face into his with a gentle kiss, and Astarion's eyes close as a deep growl rumbles from his chest.

Tav removes her lips, "I’m sorry that was stupid of me to…" but Astarion wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer, pressing her body against his. He kisses her ravenously. His sharp fangs scrape softly on her bottom lip. A sensation of an unraveling overwhelms Astarion as he kisses Tav. It's a mixture of desire, longing, and perhaps even a hint of vulnerability. This feeling is unfamiliar to him, stirring emotions he's long kept buried beneath his cool exterior.

She relaxes in his arms, sinking deeper into his kiss. Her hand reaches up to ruffle his soft white curls while the other slips under his linen shirt, exploring the ridges and lines of his abdomen.

As they momentarily break their kiss, Astarion feels a rush of dizziness. He gently brushes her hair away from her neck and nuzzles into the curve of her shoulder. His tongue traces the faint marks on her skin, remnants of the nightly feedings he's had days prior. Despite the hunger clawing at him, he restrains himself from indulging further.

His hands, trembling with desire, slide down to the hem of Tav's shirt. He breathes against her ear, his voice a husky whisper, "May I?" Without a word, she responds by lifting her arms, granting him permission. In one smooth motion, he pulls the shirt over her head, revealing her skin. Astarion’s hands cup her breasts. The soft sound she emits as his mouth finds her nipple is music to his ears.

"Please, I need to taste you." He pleas between nibbles and licks on her chest. He no longer feels ashamed by his desperation.

"Oh, Astarion." Tav smiles, "You look so pretty when you beg."

“Gods," he groans, then steps back to remove his shirt before kneeling to the ground in front of her, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight. "Tav," his voice is deep and soft, "I beg you." His hands reach out to grab her waist. "Let me taste you." He rests his forehead softly on her bare stomach. She places her hands on his and slides them down, encouraging him to remove her pants. Astarion is nearly trembling with anticipation as he helps her step out of her garments.

"Hold on," she stops him before he rips off her underwear. The bloodied rag that was freshly changed before he found her, was now soiled again with arousal and blood. "Should we find somewhere more comfortable?" She offers him her hand to help him rise back up.

Astarion feels lightheaded for a moment as he returns to his feet. However, as soon as he regains his balance, he scoops Tav up and carries her with remarkable speed to a clearing near the stream, where the ground is more sand than rocks. He lays Tav down on her back. He crawls towards her slowly, until his thigh is pressed firmly against her sex. As he lowers himself to kiss her once more, he gently hooks his other leg under hers and slides it up slowly, allowing her legs to part for him.

"Astarion?" She whispers to him when their kiss breaks, "You can feed on me tonight if you like."

He doesn’t even recognize the deep, feral growl that escapes his throat in response. "I was so hoping you would say that darling."

Astarion kisses his way down Tav’s stomach. She squirms at the feeling of his fangs brushing lightly on her ribs. He catches the waistband of her undergarments between his teeth and slides them down her legs to remove them.

He stops to hover over Tav for a moment now that she’s fully undressed. He savors the look she’s giving him through hooded eyes. Pausing, he appreciates the beauty of her bare skin splayed before him, relishing her scent before he consumes her.

"You’re too good to me, my pretty thing. I don’t deserve this, and I don’t deserve you." Astarion remarks before his head dips between her legs.

Astarion flattens his tongue and licks her once slowly, bottom to top. Tav tastes unbelievable. It still tastes like her blood, metallic and rich, but it’s enhanced with the flavor of her slick arousal, the must of her sweat, the flesh of her womb. If the blood in her veins is his water, his life source, the blood between her legs is like the finest of wines.

The hums and moans that leave Astarion's throat as he devours her are so animalistic, he can hardly hear Tav’s whines. He licks up every drop until she is clean then sticks his tongue deep inside her searching for more. His nose rubs in a side-to-side motion, pressed firmly against her apex, as his tongue explores.

"Oh gods, Astarion!" Tav gasps. He feels a slight sting on his scalp as she grabs a fistful of his silver curls while rocking her hips to match the speed of his tongue.

"I need more," Astarion rasps. His lips close around her bud He slides two slender fingers inside of her and starts pumping them in and out, coaxing out more blood. Her moans fill his ears like a siren’s song, adding to his pleasure. He can feel her insides tightening around his digits.

"Astarion. I…" Tav’s sentence is cut off by a wail of pleasure. He can smell the ecstasy flooding her blood, hear her heart pounding in her chest, and feel her body spasm and quake where he touches her. He doesn’t change the pace of his tongue or hand, dragging out her orgasm until she is panting and spent. He removes his fingers from her to lick them clean like a cat and notices a small trickle of blood leaking out of her.

"You may have just finished, darling, but I am not done yet. Nothing compares to the sound of my name cried from your lips, and I intend to hear it again." Astarion’s face dips back down to clean her folds. The amount of blood he can get from her body is not nearly enough to fill him. He needs to feed soon, a real meal, a pint of blood or more, not just a taste. But it can wait; the taste is too divine to stop.

Astarion hooks his arms under her thighs and flips onto his back, pulling her with him in one smooth motion. He grabs her hips as he forces her to a sitting position on his face, drinking her in. She shrieks and tries to pull away.

"Astarion, I need a minute. It’s too much." He releases his hands and stares up at her face with mid concern while she hovers over him. He tries to imagine how he looks to her right now.

"Can I ask you to be my mirror again, love?" He recalls the evening Tav found him looking at his empty reflection.

She studies him. "Your pretty face is absolutely covered with blood," she states. "Your lips are puffy and swollen. Your skin is thin and pale, paler than usual. Then there are your eyes…" she pauses, "they’re so red right now that they nearly glow in the light of the stars. There is nothing human, or even elf, left in them. They are the eyes of a monster."

Astarion grins wide, displaying his sharp fangs to her, "I am a monster, dear. Now can you please let me get back to consuming my prey?" His tongue extends from his mouth to lap against her swollen sensitive skin.

Tav tilts her head back and moans, exposing the full length of her gorgeous neck. Her back arches as she lowers herself onto his lips. Astarion grumbles in satisfaction when the taste of her dances on his tongue again. He grabs her thighs, in case she decides to pull away again, but instead she lowers onto him more, smothering him. She rocks against him, rubbing herself against his mouth and nose.

His lungs burn slightly, but he doesn’t need to breathe air to survive; it’s just a matter of an unconscious habit from before he turned into a vampire spawn. He needs air in his lungs to be able to speak, and it’s slightly uncomfortable if his lungs go without air for extended periods of time. He represses the memories of torture he had to endure over the centuries, where Cazador would deprive him of air for days just to watch him struggle. Astarion silently scolds himself for focusing on his lungs when his attention should be on the woman on top of him.

Tav bends her back further and places her hand on his waste to steady herself. Her hand brushes against the swollen bulge in his leather pants. His other primal urge is nothing more than an annoyance compared to his crazed lust to feed. But Astarion doesn’t protest when she starts to pet him through his pants as she continues to use his face like a toy. His pants suddenly feel uncomfortably tight.

"Astarion!" His name sounds like a symphony when it exits her body. She collapses forward, cradling his head with her arms. He drinks her in, savoring all his senses. His hands run up and down her bare thighs that seem to burn with heat. She rolls off him and lands in the sandy dirt of the bank, lying flat on her back beside him. They breathe in sync, shallow and hard.

"Tav, I…" Astarion pants, still laying on his back. "I need to feed."

"I know, I told you that you could. It’s not enough, right? Down there I mean. I figured as much. Why didn’t you just go for my neck in the first place? Why starve yourself on tiny mouthfuls when you can just bite me?"

"The taste," he whispers, "It’s addictive. I can’t stop." He swipes a finger between her legs and places the pad of it against his tongue and groans.

"Astarion?" Tav rolls onto her side to gaze into his eyes. She places her hand against the puncture marks on her neck from his fangs. "Bite me."

Astarion rises to his feet. Stars briefly dance across his vision, then fade. He is again reminded of the throbbing of his groin and decides to remove his confining leather pants and exposes himself to her. It seems only fair to be as naked as she is.

Tav’s eyes bulge and her jaw slacks as she stares at him. She props herself up on her elbows and slowly opens her legs to him. The wanting look she gives him is the closest thing he’ll get to a reflection of his own eyes. He waits, tension coiling in his muscles in anticipation as he searches her expression for the words he longs to hear.

"Darling, I am supposed to be the one looking at you like a feast laid before me, but here you are, looking at me like I’m a fresh baked pie. I could practically wipe away your drool." He smirks down at her. His hand lazily strokes his length to tease her.

Tav's lips form the word "Please," her voiceless plea echoing in the quiet night.

"Please what, my pet?" Astarion teases, his voice low and filled with anticipation, as he listens to the rapid rhythm of her heart, quickening like a drumbeat.

"Please. I want you to bite me while you fuck me." Her voice deepens, her eyelids are heavy with lust. Astarion’s stomach flips, and he pounces onto her like a fox catching a mouse.

"Such a filthy little mouth you have." He tuts. While he arranges himself over Tav. It's a familiar position that they have practiced nearly every night since she invited him to feed on her, only this time they are skin to skin. His face lingers over her neck, his breath cools her blazing skin. The tip of his shaft is posed at her entrance. She bucks her hips in response, and he sinks into her partially, then withdrawals.

"You are mine." Astarion whispers into her neck. Pressing his lips to the partially healed wound from his last bite as he enters her again, sinking his entire length into her. Tav cries out in response, but he doesn’t move.

"Astarion, please," She whines. He raises himself onto the palms of his hands to look at her. Her eyes are glossy, tears are forming in the corners.

