#holding onto myself and my passions and my love and my light

[xvii85ko-skz]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 | 𝐅 | 𝟗𝟓𝟖 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 |𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 𖦹

"It's the sunrise and those red eyes. You're the one that I desire."

s u m m a r y >> sylus has always loved your singing voice.

s o n g >> here!

t a g l i s t >> loading...​​

a u t h o r ��� s  n o t e >> i've been listening to best part by daniel caesar ever since the spring banner dropped and i couldn't help myself. this is just a little re-write of the ending half of valleydream bloom. here you go! i've been gushing about sylus' new card for so long, so i'm happy to get this out of my system!

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

YOU SWIFTLY SNAP ANOTHER PICTURE OF SYLUS WHILE A BUTTERFLY LANDS ON HIS NOSE.

“Aww, Sylus, you look very handsome today!” you exclaim, your voice brimming with excitement as he smiles warmly into your phone camera, flashing a peace sign.

He chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. "First it was the video, now this? Kitten, you're quite the sightseer today." His eyes twinkle with amusement, a playful glint in their depths.

With a playful shrug, you tuck your phone into your bag, closing the distance between you until your breaths mingle. His scent—something so uniquely him—surrounds you, making your senses reel. This outing has unexpectedly ignited a giddy energy within you; you missed him terribly. The feeling is almost overwhelming.

Sylus begins humming a low, melodious tune, a melody that tugs at your heartstrings. The air crackles with unspoken emotions, a silent conversation passing between you.

An idea sparks in your mind, a mischievous glint mirroring his own. "Sylus," you say, your voice barely a whisper, gazing up at him with eyes shining with a passion that could ignite a thousand suns. "Should I sing a song for you?"

It's unusual for you to sing around others, it's not like you keep it from people on purpose. But with Sylus, it feels different, natural, almost inevitable. A nervous flutter takes hold in your stomach. He looks at you, his expression softening, a tender smile playing on his lips. He nods, his eyes filled with warmth and anticipation.

You take a deep breath, the melody of his humming echoing in your mind. You close your eyes for a moment, gathering your courage. Then, you begin to sing, your voice soft at first, then growing stronger, filled with the emotion you couldn't express in words.

You don't know, babe When you hold me And kiss me slowly It's the sweetest thing

A slow smile spreads across his face, a tender expression that belies the depth of his emotions. His gaze locks onto yours, conveying a silent understanding that transcends words. The air crackles with unspoken feelings, the melody lingering in the space between you. He reaches out, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your cheek, his touch feather-light yet possessing an undeniable power. The moment hangs suspended, filled with unspoken affection and the shared magic of music.

And it don't change If I had it my way You would know that you are

Sylus' eyes soften as he listens to the lyrics, a slow smile spreading across his face. He looks utterly captivated, like he's being transported to another world. He lets out a soft sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. He reaches out, gently taking your hand in his, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He doesn't say anything, but the tender pressure of his hand speak volumes. It's clear he's completely enthralled, lost in the moment and the emotion of your song. He's totally smitten. 

You're the coffee that I need in the morning You're my sunshine in the rain when it's pouring Won't you give yourself to me? Give it all, oh

Your hand moves with a graceful fluidity, plucking a single, perfect white rose that he was previously playing with. With a tender touch, you place the rose behind Sylus' ear, the delicate petals brushing against his skin. He grabs your hand and nuzzles into it, savoring the sensation, the scent of the flower blending with the sweet fragrance of your perfume. A soft sigh escapes his lips, and when he opens his eyes again, they are filled with an overwhelming tenderness.

The air hung heavy with the scent of honeysuckle and unknown wildflowers, a perfume so thick it felt almost tangible. Sunlight, fractured by the leaves of ancient, gnarled vines, dappled the nest floor, casting long, dancing shadows that writhed and shifted like playful sprites. A gentle breeze stirred, carrying the faintest whisper of dragon song from the nest.

"My love," he breathed, his voice a low rumble that resonated with the quiet hum of the birds, "did you pick this song on purpose?" His hand, warm and strong, rested lightly on yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand in a slow, soothing rhythm. His eyes, held yours captive, searching for an answer, yet betraying a hint of playful mischief.

You feigned hurt, tilting your head back and offering him a slow, deliberate smile that showcased the mischievous glint in your own eyes. "What? Do you not like it?" The words hung in the air, light and teasing, as you leaned closer, his scent mingling with the sweet floral fragrance surrounding you.

He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that vibrated through his chest and into your ears. The amusement in his eyes deepened as he watched you, his gaze lingering on your lips before he finally shook his head. "Stop being a menace, sweetie. I loved the song," he murmured, his voice softening as he pulled you closer, his embrace warm and enveloping. "This place... this dragon's nest... it feels like home, with you, Sylus. The flowers, the sunlight... it's all so perfectly romantic, so peaceful."

He gently kissed your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled back, his eyes filled with an emotion so profound it stole your breath away. You didn't want to leave this secluded sanctuary. You didn't want to be away from Sylus, not in this moment, not ever.

The world outside this enchanted clearing seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, bathed in sunlight and the intoxicating scent of a thousand flowers, lost in the sweet symphony of love and the soothing tune of each other's humming.

After all, wherever he goes, you'll follow. No matter how far.

[soulmvtes]

sunday nights are for reflecting on your entire life and the fragile state of your present moment and what the future may look like

[highdramas]

peaceful road | dr. michael robinavitch

pairing: michael robinavitch x f!reader

warnings: language, age gap (reader is 29, robby is 50)

word count: 2392

summary: (small town au) you've lived in cradle point, oregon for nearly your entire life. when you come down with a nasty sickness, you meet dr. robby-- just having opened his new private practice after running away from it all.

notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with my work or this fic. i'm very excited to kick off this series! i admittedly know little about operating a private practice, or medicine in general, so please forgive any inaccuracies. thank you for reading <3

--

dr. michael robinavitch starts his day at 7am, by habit more than anything else. he doesn’t begin seeing patients until 8am, but there’s something very comforting about the quiet of his office, the sound of the keyboard, the faint sound of johnny cash playing out of his speakers. he makes the short drive to work every day and he now has the time to stop for coffee, rather than make it at home.

life has been slower since that day in the pitt. that day that lead into an almost immediate sabbatical, which then lead to a resignation, he still has to fight off this notion that he gave up, that he conceded something. he wakes up and wonders most mornings still– how are they doing? how’s whittaker holding up? sometimes, he nearly texts dana to ask, then he remembers she’s now at a private practice, too. except she didn’t move across the country.

how could he stay in pittsburgh? what was going to be left for him there?

he loved the pacific northwest for a long time, after visiting one time with collins. he enjoyed portland, but he loved his time on the coast even more. when he thought about where he wanted a fresh start, that felt like a good a place as any.

after extensive research, he decided on cradle point. with a population of 1,500, and no private practice since the last doctor had moved away, it felt like a good place to try. and so he did. and after two months… well, things were going pretty well. it felt like he could breathe, while still doing the thing that he had burning passion for. he could save lives and not put his own mental health in turmoil every single day. he could step away from emergency medicine and live with himself.

that’s what he said to himself, anyway. sometimes, when he was feeling really crazy, he would go to the emergency room in lincoln city, and he’d sit in the parking lot and consider going in and asking if they needed an er physician. but then he always got back into his subaru and made the drive down the coastline back to cradle point.

he’s only on month two of operating his own private practice, and he doesn’t want to say that it’s perfect– he knows it isn’t. but it’s good. and that’s what he cares about.

hearing a tug at the door, his head pops up, tugging his readers off. it’s unusual to get anyone at his door until 9 or 10. he suspects that townsfolk are still trying to decide if they trust him– he gets it. well, not really, but he is starting to understand the small town mentality. the aversion to outsiders.

when he swings open the door and sees you, it starts up those same emergency medicine instincts. you look unsteady on your feet, holding a coffee, sunglasses on the crown of your head. “hi,” you say, voice graveled. “i’ve been wanting to come by and introduce myself–” you give him your name before you cough into the crook of your arm. “i’m sorry, i know you’re probably not open yet. my friends finally shamed me into coming, but i need to be at my shop at 8:30, and i saw that your light was on–”

“no, no. please, come in and sit.” he gestures to an exam bed which you hop onto. he can’t help his slight smile as you cross your legs and toss your bag into the chair by the exam table like you’ve done it the exact same way a million times. “did you used to see dr. jackson?”

michael doesn’t know much about his predecessor, other than that it sounded like he had pretty big shoes to fill. dr. angela jackson was beloved by the people of cradle point. that much was abundantly clear. you flush and laugh a little bit. “she’s my aunt.” you rub your hands on your pants and look at him sheepishly. “that’s a small town for ya.”

he laughs louder at that. “well,” he takes a step closer to you. “i’m not your aunt, but i’ll take good care of you. my name is dr. robinavitch, but most people call me dr. robby. i’m gonna do a quick exam on you and hopefully get you out of here.”

“thank you, dr. robinavitch.” you smile so earnestly it makes his heart stutter over itself.

shit.

–

you had a crush on the hot doctor. why did no one tell you that he was hot?

having lived in cradle point for your entire life, any new person moving into town was undeniably a big deal. it felt like, anymore, people moved away frequently, but there wasn’t a steady stream of those returning. of course, there was the tourists in the summer and the occasional retiree that would settle down on the coast. but most people didn’t feel like living out of the way of so much.

you loved your hometown. you loved the tall trees and the fact that you could walk onto the balcony off your bedroom and hear the faint crash of the ocean. you loved that your best friend erin was just like you, and had stayed, and that every day you could walk ten minutes down the road to see her. you loved that you could take your cat onto the beach in her little harness and leash whenever you wanted. you loved the farmers market. you loved being a business owner in this town. there wasn’t much that you didn’t like.

and you really loved when new people entered your orbit. there was a sort of excitement that it brought– it was so rare, how could you not be excited?

dr. robinavitch is thorough with you. you believe him when he says he’s doing to take good care of you. you’ve been going and going with little slowing since you got sick– not taking days off of work, carrying on despite your body screaming at you to stop. he cradles your face and gently presses on your cheeks, causing you to wince slightly. it’s then when he leans back and looks at you and says, “yeah, you’ve got a pretty nasty sinus infection. i’m gonna get you some antibiotics and you should be good to go within the next week. but you’re gonna need rest– no work. you think you can do that?”

“i can give it a really good try,” you say. “no, no– yeah, i won’t work. i’ll get erin to cover the store for a couple of days.”

“where do you work?”

“i own mazzy’s. it’s a bookstore on main street.” feeling bold, you say, “you should come by sometime, once i’m better. do you like to read? i can give you plenty of suggestions.” you pause, and add, sheepishly, “if you want, of course.”

michael, utterly charmed despite everything in him screaming at him not to be, shoves his hands into the pockets of his zip up hoodie. “yeah, i like to read. i’ve been driving past it every day and thinking about how i should go in. i’ve read through just about everything i’ve got.” that was about all he did during his sabbatical– reading, pretending, pushing it all down. “i’ll come by. i like sci fi.”

“sci fi! we have a great sci fi section–” you sneeze. “and fantasy, too, if you’re into that sort of thing.” you have that same sheepish look on your face and all he can think about is how sweet you are, how in fifteen minutes you’ve made him feel more welcome in this town than anyone else in the past month has made him feel. including his neighbors. no fault to them, he thinks; they would be in pretty stiff competition with you around.

no. you’re younger than him– twenty nine, he found out, as he was doing your intake. he may be having a midlife crisis, but he never fancied himself the type to go for a girl nearly half his age, let alone a patient. but then you start talking about a book called this is how you lose the time war and his heart does that same stuttering that it did earlier. maybe he should be the one seeing a doctor.

“--and, yeah, it’s a love story more than anything. a very good love story. not some of the cheesy slop that’s out right now. i mean, don’t the people want to yearn anymore?” you sigh, clearly exasperated at your own train of thought. you stand and grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. “anyway. i’m sorry, i’ll get out of your hair.”

“no, no–” he chuckles, the sound awkward in his ears. “stay in my hair as much as you want.” it’s his turn to flush, but you are too, and you meet each others gaze and laugh together. maybe there’s some knowing it that laugh. that neither of you can quite place it, but… there’s something.

“as much as i’d love to, i should take your advice and get my rest. thank you so much, again–” you open the door to the clinic, greeted by the torrential downpour that started at some point while you and dr. robby were in your trance. “wow. anyway, i’ll be seeing you.”

“oh–” he grabs the door, holding it open for you and looking out at the unyielding rain. “you drive here?”

“i walked. i’ll be fine, i–”

before he can think better of it, he says, “i can drive you,” a doctor for more years than he can count at this point, and he’s teetering on breaking the code of ethics over the first girl he meets. of course. “if you want. only if you want.”

hanging onto the doorframe, you smile a little and look out to the rain. fuck it. “sure. thank you.”

–

you both make a quick jog to his car parked slightly down the road, tugging your hoods over your heads. “this one’s mine,” he says, pointing to an immaculate black subaru suv. he rushes to open your door for you, making sure you’re safely inside before he hops into the drivers seat. the sound of the rain pounding on his car fills your ears, and you’re both slightly out of breath, looking over at each other and smiling. “wouldn’t have been a fun walk home,” he muses.

you blow out a puff of air. “no, it wouldn’t have.” you lean your head back against the seat, sniffling some. “thank you.”

“my pleasure.” you’re still looking at each other for a beat when he clears his throat, starting up the car. “you lead the way.”

you provide him instructions on how to get to your small seaside cottage. it was your parents home– when they decided they were ready to go on and retire in southern california, tired of the rain of the oregon coast, they put the house in your name. it was your grandparents home before that, the entire house wrapped up in the history of your last name.

you provide him anecdotes regarding businesses and landmarks as you drive past them. “that’s mrs. felicia’s diner. have you eaten there yet? don’t get the pie. just trust me.” a moment later, “this is the lookout where high schoolers go to make out or smoke weed. it’s like, don’t they know they’re not that slick?”

michael listens to all your musings, riveted. having grown up in chicago, later relocating to pittsburgh, he’s always been a big city guy. big cities have their own charms, quirks, and rituals– but none the way that you’re describing to him. he likes that about cradle point. that you have a story for every square inch of this town.

“so. why did you move here?” you ask. it’s an innocent enough question, and you’re not the first person who has asked it but it still makes his heart seize up. “i mean– i’m just not used to new people. you’re probably gathering that none of us are.”

“yup, i’ve gathered that much.” he tries not to sound too irritable. it’s not your fault you’re asking. it’s not your fault that he’s so fucked up, that he feels like he can’t run fast enough away from his past. “i was just ready for a change.”

“and where did you move from?”

“pittsburgh.”

“did you like it?”

“yeah, until i didn’t.” he sighs. “i’m sorry. i’m not trying to be a hardass.”

shaking your head, you look down at your hands. “no, i’m sorry i’m prying.”

“don’t be. don’t be, really– i’m the asshole. trust me.”

you begin approaching your street. it’s idyllic– framed with trees, sloping hills with various beautiful beach homes surrounding it. the beach is but a stone’s throw away, and he feels a pang of jealousy. he’s certainly not without the funds, but a beachside home was not in the cards for him. “this is me,” you point to the home, and he smiles a little. of course it is. it’s quaint, but charming. there’s a beautiful garden out front and a cat napping in the front window. “thank you again.”

“you’re welcome. and about before, i–”

“nope. no more apologies needed.” you give a reassuring smile. “thank you for the antibiotics. thank you for the drive. and…” you fumble around in your purse for your store business card and a pen, scribbling a string of numbers onto it. “if you ever want a book recommendation…” you pass the card to him. “just let me know.”

staring down at the card, your logo– a cat sleeping on a stack of books– he rubs his thumb on the worn paper where you’ve just written your phone number with the word “cell” ahead of it. he wonders how long it’s been in your bag. if you give these out to just anyone. “i’ll do that.”

with a final smile and a wave, you speed walk towards your house. he watches to make sure you get inside safely. when the door has shut, he leans his forehead onto the steering wheel, a long breath coming from deep in his chest.

twenty feet away, you’re leaning with your back against your front door, your hand on your chest, an identical breath coming out of you.

[bangchansdirty-slut]

My Dopamine

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Paring: Top!Giselle x Member!Bttm! Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Giselle wrote "Dopamine" about you and couldn't help but express what the song is really about when you asked her.

More: Masterlist

A/n: I couldn't stop listening to Dopamine by Giselle and Roses by Jaehyun while writing this. I might be obsessed with these songs. Also, should I write fan fiction based on the other members' solo songs?

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Giselle sat on the couch on the stage, the lights dimming around her as the music began to swell. The audience, a sea of waving lightsticks, was entranced by the opening notes of her solo performance. She took a deep breath, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. This was the moment she had been waiting for, a chance to showcase her own voice and her own story. As she opened her mouth to let the lyrics flow, she thought about the inspiration behind the song. Her eyes searched the shadows offstage, finding the familiar figure of Y/n, who was watching her intently.

The words of "Dopamine" spilled from Giselle's lips, each syllable a declaration of the intense passion she felt for her secret lover. Her rap was sharp and precise, the bass vibrating through the stadium as she spit verses filled with desire and lust. She knew Y/n would recognize the subtle references to their clandestine encounters, the way she spoke of her body as if it were a sacred text that only the two of them could read. The chorus hit, and Giselle's gaze held steady on Y/n, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she sang about the taste of her, the feel of her, the way she was Giselle's dopamine fix.

Backstage, Y/n felt a rush of heat as the realization dawned on her. Her eyes widened as she watched Giselle perform, her cheeks flushing at the explicit nature of the lyrics. She knew that the other members and the staff wouldn't catch on, but for her, it was as if the song was a love letter played out for the world to see. Her heart raced, her breath shallow, as she listened to the words that painted a vivid picture of their secret moments together. The crowd roared their approval, and Y/n couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement and exposure at the same time.

After the concert, the members of Aespa made their way back to their hotel. The energy of the show still pulsed through their veins as they chattered about the performance, but Y/n remained quiet, lost in thought. When they finally reached their hotel room, she turned to Giselle, her eyes searching for any signs of embarrassment or regret. Instead, she found only a smoldering gaze that sent a bolt of desire straight to her core. Giselle's smirk grew wider as she leaned in, her voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down Y/n's spine. "You know that song was all about your delicious body, don't you?"

Before Y/n could respond, Giselle closed the distance between them and pushed her onto the bed. With surprising strength, she tugged at Y/n's skirt, revealing the matching set of lacy panties she had picked out earlier. Her eyes gleamed with hunger as she pulled the fabric aside and bent her head to kiss the soft skin of Y/n's inner thighs. "I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore," Giselle murmured, her breath hot against Y/n's skin. "You're my muse, my addiction."

Y/n's eyes rolled back in her head as Giselle's tongue darted out to trace her folds. She had always been sensitive, but with Giselle's expert touch, it felt like every nerve was on fire. Her moans grew louder, filling the room as Giselle's mouth moved closer to the spot she craved. Giselle's hands were everywhere, now they're holding her hips in place as she explored her with a hunger that was unmatched.

Their eyes locked, and in that moment, Y/n felt a surge of power. Despite being the one on her back, she knew she had just as much control in this situation as Giselle did. She reached down, her fingers tangling in Giselle's hair, and pushed her face closer to her wetness. Giselle's eyes sparkled with challenge, but she didn't hesitate. Her tongue delved into Y/n's core, making her gasp and arch off the bed. The sensation was intense, a perfect blend of pleasure and pressure that had Y/n's legs shaking and her toes curling.

Giselle's ministrations grew more fervent, her tongue swirling and flicking against Y/n's clit with a precision that spoke of countless hours of practice. Y/n's moans grew louder, echoing through the hotel room like a siren's call. She felt Giselle's hand slip up her tank top, seeking out her hardened nipples. The pinching and twisting sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her pussy, and she bucked her hips against Giselle's face. The world outside of their embrace faded away, leaving only the two of them in a cocoon of lust and desire.

Y/n's breath hitched as Giselle's teeth grazed her sensitive bud, and she couldn't help but let out a loud cry. The sound seemed to spur Giselle on, her movements becoming more insistent. Y/n felt her orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to consume her. She gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white with the effort to hold on, her eyes squeezed shut as if to keep the intensity within. But it was too much, and she shattered, her body convulsing with the force of her release.

Giselle looked up at Y/n, a smug smile playing on her lips, as the latter lay panting and trembling beneath her. "You're mine, Y/n," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "Every inch of you is my dopamine." She began to strip away her own clothes, revealing her toned body and the matching lingerie she had chosen for the evening. Y/n felt a mix of excitement and vulnerability as she watched Giselle's confidence grow.

They settled into a 69 position, Y/n eager to return the favor. But Giselle's own arousal was a distraction. Her scent filled the air, and Y/n's mouth watered at the thought of tasting her. She tried to focus on Giselle's pussy, but her own need was still so raw and demanding. Giselle's fingertips danced across her clit, sending waves of pleasure through her body, making it impossible to concentrate.

Giselle's moans grew louder as Y/n's mouth worked on her. Her tongue lapped and swirled, trying to mimic the moves that had brought her to the edge just moments before. But Giselle was relentless, her fingers moving faster, pressing harder, until Y/n's world narrowed to the point between her legs. Her hips began to move, grinding into Giselle's mouth, her moans becoming cries.

Y/n squirted again, the warmth of her release coating Giselle's mouth and chin. Giselle pulled back, licking her lips clean with a satisfied smile. "Baby you need to please me too," she whispered,, her voice filled with need. Y/n nodded, feeling the urgency building within her as well. They shifted, and Giselle is now straddling Y/n's face, her pussy hovering just above her mouth. Y/n opened her eyes and took in the sight of her lover, her body begging for more.

Giselle's pussy was a masterpiece, wet and swollen from desire. Y/n eagerly dove in, her tongue darting out to taste her. Giselle's hips began to rock immediately, setting a rhythm that had both of them moaning in pleasure. Giselle's hand found Y/n's hair, guiding her movements, as she worked her own clit with the other hand. Y/n's own arousal grew, her pussy throbbing in response to the sound of Giselle's pleasure.

The taste of Giselle was like nothing she had ever experienced, a heady mix of sweet and salty that made Y/n feel high. She felt Giselle's muscles tighten around her face as she brought her closer to the brink. The scent of their combined desire was intoxicating, filling the room and making it difficult to think about anything but the moment. Giselle's thighs trembled, and Y/n knew she was close.

With a final, desperate thrust of her hips, Giselle came hard, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. She collapsed onto the bed next Y/n, panting and smiling. The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with the scent of arousal. Y/n looked up at her, eyes glazed over with lust, her mouth still slick with Giselle's juices.

Giselle came closer and kissed Y/n, the taste of their shared pleasure mingling on their tongue. Y/n's body was still humming with the aftershocks of her own climax, but she craved more. Giselle lets go and stands up, her eyes never leaving Y/n's. "Let's go shower," she suggests with a wink, her voice husky from the passionate exchange.

Y/n nods, her legs wobbly as she stands. They walk into the bathroom, the tiles cold against their bare feet, the contrast making their skin tingle with excitement. The shower is already steaming up the room, and Giselle steps in, holding out a hand to help Y/n in. The water cascades down their bodies, washing away the sweat and the evidence of their desire. They stand under the spray, kissing deeply, their bodies pressed together as the water runs over their curves.

[bernardsbendystraws]

Pink Petals

Chris Sturniolo x Reader

Visit pinned post for navigation.

Summary: Chris had a past with a few girls who had left him burned. Y/n had succumbed to the utter tragedy of giving up on her high school sweetheart a while ago. Chris walks into Y/n’s flower shop, searching for  a bouquet of flowers for a girl. A blind date takes the lovelorn pair into fate’s hands. Chris isn’t holding back his true colors anymore. He’s a true romantic. Handwritten letters, cheesy compliments…and maybe some flowers. 

Warnings: 18+. This series contains mature themes, read at your own risk. (SMUT, angst, parental troubles, financial hardships, and more. Don't like, don't read.) This warning is made for all parts.

A/N: ALL REBLOGS / COMMENTS / LIKES are deeply appreciated!!!

thank you @bbernard-03 for proofreading again!!!

With love and big tits, Rose

Final Part: Pink Petals  ** ** ** **

Passionate smacks of our lips echoed as clothes were pulled off our heated bodies and tossed to the floor. His hungry touches and caresses became hesitant as more skin lingered bare. “Are—are you sure? I,” he kisses my neck as I balance myself on his lap by holding his shoulders. “--don’t want you to feel like you have to–”

I grab his jaw firmly, dragging his lips back to mine. My tongue pushes through his lip, licking into his mouth as his hot breath fans onto my face. Pulling away, Chris is quick to let his lips nip and suck at my neck as I pull into his hair. “Fuck, ‘m sure, Chris. Just…every part of me wants you. God,” I breathe out. 

“Yeah?” Chris rasps as his hands pull my hips to rock on his groin. I bite on my lip hard from the friction. His face contorts with a furrowed pleasure as he hisses through gritted teeth. “Every part, hm?” 

My breath hitches as my lips fall apart. One of his hands stays steadily grinding my hips onto his cock as his other hand moves to the hem of my underwear. I shiver feeling the cool breeze brush along the slick warm liquid dripping between my legs. “Fuck, look at that…” 

His voice is hushed, almost as if he’s talking to himself. Taking in the sight with his eyes first, I let out a desperate moan in urgency. 

“Touch me, Chris.” Bright blue eyes filled with lust look up at me. His hungry expression is soothed to a look of awe as I feel his fingers pull up the hem of my underwear, slipping his pointer digit to slip over the wet lips. 