"Tav, Darling, you look so pretty when you beg." He echoes her earlier words. He wishes he could hold out a little longer to see how far he could tease her until she breaks, but his need to feed is too intense. He starts slowly pumping in and out. Her eyes close and her mouth opens wide in pleasure. She feels amazing, so tight, so soft, so wet with blood and arousal.

Tav places her hands on Astarion’s back and digs her nails in, only to pull away quickly when she feels the bumps of the scars she hasn’t yet seen. She opens her mouth to mention it but he quickly covers it with his blood stained lips. His tongue slips past her lips and moves with the same rhythm of his thrusts. She moans into his mouth as his pace quickens. Then he breaks her kiss to purr into her ear, ‘Do you taste yourself on my lips, beautiful? It’s delicious, isn’t it? You taste divine.’

Tav shivers beneath him and lets out a sob. His lips brush down her neck. Astarion snarls to expose his sharp, elongated canines then grazes them against her throat, ready to strike. His thrusts never stop, slamming into her repeatedly, as he finally sinks his teeth into her neck and sucks her blood.

"Oh fuck, Astarion!" Tav releases a scream and falls apart under him. Shaking and panting while grinding against him. He can taste the electricity of her climax surge through her blood as her heart beats with a steady rhythm, allowing the blood to flow through her veins until it reaches his mouth. Astarion feels a rush stronger than any drug, more enchanting than any spell or potion. Her walls spasm around him, while he slurps against her neck. He sucks her blood with intense force. Pinning her under him. He can’t stop.

After several moments of bliss, he notices she has gone completely still beneath him. It takes all his willpower to unlatch his fangs before he sits up quickly.

"Shit’." A wave of panic washes over Astarion as he inspects Tav. Her skin appears paler, almost gray. Her breaths come slow and shallow, and her heartbeat is faint and stuttering. Without hesitation, he scoops up her limp body and wades into the waist-deep waters of the nearby stream, gently lowering her in. The water feels warm against his skin, though he himself is generally cooler than most creatures. He hopes the temperature doesn’t send her body further into shock.

As he holds her in the water, Astarion's mind races with worst-case scenarios. He imagines having to speak with Withers to revive her, dreading the thought of explaining his actions to the rest of the camp. Tav won’t easily forgive him this time, he fears. He might be cast out or even killed. He curses himself for following her out here in the first place. She was right to avoid him these past few days.

Just as he begins to entertain thoughts of escape, Tav’s soft voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts. "Star?"

Relief floods through him. "Oh, thank the gods, Tav. I’m truly sorry. I got a little carried away." He holds her tighter against his chest, feeling her shiver against him.

"Cold," Tav manages to say, her voice barely above a whisper. Astarion carries her out of the water and gently sets her down in a patch of soft grass. He hurries to gather their scattered clothes, helping her dress into her pants and shirt. He wraps his own rumpled white shirt around her for extra warmth, then puts on his pants before rinsing the remaining blood from his face in the stream.

Returning to her side, Astarion finds her hugging her legs, the color slowly returning to her face. "Let’s get you back to camp near the fire. I’ll wake Shadowheart to see if she can heal you," he suggests, wrapping his arm around her.

Tav turns to him, her voice airy and soft. "No, I think I'll manage until morning." Astarion kisses her forehead as she embraces him, her hands rubbing slow circles on his back.

"Turn around," Tav demands, and he complies, allowing her to view the intricate scars covering his entire back. She traces them with her fingers. "What happened to you?" Her voice carries a tone of pity, and Astarion swallows a lump in his throat.

"It’s a poem," He explains calmly. "Cazador did it to me. He took his time. I don’t know what it says."

"Oh, Astarion, I’m so sorry," Tav responds with compassion that almost irritates him.

"You’re sorry?" Astarion snaps, turning to face her. "I nearly killed you tonight, and you’re sorry?" He immediately regrets the sharpness of his words. "No, Tav, I’m sorry." Pulling her into him, he collapses to the ground, and she lays her head on his bare chest.

‘Astarion, I…’ Tav starts to speak.

"Hush," he interrupts, holding a finger to her lips. "Listen." He tunes into the sounds of the environment around them—the rustling of tree branches in the breeze, the chirping of insects in the reeds, the rushing of water in the nearby stream. But the sound he wants her to hear isn’t external; it’s coming from within him. After several seconds, she jerks her head up from his chest to meet his eyes.

"Did… did I just hear your heart?" Her voice is filled with astonishment. "You have a heartbeat?" Her brows furrow in confusion as she searches his face for answers. "Is that another side effect of the tadpole? Like how you can walk in the sun?"

Astarion smiles at her. "Yes, you heard my heart beating. No, it’s not from the worm in my head. It’s from you, darling."

"What? How?" Tav’s confusion deepens.

‘Well, when I feed, especially if it’s a big meal, my body must circulate the fresh blood throughout it somehow. And in case you weren’t aware, I’ll give you a little anatomy lesson. I need blood in a certain area of the body to give you a performance like I did back there."

She stares at him in shock "So your heart will kickstart when you're full, or horny?"

"In simple terms, yes dear, and I do feel both of those right now. However, it only beats a couple times a minute, not like a living creature. Have you noticed the color return to my skin, and that my temperature is at least five degrees warmer than usual?"

Tav smiles softly as she lays her head back on his chest in silence, waiting to hear a soft thump again. "I can make your heartbeat," she whispers.

"Well Tav, it seems my heart belongs to you now," Astarion sighs. "I’ve never felt anything like that before. I’m practically drunk on you right now. When I told you were my first bite, I meant it and now I can’t imagine drinking the blood of anyone else. Not like I have many options anyways, no one else is exactly offering me their neck." She smacks him softly, and he lets out a chuckle before his face softens with worry.

"I don’t think it’s safe to do that again, though," He grumbles. "I nearly lost you." Tav looks up at him with sadness in her eyes. "I mean I would happily bed you again," Astarion continues, "and I still wish to feed on you if you allow it, once you're replenished, but I think we should keep dinner and sex separate from now on."

Tav scoots up to kiss his neck. Then rises to her knees and straddles him. Her hair forms a halo around her face as she looks down at him.

"What is Withers there for if we don’t use him once and a while. Plus, we have at least ten revival scrolls in the chest at the camp."

His heart beats again, slightly harder than the last time. "Are you giving me permission to suck you dry? You filthy little pup." His hands grab her rear, and he squeezes. "How did I get so lucky? Getting abducted by mind flayers seems to have been the best thing that has ever happened to me."

"I mean, I've never felt anything like that either. When you were draining me of blood, I let it happen, I didn’t want it to stop. I was in a daze as I slipped away. To be clear, I don’t think the others will approve of paying 200 gold coins to Withers, or wasting revival scrolls that could be used during a fight, every time I come to your bed, but if it happens… I trust you to bring me back. I guess my heart belongs to you now too. Since it pumps the blood through me that keeps you alive and thriving."

Astarion inhales deeply. "Well in that case, darling," his hand reaches up to grab her neck and he pulls her head down so her ear touches his lips "I think you're beating me three-nil in climaxes this evening. And I intend to double your score at the very least, and maybe get a point on the board myself before the sun rises." He glances down and notices a blood stain seeping through her pants onto his. He realizes didn't put her underwear back on nor replace her blood rag when he dressed her earlier. "Also, it looks like you might need a little cleaning up again, my love."

END

[neteyamssyulang]

♱ Wild Encounters ♱

♱ Easter special ♱

♱ Pairing: Adult Neteyam x Fem human reader ♱

♱ Summary: While on a late night walk in the woods, you immediately regret your decision.

♱ Warnings: Dom Neteyam, Sub reader, Neteyam in rut, Dub-con?, P in V, Size difference, Creampie.

♱ Translation(s): Tawtute -> Sky person, Tìyawn -> Love.

♱ Word count: 653 ♱

♱ A/N: Happy Easter my darlings!

♱ Tagging: @teyamshuman @ikeyniofthetayrangi @itchaboi-itchyboy @aria-tempest @anemonelovesfiction @loaksulluyswife @kia-wolfie @tallulah477 @kariz-stark

When you decided to go for a late night walk through the forest, this is not what you had in mind.

The air was temperate, the breeze was cool, the bioluminescent moss lighting your way though the endless forest. It felt good to be out here, so perfect and free.

Tonight felt different though, like someone was watching you from the shadows. Whenever you turned around however, there was nobody around. It was like pandora was playing a prank on you, making you feel crazy and on edge.

Glances over your shoulder now and then would ease that nervousness inside of you a bit but it would never fully go away. A twig snapping behind you made you turn around instantly, only to be met with, him.

You've heard stories about the omaticaya prince from humans that went back and fourth from the village, yet none compared to what is infront of you right now.

His eyes, normally described yellow like honey were green, with slits for pupils. His skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and a noticeable tent was in his tewng.

"Such a pretty little tawtute" he purred, stepping closer towards you. Instinctively, you took a step back making him growl.

In an instant, you found yourself laying flat on your back with the huge na'vi hovering above you. He was so large compared to you, having to bend his back a bit to bury his head into the crook of your neck.

"Please, don't do this.." you begged him, unfortunately your pleas fell on deaf ears as he ripped off your shorts, along with your panties and shirt.

"You do not tell me what to do, little girl" he hissed, moving his loincloth to the side. His cock slapped against his stomach, beads of pre-cum already oozing from the tip.

Holy mother he was huge, that would never fit inside you. No way, no how. "That thing will ne- ahh! oh shit!" Your cut off as he immediately rammed his cock inside your tight pussy.

"Fuck.. so tight..so good" he moaned, with no preparation the stretch felt unbearable to you. It was like he was tearing you in half, literally.