A broken shriek leaves my mouth. My grip on his hair gets tighter as he slowly explores deeper, analyzing every twitch of my legs. 

“Yeah? Want me to touch you, huh sweetheart? So fuckin’ wet. Jesus,” he purrs. 

Tapping me on the thigh and yanking at the waistband of the thin fabric left covering me, I lift myself and let him peel the underwear off. I hear the light toss of the fabric as it hits the floor. My eyes focus back onto Chris as he redirects his hands back onto my hips. His bare cock slides against my folds as my back arches with his hands pressing me further towards him. 

“Is—fuck,” his teeth are digging into his lip. “--is this okay, baby? Do you…god, are you okay with—with this?” he asks with a wavering tone between a soft purr and a moan. 

His grip on my skin becomes harder and harder as I rock my hips along his length. “You’re—you’re killing me here.” His eyes roll to the back of his head as I chase the friction against my clit. “Tell me, please. Are you comfortable, sweetheart? Is…is—can I fuck you, baby?” he writhes as the question falls from heavy pants. 

No part of me is against the thought of feeling so close to him. All I want is to feel his dick deep in me, claiming me with the most physically intimate connection. 

“I…yes. It’s…’s all I want,” I announce softly. 

A deep groan leaves his lips solely from my words. “Mmmm, how do you…how do you want it, baby?” he asks. 

Letting my hand drop to his chest, I start trailing it slowly down his stomach. His abdomen clenches and unclenches underneath my palm, tightening more and more the further down I let myself touch. His slick tip meets my hand as I grip around his length, slowly jerking him up and down while starting to hover my weight. 

“Fuck,” I look up to see Chris staring down at my hand, his eyes glimpsing up quickly to my face. “---just like that, huh? Gonna sit on it for me?” He hisses as I start to direct his dick right into my entrance, taking his tip slowly as I let myself start to collapse back onto him. “Fuckkkkk,” he rasps, watching his dick slowly disappear as I take him inch by inch. 

I let out a broken huff of air as my pelvis meets his skin. Everything feels so full as I try to relax my body. His thumbs swivel over my hips soothingly as he breathes in shaky breaths. “Mhm, take your time, baby. Whenever….whenever you’re ready.” he soothes. 

“Oh my god,” I cry out as I bring myself up and sit on his dick again fully. His grip supports my weight as I start to find a steady rhythm. 

“My girl.” His hair starts to stick to his sweaty forehead as he lifts me up and slams me down harder and harder. “My fuckin’ girl,” he grunts. 

Sex had never felt like this. It had never felt so good, so fulfilling. The warm heat mixed with cool air left me breathless as I felt myself start to topple closer to the blissful hot euphoria. Every thrust, I could feel him prodding closer and closer as his actions became more irregular and eager. 

“Chris, I–I, my god,” 

“I know, baby, I know—god, I’m—I’m right there with ya,” he seethes. 

Desperate thrusts upward into me makes the bed creak from Chris’s harsh motions. Slaps and sinful sounds are drowning us in a chorus of pleasure while we both start clinging onto each other tighter and tighter. 

“Are—c’mon, I…can’t hold off much longer, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pleas as one of his hands trail down to mine, redirecting it onto my clit. “Can’t—mmmpf, sweetheart. Touch that pussy for me. Be a good girl and touch it, yeah? I—shittttttt,” his hand practically slaps down onto my hip again as I start tracing intentional movements on my clit. My inner thighs start to burn from how tense I become, trying to chase the heated sensation collecting in my stomach. 

“I’ll pull out, but—”

I cut off his statement by clenching around him. He lets out a muffled yell of profanities as I grip onto his wrist tightly, rubbing circles into the bud of sensitivity until I feel a warm sensation explode. “No, I—-fill me up. Please, Chris.” 

Chris is helpless against my pleas as he topples over the edge. He stills with his hips thrusting off the bed, a pool of cum swarming down my walls while he lets his nails dig into my skin. “Mmmmm, fuck. Love—love fillin’ my girl. I—-love it. Love it so much, sweetheart, so much.” 

Our tired bodies collapse together as he hugs me into his arms. Deep breaths and cool air calm the beating pulse in my ears as I let myself envelope in the moment. 

His girl. 

My eyes start to water from overbearing emotion. He snuggles me further into his chest, his lips puckering into my hair as he pets my sides. “Was,” he heaves, “--was that okay? Are you okay? Was I too—”

I tilt my head upward, shaking my head and leaning to press my lips to the corner of his mouth. His eyes gleam at me hazily and hopefully. I caress the side of his face, admiring how he leans into my touch ever so slightly. 

“It was perfect, Chris, I—” my voice catches in my throat as my eyes burn warmly. “I’ve never felt so,” the warm tear cascades down my left cheek. Chris smiles sympathetically, swiping it away softly and swiveling his thumb over my jaw. “---so loved.” 

As the words leave my mouth, a silent exchange of emotions is found within his genuine eyes. 

Love. 

This—this is love. 

“I…be mine, please. I want to be your boyfriend so bad, I,” he looks with a selfish guilt as a tear gathers in his bottom lashline. “I know it’s selfish, but there’s no part of me that can leave this, leave you. I…be my girl. Let me take care of you, let me—let me love you. Please.” 

My throat clenches as more warm droplets of water collect down my cheeks. Nodding, I launch myself into his arms as I hear him let out a cry and laugh simultaneously. 

“I’m assuming that’s a yes?” he jokes. 

“Shut up. Of…of course it’s a yes. I—yes, Chris. Yes.” He tightens his arms around me, tight enough to make me let out a wheeze. “I–why are you trying to kill me—”

“Shut up, I’m hugging my girl.” 

My lips seal shut with a smile as I let myself cling onto him. 

His girl.

It sounded so right—it felt so perfect. 

__

Madison’s home hadn’t been as lonely as I thought it would be. Once she had left, my bed had company basically every night. He drove a ridiculous amount of miles, traveling back and forth constantly, just to see me. 

Gas was expensive, food was expensive, living was expensive. My bank account had nearly been sucked dry as I contemplated solutions. I had started a new customer service job online, working almost ten straight hours a day. It was exhausting. The last week had been filled with the same routine; wake up, work, spend time with chris. 

But it was worth it. 

I imagined a new flower shop, one closer to him and all my newly found friends. One with a better safety recognition, one that wouldn’t have to hold memories of infiltrating confusion. My eye was stuck on one place in particular, a corner building. It was as if I saw my dream come to life just seeing the listing. Chris had driven with me to go check it out, he didn’t complain once as I rambled about the long and complex ideas I had. 

“I’m gonna put all of the bouquets here, and—and, wait—what do I name it? Do I just put the street name? Sorry….am I boring you?” 

“Never. I could listen to my girl ramble on forever.” 

I had waited impatiently for Chris to knock at the door. My anxious heart was pulsing loudly, nearly buzzing every sense with excitement as I hear the familiar noise of his car door shut. As soon as his fist meets the door, I swing it open with an anticipating smile. He grins widely at me, opening his arms as I hug around his waist. The long day of calls and emails seems to disappear as he holds me. 

“How was your day, baby?” he asks, petting the back of my head as he looks down at me. 

I shrug, “--better now that my boyfriend is here.” 

The statement spreads the happiness on his face, curving his lips even further upward. I drop my arms, latching my hand around two of his fingers and start to walk inside. I feel his hand clasp around mine, tugging me back to the threshold of the door. 

“What’re you doing? We can hug more inside, Chris.” The reasoning on my behalf is cut off by him tugging me out the door. He swipes the keys from the table by the entrance, locking the key before pulling me to his car. 

“What’re we doing?” I ask. 

“I have something for you, just…sit tight, okay?” he says, opening the passenger door and guiding me to sit. He pulls the seatbelt across me, latching it and pressing a kiss onto my head before walking around to his own side. 

Curiosity fills my gut watching him bite back a smile while reversing the car. 

__

My favorite songs had played from his phone through the bluetooth in the car. I recognized the areas we had passed through, his own house not being too far as he pulled us into a parking spot. 

We didn’t stay long, only long enough for him to tie a blindfold over my eyes, careful to avoid tugging my hair. My stomach was burning from swarming butterflies. Tired exhaustion had been cured by his presence alone, dissipating even more with each passing minute. 

One song had played in the car before the car parked again. I heard Chris get out. He helped me up and held my back to his chest while guiding my steps. 

“Chris—”

“Are you ready, baby?” he whispers in my ear. He laughs as my body shivers against him. I nod, feeling him peel off the blindfold and placing his hands on the sides of my arms. 

My eyes focus on the sight in front of me, recognizing the dreamy corner building that had earned its own collection of thoughts and designs for the past week. The listing we had viewed only a week ago. 

Confusion floods me as I stare at the ‘sold’ sign plastered on the wall. “Oh, it sold? Why…why are you showing me this, Chris?” I ask, my heart feeling heavy as I lean my weight onto him. 

His chest rumbles as I feel one of his hands leave my arm. Crumpled paper echoes with my doubtful thoughts. 

“Look,” he holds a piece of paper out in front of our bodies, my name plastered next to the building's address. “---it’s yours.” 

My lips fall open. Chris sways me in his embrace, kissing the side of my head. “It wasn’t just me. Madison and Rebecca too. They…we all want you to be happy. We…we all love you,” I look up to him, catching his eyes in a bright aura. “I love you. I…I love you, sweetheart. Your dreams are my dreams too.” 

Swelled emotions lean wet tears down my cheeks silently. I turn my body to hug him, shaking in his arms from pure joy. 

“I…I love you, Chris. I…I don’t even know what to say, thank you—not just for this, but for…for everything, thank you.” 

He holds me tighter as I lean my body further onto him. My dreams are in front of me, a morning glow of heaven surrounding every corner of my mind and filling it with hope and love. 

“I got you, I…I got you,” he soothes, rubbing the back of my head. 

Sniffling, I pull away to look up at him. “Trust me,” I laugh, “I know you got me, Chris. You—you’ve really proven it. I….god, I know you’re always there for me and that—that feels so relieving, you feel so relieving. I just love you so much and I—”

Chris cups my cheeks in his hands, staring down at me with a smile. “I know, I know. Now, should we get to decorating? I…I had an idea too.”

__

Excitement had pushed Chris and I to finish the shop completely within three days. Loud music had blessed through the empty shop as it became furnished and full. 

“You like it, baby?” Chris asks. 

I look over at him nodding, my eyes tracing back up to the sign above the door. Chris’s idea was perfect. It was just right. 

“Well, it is my favorite.”

He pulls me into a side hug as we stare up at the letters.

Pink Petals. 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this series and enjoying it! A lot of this is deeply personal to me and I’m glad I got to share this with you! As of right now, I will not be writing another full-length series, but get ready for something new! Mini-series and I have plenty of ideas…let me know if there is anything you want to see in particular, but all I will hint at is dealer!chris for now…

With love and big tits, Rose 

[billiesgoodgirll]

lunch

warnings: smut, dom!billie, sub!reader, oral (r receiving), strap on sex, swearing

a/n: i genuinely think i’ve forgotten to write smut i’m scared 

readers pov:

"baby baby baby! come listen to this song i made!" a very energetic billie said, bursting into our room.

"okay my love," i chuckle at her excitement.

she pulls my arm, dragging me downstairs into her studio.

finneas isn't here, he usually is when i listen to her new songs.

huh how weird.

brushing it off, billie sits on her chair pulling my onto her lap.

she puts her headphones on me, giggling in excitement i smile at her happiness.

the best comes through the headphones, my head bops along to it.

it's like a cute pop song.

i could eat that girl for lunch, yeah she dances on my tongue taste like she might be the one.

my eyes widen when i hear the lyrics, i turn to her wide eyed and a slight blush covering my cheeks.

she smirks at me, i continue to listen.

i could buy her so much stuff, it's a craving not a crush.

i feel a familiar heat between my legs, billies hands travel to rest on my thighs.

so now she's coming up the stairs so i'm pulling up a chair, and i'm putting up my hair.

oh my god.

the smile and blush on my face grows bigger, as i mouth 'oh my god' to her.

she has the biggest smile on her face, super proud of her work nodding her head along to the beat.

baby, i think you were made for me somebody write down the recipe been trying hard not to overeat your just so sweet.

i shyly look down once the song stops, the dark haired girl takes the headphones off me.

"so what do you think angel?" she asks.

i giggle shyly, i already know i'm definitely bright red.

"it was, woah," i look in billies eyes, her pupils wide no doubt mine are too.

"yeah? you like it?" she teases,

"billieee," i whine.

"i need some more inspiration on the song, wanna help me out mama?" she smirks.

i nod eagerly,

"words baby,"

"yes yes yes!" i enthusiastically say, with that her smile grows bigger as she leans in.

she connects our lips in a passionate kiss, my hands tangle themselves in her dark brown hair.

one of her hands rests on my waist as the other trails up my thigh, we eventually have to pull away for air.

she takes this as the opportunity to ask,

 "can i take these off pretty girl?" she plays with the waistband of my sleep shorts.