Tears streamed down your face as you dug your nails into the palm of your hand, leaving small crescent marks. Without warning, Neteyam pulled out only to slam back inside. A noticeable buldge could be seen from your stomach where his cock was buried.

Neteyam hovered above you, his large frame making you feel even smaller compared to him. His arms caged you in as he started rutting into you like a rabbit in heat.

The forest was filled with the sound of his hips slapping against yours, along with the lewd sounds he kept pulling from your lips. You've never felt so full in your life, not even the toys you had could make you feel this way.

"That's it" Neteyam purred, coiling his tail around your ankle. He leaned down, burying his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.

You whined, clawing at his shoulders as you felt your climax approaching. Neteyam groaned, picking up his pace "Is the little human gonna cum for me? Hm?"

Leaning back up, he gazed down at your flushed face. You nodded frantically, desperately wanting to cum already. Neteyam smirked,"Cum, be a good little slut and cum.on.this.cock!" With each word he delivered a hard thrust, his tip kissing your cervix.

A choked out sob left your lips as you came hard, squirting onto his lower abdomen and thighs. Neteyam hissed feeling your walls squeezing around him tightly, with one last thrust he buried himself to the hilt inside, painting your gummy walls white.

Panting heavily, you gazed up at him, his green eyes slowly turning back to the warm honey ones you heard so much about.

"Your mine now, pretty human" he murmured.

[reiincarnatiion]

shadows of destiny | azriel x reader | part three

summary: azriel jealous and yearning for Y/N

🧚‍♀️

a/n: sorry guys for the long assss wait, ive been on exchange in the uk so i have been busy living life hehe, still here and loving it!! hope you guys like this one, love you all cuties <33 also this isnt proof read so sorry for any mistakes! let me know what you think, i love all of your sweet messages !! eeeeeee

read : [part one] [part two]

-----🩷🧚‍♀️💗------

You woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache and a parched mouth, confused as to how you had made it to your bed from last night. The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting a hazy glow over your room.

Groaning loudly, you cursed as you shifted your weight around, consequently turning your head to come face to face with Lucien's chiseled features, peacefully sleeping next to you. It took you a second to realize he was shirtless as well.

You screamed, "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

His mechanical eye swirled open, followed by his other. "Tell me we didn't."

"DID what," Lucien murmured, a small smirk gracing his features as he stared up at the ceiling. Amusement danced in his eyes as he stretched languidly against the sheets. His morning rasp tingled inside you and nicked at you annoyingly. This could not have happened. The headache of whatever liquids and maybe even other substances you had consumed yesterday hit you hard, and you fell back to face the ceiling as well, nausea threatening to overwhelm you.

"You little slut, you know what I meant," you groaned, rolling onto your front in a feeble attempt to quell the oncoming headache and urge to vomit.

You felt Lucien shift next to you as well, attempting to detangle himself from the crisp black sheets of your bed. "We must have done it."

"NO Lucien."

"YES."

"NO, I CAN'T-"

"…why not," Lucien breathed out. His demeanor had changed since you last saw him sober; something had happened last night, and you could not remember, but he was acting differently.

"All I am saying is that last night made me realize things about you, Y/N…" he continued, rising from the sheets. You raised your eyes in horror, ready to scream because you did not want to get flashed by fiery dick-

-a pair of orange breeches came into view.

"Oh."

"Upset that we didn't actually sleep together, Y/N?"

An unknown feeling of red-hotness spread throughout your face, turning your cheeks pink. "I hate you, Lucien," you hummed.

"What did you realize, Lucien?"

"That I pretend to not care the way Azriel and Elain make heart eyes at each other, but on the inside, it's like a knife twisting inside me," he deadpanned, and you couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"What???" he groaned, falling down next to you. "Nothing, Luc, I just feel sorry for us, that's all.

~

Azriel sat at the dining table, swirling the black coffee mindlessly. It was 2 pm, and his shadows had begun reporting how the others had finally begun stirring awake after their long night. They had gotten back at 5 am, the sun slowly beginning to peek through the trees and buildings of Velaris, and he had watched from afar as Lucien carried Y/N to her room.

He had not come out afterwards. His shadows had been in an unfamiliar frenzy, yelling to slip through and see what was happening in that bedroom, to investigate how good he gave it to her because Azriel just knew. He knew he could give it to her better.

He clenched his fists at the picture his shadows had painted for him of the events which probably had unfolded in her room. What was it with his sexual urges with Y/N all of a sudden? She was just his friend. She had always just been his friend. Maybe he had had a little crush on her before. Maybe when she would walk into a room and his palms would sweat, he would chastise himself for wearing too many layers. Or how when she used to make his heart beat irregularly, he would tell Rhys about anxiety. It was easier to let them think he had a disorder rather than admit feelings. Because maybe, just maybe he had had slight feelings towards her for centuries. But there was Elain now.

He liked Elain.

"Good Morning Azriel!" a sweet voice chirped, as Elain entered the dining room, a sweet tea held in her perfectly manicured hands. Even after a night out, she looked perfect. Her hair looked freshly blow-dried, and her lips tinted pink, looking fresh and kissable. He smiled gently, and her eyes brightened as she took a seat next to him, murmuring things about last night and how odd it was to see Lucien with Y/N.

"I just don't think he should have danced like that with her, what do you think?" she whispered, her eyes shining.

"I know it was disrespectful to you," Azriel nodded back, looking into her glassy doe eyes. Out of the corner of his eyes, he felt a sudden burst of movement from his shadows, but the warning wasn't quick enough as two figures walked into the room.

God, she looked horrible.

Elain let out a comical gasp, and the corner of his mouth lifted as Y/N walked into the room, her hair messy and disturbed, like someone had pulled on it, ran their hands through it. Her presence snatched on his gaze, it pulled it towards him, and Azriel found himself unable to look away.

Her eyes lazily dragged over Azriel, raking up his body, and never before had he felt so hot. But he did not break eye contact with her either, he maintained it, willing and daring her to break it first.

Their eyes met in a silent battle of wills, a tension simmering beneath the surface as they sized each other up. It was a fleeting moment, but it spoke volumes, leaving Azriel reeling in its wake.

"Lucien, can we talk?" Elain broke the silence.

Everyone blinked and looked at the innocent girl sitting down. Azriel watched as she looked into Lucien’s eyes, with her innocent look, and he mentally chuckled. She was doing damage control, and it was working because his shadows were reporting the increase in Lucien’s heartbeat.

“Of course,” Lucien whispered and pushed past Y/N, whisking Elain away out of the room.

Charged silence followed. Azriel went back to nursing his coffee which had gone cold now. He felt Y/N scoff and mutter something under her breath which sounded a whole lot like "bitch," as she moved around the place, into the connecting kitchen, trying to will the House to make her a cup of its strongest coffee. They didn’t say a word to each other, but Azriel could feel the tension in the air. He didn’t know where it had formed from, what abyss it had risen from, he just knew there was something that needed to be addressed between them before his head and his heart exploded.

“What was that from last night?” he let out a breath finally, his shadows jittering around the place. He looked up from his swirling black coffee to see Y/N cease her movements in the corner of the kitchen. Her short night dress, barely covering her ass, had ridden up as she had been bent over the kitchen bench. Azriel felt himself stiffen, so he looked away quickly, adjusting himself.

“What do you mean,” she replied, turning around with a neutral expression on her face, guarding her emotions. She carefully padded her way to the table, setting the coffee down and placing herself directly in front of him. Her scent wafted over him, and his jaw ticked, but he didnt show any emotion. His dark eyes bore into hers, his shadows fought to sift over her, wanting to know her thoughts, her feelings, her emotions. Alas, she showed nothing.

“You and Lucien…” he drawled out, pretending to ask nonchalantly.

“We just danced to Azriel, I was really drunk,” she whispered softly, placing her hands together on her lap.

“You emerged from the same room,” he replied calmly.

As she cocked her head to the side, her hair falling onto her face, time seemed to slow down. Her long eyelashes were stunning, and her deep eyes looked at Azriel with something so unsaid, that the raw intensity sent shivers down his spine.

Azriel knew at that moment that he could no longer leave these unanswered feelings of his left hanging. He wasn't a dumb male; if his body was responding to Y/N like this for so long, there was clearly a reason. And it was not a dumb crush.

He had forced himself to believe for so long, that Elain should belong to him. Three brothers for three sisters, that is what he would tell himself.

Yet something had shifted between them two, a subtle undercurrent that left Azriel reeling. It was something deeper, something undeniable. And as he met Y/N's gaze, he knew that he could no longer ignore the pull that drew him to her, the pull of something real, something worth fighting for.

--

taglist : @allyjoe755 @impossibelle @t0uch-starved-h0e @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @marina468 @cassan1306 @mich0731 @bubybubsters @azzydaddy @sunnym1nd @lupinswolfsbanes @tcris2020 @kazbrkker @hungryforbatboys @f4iry-bell @menaosama @kennedy-brooke @dudssebm @written-in-the-stars06 @lahoete @hereticdance @ultrakawaiinerd @nyotamalfoy @topaz125 @fae-glamour-petrichorus @rachelnicolee @wannabewolf @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @dressed-in-prada @5moremin @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @lesliemurillo @feyres-fireheart @positivewitch @quackitysdrugdealer @saltedcoffeescotch @kalulakunundrum @mirandasidefics @crazylokonugget @isa1b2h3 @girl-who-writes-stuff @hayrunnwr @acourtofmoonlightandstars @lucky7rosie @mokanesa

[wheeboo]

seventeen and apologising to their s/o in their native language after a fight

PAIRING. seventeen x gn!reader GENRE: maybe more angsty than expected, hurt/comfort, headcanons WARNINGS. depictions of arguments, terms of endearment, mentions of kissing WORD COUNT. 1.8k

requested by @mirxzii: haii haii my rani ^^ idk if u saw this in the serv last night but!! svt members fighting w so and accidentally saying smthn mean (like i hate you) and they feel so bad they apologize to u in your native language to try n show how sincere they are :((

notes: i kinda dont like how i wrote this, but i hope it came out okay ^^ totally didn't write most of this at like 3am lkjdfsdf its vERY Rushed i wrote everyone past jeonghan in one setting lmasoo

choi seungcheol

"i can't stand this anymore!"

immediately feels that pang of regret in his chest, taking all the responsibility of his words deep in his heart. the heat of the moment had gotten to him and once he caught sight of you shriveling in the comfort of your arms and the tears forming in your eyes, he feels all that prior anger wash away as he reaches over to bring you in his arms, uttering out his apologies and feeling tears brimming in his own eyes.

once you've calmed down a bit, he'd whisper so softly just next to your ear, "i'm sorry," in your native language. "i'm so sorry."

you feel this strange wave of comfort wash over you, hearing him conveying his apologies in your native language bringing a different jump to your heart than what you've experienced.

yoon jeonghan

"so you want to break up? is that it?"

is usually calm and collected during arguments, but there was just a bit more hurt laced to his words than intended. he sees the way your words get caught in your mouth and the way your face distorts achingly. grabs your hand in his, half-expecting for you to let go, but you don't. cups your face with his other hand, thumbing away the tears streaming down your face. starts off with small reassurances and murmurs of apologies, before taking one long look at your face.

"i'm sorry, angel," he apologises in your native language. "i'm so sorry. i didn't mean it like that, i'm sorry."

there's a very inconspicuous lift to the corners of your lips at his words, and he finds himself letting out a soft sigh of relief when you hold his hand just a little bit tighter.

joshua hong

"i hate fighting with you."

you know he means it, even from the gap between you both on the couch and your energy depleted from your spewl of banter. you're both quiet now, and he knows that silence is just as bad as the hurtful words you both said to each other this night. sighing, he closes the space and cups your face gently in his hand, encouraging you to look up at him.

"can you... can you look at me?" he asks, and you do so hesitantly. your eyes meet his, and you can see the genuine regret in them. 'i'm so sorry. you know i love you more than anything. anything."

he says it in your native language, and it adds an extra layer of tenderness to the apologies leaving his mouth, and you can't help but faintly smile through the tears.

wen junhui

"maybe we're just better apart!"

his words hang torturously in the air, and he immediately regrets letting them slip from his lips, the panic beginning to course through his body. he watches as your eyes well up with tears, and he can't bear to see you hurting like this. reaches out to hold your trembling hands in his, his own hand shaking equally with yours.

"i-i'm sorry, i didn't mean it like that, pl-please don't cry, Y/N," he tells you nervously, the feature of your native tongue making your eyes widen. "i love you so much, and i don't want to be without you, please."

when you meet your eyes with his, you feel as if an arrow had shot through your own heart. all you do is silently reach to palm your hands over his this time, and he takes the chance to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.

kwon soonyoung

"you're being so difficult right now!"

his frustration had gotten the best of him at this ungodly hour in the middle of the night, yet he immediately regrets his harsh words when he sees the hurt in your eyes. at that very moment he swears he can just drop to his knees and wish your worries away, but he knows it isn't that easy. instead, he takes a step closer, hesitant hands at his side, before caressing your tears away with both of his thumbs.

"crap, i..." he loses his words for a moment, before letting out, "i'm so sorry, baby. i'm so so sorry. i just... i hate it when we fight. i'm sorry."

his words are quick, but you can pinpoint the remorse in them, especially when your heartbeat quickens upon hearing him say it in your native language. his eyes are pleading when you look back up at them as you give him a small smile.

jeon wonwoo

"i can't deal with your drama anymore."

his words cut deep like a knife, and he can see the pain in your eyes once it sets in what he just said. immediately regrets his choice of words and reaches out to pull you into a comforting hug. it's an impulsive act, he knows that it is, but he can't stand the feeling of the words he just said separating the two of you. not ever.

it takes him a few moments of relishing your presence in his grasp before murmuring, "i'm sorry, my love."

it's a very small, simple apology, yet one that warms your heart more than expected once you hear it in your native language. when you pull away from him slightly to look in his eyes, he says it again, each feeling like a new stitch to your heart.

lee jihoon

"you're impossible to talk to."

regrets his words as soon as they leave his mouth, and he feels his chest tighten with guilt as soon as he pinpoints the hurt in your eyes, quickly replacing whatever anger he had with worry. but for a second, he hesitates, and curses himself for doing so. yet when that wall finally breaks, he approaches you, gently taking your hands in his and squeezing them softly.

"i'm sorry, Y/N, " he says in your native language, voice quiet yet filled with sincerity. "i want to talk to you, i just got frustrated, and i... i'm sorry. i really am."

hearing him apologise in your language makes you feel understood, and you offer a nod, even with the tears still brimming in your eyes.

xu minghao

"i'm done with this conversation."

he didn't mean for it to get this far, but he knows right away that resolving this wouldn't get anywhere if you two didn't talk it out properly. and you know it too, seemingly not having moved from where you stood as you gaze at him with a look of defeat. there's just something about it that makes his face soften, and he steps back up to you.

"i'm sorry," he confesses simply in your native tongue, yet it's enough to convey his genuineness. "i never want to push you away like this. let's talk this out, okay?"

you feel the sense of comfort hit you, and you give him a nod, interlocking your hand with his and letting him lead you to the couch.

kim mingyu

"you're making this harder than it needs to be."

it comes out harshly, more than he expected it to be, that it's even enough to shatter his own heart at his own words. his frustration is quick to dissipate when he hears the way your breathing is shaking in the silence, and from the tears starting to form on your eyes. it hurts, gosh it hurts so bad to see you like this. steps back up to you, grabbing your hands and pulling you closer to him.

"baby, i'm sorry. i..." then he takes a deep breath, giving him a moment to secure his words. "i'm sorry, i love you. i'm so sorry."

even in your native language, his words touch your heart as you're quick to pull him towards you, and his large arms wrapping around comfortingly you just like his words do.

lee seokmin

"you're driving me crazy right now!"

his words are loud that you feel it riddling in your bones, drying up whatever you wanted to say. the regret is quick to hit him, so fast that you can't make out the unintelligible spill of apologies leaving his mouth. the tears well up in his eyes at your quietness, knowing he had pushed a nerve, and his hands unsteadily make his way into yours.

"i'm so sorry, sunshine. please forgive me, i..." he pauses, blinking back his tears. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry for all of this. please don't cry... i never want to hurt you."

you hate seeing him cry; you hate fighting with him too, but his words are enough to give him a faint smile of forgiveness. you know that he's sorry, and hearing it in your native language makes it more endearing.

boo seungkwan

"you're being so unreasonable!"

his voice had taken a rough edge at the heat of the argument, the frustration evident in his words. but when he catches sight of the pain to your face, he feels his heart drop to the floor, realising the gravity of what he said, and he couldn't believe he'd let his frustration get the best of him. feels his thoughts begin to soar, trying to put together an apology right away, just anything.

"Y/N, i... i'm sorry, i'm so sorry," he lets out quietly, cautiously, in your native language, voice pleading. "can you... no, nevermind, i'm sorry. i really am."

he's looking deep into your eyes now, trying to decipher through your face, and he can see the instant, slight change when you hear his words.

vernon chwe

"i can't put up with you right now."

it feels cold, his words sending a shiver running up and down your spine like a madman. it's enough to make you freeze in place, making your thoughts think the worst things, yet also enough for him to notice the weight of what he just said. he calls out your name quietly, momentarily snapping you back to reality, having the urge to grab your hand but hesitant to do so.

"Y/N?" he calls out again, and when your glassy eyes meet him, his he feels something drop inside of him. "Y/N, baby, i..." he brings himself closer to you, locking one of his hand through yours and the other to your side. "i'm... i'm sorry, i shouldn't have said that, baby, i'm sorry."

you didn't expect the switch to your native tongue, and you can tell by his gaze how serious he is. but it holds the regret that he feels and the sincerity in his words.

lee chan

"just leave! if that's what you want, just leave!"

his words had been sharp and filled with frustration. you feel like the ground beneath you is crumbling, and it's as if the world is crashing down around you. but almost instantly, his face registers the pain in your eyes, and he realises how hurtful his words were. he steps closer to you, his eyes wide with regret, and he reaches out to take your hand.

"i-i didn't mean that, i'm sorry," he says softly, apologising in your native tongue like it was natural, voice quivering. "i'm so sorry. i didn't mean any of it."

hearing him apologise in your native tongue reassures you that he truly regrets his words, and you slowly nod, though tears still in your eyes, but a glimmer of forgiveness in your heart.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @ylliris-hanniehae @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair

[dewdropdinosaur]

Kinktober Day 15: Hair Pulling

Summary: It wasn’t your fault you had ended up in this position. Back flush to the couch cushion as your boyfriend sucked at your clit ruthlessly, slurping and licking your overstimulated and puffy cunt as you gripped and tugged on his hair. Warnings: Oral sex, hair pulling, cum, sex, reader has a vagina, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @yuis-art This fic was based on the art on their page, link here!

It wasn’t your fault you had ended up in this position. It’s not that you minded it really but it surely wasn’t your fault. Back flush to the couch cushion as your boyfriend sucked at your clit ruthlessly, slurping and licking your overstimulated and puffy cunt as you gripped and tugged on his hair. His growls would fill the room with each pull, his body fighting itself to just bury his heavy cock in your inviting walls already. 