"of course," i giggle shuffling, lifting myself off her lap so she can pull them off.

i connect our lips once more, sighing into the kiss.

i feel her hand on my thigh getting higher and higher, my pussy fully exposed drilling waiter for billies fingers.

"please," i whine into the kiss,

"please what?"

"please touch me,"

she complies, her fingers finding my clit and massaging the swollen area.

i moan into her, my hands tangling themselves into her hair again.

she rubs gently, my mouth hangs open.

her fingers leave my clit, finding my entrance and pushing in.

"my god you're so tight sweetheart," she groans, pushing her finger in my tight whole.

i gasp the stretch making my mind go fuzzy, my entire focus on the brunette making me feel good.

she pumps her fingers in and out, i rock back and fourth on her fingers.

my hand going to reach for billies free hand, guiding it too my clit making her rub tight circles.

she takes the hint her fingers rubbing my clit fast, her fingers get faster as she pushes in a third.

i moan loudly, her touch always lights me on fire it feels so good.

i feel a familiar pit in my stomach, i feel myself on the edge.

"i'm close," i gasp out, billie smirks 

rubbing and pumping faster.

"you gonna cum for me baby?" she teases, focusing on rubbing my clit.

"fuck- yes!" i let go, releasing all over billies fingers and lap.

"good girl," she praises me.

"cmon i wanna take care of you properly," she picks me up suddenly, i yelp holding onto her shoulders.

i giggle as she carries me carefully, up the stairs and eventually laying me down on our bed.

she hovers over me, i smile looking into her eyes lovingly.

i love it when we have passionate loving sex, like yes hate fucking and ruff sex is good but i love soft caring taking care of me sex.

billie connects our lips once again, her tongue entering my mouth, i don't fight her for dominance.

knowing she'll win easily.

she kisses down my neck, stopping to nibble and bite creating blue and black marks all over, i moan softly my hips bucking up needing friction.

"patience baby," she tells me, i whine rubbing my thighs together.

she kisses down my chest before pausing, "can i take this off mama?" she plays with the front of my sleep top.

"yes please," i say quickly.

"cute," she chuckles, she removes my shirt i'm fully exposed to her now.

"take yours off.. please," i beg her, looking up at her with big doe eyes; ones i know she can't resist.

"okay sweet girl," she smirks, sitting up slightly to remove her shirt.

i see she's forgone a bra so her entire breasts are on display, my hands immediately want to go to fondle with them.

"you can touch honey, go on," she encourages, giving me the permission i needed.

my hands reach up to her breasts, piinching her nipples and squeezing.

i lean up so my mouth is in line with them, i take her nipple into my mouth swirling it around.

"oh! fuck," she throws her head back, her hands tangling themselves in my hair.

i smile into her, pride filling me as i can make the older woman feel this good.

"i need to fuck you, hard." she pulls me off her breasts, slamming my hands above my head.

"don't you dare move," she tells me, climbing off my lap and heading into the closet.

i know exactly what she's getting out, i'm proven right when she walks back into the room.

my favourite strap around her waist.

pink and sparkly, with thick veins i can feel every one of them, 8 whole inches.

"ready pretty girl?" billie says climbing back on the bed, and up to me.

"uh huh," i whine, my hips bucking up i can feel a puddle of my arousal pooling underneath me.

billies hand travels down to my cunt, my clit twitches in anticipation.

"we need to stretch her out a bit first princess," she looks at my cunt and her fingers sliding up and down.

they find my entrance and slide in, i wince in pain at the stretch.

"oh!" a moan comes out of my mouth, in pain and pleasure.

"tell me when your ready for me to move baby," billie says, not moving her fingers at all waiting until i'm ready.

if i wasn't so needy, it's the sweetest thing.

"please move, i need it," i whimper, once again bucking my hips up to get her to move.

“patience mama,” she starts slowly pumping her finger in and out, gradually speeding up until i’m a moaning panting mess.

“that’s it, focus on me,” she uses her free hand to lift my head up from under my chin to look into her eyes.

my eyes close briefly and i get a light slap to the face, i whimper my eyes opening to a very stern faced billie.

“keep those eyes on me, you look away or close them and i stop,” she tells me, i nod slowly my head wanting to roll back so bad once she added a second finger.

“good girl,” 

“faster,” i mange to get out through all my moans, she listens and starts pumping faster and faster.

“oh my god,” i whine, she smirks whilst one of her hands goes up to my breasts squeezing harshly trying to tip me over the edge.

“you close pretty girl?” she asks in a low voice, 

“yes yes yes yes yes,” i chant, my mind so foggy just with billie, billie, billie.

“im gonna cum,” i rush out, balling up the bed sheets in my hand.

“hold it,” she says, i immediately cry out i can’t hold it any longer.

“p…-please..just let me cum,” i whimper, which seems to have work as she takes pity on me.

“oh my poor girl, okay honey cum for me,” 

her words send me over the edge, i release everywhere the heat in my stomach dying down.

“oh baby, you did so so well i’m so proud of you what a good girl!” her words just get my worked up yet again.

i trail my hand down to the strap, sliding my hand up and down the base of the strap bumps against billies clit i know that from when she’s cum whilst in me.

“already mama?” she chuckles, “you that needy for me?” she mockingly pouts at me.

“please billie,” i whine, knowing i’ll get what i want if i just throw her name in there.

“shit, okay sweetheart,” she lines up the toy with my entrance, “it’s gonna hurt a bit,” 

i reach down to hold her hand, squeezing tightly as she pushes into me no matter how many times i take it, it hurts like a bitch each time.

“you’re doing so well my love, just a bit more,” she encourages me my heart melts at how sweet she is even dominating me.

“y..y-you ca..fuck you can- move now,” i say too focused on how good she feels inside of me.

“okay angel,” she moves her hips and i cry out.

“sh sh sh, you’re okay,” she soothes, holding my hand in hers yet again.

billies hips go in and out slowly at first, letting me get used to the stretch and feeling.

“doing so good for me,” she grunts as she speeds up her thrusts.

i moan out in pleasure, the pain all gone now and the only thing i can focus on is how perfect billie looks smirking down at me.

“you’re- s…so fuck!- so pretty,” i mange to get out barely.

“oh sweet girl why thank you, you’re absolutely perfect,” she chuckles going even harder.

the tip of the strap hits my g spot over and over, making a pit form in my stomach.

“that’s it pretty girl, doing so well,” her words and voice really make me closer to the edge.

her breasts bouncing with every thrust, no doubt mine doing the same she takes mine in her hands still thrusting hard.

she fondles them and takes one into her mouth, the pit in my stomach grows bigger and bigger.

she leaves my breasts for a while, them being raw and red from her constant sucking.

she connects our lips into a passionate kiss, i moan deeply into the kiss she thrusts long deep and hard.

once her lips leave mine i rush out, “i’m gonna cum!”

“f-fuck… right there- don’t stop!” i stutter out, my brain going to mush my cunt twitching in overstimulation.

“cum for me mama,” and i do, i feel a different feeling in my stomach and know im gonna squirt.

it gets everywhere, all over billie and the bed plus me.

i pant heavily, billie stilling inside of me stroking my waist gently bringing me down from my high.

“i’m gonna pull out now okay angel?” she softly says.

i nod, so incredibly exhausted.

she pulls out and i wince in pain and at the empty feeling. 

“there we go sweetheart, good girl you did so so well,” she coos, praising me so much.

“you feel okay baby?” billies asks me, undoing the harnesses on the strap and chucking it across the room to clean up later.

“i’m okay,” i close my eyes and smile, i feel amazing but so exhausted.

“let’s get you some water baby, ill be right back,” she kisses my very sweaty forehead, and leaves the room to go downstairs.

i turn over on my side, my eyes still staying closed.

i lay there for a while before hearing our bedroom door open again.

billie comes in, now wearing an oversized shirt, she’s holding a bowl and has a glass of water in the other hand.

“i’ve got some cut up fruit for you sweet girl, you need to eat something okay?” she’s always making sure i eat well, knowing my past eating disorder.

billie helps me sit up gently, my legs aching already i open my very heavy eyes to give a weak smile to her.

“okay,” i nod, letting her place the bowl on my lap there’s strawberries, raspberry’s watermelon and cut up apples.

she places the full glass of water on the side too which i immediately go and pick up downing most of it.

“hang on baby, can i change the sheets? i don’t want my girl sleeping in dirty sheets,” 

“uh huh,” she helps me up, supporting me on my very shaky legs.

she lets me sit on the sofa in our room, whilst she goes to the closet and grabs fresh sheets and duvets.

i watch her in silence, it’s only when she’s done i realise i’m still naked.

“billie? can i wear your shirt please?” i ask, i know i have a whole closet full of my own clothes but there’s something so comforting about wearing billies.

“oh of course you can angel,” she finishes changing the bed and goes back into the closet.

coming out with a oversized hit me hard and soft merch tshirt and a pair of her boxers.

she hands them to me and i get changed, “thank you bil,” i smile up at her she leans down placing a kiss to my lips.

“come on let’s get you fed and rested,” she picks me up like a toddler and places me down on my side of the bed.

she climbs in next to me under the covers, grabbing the tv remote from the side.

“friends?” she doesn’t even need to ask really, she knows that’s what i’ll want to watch.

“of course,” i giggle, scooting closer to billie she wraps her arm around me.

“eat up sweet girl, then you can get some sleep,” she tells me.

i begin to eat my fruit, we sit in a comfortable silence whilst we eat the occasional laugh leaving our mouths at the show.

“done!” i show her the empty bowl, she takes it from me and puts it on the side.

“well done my love, i’m so so proud of you,” she kisses my forehead.

she lays down more, letting me lay completely on top of her i sigh in comfort.

i never want to move from her arms.

“goodnight pretty girl,” is the last thing i hear before falling into a deep sleep.

[claramelooo]

WOVEN FATES (3/20)

Hey, babes!! I'm so happy with the proportion that this story is taken! I really love the characters and their personalities, and I think I should take advantage of my lack of not having an older woman for myself and write about that ( and having two older woman hehehe 😈)

So, I fucking love this chapter, my favorite chapter (for now)

It's midnight over here! Good dawn, gays! and hold your hands to yourself.

Enjoy it <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio x Fem Reader

Summary: Finally the women stop of pretending for themselves and understand you can be something bigger than they know.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist.

Lust

Rio Vidal’s life was a succession of extremes. When she created, it was as if the world around her ceased to exist—colors and textures consumed everything, and each brushstroke was as visceral a necessity as breathing. But when she wasn’t immersed in her art, the void swallowed her with equal intensity. She oscillated between creative fervor and suffocating stagnation, and lately, the latter seemed to be winning.

She would never admit it out loud—pride had always been her greatest virtue or, depending on whom you asked, her most fatal sin. Rio had achieved what she wanted. Exhibitions in Paris, auctions in New York, murals signed in cities she barely remembered visiting. She was a revolution in the art world—the woman who defied rules, who turned canvases into war, who imposed her aesthetics and made critics swallow their bitter opinions. And yet, it wasn’t enough.

It never was.

Her relationship with Agatha had settled into an odd calm. They still shared intense moments, passionate arguments, and glances that spoke more than words. Agatha was made of controlled tides, while Rio was a storm that never knew when to stop. They loved each other, and sometimes that was a problem. But somehow, the spark that used to set everything ablaze between them felt distant.

When Agatha announced she would start mentoring young artists at the university, Rio saw a light in her that she hadn’t seen in a long time. There was something about Agatha’s energy, the way she dedicated herself to new talents, that reminded Rio why she had fallen in love with her in the first place.

That was why, that morning, instead of sending someone to fetch Agatha’s coffee, she decided to go herself. Not because she liked the coffee shop—the place was small, unremarkable, nothing that stood out. But perhaps that was precisely what made it stand out. The ordinary had always fascinated Rio in a way she didn’t fully understand.

And then, she saw you.

It wasn’t like admiring a work of art. There was no perfect composition, no interplay of light that made the scene worthy of a painting. It was something else. An alluring imperfection. Your slightly loose uniform, your worn-out apron, the way you tried to appear confident as you asked what she wanted. Rio knew immediately.

You needed to be seen.

And at that moment, Rio decided she wanted to look.

When you adjusted your apron and asked what she wanted, your voice wasn’t firm. No, it wavered, full of hesitation. Rio should have ordered the coffee, taken it, and left. But instead, she let her gaze wander over you. Meticulous. Maybe even cruel.

Then it happened. The subtle tremor of your hands made the cup slip, the hot liquid spilling onto Rio’s pristine white blouse. The sting of the coffee on her skin didn’t even make her flinch. Physical pain was insignificant to someone like her. But your embarrassment, the hurried sound of apologies spilling from your lips—that was what truly caught her attention.