Logan had always been a bit of a lone wolf. He was tough, with a hard exterior that had been shaped by years of battles and isolation. But with you, everything felt different. The relationship was a refuge, a place where he could shed his layers of armor and just be himself. So, one lazy afternoon, you were curled up on the couch having decided the sunlight streaming in through the window was the perfect lighting for a evening cuddle session. Logan was content, his head resting in your lap. He could feel the gentle rhythm of your fingers running through his hair, a sensation he had surprisingly come to love. A soft purring noise could be heard faintly emitting from his large chest.

“Logan,” you teased lightly, “are you purring?”

He chuckled softly, his eyes closing as your fingers continued worked their magic. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you are so totally purring!

He opened one eye and looked up at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “I never confirmed anything, sweetheart.”

“Oh, but you never denied it either!” you replied with a grin. “There’s something about the way you react when I pull it that makes me want to do it more.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but there was a playful spark in his gaze. “You know it feels good. Just don’t pull too hard.” 

He thought that would be the end, it normally was. That the soft cuddle session in the fading light of day would resume and they would fall asleep blissfully on the couch. 

But a teasing glint flooded your eyes and you gave a harder tug, Logan’s breath hitching slightly. It wasn’t just the physical sensation; he could feel it stir something within him that he had long kept down. That primal desire that would rear its dark head every so often in your presence when you teased him. 

“See?” you said, voice playful yet a tinge of desire coated it. “You love it.”

“Maybe I do,” he admitted, a grin spreading across his face. “But don’t let it get to your head.”

You laughed, and gosh he could listen to that every day of his life. Like a sweet honey coating or the delicious burn of liquor, he was certainly addicted. Continuing your little display of defiance, your nails raked over his scalp, drawing a inviting gasp from his rough lips. 

So, like it was said before, it wasn’t really your fault. You just had done something he had admitting to liking, no deviousness at all. Right? Diving into your cunt,  he sucks and laps at the juices that continue to drip down and ruin the couch. It was your second orgasm at this point, thighs quivering at the sensation of his beard lightly scracthing against your thighs. Every so often, his gaze drifts over to look into your lust-blown eyes, taking in the appearance of the way sweat clings to your neck and how your chest rises and falls with each pornographic moans that leaves your pretty swollen lips. 

You couldn’t help but buck your hips into his face, hands tightening on the roots of his soft brown locks. His tongue only devling deeper, making your cunt a soaking piece of flesh that you wish he would just take already. You could feel yourself starting to shake again, that familar tension building once more as your third orgasm rapidly approaches. Feeling the tension build, the coil in your stomach snaps as you cry out in pleasure, fingers curling hard around the ends of his hair. Peering up at your tear stricken eyes, lips formed in a small pout, Loagn brought his lips to a halt; with you whinning at any overstimulating friction you recieved from the fabric of the couch. Placing a soft kiss to your lips, he was met with eager lips and his tounge trying to get a taste of you. 

“How hard do you think you’ll pull with my cock inside you babydoll?” 

Oh boy did you wanna find out. 

[imaprettygirl]

A drop of ink, a blot spread across time

(Vintage au)

Plot summary: It was 1950s when pen pals were popular and almost everyone had one! You used to have a handful of them but the camaraderie between you and them faded as you got older. One day, you found a newspaper on your late great-grandpa's shelves in his bedroom. Excitedly, you flipped the papers to get to a specific page and bingo! There was a section for the addresses of people who are looking for a pen-friend much like yourself. After randomly choosing, you sent out your first letter and he replied back! However, you noticed something weird in the photo he sent...

Crds to @drinkthesky for the divider!

Men I deem fit: Alhaitham, Albedo, Imbibitor Lunae/Dan Heng, Dr Ratio, Diluc, Zhongli, Venti, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Sunday.

(Fck alphabetical order, I can't do that sh*t)

The amber glow of the afternoon sun bathed the room as the open windows situated at the opposite of the door allowed sunlight streams to enter the room as its panes quivered in hushed symphony due to the beckoning of the hot air. If you moved closer to the windows, you could see dust particles illuminated by the natural light. Even after the passing of your great-grandfather, the bookish scent of his cologne still lingers in his bedroom along with his possessions which were either coated with a thin layer of dust or covered with a big white cloth.

The wooden floor creaked beneath you as you walked towards his bookshelves in hopes of finding pieces of classical literature and maybe learn a thing or two from it. You delicately traced your index finger through the long vertical rows of books, leaving a trail of dust on the pads of your digit. As you peruse through countless novels only to be unsatisfied until you saw a newspaper at the edge of the shelf, untouched by the dust that plagues the rest.

'How strange...' you thought to yourself as you rubbed your thumb and index finger against the surface of the paper to determine its texture: it was sandy and rough, definitely ancient but the format was similar to the ones your dad reads in the morning so it must be a freshly produced newspaper, albeit printed in a different quality of paper.

Or so you thought...

The newspapers in your hands gave you a glimmer of hope; it was an opportunity to find a pen friend! You used to have a few ones but stopped writing to them either because they used too much colloquial words or they had at least twenty spelling mistakes in each sentence which gave you a migraine whilst trying to make out if your correspondent was writing in a foreign language or not. But this time, maybe you could hit the jackpot and find an actually nice pen-pal. Excitedly, you flipped through the papers and stopped at the specific page which had a list of names along with their addresses under the bold heading:

'Pen-friends! Make new friends around the world!'

Your eyes scanned across the list of names, allowing your intuition to guess the personality of that stranger based on their names alone. But then, a specific name caught your eye- it was uncommon which was the main reason it stood out from the rest of the names which probably were taken from 'Top 10 best names for children of this year'. You took a closer look of the address below that person's name and turned out, both of you lived in the same area! A surge of enthusiasm rippled throughout your body and immediately tucked the newspaper into the inside pocket of your coat.

~~~~~♡~~~~~♡~~~~~♡~~~~~

The curtains of your living room slowly opened as you peeked your head out and pressed your face against the glass. A day had passed after you had sent your very first letter and heck, you even went a mile far by sending a photograph of your two cats to make a memorable first impression. Then- just like you had anticipated- the postman on his bike suddenly came into view and halted his vehicle by your mail-box and placed a letter inside. You clutched the folds of the curtains unable to contain the happiness blossoming inside you. As soon as the postman disappeared out of your eyesight, you rushed outside to take the letter out of the mailbox. The first thing that greeted your eyes was the immaculate handwriting and the scent emitted from the paper.

'How sweet of him...' you thought as you continued reading the letter in your mind. The paragraphs were neatly organized and made of outdated vocabulary that you wouldn't understand had you not taken an interest in classic literature. You could tell this man practiced utmost eloquence just by his letter alone. Overall, he wrote a few things about himself and asked you about your hobbies, what you like and blablabla.

But then, something struck within you concerning with the photograph he sent and notes written behind it:

"The construction of the mall is making my ears bleed. I cannot stand the constant sounds of the drills and other sounds coming from it. I daresay, you must be experiencing the same disturbance as we are only one street apart from each other. Perhaps we should plan to meet up after the mall opens. What do you think of it?"

The more you stared at the photograph and the note, the more confused you became. The picture showed the mall with the same as the one down the street but it was still in construction according to the photo. 'Huh?' A frown stretched across your face. That specific mall had been going on more nearly a century now to the point that the community had been urging the government to shut it down in order to build a more innovative one. Didn't it finish construction like a hundred years ago? But his photo told a whole new different story.

Suspicions rose inside of you as a spiral of questions revolved around your head- you found it difficult to process it. Not missing a beat, you hurried to your room to find that newspaper you took from your late great-grandfather's shelf. You mumbled in frustration when you couldn't find it; you swore you left it either on the desk or on the bed. Finally, you found it under the bed and oh my...

The letter was published a century back in time which meant that...

"T-The man I just sent a letter...was from the past...." The newspaper dropped from your hands. Your letter had ripped its way out of the fabric of time and went into the mailbox of a man who lived in the same area as you but different time period. He was in the past, you were in the future.

Still, a part of you felt curious about the interaction between two people of different dimensions. So you decided to reply back to his letter. What could go wrong...right?

To people who are more knowledgeable in time travel or parallel universes, pls don't attack me, I know what I wrote may or may not make sense for some of you but pls don't mind me 😭😭😭

And also, not proofread because I wrote this around midnight and I'm literally on the verge of dozing off- (Ik I have such healthy sleep cycles and I have to wake up at 6 am yayyy!! Sleep-deprived-students-core😘🙆🤗)

[candycandy00]

Forest Guide - A Toji x Reader Fanfic

Smut. 18+. Toji x Fem Reader. Rough sex. Virgin reader. Size difference. Breeding. Monster fucking. Non-con! Dividers by @benkeibear!

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! Any feedback whatsoever would be adored! For @idk1375.

When you heard the rumors of a werewolf stalking the woods in the next town over, you figured it would be a great topic for your supernatural themed podcast. So you packed up your gear and headed on over. You put a post on a local forum asking for a guide to take you into the forest, explaining that you were investigating the werewolf rumors, and a man named Toji volunteered. He didn’t even ask to be paid. 

So now you find yourself standing in front of the man as he introduces himself. The first thing you notice is that he’s huge, so much taller than you that you have to crane your neck to look up at his face. He’s ruggedly handsome, with dark hair and the kind of physique men spend years in the gym trying to obtain. All of this combined with his deep voice makes him the kind of man you want to call “Daddy”.

You follow him into the woods, thinking to yourself that he could probably fight off a werewolf with his bare hands. He makes friendly conversation along the way, telling you about some of the rumors you’ve heard, but seeming to have more information about each incident than you read online. Probably because he’s a local. 

He leads you so deeply into the forest that the sun is almost completely blotted out by the trees, making it seem much later and darker than it actually is. It looks like night has fallen, though you know it’s only the afternoon. 

Toji stops in a clearing, surrounded on all sides by towering trees, and turns to look at you. 

“This is the werewolf’s favorite spot to take his victims and feed,” he tells you, a lazy smile on his lips. 

Huh? How does he know that? Wait…

You turn to run back out the way you came, not wanting to wait and find out if your terrible assumption is correct. Either he’s a serial killer pretending to be a werewolf, or…

An ear splitting howl assaults your ears as you reach the tree line, and you hear the sound of fabric ripping. You can’t resist. Two years of running a podcast dedicated to exactly this sort of thing has made you too curious, so you find yourself looking back, even though the logical part of your brain is telling you not to. 

Charging straight for you is Toji, his shirt completely ripped off and his pants shredded. He’s at least nine feet tall now, and the outer edges of his body are covered in a thin layer of black shiny fur. His chest and abdomen, trailing down until his pants cover the rest, are bare, like the reverse of a normal hairy man. 

He catches you in an instant, forcing you to the forest floor on your back, the claws on his hands digging into your shoulders and drawing blood. He leans over you, and you can see that his face has remained nearly unchanged, except for glowing red eyes and a full set of razor sharp teeth.

“You were lookin’ for a werewolf,” he says, his voice even deeper than before, “well you found one, girlie!”

You shriek in terror, thrashing about wildly beneath him. But it’s no use. He’s far too big, too heavy, too strong, for you to budge even an inch. 

“Please don’t kill me!” you cry pitifully, tears streaming down your face as your body goes limp. 

He grins, showing off his teeth. “Now why would I do that to a cute little thing like you?”

With that, he rips off your T-shirt with one swipe, as if it’s made of tissue paper. Next go your shorts, and even your panties, leaving you stunned and completely exposed. 

You scream again, clamping your legs shut, a renewed vigor in your struggle as you realize what he intends to do. 

“I could smell it on you the moment we met,” he says, pinning your bare arms above your head. “You’re untouched by a man.”

You freeze, your eyes widening and your skin burning with embarrassment. He knows you’re a virgin, from scent alone?

He draws back slightly and lets his red eyes roam over your nude body, settling on the spot you’re trying to hard to protect with your pressed thighs. 

“I could smell something else too,” he adds, a low rumbling chuckle escaping his wide mouth. 

He leaves one large hand to hold your wrists together, and lets the other slide down, effortlessly parting your thighs despite your best efforts to keep them closed. You flinch as you feel a clawed finger glide up your slit, then he holds the finger up so that you can see the sticky, glistening fluid dripping off it. 

“I could smell this.”

You close your eyes and turn your face away, too humiliated and horrified to look at him. But he grips your face and turns it back to him. “Don’t go closin’ your eyes, girlie. You’ll wanna see what’s coming.”

You open your eyes and watch, petrified, as he rips the shredded remains of his pants off. And there, between his muscular, fur-covered legs, is a gigantic erection. You’ve heard the term “monster cock” before, but you never imagined even a real, literal monster cock would be this huge. You scream, trying again to close your legs, but he’s already positioned himself between them. 

“Please, no! That thing will kill me!”

He leans his face down close to yours. “I think you can take it,” he says. Then he closes his mouth over yours, plunging his tongue into you, just as he shoves his entire, giant cock into your virgin pussy. 

You scream into his mouth, the sound muffled by his lips, as your body jerks with pain. He gives a few deep, ripping thrusts before he breaks the kiss, grinning down at your sobbing face. “Don’t pass out,” he tells you as your vision starts to go fuzzy. He releases your wrists, knowing there’s nothing you can do regardless, and slowly rakes his claws down your chest. It’s not enough pressure to draw blood, but enough to make you snap to attention at the possibility. 

He fucks into you, so hard and deep that you have no idea how you’re still alive and not bleeding out. He watches your face, making sure you’re awake and aware, eventually moving one hand down to where your bodies meet. Again, you feel a clawed finger in your slick folds, but this time he finds your clit, stroking it and then gently scraping his claw across it. 

You jolt, the unexpected pleasure hitting you like a truck. And then his mouth is on yours again, absorbing the pitiful moans you can’t suppress. 

When you cum, even you are shocked, staring up at him with a stunned, tear-streaked face as your body trembles. 

He laughs again. “Look at you! Cummin’ on my cock even though it’s your first time gettin’ fucked! This little pussy feels so good, I might just put a pup in you!”

You shake your head frantically. “No no no!”

But it’s too late. He shoves in as deeply as he can, and you feel his thick, hot cum filling your womb all the way up. 

He stays that way, buried completely inside you, until he’s sure he’s emptied himself. Then he pulls out. You look down, see that his cock is covered in blood and cum, and you fall back against the ground, exhausted. 

He stands up, and as he does so, reverts to his handsome human form. “If you survive, I’m gonna make you my bride,” he says. You don’t have the energy to respond. He bends down and picks your sore, twitching body up from the ground. “But first, let me take you back to my place and lick your wounds.”

Heat floods your face at those words. You reflexively curl against his strong chest, wondering if you’re now living a nightmare, or a dream. 

[miabbh]

The bet 🎮

Live Streamer!Baekhyun x reader

Synopsis: Joining Baekhyun's live-streams was just a coincidence, but it quickluy became a tradition to friday nights. You grew closer at each session and the constant teasing and back and forth were, together with good gameplay, what kept the chat going. Tonight, however, a bet: whoever of the two lost would have to kneel for the other. And perhaps in both meanings.

Genre: a tiny bit of comedy and playfull banter, friends to lovers, semi-explicit! (Implicit oral sex – fem!receiving)

a gift to @baekhyunsbestie

You weren’t sure how it had come to this—streaming regularly with Baekhyun, sharing late-night gaming sessions that stretched until dawn, even meeting up for coffee and arcade sessions when time allowed.

It all started with that one game where you, just a regular viewer back then, joined his lobby on a whim and ended up taking him by surprise with your skills.

Since that night, he’d insisted on playing with you more often, and his viewers couldn’t get enough of your dynamic.

You still remember those early streams, the way your voice trembled as you spoke, heart pounding every time he said your name. But week after week, you grew bolder. It helped that Baekhyun was just as supportive off-stream as he was playful on-screen, sending you gifts—new gear, accessories, even a figure of your favourite character—as “thank-yous” for the hours you put into streaming together.

And when you finally gave in to his fans’ demands to start your own channel, things quickly escalated. The teasing had become something of a tradition, and now, with your face on camera, it added a whole new layer to the back-and-forth.

Tonight was no different. You settled into your chair, slipped on your headset, and adjusted the pillows behind your back before taking a sip of water. A familiar thrill coursed through you as you hit the "Go Live" button.

Baekhyun’s voice greeted you as soon as you entered the voice chat, casual but edged with a challenge.

“Ah, there you are! I was starting to think you were too scared to show up.” he teased.