And then came the moment that marked her more than it should have. In the bathroom, as she removed her stained shirt, Rio realized that your nervousness had a different taste. It wasn’t the kind of fear she saw in young journalists or insecure subordinates. It was almost… innocent.

She stood before the mirror, observing her reflection and the coffee-stained blouse. Her expression was unreadable, but inside, something roared like a caged animal. An unsettling sensation, long forgotten, stirred within her, something that made her skin tingle, a familiar shiver running down her spine.

"I… I’m really sorry," you said, your voice hesitant as you pulled a clean shirt from your bag. "This was totally my fault. Here, please, you can wear this."

Rio turned slowly, accepting the garment with long, elegant fingers. When her fingertips brushed against yours, the air seemed to shift slightly. A subtle displacement, an imperceptible instant in which everything became sharper. Her gaze narrowed slightly, as if she could see something that wasn’t supposed to be there. A fleeting moment, and then everything returned to normal.

With deliberate movements, Rio began unbuttoning her blazer, then her stained shirt. Every gesture was calculated, almost theatrical. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, revealing the skin reddened by the coffee—a faintly pulsing mark, though perhaps it was just a trick of the light in the bathroom.

You looked away, flustered, but Rio sensed your hesitation, the way you held your breath. A nearly imperceptible smile curved her lips. This—this raw, vulnerable intensity—was what stirred something inside her. For years, Rio had believed that feeling was gone, but there it was, so close it felt within reach.

"Do you always get this nervous?" Rio asked, her voice low and rich, filling the tight space like a whispered secret. There was something in her words—a pull, a tension you didn’t know how to resist.

"I… Maybe," you murmured, averting your gaze as you handed her the clean shirt. But when Rio’s fingers touched the simple fabric, a light, natural scent reached her. It wasn’t artificial but something that evoked nature—wet earth, wildflowers, fresh air after the rain. Something alive. Almost primal.

Rio slipped the shirt on slowly, but her eyes never left yours. As she adjusted the collar, she felt a restlessness in her chest, as if something inside her was being pulled beyond her control.

The silence between you was thick, heavy with something unspoken. As she pulled the fabric over her head, she caught that same scent again—faint, familiar. Not perfume, but something purer. Wet earth. Wildflowers. The scent of an impending storm.

Vida.

It was dangerous.

She knew that.

But she couldn’t resist the impulse.

"You apologize too much," Rio commented, her tone enigmatic. "Especially when you don’t even know what for." Her words were a whisper laced with intention, an echo of something hidden between the lines.

She took a step forward, invading your space, watching as your eyes widened slightly, as the heat crept up your cheeks.

Before leaving, Rio pulled a black card from her pocket and handed it to you. "When the shirt is ready, bring it to this address." The words were simple, but they carried something deeper, like an invitation to an unknown fate.

When the door closed behind her, Rio took a deep breath, trying to quiet the silent tempest within. She could still feel that strange sensation lingering in the air, a trace of whatever had just happened.

But she chose to ignore it.

For now.

Agatha Harkness had been a force of nature since the day she took her first breath. What set her apart was not just her beauty and intelligence, but the intensity with which it pulsed inside her—wild and untamed.

Growing up under the watchful eye of Evanora, a rigid and cold matriarch, shaped Agatha in ways she would never admit. It was not a childhood of love, but of expectation. Every success was demanded, and every failure was punished.

There was no room left for innocence. From the very beginning, she walked alone, carrying the weight of her difference and the certainty that if the world wanted her to be a monster, then she would be the best of them.

In her youth, Agatha discovered the power of cinema—and it was Nosferatu that ignited something dangerous inside her. The vampire’s opaque eyes, his spectral presence, the way he stalked the young and innocent Ellen not just with hunger but with a visceral obsession, awakened an unsettling fascination in Agatha. He did not simply take—he corrupted. There was no gentle seduction or empty promises, only an inevitable fate.

She saw herself in that creature, in the way he moved through the shadows, always present, always in control. The scene of Count Orlok slowly ascending the stairs, his body distorted by expressionist lighting, seemed to echo something within her—a certainty that no matter how hard they tried to stop him, he had already won. That stayed with Agatha. The inevitability of power. The fear that precedes submission.

It was then she understood: true horror is not in the monsters, but in what they make people feel. In the terror that seeps in before the touch. In the eyes that never look away. In the slow, patient game of someone who already knows they will win.

Illusion, absolute control over a story, and the power to manipulate the emotions of millions—this had always been a part of her. She started with small independent projects, but soon her name became synonymous with brilliance and psychological terror.

Her works were disturbing, impactful. Each film seemed to unveil a dark fragment of the human psyche, something the audience could not ignore. It did not take long before her shelf was filled with awards: Oscars, Golden Globes, BAFTAs. But acclaim came at a cost. Every step in Agatha’s rise was marked by manipulation and control—traits she mastered both in life and in work. She built an empire but made few allies along the way.

Rio was different. Intense, passionate, with a fire that reminded Agatha of herself in her early years. They had distinct views on power and creation. Where Rio saw passion, Agatha saw strategy. And yet, something about Rio’s near-obsessive determination touched something deep inside her—a part Agatha tried to ignore: the need for connection.

Their marriage was a union of forces, but also a battlefield. Rio was the only one who dared to challenge Agatha, and even so, she loved her with an intensity that made Agatha hesitate. Loving Rio was easy; showing it was another story.

And when Agatha read your script, all of this seemed to resurface. She picked up the paper with long, precise fingers, as if it held something more than words—something she could manipulate, like the invisible strings of her influence. Her gaze traced the title, and something flickered in her eyes, though no one else in the room could see it. Something there called to her, pulling her like a distant echo.

As she read, the words on the page began to fade for Agatha, transforming into images of the past. Memories she preferred to bury. Her mother’s face appeared in her mind—rigid and severe—uttering words Agatha no longer wanted to remember.

The memories—everything returned like a torrent of shadows Agatha had long learned to carry. She knew darkness was her fate, not because she chose it, but because something in her had always led her down that path. There was no redemption for someone like her. There never had been.

And yet, something in you seemed to defy that. Your energy—so young and vibrant—seemed to radiate from the page you handed her, as if each word you wrote carried a fragment of something impossible to ignore. Agatha felt it. A warmth, almost uncomfortable, that seemed to contradict everything she knew—everything she was.

She pressed her lips together, holding the page with firm fingers, and murmured, almost inaudibly, “Interesting.” Her voice was neutral, but inside, a storm of ideas was already forming. It was not just the text that captured her.

It was you.

Agatha watched you closely. Every small gesture, every restrained breath, seemed to confirm her suspicions. Your energy was rare—pure, yet untouched by the corruption of the world or the ambition that had consumed so many within that glamorous universe. You were something she had not seen in a long time: a fragment of purity, something that could be harnessed.

Shaped in scorching fire. Like a raw and precious gem.

And yet, you did not hate. Not your mother, not your past. That unsettled her. How could someone not hate after being abandoned? To Agatha, hatred was inevitable—a natural consequence of pain. She could not comprehend your choice, your resilience, and perhaps that was exactly what drew her in.

“This is… rare,” she said, more to herself than to you. The word sounded like a riddle, but also like a verdict. Agatha felt the weight of that realization solidify inside her.

There was something about you that could not be ignored.

[...]

The kitchen was bathed in the twilight gloom when Agatha heard the door open. The golden light of the setting sun slipped through the closed blinds in slivers, streaking the marble countertop like scars.

She held a glass of red wine, her pale fingers gripping the crystal with a force that threatened to shatter it. The sound of Rio’s footsteps echoed down the hallway—heavy, familiar, yet carrying a hesitation that made Agatha’s heart beat faster. Something was wrong.

Rio entered the kitchen like an uneasy shadow in her own home. The scent filled the space before Agatha even turned around: melted caramel, bitter coffee, and lemongrass. A sweet, unfamiliar aroma that did not belong to the wife she knew. It wasn’t Rio’s scent—amber and smoke, like incense burning in secret.

No.

This was intrusive.

Feminine in a fragile way.

Agatha turned slowly, like a panther scenting blood. Her blue eyes, usually so calculating, gleamed with a coldness sharp enough to cut diamonds. Rio stood in the doorway, illuminated by the last light of the day spilling through the window. The blouse she wore was a faded shade of pink, too tight around the shoulders.

Rage rose like poison in Agatha’s throat.

“What the fuck is this?”

Her voice was a razor blade, slicing the air between them.

Rio frowned, but her fingers twitched involuntarily against the seams of the blouse, as if trying to conceal it.

“It was an accident. Someone spilled coffee on me at the studio. I borrowed a blouse.”

“Oh, of course.” Her voice came out low, almost gentle, which only made the threat more evident. “And the scent? That’s part of the accident too?”

Rio let out a heavy sigh, her tense shoulders making it clear she was too exhausted for an argument.

“Whose blouse is that, Rio?” Agatha pressed, each word a bullet.

“The waitress. She just wanted to help.”

Agatha laughed—a dry, hollow sound. “Oh, sure. Help.” She stepped closer, invading Rio’s space until the intrusive scent—sweet, cheap—made her wrinkle her nose. “You smell like a third-rate brothel.”

Rio stiffened, her jaw clenching. “For fuck’s sake, Agatha. Don’t do this.”

“Why not?” Agatha took another step, her wine nearly spilling over the rim of the glass. “You come home, reeking of someone else, wearing clothes that aren’t yours, and expect me not to ask questions?”

“I’m not hiding anything!” Rio raised her voice, but there was a crack in it, like she was too tired to defend herself. “It was just a blouse, Agatha. A borrowed blouse because I was drenched in coffee. Why are you making this bigger than it is?”

“Because it’s not just a blouse!” Agatha shouted, her voice echoing off the kitchen walls. “It’s the scent, it’s the way you’re looking at me right now, like I’m the crazy one!”

Rio stepped forward, a raw, burning anger swelling in her chest.

“I’m trying, Agatha. Trying to be better, trying to fix this—if there’s even anything left to fix. But you… you won’t let me. You keep searching for ghosts that aren’t there.”

Agatha glanced at her wine glass, as if the answer lay at the bottom. “Maybe ghosts are all we have left.”

The silence that followed was thick, laden with all the words left unspoken. Rio caught her own reflection in the glass door—her borrowed blouse itched against her skin—then turned back to Agatha. “Do you want me to take it off? Burn it? Swear I’ll never borrow anything again? Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

Agatha didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes were locked onto Rio, but they seemed to see past her, as if they were living a lie—every lack of affection, every night they slept with their backs turned to each other.

“I want you to tell me the truth.” She finally said, her voice breaking. “The whole truth, no edits, no half-measures. Because I can’t keep living in this fog, Rio. I can’t keep wondering if you still love me or if you’re just waiting for the right moment to leave.”

Rio closed her eyes, as if Agatha’s words were physical blows. When she opened them again, they were filled with tears. “I love you, Agatha. So fucking much. But you never let me in, you never let me get close. You build walls and then complain that I’m on the other side.”

Agatha swallowed hard, her wine glass trembling in her grip. “I—” She started, her lips quivering, not even knowing what she was about to say. “Maybe this is just who I am.”

The brokenness in Agatha’s voice shattered something inside Rio.

“Agatha...” Rio reached out, hesitating, but the older woman straightened her shoulders, as if something inside her had shut down again.

The walls were back up.

“I’m sleeping in the other room. Goodnight.” Agatha’s tone was sharp, but her eyes betrayed something deeper. Something even she didn’t want to face.

She turned without waiting for a response, taking with her the scent of wine and the weight of everything left unsaid.

Rio stood there, unmoving, watching Agatha disappear down the hallway like a ghost. Like she had been leaving for a long time already.

So, when you’re in Rio’s living room, holding the bag in your hands, the older woman is surprised that you actually came—and so quickly.

She was in the living room, leaning over the canvas before her, hands stained with paint as she brushed colors onto the surface. But despite the painting demanding her attention, she knew you were there before even hearing your hesitant footsteps on the other side of the door.

When the door opened, revealing your shy silhouette clutching the carefully prepared bag, Rio felt an inexplicable tightness in her chest. Since the day of the spilled coffee, there had been something about you that unsettled her—a peculiar energy, a silent game between hiding and exposing yourself in the smallest gestures.

You.

Small, fragile, holding a paper bag as if it carried something sacred. Your wide eyes scanned the studio with a curiosity Rio hadn’t seen in years—not in critics, not in buyers, not in lovers. It was the purity of someone who still believed art could save.

“Oh. Look who decided to grace us with her presence. Butterfingers.” Rio’s voice was smoother than she had intended. Her smile was a trap, but something about the way you blushed—a warmth rising from your neck to your cheeks—made her own pulse quicken.

You extended the bag, hands trembling. “I-I came to bring your blouse. And… again, I’m sorry.”

Rio took the bag with calculated indifference, but her fingers betrayed a sudden interest at the weight of the fabric. The blouse was pristine, folded with military precision, infused with lavender—a scent that didn’t belong in her world of amber and woody.