The moment he spoke, your chat buzzed with activity.

[Chat]

dorimo63: it’s going down tonight

daniudean: Baekhyun sounds cocky as always

inautop: betting 20 she wins. hes overdue for some humility

His smirk practically radiated through the screen, an insufferable yet irresistible look that made something in your chest tighten. And then there was the hair—dark, tousled curls that were new, different. You blinked, momentarily distracted.

“Scared?” you shot back, recovering quickly. “Of what—letting you lose again?” You paused, letting your gaze flick over his disheveled hair and black t-shirt, a teasing grin curling your lips. “Got a whole new look just to kneel for me?”

Baekhyun chuckled, his fingers tapping on his mouse.

“Someone sounds confident tonight. Did you finally get some practice in?” He glanced at his second monitor, where chat comments were flying by. “Or did you spend all your time thinking up what to say when you’re on your knees?”

He reads a donation out loud.

[Donation Notification: 15 from peteisbetter]

baekhyunie prepare to kneel. we all know shes got you beat

“Got me beat? Oh chat, I thought you loved me!”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a small laugh.

“Oh, please. They're just worried about your knees, Baek. I don’t think they’ve bent for anyone in a while.”

The subscribe alerts appears on your screen; the chat picking up on the tension like a spark to dry tinder.

someonion4: OMG DID SHE JUST SAY THAT?!

mistahneg: OUR QUEEN DOESN’T HOLD BACK

lunatishroom: are they flirting already

someonion4: @lunatishroom they are

Baekhyun’s grin widened, his tone dropping lower as he leaned closer to his mic.

“You’d be surprised how flexible I can be. But I guess you’ll need to work hard to find out.”

There was a hint of something darker behind his playful tone, a glint in his eyes that made your breath hitch.

Heat flushed your cheeks at the innuendo, and you quickly cleared your throat, praying the mic didn’t catch the change in your breathing.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” you said, voice steady despite the racing of your pulse. “I’ll make sure you have plenty of time to think about what went wrong while you’re down there.”

His eyes drifted back to the game screen, and he hummed, almost as if you’d piqued his curiosity.

“I like it when you talk tough. It’s cute.”

The game loaded, and you both focused on the first match, fingers flying over the keys as the tension built. The rounds were close, but you could already predict his moves, that aggressive style you’d come to know so well. He always pushed too far, always assumed you’d fall for his tricks.

It was all about patience, waiting for that moment when he’d leave himself vulnerable. It was his downfall before, and it would be again if you timed your moves right.

Your viewers could sense the shift in the air, the tension mounting as you traded kills and comebacks. The chat erupted after each close call, donations rolling in with messages that only added to the pressure.

At the end of the round, you grabbed your water bottle quickly, looking at the comments during the 10 second countdown.

inautop: that last shot was insane!

dalidalidoo: if he loses, I’m clipping his reaction

someonion4: Baekhyun’s sweating, I can see it

You smirk.

“He's sweating already?” You ask to chat, but obviously he heard.

“Who's sweating?” You hear him ask. “Certainly not me. I'm not going to give that pleasure of a view to so many people…” he pauses. “My skin is hydrated, chat, it's not sweat.”

[cutepuppy05 subscribed for 4 months]

he says that but he's been sweating since he started the live and went to play with Channie. you got him nervous, you are at an advantage

The rounds flew by, each one bringing you closer to the final score.

You could hear Baekhyun’s breaths on the mic, steady but quickening, and it felt almost as if he were sitting right there with you—so close you could feel the heat from his body. The tension wasn’t just about the game anymore; it was a thread pulled tight between the two of you, with every playful taunt and low laugh sending a spark up your spine.

You've been physically close a few times. For some reason, there really is this thing where some people just emanate significant heat despite being still. And the times you were by Baekhyun's side, warmth radiated from him, along with the mature perfume he wore. And when you still managed to carry that scent home, you spent a little more time with your coat on.

Imagining him, by your side, playing with you in such a frenetic way made something to you.

You almost lost, the screen corners in red as you came back to reality. You had the special attack available and you just used it.

You managed to catch him overextending, the same mistake he always made. With a precise shot, the victory flashed across your screen. You grinned, unable to hold back the satisfaction in your voice.

“Looks like someone is getting on his kneeeesss~!”

The chat exploded as you exit the game and opened the discord call.

Baekhyun groaned. You could see him leaning back in his chair and dragging a hand through his hair.

“Alright, alright.” he conceded, a playful grin curling at his lips. “You win. A deal’s a deal. Are you seeing me?”

“Yes! Go ahead!”

With exaggerated slowness, he pushed his chair back. He pulled his shorts up a little and dropped to one knee, his gaze fixed on the camera as if staring straight at you through the screen.

“What is your command, oh victorious one?”

His tone sent a shiver through you, a reminder that even when he lost, he somehow still held the upper hand in the way he made you feel.

You were momentarily at a loss for words, the sight of him kneeling before you—not just in the screen, but almost in the intimacy of your shared space—catching you off guard.

“I think you owe me a meal.” you managed to say, though your voice sounded softer than you intended. “Next time we meet, you’re treating.”

Baekhyun’s eyes flicked to the chat, his smile widening.

“That’s all? I was expecting something more… demanding.” The way he said the last word, voice dipping low, made your skin flush.

[Donation Notification: 4.99 from someonion4]

damn Baekhyun on his knees???? looks like someones living out their wildest dreams tonight! 😂👀 You got him, queen

You cleared your throat, forcing a steady reply despite the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Oh, don’t worry, Baek. I’ll save the real demands for when you’re actually at my feet.”

The chat lost it.

marihop: OMG SHE WENT THERE

snwmoveme: baekhyun’s face is priceless

smarterbb: this is the best stream ever

He let out a laugh, rising to his feet with an amused glint in his eyes.

“I guess I’ll just have to win the rematch, then.” he said, his gaze lingering on the camera a beat longer before shifting back to the game. “And when I do, you better be ready to keep your promises.”

You could hear the playful threat in his tone, and it sent a thrill through you.

“We’ll see, Baekhyun. We’ll see.”

The conversation drifted back to safer topics, but the electric undercurrent between you lingered. As you logged off and the live stream ended, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen the next time you saw him—when there were no cameras, no chat, just the two of you, and all the things left unsaid.

The silence that settled between you after the stream felt different, more intimate. Without the buzz of the chat and the flood of notifications, there was just the two of you and the quiet, steady sound of his breathing on the other end.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, his voice softer now, like he was speaking just for you.

“Huh?” You blinked, glancing up at the screen. He was looking at you with that calm expression, his beautiful perm hair still slightly tousled from the last few hours, eyes warm with the lingering glow of your victory.

He chuckled, the sound low and easy.

“You know… food. I could pick something up. It’s kind of late, but I’m sure I can find a place that’s still open. It's not the dinner. Or lunch. Whatever you want. I'm just hungry, you must be too.”

Your stomach growled at the thought of food. It would even be nice to eat anything.

The idea was tempting—him showing up with takeout, eating together... The thought of seeing him in person again, especially after that charged bet, sent a thrill through you. But you know you wouldn't hold back if you see him now.

“You don’t have to…” you started, but the words died on your lips. Your heart wins pretty often. Biting your lower lip, a suggestion spilled out. “Or… you could come over. We could eat together, if you want.”

There was a beat of silence, then you saw his lips twitch into a small smile, his eyes narrowing with curiosity.

“Are you inviting me to your place, sweetheart?” He dragged out your name in that playful tone he used whenever he was trying to get a rise out of you.

You felt your cheeks warm, but there was no point in backing down now.

“I mean, I did win tonight.” you said with a little tilt to your head. “It’s only fair you deliver my victory dinner in person, right?”

Baekhyun let out a breathy laugh.

“Fair enough.” He leaned closer to the screen, his eyes darkening with something unspoken. “Send me your adress, I know the building but I don't wanna ring on someone else's door.”

You nodded, your heart picking up speed as you sent him the directions.

“Be careful, a few of my neighbours watch your live streams.”

“Uhhhh! Fans?”

“Viewers.”

“Yeah, yeah! See you soon!”

When you finally ended the call, the reality of what you’d just invited him to do sank in. You glanced around your apartment, quickly tidying up, your mind racing with anticipation and a slight twinge of nerves.

It wasn’t the first time you’d hung out with him in person, but something about tonight felt different. Maybe it was the bet. Maybe it was the way his voice dropped when he accepted your invitation. Whatever it was, you couldn’t ignore the spark that had been growing between you for weeks.

But it was about the bet. You can't lie. Kneeling down always had the second intention on your mind. And seeing him and hearing him today made something to you. You were weak this last few days… were you ovulating?

Twenty minutes later, there was a message, telling you he arrived. You opened the building's door, and soon after you heard a knock at your door. You opened it to find Baekhyun standing there, a bag of takeout in one hand and that same amused, knowing look in his brown eyes.

“Victory delivery, as requested.” he said, his voice carrying a touch of humor. “I bought a little bit of everything of side dishes, there was only one dose of ramen by this hour so I need to compensate.”

You smiled soflty, noticing him. A ladder jacket, the black t-shirt and that white pants he wore the first time you joined his lobby, replacing the short from earlier. Damn.

He stepped inside as you moved to the side, glancing around your place as he slipped off his shoes.

“Nice setup you’ve got here.”

“Thanks.” you replied, shutting the door behind him. Your voice got a bit more quiet. Maybe it was a bit too much…

The air between you felt charged, even as you made small talk while setting out the food. He took off his jacket, strong arms in contrast to the black t-shirt.

It was as if the bet hadn’t really ended, just shifted into another form—one with softer words, quieter looks, but no less intense.

You took a seat on the couch after picking a few drinks from the fridge, with Baekhyun settling in beside you. He began opening the paper bags, his features more serious than usual, illuminated by the light from the TV and the lamps that you used to leave on so as not to leave the apartment completely dark. The silence was heavy and thick with the kind of tension you’d been dancing around for months.

You turned your head slightly to find him already looking at you, his gaze tracing the curve of your face, lingering on your lips.

“You know…” he said softly, setting the food boxes on the coffee table. “I don’t think I’ve ever thought we would be here. Especially because I asked for a bet... honestly, I've never been so... happy about losing either.”

You felt your breath catch.

“Yeah?” you replied, your voice coming out quieter than you intended.

He nods, still looking into your face. You couldn't look away either, even if you wanted to. Your mouth betrayed you again.

“So, you don’t mind kneeling to me again?”

His smile was slow, his eyes dark as he leaned in closer, his hand grabbing one another as if to contain himself.

“You want to see me on my knees so bad?” he asked, his hoarse. “For you?” He steps out of the couch, kneeling in front of you.

Your eyes wide and you swallow dry.

The space between you seemed to disappear, and before you knew it, his hands were on your tights, just above the knee. A shiver runned down your spine.

“Baekhyun…” and he lifted himself, his lips brushed against yours, a soft, tentative touch that sparked into something more.

You closed the distance, pressing deeper into the kiss, and felt his hand slide up to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek as he tilted your head slightly to deepen the connection.

Your own hands moved to his head, holding it, your thumbs tapping where his jaw meets his cheeks. His lips were much better than you ever thought: soft, a bit swollen, so, so truly kissable.

The kiss was a slow burn, a mix of months of flirtation and nights spent just inches from where you were now. When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless, the tension that had been simmering between you finally spilling over.

“You know…” he murmured, his hands again playing with your skin, fingertips tracing a line along your arm, sending shivers down your spine. “If you let me… really get on my knees for you…”

The way he said it—low, teasing, but with an undercurrent of heat—sent a rush of warmth through your entire body, settling deep between your legs. You gasped softly, caught off guard by the intensity of it, your breath hitching as you locked eyes with him. His gaze was dark, his expression far more serious than the playful tone of his voice suggested.

He wasn’t joking.

The room suddenly felt smaller, the air thick with tension. You could feel the steady thrum of your pulse in your ears, your body responding to the unspoken invitation in his words. You swallowed, unsure whether to laugh off his comment or let it hang between you, tempting you further.

Baekhyun’s fingers slid down to your wrist, brushing over your pulse point before his hand slipped lower, gently resting on your thigh. His touch was light but deliberate, testing the waters, waiting to see how you’d respond. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek as he whispered.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, you know? Losing to you. Kneeling for you.” His lips brushed your ear, and your whole body tensed, anticipation tightening your chest. “I probably wouldn't have had the balls to ask you this if I had won.”

You couldn’t deny the pull between you anymore, the way it had been growing with every game, every late-night conversation. What had started as teasing had evolved into something deeper, more intense. You had felt it the moment he walked into your apartment tonight—the way his eyes lingered a little longer, the way his voice dropped when he spoke just for you.

“Baek” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. You weren’t sure what you were asking him for—for him to stop, to go on, to push you further into this moment.

He tilted his head slightly, his lips hovering just over yours, his hand tightening on your thigh.

“Just say the word.” he murmured, his breath ghosting over your mouth. “And I’ll do it.”

Your heart raced, the warmth between your legs now a steady ache, and you found yourself leaning into him, closing the last sliver of space between you. Your lips brushed against his, hesitant at first, but then he deepened the kiss, his hand sliding higher on your thigh, fingers grazing the hem of your shirt.

The kiss turned urgent, your hands finding his shoulders, pulling him closer as the tension that had been building for so long finally snapped. His fingers slipped under your shirt, warm against your skin, and you gasped into his mouth, pressing your body against his.

Baekhyun groaned softly, breaking the kiss just long enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath ragged.

“Tell me to stop if we're crossing a line you don't want to be crossed.” he whispered, his voice strained, his hand stilling on your waist. But the way his lips hovered near yours, the way his body pressed against you, made it clear he didn't want to keep this as they were.

Neither do you.

Instead, you cupped his face, guiding him back to you, your lips crashing against his with a hunger that mirrored his own. His hands moved with purpose now, sliding under your shirt, pulling you closer until you were practically straddling him. The weight of his body beneath yours, the feel of his hands roaming over your skin, sent waves of heat through you, every nerve alight with sensation.

Baekhyun’s lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as his hands gripped your hips, guiding you closer to the edge of the couch. The soft moan that escaped your lips only seemed to spur him on, his fingers digging into your waist as his lips returned to yours, kissing you with a desperation that matched your own.

“I want to see you lose that control you always have.” he whispered against your lips, his hands sliding under the waistband of your pants. His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting instinctively to the command in his voice, the heat of his touch.

You felt yourself sinking further into him, giving in to the moment as he shifted beneath you, his eyes dark with desire.

And as his fingers tightened their grip, pulling you closer, you realized that you didn’t mind losing to him either—not like this, not tonight.

Your pants disappeared in an instant. The sound of denim sliding down your legs was the only thing you noticed before grabbing him by his brown hair and guiding him where you wanted him.

He chuckled, but then looked to where you guided him; the expression became almost ethereal—he licked his lips, exhaled exasperatedly, and his eyes nearly closed. Each sound more like a quiet groan, as though he was just barely holding back.

Baekhyun’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, his chest rising and falling as his breath came quicker. His gaze swept back up to meet yours, and you saw the hunger there—raw and unrestrained, like he was teetering on the edge of something he could no longer control. The weight of his desire crashed over you, your own breath catching in your throat as heat pooled between your legs, leaving you with a yearning ache.

His hand slid up your thigh, trembling just slightly as his fingertips grazed your skin.

“God, you’re…” he murmured, his voice trailing off, lost in the moment. It was as if words had failed him, the intensity of his reaction leaving him almost dazed. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if to steady himself, before his gaze locked onto yours again—this time filled with a fire that sent another wave of heat through you.

You gasped softly, the sound escaping before you could contain it, and his eyes flashed in response. The corner of his mouth curled into a slow, knowing smile, his hand tightening ever so slightly as if grounding himself.

“You like that?” he whispered, his voice dropping to a gravelly tone that made your pulse quicken. “The way I’m looking at you? To the most beautiful and mesmerizing and sexy creature I've ever seen, so comfortable for me?”

Your throat tightened as you struggled to find your voice, your skin prickling under the intensity of his stare. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you nodded instead, the motion small and almost tentative. The way he looked at you made you feel bare and exposed, like he could see every inch of you, every hidden desire you’d tried to keep at bay.

His other hand trailed along your jaw, tilting your head up just enough to bring your lips closer again, teasingly.

“I’m not just going to look, you know. I've done it enough already.” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. “I’m going to taste. Touch.” He leaned in, and his next words were a low, heated promise. “And you’re going to feel every bit of it, love it, and drown in pleasure because of me.”

The anticipation made you tremble, your body already reacting to his touch. His hand slipped further up, pressing firmly against you in a way that drew a sharp, breathless moan from your throat.

He grinned, clearly pleased with the effect he had on you, his fingers moving with an agonizing slowness that made your skin tingle with anticipation.

“Don't tease.” You say, holding his hair between your finger.

“I don't want to take too big a step.” He replies quietly, but his head moves closer as you pull him.

"Strange. You're always the impatient one." you managed to say, your voice coming out as a breathy taunt as you shifted, one of your legs lifting and settling onto his left shoulder. The movement was deliberate, even yourself was surprised how natural it seemed.

His gaze flickered down to where your leg rested, then back up to your eyes, his smile turning wickedly playful.

"Maybe I’m savoring the moment." he murmured, his hand sliding up your thigh, fingers curling around the curve of your leg as he steadied you. "After all, there is only one first time." He leaned in, his breath warm against your skin, trailing a path up your inner thigh, the closeness of his lips making you shiver with anticipation.

His free hand moved to grip your hip, keeping you firmly in place as he tilted his head to brush his lips against the sensitive skin just above your knee, his gaze never leaving yours. The contrast of his gentleness and the intensity in his eyes sent a shudder through you, your pulse quickening with each teasing touch.

“Ah…” he murmured, voice roughened with desire “I could take my time. Make you beg for it.” His lips brushed over your skin again, the heat of his breath making you gasp. He glanced up, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and hunger. "But you won, I need to give you what you want."

Your fingers threaded through his hair, urging him closer, your breaths coming quicker.

“Or maybe I want to see you take your time with me and try to keep it together.” you shot back, a defiant smile curling your lips. The words seemed to ignite something in him, his grip tightening on your thigh.

“Careful what you wish for.” he said, his tone dark and laced with promise. Then he dipped his head lower, and the slow burn of his touch quickly became a consuming flame. "I may be more patient than you think."

His tongue played with you softly, making a loud, wet sound. He took your right leg, placing it on his shoulder as he pulled you by the hip, burying his face in you like a starved man, kneeling down, on your living room, with those white pants hugging his thighs.

[thestarkinternship]

On Your Knees

Word Count: 752 (female reader, no mention of Y/N)

Warnings: Smut, oral (male recieving), dirty talk, profanity. Minors DNI.

Just imagine how Bucky would behave when you're on your knees for him...

Your big, round eyes would stare up at him from down below, admiring the sight of his cock. Against the hardwood floor, your soft thighs would clench together as you waited needily in anticipation of what was about to come.

His heart would race as you pepper kisses up and down his solid length, resting at the juncture where it met his pelvis. Maybe you’d suck on the skin lightly, causing his cock to twitch next to your flushed face. He would look so big compared to you that even Bucky would wonder how on earth he was going to fit.

All control over himself would be lost the second he feels his tip slip past your pink lips. He’d look down at you, his eyebrows raised a little in awe as you wrap yourself around him. You’d hold his eye, dark lashes damp from the overwhelming pressure of feeling him reach the back of your throat.

“Good girl. Doing s’good for me, you know that? Look at you, taking it all so well.” He’d mumble, caressing your hollowed out cheek.

With a deep breath through your nose, you’d carefully start to move your head. Taking your time, you’d slide your tongue up and down his shaft and paying attention to his pink head. Each movement would illicit a different sound from Bucky. A whimper. A gasp. A grunt. You would listen to each one and let it fuel the pleasure you derived from making your boyfriend feel good.

Soon enough, Bucky would struggle to contain himself from taking control. Before he knew it, he’d be reaching behind your head to gather your hair up in a tight fist and slowly starting to rut himself against your face. An internal war would rage inside his mind as he tries to be gentle, but oh god would it be hard for him.

“C’mon baby. Lemme fuck your pretty little mouth. Please…”

You of course, could only mumble with your mouth full, the vibrations coursing back through Bucky’s body. He’d groan and let his head fall back, eyes squeezing shut. The Winter Soldier had never begged for anyone or anything, but standing over you like this, he couldn’t help himself. And with the way he whined, you couldn't help but give in to what he wanted.

An unmistakable nod on your part is all it would take for him to take over. His grip on your hair would tighten and his free hand would cup your cheek to hold your head in place as his thrusts into your mouth quickened. Keeping his eyes on you the entire time, he’d revel in watching himself disappear past your lips. Suckling sounds escape from you in the small space around Bucky’s cock as you gag around him. Laboured, heavy moans from him would layer over your sweet sounds until the combined intimate noise fills the room. The only thing breaking it up would be his hoarse voice that spews filthier words by the minute.

“God, I’m so fucking close right now. Got no idea what you’re doing to me. Gonna make a mess all over that beautiful face of yours.”

And you’d be able to feel it with every thrust, his tip swelling as you bring him closer and closer to release. Bucky would grow more desperate, shallowly plunging into your mouth. There would only be so much more of this that he could take before he’d finally release your head and pull out.

Streams of warm come would paint your face, framing your rosy cheeks. It would drip down onto your bare chest, pearling against your creamy skin. You’d glance down at the mess he made, before gazing back up at him with a soft smile. Secretly loving the way he would use you like that, just to get himself off, you’d only blush harder.

Bucky would chuckle at the sight, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as he marvelled at you. You were always so good for him. His fingertips would trail along your face, collecting beads of come along the way. He’d reach your parted lips as you caught your breath. With his index finger tilting your chin up to look at him, his come-coated thumb would linger on your bottom lip. Maintaining eye contact, you’d clean it up for him, letting the salty taste of him linger in your mouth as you swallowed.

“So fucking pretty.”