You washed it. You ironed it. You cared.

“Lavender?” Rio held the blouse against the light, pretending to examine the seams, but really, she was studying you.

You shook your head silently, lips parted slightly, like a child waiting for approval.

Something inside Rio tightened.

Innocent. So innocent.

"You’re so attentive, aren’t you?" The teasing in her voice was automatic, a reflex to keep her distance. But when you blushed again, lowering your gaze, Rio felt a pang of guilt. The bag was set aside, but her attention wasn’t.

And then you looked at the canvases.

Rio watched, fascinated, as your eyes scanned each piece. You didn’t hide your reactions—tilting your head, furrowing your brows, smiling unconsciously at a particularly wild brushstroke. It was like watching someone decode a language even they didn’t fully understand.

"What do you think of my work?" The question came out softer than Rio had intended.

"They’re… impressive."

Impressive. A hollow word, used by lazy critics. But from your lips, it sounded like a genuine compliment. Rio almost laughed. Almost.

Then you pointed at the darkest painting in the studio—the one no one dared to mention. The one that bled green and brown, chaos and stillness, desire and fear.

"I really like that one."

Rio stepped closer to the painting, her fingers grazing the frame as if stroking a dangerous animal. "This piece is about desire," she explained, her voice lower, as if sharing a secret. "The line between control and surrender."

You stood still, but your eyes—your eyes—shone with an understanding Rio hadn’t expected. As if you saw beyond the paint, beyond the layers, straight into the raw heart of it.

The artwork was an open wound on canvas. Shades of green—the green of trampled leaves, of hope rotting—fought against the brown of damp earth, as if the painting were devouring itself. Brutal strokes tore across the surface, but in the corners, almost hidden, were delicate details: wilted flowers painted with surgical precision, gold threads sutured into the darkness. It was violence and vulnerability in a perverse balance, and you felt, deep in your stomach, that it was a mirror.

"It’s about the moment before surrender. The hesitation before the inevitable." She stepped closer to you, her eyes locked onto your face. "I like that stage. Where everything is anticipation."

Her gaze held you, and there were no more masks. There was hunger there. The hunger of someone who sees a pristine porcelain vase and wonders how high it can fall before it shatters.

Rio’s hand touched your wrist, her fingers wrapping around it with a pressure that was neither gentle nor threatening—it was an experiment.

Your breath hitched. The air smelled of paint and something else—Rio’s woody perfume, now tinged with sweat. You tried to step back, but your body didn’t obey. You were paralyzed, not by fear, but by the morbid curiosity of seeing how far this would go.

Agatha Harkness didn’t believe in coincidences. To her, life was a series of calculated moves, like chess played in slow motion. But when she stopped at the studio’s doorway and saw you—so young, so awkward—with Rio’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, she felt something rare: surprise.

The scene was almost comical. Rio, always so composed, leaning over you like a vulture over fresh prey. You, frozen, wide-eyed, uncertain whether to run or surrender. And the smell… God, the smell. Cheap lemongrass perfume mixed with the scent of coffee and nervous sweat. Agatha almost laughed.

"I hope I’m not interrupting… anything intimate," she said, her voice as sharp as the heel that echoed against the wooden floor as she stepped inside.

You turned, and Agatha saw the exact moment your heart stopped. "P–Professor Harkness?" The stutter was delicious. Raw innocence. She studied your flushed face, your parted lips, your trembling hands still holding the hem of your dress as if it were an object of comfort. A speck of dust in her immaculate world. And yet…

Why do you shine so brightly?

Rio stepped in between, as she always did, but Agatha didn’t look at her. Her blue eyes remained fixed on you, analyzing every microexpression. The way your fingers clenched your fabric, the slight tremor on your lips, your short breath and too deep for it to be just fear.

Excitement. You were excited—like a puppy wagging its tail after being praised. And Rio, of course, knew.

"So you…" Agatha tilted her head, her sharp smile that of someone who had already foreseen checkmate before even making a move. "Are responsible for the coffee stain that ruined her favorite blouse?"

You were no threat. Not yet. But there was something there… But there was something there… Something that made her own fingers itch to pick up a pen and rewrite you. Her way.

"Interesting," she murmured, crossing her arms. The fabric of her purple suit whispered with the movement, reminding her that she was always dressed for war. Her gaze traced your figure— a blue dress made of cheap fabric, sleeveless, the fit went to your knees and your white sneakers, but with worn soles, gave you a refreshing look. Jovial. A student. A nobody. And yet, Rio looked at you as if you were the last unfinished masterpiece of a master.

What is it about you?

Agatha stepped closer, ignoring Rio. Her perfume— white jasmine—wrapped around you like a veil. "Well, gem," she whispered, the syllable rolling off her tongue like poisoned candy, "I hope your disastrous talents are compensated later, hmm? After all, you’re supposed to impress me today, aren’t you?"

The threat was disguised as teasing, but you understood. She saw the shiver run down your spine, the way your throat contracted as you swallowed.

Good girl.

When you fled, Agatha didn’t move. She listened to your hurried footsteps in the hallway, the silence that settled like smoke after a fire. Then, she turned to Rio.

"Who is she?" Rio cut her off before she could say anything else.

Agatha was still staring at Rio when she smirked. "One of the students in the project. A nobody. But she has the potential to be something."

Rio felt a shiver run up her spine at Agatha’s words. A nobody. She knew that tone. Detached on the surface, but brimming with submerged possibilities.

And the worst part was that she understood.

She understood because her own blood was still running hot from the moment your eyes met hers in the studio. From the instant she saw that glimmer—the curiosity, the hesitation, the desire disguised as innocence.

"Potential, huh?" Rio twirled the brush between her fingers, a lazy smile on her lips, but her eyes were sharp, noticing how Agatha now gripped the strap of her bag. The slight tremor, the way the older woman avoided her gaze a second longer than necessary.

"You saw it too, didn’t you?" The question hung in the air, its tone almost condescending, mysterious, carrying more meanings than either of them could express.

Agatha remained silent.

But Rio didn’t need a verbal answer.

Because she saw it.

She saw how Agatha looked at you—sideways, feigning disinterest, yet registering every detail. The way your mouth parted when you were nervous, the way your hands hesitated before touching anything, as if asking the world for permission.

Whatever that spark was, that unsettling warmth that arose whenever you were around, it didn’t belong to Rio alone.

"Funny..." Rio drawled, savoring each syllable, "you always say you don’t like children."

Agatha narrowed her eyes. "And I hate them."

"Then tell me," Rio stepped forward, leaning against the counter, "what happened here, Agatha?"

The older woman inhaled slowly. "Nothing happened."

"That’s not what I asked."

Agatha closed her eyes for a second—perhaps searching for patience, perhaps trying to silence something within herself. But Rio saw. She saw it in the way Agatha’s fingers tightened around the strap of her bag, in the way her breathing became imperceptibly deeper. She felt the weight of the moment—the weight of a name, a face, the memory of your presence in the studio.

"She has something, doesn't she?" Rio murmured, her voice dropping a tone lower.

Agatha opened her eyes, a crease forming between her brows. "What are you talking about?"

Rio chuckled, the sound rough, almost amused. "Her energy."

And then something shifted.

The way Agatha’s shoulders stiffened. The way her breath faltered for a minuscule, almost imperceptible moment. As if Rio had touched exactly where she shouldn’t.

"She has this... purity." Rio continued, unhurried. "But not that naive, childish purity kids have. No. It’s different. It’s as if she hasn’t been shaped yet, as if she can still be twisted and bent until she takes a form even she doesn’t understand."

Agatha remained silent, but Rio saw.

She saw it in the way her jaw clenched. In the way her fingers adjusted her perfectly positioned glasses, as if that alone could keep her in control.

Rio stepped closer, almost touching Agatha, almost whispering against the edge of her mind. "And it gets to you, doesn’t it?"

With a laugh—trembling, incredulous—Agatha tried to regain control.

"You’re being insane." She laughed, running her tongue along the inside of her cheek.

Rio savored the moment. Agatha’s hesitation was rare, precious, like a glimpse of the sun on a stormy day. She watched as Agatha ran a hand through her hair, her long fingers moving too fast through the strands, an almost impatient motion.

"Insane?" Rio murmured, tilting her head. "Or just right?"

The provocation was delivered with surgical precision. Rio didn’t need a direct answer—the silence spoke for itself.

Agatha scoffed, looking away for an instant, but Rio was too close for her to truly escape. And when Agatha’s eyes returned, there was something there. Something dark and pulsing, like a veiled threat.

"You think you know me that well, Vidal?"

Rio smiled, her lips curling slowly, as if tasting the name in her mouth. "I’ve watched you for so many years, Agatha. Every detail. Every reaction." She stepped close enough to feel her wife’s unsteady breath. "For longer than you can imagine."

The tension was unbearable, and Agatha couldn’t take it. She took a step back, her legs blindly searching for something to lean on.

Agatha’s jaw tightened. "You’ve always been arrogant."

"I don’t see you contradicting me."

And then came that heavy silence—dense, electric. A silence that was not just the absence of words, but an invisible current between them, a battle waged on a level neither dared to name.

Rio took advantage of it.

"You feel it." She said, her voice low, drawn out. "Even if you don’t want to. Even if you hate it. You feel it."

Agatha squeezed her eyes shut, as if she could push away what was taking root there. "She’s just a fucking girl! I’m old enough to be her mother."

Agatha felt the weight of confusion in her bones, a tension that wouldn’t dissolve no matter how much she tried to suffocate it. There was something in her that repelled—and at the same time, gravitated toward—you. A magnet, a force that refused to be denied.

Her body knew before her mind did. The way her fingers involuntarily clenched around the edge of the counter, as if she needed something to hold onto. The heat rising beneath her skin, a latent discomfort that refused to dissipate. The way her breathing wavered, as if her very existence was being challenged by something as simple as your presence.

It was ridiculous.

You were young. So young. Not in the superficial sense—not just in years—but in the purity within you that made her shudder. It wasn’t blind innocence, it wasn’t ignorance. It was malleability. It was the absence of cynicism, the freshness of someone who still believed. You were not like them. You were not corrupted.

And that’s what destroyed her.

Because if Agatha were another woman, if she were like Rio—so free to embrace her own desires, so fearless in her provocations—perhaps she would have already given in. But within her, there was something fiercer, something more deeply ingrained, fighting against it.

It was unacceptable.

Every time her gaze met yours, every time she noticed your sincere curiosity, your wonder at things she had long considered gray and worn-out, something in Agatha wavered.

And it infuriated her.

Because she shouldn’t waver. She shouldn’t feel this hunger. She shouldn’t be sinking into this abyss from which she wouldn’t escape unscathed.

Rio tilted her head, her eyes alight with something between fascination and triumph. Ah, so that was it. The truth had slipped out in a moment of weakness, a lapse Agatha would never have allowed if she had been in control. But there she was, exposed, fragile in just the right places.

But Rio laughed—a low, intimate sound that made Agatha’s stomach twist. Her fingers traced an imaginary line in the air, between Agatha’s chest and the door through which you had fled. "That’s just a number, darling. And you know that’s not what this is about."

Agatha felt anger mix with desire—a dangerous combination that was driving her insane. Her body betrayed her: the weight of her breasts beneath the impeccable fabric of her suit, the dampness between her legs, the tingling in her fingertips with the need to touch, to grasp, to possess. It was unbearable.

Agatha let out a dry laugh, a bitter sound that died too quickly. She tried to mask the tension, but Rio saw. Saw it in the way her fingers gripped the counter behind her, as if she needed something solid to anchor her.

"This is so fucking pathetic."

Agatha’s body trembled in uncontrollable spasms.

Rio smiled—a wicked, confident smile. She knew Agatha better than anyone. She knew the woman was off-balance, vulnerable, no matter how much she tried to hide it.

Rio tilted her head, her dark eyes gleaming with challenge. Suddenly, she closed the distance between them, her hands pressing into the marble on either side of Agatha’s body, trapping her. "Let me tell you a secret, Aggie." The nickname came like a sweet stab. "Nothing is more pathetic than denying what makes you feel alive."

Rio leaned in, her hand slowly rising to Agatha’s face, tracing the curve of her jaw with cold fingers. "Want to know what I think?" she whispered, her lips brushing the shell of Agatha’s ear. "You want to use her. You want to mold your little gem."

Agatha swallowed hard. It was the truth. Every word. She could lie to the world, but not to herself—not here, not with Rio’s fingers now twisting into her hair, tugging hard enough to hurt.

Agatha closed her eyes, a trembling sigh slipping from her lips. Her head fell back, her rigid posture finally dissolving.

"Fuck…" she murmured, feeling a wave of heat rush through her body, her nipples hardening beneath the linen blouse.

"And what do you want?" Agatha countered, her voice a rough whisper. "To watch me fall? To destroy my fucking reputation over a girl?

Rio smiled, her white teeth gleaming under the dim studio light. "I want to see you and that proud stance of yours fall. I want to see you burn with desire for this."

The kiss was inevitable.

Violent. Chaotic. A disaster of teeth and tongue and pent-up rage. Agatha grabbed Rio’s collar, her fingers twisting the fabric, while the other hand buried itself in the dark hair, pulling until a rough moan escaped between them. It had been so long since this fire, since they touched. It was delicious. It was all wrong—the taste of Rio was coffee, caramel, and defiance, and Agatha hated how much she drowned in it.

When they pulled apart, Agatha’s red lipstick was smeared on both their lips, like fresh blood.

"Why gem?" Rio asked, her voice laced with malice as her hand snaked around Agatha’s waist, sliding down until pressing firmly between her legs, the expensive fabric of her skirt nothing but an obstacle.

“B–because it's precious. Raw.” Agatha gasped, her voice rough and hesitant. “And it needs to be shaped.”

Rio smirked, her eyes flashing with predatory desire as she felt Agatha's arousal growing under her touch. “And you want that, don’t you? To control everything about her until she’s nothing but yours?”

Rio’s touch intensified, her movements skilled and meticulously calculated to elicit more reactions from the woman who was always in control. Agatha couldn't stop the low moan that escaped her lips, heat building in waves that almost made her lose balance.

The control she so cherished seemed to be dissolving under Rio’s touch. But somewhere in her mind, the image of you remained, flickering like a beacon Agatha couldn’t ignore.

Rio noticed the exact moment Agatha gave in. The subtle tremor in her tense shoulders, the ragged breathing, the way her hips shifted—almost imperceptibly—in response to the touch. It was rare to see the mighty Agatha, a woman so powerful, unravel like this.

And Rio loved every second of it.

"Hmmm… You’re so quiet," Rio teased, her voice low and thick with desire as she increased the pressure between Agatha’s thighs. "What happened to that dominant stance? Not going to tell me how irritating I am? Or are you going to admit that I’m right?"

Agatha opened her eyes, her icy blues darkening into stormy depths, desire sparking in her irises. She hated herself for being so vulnerable, but there was something hypnotic about the control Rio wielded over her.

Rio’s touch wasn’t just physical; there was power in it, the kind that stole her breath. Agatha tried to respond, but the words caught in her throat, replaced by a muffled moan.

Rio chuckled softly, her mouth finding Agatha’s neck, kissing and nibbling at the sensitive skin as the other arched into her. "Ah, so that’s it," she murmured, her voice vibrating against Agatha’s skin. "The great filmmaker, the queen of West Hollywood who manipulates everything and everyone... is at my mercy."

"Shut fuck up!" Agatha finally managed to say, but her voice was weak, failing to carry any authority.

"Shut up?" Rio repeated, feigning offense as her free hand slid up Agatha’s torso, finding her breasts beneath the thin blouse. Her fingers squeezed gently, earning a shaky sigh. "You know you love it when I talk. When I tell you exactly what I want to do to you. And to her."

The name wasn’t spoken, but it lingered in the air like a forbidden promise.

You.

Always you.

Even in that moment, between desire and surrender, the image of your innocent expression, the purity that seemed to radiate from you, invaded Agatha’s mind.

"She has nothing to do with this." Agatha whispered, but it sounded more like a desperate attempt to convince herself than Rio.

"Oh." Rio laughed, the sound low and deliciously dangerous. "She has everything to do with this. You feel it too, don’t you? That raw energy, almost untouched. It’s like a magnet, pulling you in, making you want..."

"Enough!" Agatha cut her off, but her body betrayed her when she pressed herself even closer to Rio’s hand.

Rio smirked, triumphant, as her lips found Agatha’s in another kiss, one filled with all the emotions neither dared to name. The control Agatha always possessed seemed to have vanished completely.

In that instant, she wasn’t a renowned filmmaker. She was just a woman consumed by desire, surrendering to the touch of someone who knew exactly how to disarm her.

The kiss between them was fierce, a battlefield where all the emotions they refused to name clashed and intertwined. Rio held Agatha tightly, as if needing to anchor her in the moment, while their lips met in a dance of control and surrender. It was impossible to tell who was leading and who was yielding; there was only the burning heat consuming them both.

When they finally pulled apart, the air felt heavier, thick with the tension still lingering. Agatha ran a hand through her hair, trying to regain her composure.

"I need to get back to work." She murmured, adjusting the collar of her blouse. Her fingers hesitated at the top button, which she unfastened in a quick motion. Her body was hot, almost feverish, and she hated the loss of control she felt.

Rio tilted her head, watching her with a lazy smile, but her eyes burned with something more intense. "Of course you do." She replied, her voice low, a purring provocation. She stepped closer, her presence overwhelming. "But this isn’t over."

Agatha shot her a sharp look but didn’t respond. She knew Rio was right—this was far from over. Without another word, she walked away, the sound of her heels echoing through the room.

Rio stood still for a moment, the smile gradually fading as her thoughts wandered. The empty space Agatha left behind felt unbearable. It wasn’t just about Agatha—it was about you.

She tried to refocus on her work, sitting at the table, but her eyes couldn’t stay on the words in the report she held. Her mind drifted to you, to the brief touch of your hands, the nervous way you spoke, the wide, bright eyes that seemed to overflow with a purity Rio hadn’t seen in a long time.

Too innocent. Too pure. That was exactly what fascinated her—and tormented her.

Rio abruptly stood, pacing like a caged predator. Her mind painted scenarios of what it would be like to hear you laugh, to breathe in the scent that still lingered on the bag you had brought, to taste the vulnerability in you and explore it to its limits.

She shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away, but it was impossible. The restlessness grew, turning into something unbearable.

Then, Rio decided.

If you wouldn’t leave her mind, she would go to you.

Grabbing her coat, she left the apartment without even checking the time. The thought of seeing you again ignited every fiber of her being. Driving through the busy streets only fed her anticipation, as if the destination was something far beyond the address she knew by heart.

You were there, behind the counter, serving someone with a shy smile—the same smile that had captured her attention the first time.

When Rio finally arrived at the café where you worked, she paused outside for a moment. The glass allowed her to see inside, the warm lights, the customers coming and going, and then—there you were.

Rio smiled, slow and triumphant, as she placed her hand on the door and pushed it open. She finally had you within her reach again.

When Rio stepped into the café, it was as if she could finally breathe for real. The aroma of fresh coffee mixed with a scent that seemed to emanate from you—something she couldn't quite name. Innocence, maybe, with a hint of sweetness that made her feel both restless and strangely at peace.

Her eyes found you immediately. She noticed you standing behind the counter, your rehearsed smile lighting up your face. Rio caught the small crease in your cheeks when you smiled, the dimples that appeared briefly before vanishing. It was almost disarming.

And that was what unsettled her. There was something about you that threw her off balance. Your purity, your naivety—something she couldn't quite name, but that made her want to stay close, to watch, to test the limits of everything you represented.

Rio felt a tightening in her stomach as you approached. Your presence seemed to fill the space between you in a way she wasn’t prepared to handle. She watched the shape of your lips as you spoke, the slight flush in your cheeks when your eyes met hers. Every small detail of you pulled her into an abyss she wasn’t sure she wanted to escape.

Sitting there, the ignored menu in front of her, Rio tried to regain control. But her mind kept drifting, back to the images that had haunted her the night before—memories of Agatha in her arms, whispering words of desire, both of them knowing exactly who was truly between them.

Her heart pounded as she thought about what she could do. The possibilities were endless, and each one of them wrapped around her like a suffocating heat. She could feel the contrast between the sweetness of the setting and the intensity of her own thoughts, like a slow-burning fire beneath the surface.

Rio drummed her fingers on the table, her body restless, unable to ignore the ideas forming in her mind. Her thoughts created scenarios—accidental touches, encounters that could seem casual but were planned down to the finest detail. She wanted to test the limits of your innocence, to see how you would react to each provocation.

When you returned to the table, balancing the tray with precision, Rio barely managed to suppress the smile that threatened to curl her lips. Just watching you move was hypnotizing. Everything about you seemed designed to captivate—even though, judging by the look in your eyes, you had no idea of the effect you had.

There was a slight tension in the air as you walked away again, and Rio leaned back, crossing her arms. She knew she was being consumed by something she shouldn’t feel, but the desire was growing like a wave, uncontrollable. The idea of you was sweet and tempting, and no matter how hard she fought it, Rio couldn’t look away.

A palpable tension lingered as Rio watched you, a faint smile curving her lips. She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed in a relaxed gesture, but her eyes betrayed her apparent calm. Internally, Rio felt the discomfort of an internal battle—something about you awakened emotions in her that should have remained buried. She knew she shouldn’t allow herself to feel this, but the desire was growing, irresistible and relentless.

You were a mystery, something sweet and tempting, and Rio was losing control. The contrast between your vulnerability and your obvious effort to maintain composure fascinated her. Every movement of yours seemed laced with a hesitation that only heightened the intensity of the moment. Rio studied every detail, from the shy flush creeping up your cheeks to the way your hands clenched the cleaning cloth, as if controlling them could help control what you were feeling.

When Rio called you little gem, it was almost a test—a deliberate provocation. She saw the immediate impact of the words, the flicker in your eyes betraying the confusion and nervousness you tried to hide. Something about how the nickname unsettled you left her deeply satisfied, almost as if she had found a key to understanding you—or perhaps to controlling you.

When you mentioned that Agatha also used the nickname, Rio felt something ignite inside her. It wasn’t jealousy, but something darker, more possessive. Her smile deepened, her gaze taking on a sharp, almost predatory glint. I know, she thought, and in that instant, she realized she saw you as a rare gem—precious, but still unpolished. Someone who needed to be shaped.

The thought was dangerous but irresistible. There was a dark satisfaction in the idea of being the one to mold you, to be the one who transformed you into something even brighter and more valuable. And yet, no matter how much she wanted it, Rio knew she was treading on dangerous ground. She was crossing a line, but she couldn’t—or perhaps didn’t want to—stop.

[...]

"This is our new intern," one of the subordinates said, pointing in your direction.

And when Agatha saw you, she was struck by an unexpected sensation. It wasn’t just attraction; it was something deeper, more unsettling. There was something about you, in your nervous and almost submissive presence, that intrigued her in a way she couldn’t rationalize.

She, who had always maintained total control over her emotions, felt momentarily unsteady. That irritated her deeply. She couldn’t allow a mere intern to have such an effect on her, especially in her workplace—her territory, her kingdom.

So, like a queen on her throne, she maintained the flawless façade of authority and distance, even as her mind kept searching for answers about what it was in you that had thrown her so off balance.

When Agatha saw you waiting for the bus, something inside her hesitated. She wasn’t the kind of person who cared about other people’s conveniences, but at that moment, the idea of leaving you there felt absurd. She needed an excuse to watch you more closely, to understand the strange pull you had over her.

As she let you into the car, she felt the tension in the air thicken, fueled by her own need for control and the evident vulnerability you exuded.

Agatha felt a quiet satisfaction as she observed every one of your reactions. Behind the cold smile and the casual posture, her mind was a controlled storm.

There was something fascinating about the way you tried to maintain your composure but failed, betraying yourself in nervous gestures and trembling words. She noticed every detail—the slight tremor in your voice, the flush in your cheeks, the way you hesitated before answering. It was as if you were an open book, and Agatha had all the patience in the world to explore each page.

When she heard your awkward attempt to justify your concern, a spark of cruel amusement passed through her. It wasn’t just the uncertainty in your words, but the way you seemed to struggle against yourself – between wanting to please her and keeping a safe distance. Agatha savored this internal battle like a game she already knew she would win.

When she parked in front of your building, Agatha felt a pang of discomfort seeing the place. It was simple, without the grandeur she was used to. Yet, this simplicity seemed like an extension of herself, something she couldn’t help but notice with growing curiosity. Agatha had always despised ordinary things, but there was something intriguing about you, something that made her want to explore a more raw and honest side of the world.

The leather of the steering wheel was cold under her fingers, but Agatha didn’t feel the chill. Everything in her body was on fire — a silent blaze, consuming her from within. She watched you, sitting beside her in the car, with the same intensity with which she studied an ambiguous piece of art. Innocent. Fragile. And yet…

When she asked about your "boyfriend," the word came out acidic, disguised in a casual tone. Her blue eyes fixed on you, capturing every microexpression: the blush on your cheeks, the tremble in your hands, your wavering voice. You were an open book, and she hated how much she longed to read every page.

"I don’t like these. Men, I mean."

The answer hit her like a shock. Agatha slowly turned her face, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Ah. The syllable escaped like a poisoned sigh. It wasn’t surprise. It was recognition. You were confessing something she already knew, something your body had been screaming since day one: you were like her. Like them.

But you didn’t have their malice. You didn’t have their scars.

The silence that followed was a battlefield. Agatha felt your gaze like a knife peeling away her layers — the jasmine perfume she wore to mask the emptiness, the pendant she wore as armor, the control she kept like a religion. You saw her. Too much.

And maybe she wanted to strangle you for it.

Your answer exposed you, and Agatha realized it immediately. She could have explored more, could have pressed until you admitted things you might not even know about yourself, but instead, she decided to prolong the game. The enigmatic smile that formed on her lips was more than just a gesture of amusement; it was a veiled promise that this wouldn’t end there.

"And what do you like, then?"

The question was a sharp thread of silk. She already knew the answer. She wanted to hear you groan. She wanted to see you struggle with the words, with the desire that made you tremble.

"Women who are... powerful."

Agatha tilted her head, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel until the knuckles turned white. Powerful. The word echoed in her skull like a profane verse, and it carried a meaning greater than you could imagine. You looked at her as if she were a deity — not of goodness, but of fire. And she wanted to burn you until only ashes remained in her hands.

"Did I… impress you today?"

Your voice came out like a thread of silk about to snap — hesitant, trembling, full of a vulnerability that made Agatha’s chest tighten involuntarily. The question was so fragile, so childlike, that for a moment, Agatha felt like a predator facing prey that didn’t even know it was being hunted.

She looked at you, her blue eyes scanning every detail: the parted lips, the hands twisting the fabric of your dress, the blush rising from your neck to your cheeks. You were a paradox — a lost child in a woman’s body, seeking approval as if it were a sweet to be won.

Pathetic.

The word echoed in her mind, but it didn’t come out with the force it should have. Instead, Agatha felt something strange gnawing in her stomach, something she wouldn’t admit. It was like watching a flower bloom under a storm — fragile, yet stubborn in its beauty.

And she hated how much it fascinated her.

"Maybe you should try a little harder, little gem," she replied, her voice as smooth as a sharp blade. The nickname came naturally, as if it already belonged to you. Little gem.

Fragile. Valuable. Hers.

She saw you swallow hard, your eyes wide, and felt a perverse triumph. You wanted to please her. You wanted to be worthy. And she wanted to rub your nose in that submission until you begged for more.

But there was something else there, something that disturbed her. The way you looked at her — not with fear, but with an admiration that bordered on devotion — made something inside her twist. It was as if you saw her not for what she was, but for what she could be.

And that was dangerous.

"Good girl." She said, her voice laced with approval, but also with a veiled threat. There was something in that compliment that made you feel small and, at the same time, powerful.

The scent of your shampoo — something sweet, innocent, like ripe strawberries — invaded her nostrils. Agatha imagined burying her face in your neck, biting the skin until it marked, until you knew exactly who you belonged to. Her heart raced, not with desire, but with hatred. Hatred for how her body responded. Hatred for how you made her feel…

Human.

The words came out before Agatha could stop them.

"You have potential. But potential is nothing without direction. Without… control."

She felt the sentence slip from her lips like an involuntary sigh, and immediately wanted to take it back, swallow it. It was a sentence that hadn’t been calculated, hadn’t been measured or polished for the desired effect. It was raw, direct, and — worse — sincere.

Agatha always calculated. Every word, every gesture, every glance was carefully planned to maintain control, to keep the world at a distance. But there, in that moment, with you so close she could feel the warmth of your body and the sweet scent of your shampoo, something inside her gave way.

She leaned in, her fingers trembling slightly by her side, as if fighting the impulse to touch you. Her blue eyes, usually so cold and calculating, shone with an intensity she couldn’t disguise. It was like a part of her — a part she kept locked away — had slipped out, even if just for a moment.

Potential. The word echoed in her mind, heavy with meaning. You had something she hadn’t seen in years: a flame that hadn’t been extinguished by the world’s cynicism. And that drew her like a moth to the light, even knowing it might burn her wings.

But Agatha wasn’t a moth. She was the storm. And storms don’t surrender to fragile lights.

Still, in that moment, she let herself fall. Moved closer, the scent of jasmine wrapping around you like a veil, and felt the thin air between you. Control. The word was a mantra, a reminder of what she was, what she needed to be. But there, with you so close, it seemed so distant.

"And what do you want me to do?" The question sounded weak, your doe eyes showing her how needy you were for it.

For her attention.

Agatha felt the air leave her lungs in a subtle but brutal way. A small death. As if something inside her had silently collapsed, without witnesses, without glory. Just the internal chaos of someone who shouldn't feel what she felt.

You.

You said it as if you didn't know what you were doing, as if the question was innocent, as if you weren't holding a match over a wick soaked with desire.

But Agatha knew. She knew that, even without fully understanding, there was something inside you that picked up on the tension, that responded to it instinctively, like an animal sniffing out a danger it also longed for.

Her body responded before her mind did. The heat accumulating in her abdomen, an uncomfortable pulse between her thighs, an imperceptible flush burning beneath her pale chest. She shifted in the leather seat, adjusting herself as if escaping the sensation was possible, as if physical discomfort could calm the storm raging inside her.

There was something sick about the way she wanted to test how far you could go. How much she could mold you, bend you. There was something terrifying about the way her body tightened at the sight of your slightly parted lips, your hesitant breath, your gaze locked on hers as if searching for something—a guide, a permission, a ruin.

She couldn't answer. She couldn't even think about it.

When you finally got out of the car, Agatha stayed still for a moment, her fingers still gripping the wheel. The scent of your shampoo still lingered in the air, and she felt a pang of something she didn't want to name.

But it was too late. And Agatha was hungry.

[...]

The door clicked shut softly, and Rio sighed deeply, the weight of the long, exhausting shift still heavy on her shoulders. She dropped her bag on the floor, massaging the back of her neck as she walked through the silent house. But when she reached the living room, she stopped instantly.

Agatha was there, sitting in the leather armchair with a glass of red wine in her hand, the dark liquid reflecting the soft light of the lamp beside her. Her blue eyes were fixed on Rio, piercing, almost glowing. There was no sign of fatigue in her, only something voracious and dangerous that made Rio feel a shiver run down her spine.

"Are you awake?" Rio asked, trying to hide the surprise in her voice. It was rare for Agatha to wait for her this late, especially like this, with a look that seemed ready to strip her soul bare.

Agatha didn't answer right away. Her fingers slid along the stem of the glass, her gaze never leaving Rio's face. Finally, she stood, slow and deliberate, every movement exuding control.

"How was the meeting?" she asked, her voice low, almost silky, but there was something dark in her tone, something that made Rio hesitate before answering.

"Tiring." Rio murmured, unsure of how to act. "You should be sleeping."

Agatha laughed, a short, dry sound. "Oh, darling, there are things that keep me awake."

Before Rio could ask what she meant, Agatha was in front of her, cold hands gripping the sides of her face. There was no warning, no chance to prepare for what came next: Agatha's lips met hers in a kiss that was neither gentle nor sweet, but possessive and violent.

Rio gasped, surprised, but soon found herself giving in, her hands instinctively gripping Agatha's waist, trying to make sense of what was happening. The kiss was like a storm, full of urgency and intensity, Agatha's teeth scraping Rio's lower lip as she pulled her body closer.

"You can't just show up like this and act like you're my mistress," Rio said, trying to catch her breath. Her voice, firm, wavered just enough to betray the turmoil inside her.

Agatha took a step forward, her presence dominating the space between them. "I don't need to act." she murmured, her voice low and laden with intent. "You know as well as I do that this is so much more than possession. It's... need."

Rio laughed, a short, nervous sound. "Need? You think that explains everything? That we can just—" Her sentence died as Agatha moved even closer, her cold fingers touching her jaw.

"Yes," Agatha interrupted, her voice now only a whisper, her lips dangerously close to Rio's. "Because that's what's eating at us. And you know it."

Rio didn't answer. She couldn't. Instead, her breath became even heavier, and in an impulsive gesture, she grabbed Agatha by the waist, pulling her against her with force. The shock of their bodies made them both exhale softly, and in seconds, their lips met again.

This time, there was no hesitation. The kiss was a fierce clash, a battle of wills and desires that neither seemed willing to lose. Rio's hands climbed up Agatha's back, feeling the fabric of her fine dress and the warm skin underneath, while Agatha tangled her fingers in Rio's hair, pulling it hard enough to elicit a moan.

"What happened?" Rio stared at the woman with hooded eyes.

Agatha ran her tongue over her lower lip, still damp from the intense kiss. She seemed as disbelieving as she was consumed by the memory that haunted her.

“She looked at me,” Agatha replied, her breathing uneven. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if trying to describe it was insufficient to convey what she had felt. “With eyes too innocent. Wanting attention... and not even realizing what she was asking for.”

The tension between Rio and Agatha was unbearable, a wild and furious electric current binding them together. Breathless, their foreheads still pressed together, they seemed on the edge of a dangerous precipice, unable to pull back.

“You completely lost it, didn’t you?” Rio whispered, her lips brushing Agatha’s in a gesture that wasn’t a kiss but a delicious threat. “Fuck, Agatha... Were you delirious for her? Tell me.” Rio groaned softly, pressing her forehead against Agatha’s.

Agatha took a deep breath, her lips parting as she tried to form words that simply wouldn’t come. It was useless to hide, not when Rio was this close, this relentless, forcing her to confront what she had been trying to deny.

“I—” Agatha stopped herself; she wasn’t going to admit it.

“I can imagine… her sitting in your car, those eyes begging you to ruin her. And you, Agatha… You got wet just thinking about how you’d make her scream.”

Agatha choked, her hips pressing involuntarily against Rio.

“Stop.” The command sounded fragile, broken.

“No.” Rio pulled her hair back, exposing her neck. “You wanted more. You wanted to shove your hand into that innocent mouth and force her to swallow every pathetic word. You wanted to see her squirm, beg…” A calculated pause, her fingers sliding down Agatha’s throat. “…just like you are now.”

Agatha let out a guttural moan, her nails digging into Rio’s back.

“I wanted to ruin her,” the words came out in a growl, her teeth clenched. “Until she couldn’t remember her own name. Until there was nothing left in her head but me.”

Rio laughed, low and wild, her hand sliding under Agatha’s dress.

“But who’s ruined here, Agatha?” Her fingers pressed, brutal, where the heat betrayed her. “You’re dripping because of a look. Because you know she’ll never give you what you really want…” A cruel nudge, her lips brushing Agatha’s ear. “…which is someone strong enough to break you.”

Agatha screamed, a raw, desperate sound, her legs giving out.

“Shut. Up.”

Rio traced Agatha’s jawline with her fingers, deliberately provocative. “You look beautiful like this, broken,” she murmured with a dangerous smile. “I bet she’d think so too.”

Agatha gasped, her eyes darkening. “Rio...”

“Don’t deny it.” Rio interrupted, her voice soft but firm. “You want her to see you like this, don’t you? You want her to know the power she has over you.”

Agatha closed her eyes, a shiver running through her body. “I want her to never find out.”

Rio leaned in, her lips brushing the corner of Agatha’s mouth, teasing. “Liar.” She whispered against the heated skin. “You want her to know. You want her to burn with us, until there’s nothing left but ashes.”

The air around them felt thicker, almost suffocating. The heat between their bodies hadn’t dissipated; if anything, it had only intensified.

“She’s not ready.” Agatha murmured, trying to cling to some shred of sanity in her mind, but there was hesitation there, a thin thread of doubt.

“And neither are we.” Rio replied honestly. “We’ll teach her. I know she’ll love it. She loves being good for us, doesn’t she?”

In a reckless move, Agatha pushed Rio against the wall with force, her body pressing completely against hers, as if she wanted to merge—while her hands roamed Rio’s body with the precision of someone who knew exactly where to touch.

Rio moaned, her eyes closing as her fingers gripped Agatha’s shoulders, holding her as if she were her only anchor. “Fuck, Agatha!” she murmured, but there was no conviction in her voice, only surrender.

They moved together, stumbling toward the bed, their mouths never parting for long. Each kiss was an explosion of need, a wordless declaration of everything they felt and couldn’t—or didn’t want to—control.

When they finally fell onto the bed, their bodies entwined, the tension became unbearable. Agatha was on top, her eyes burning as she looked down at Rio, who stared back with the same voracious desire.

“Damn you…” Rio whispered, her fingers slowly unbuttoning Agatha’s shirt, leaving a trail of kisses on the exposed skin. “You want her as much as I do.”

Agatha gasped, her body shivering against the touch. “I want... I want everything,” she replied, her hands gripping Rio’s waist, guiding her as the other continued her teasing, their control slipping away completely.

In that moment, there were no doubts, no barriers. Just two women consumed by a corrosive and overwhelming need, unable to stop until every trace of self-control was reduced to ashes.

Agatha leaned over Rio, her eyes blazing with the intensity of her desire, but there was something deeper behind that gaze—a hunger that went beyond the physical. She wasn’t just there for Rio, but for what they both felt for you, for the way your energy drew them in, almost like a curse.

Agatha murmured, her lips hovering over Rio’s neck before brushing lightly, sending shivers through her skin. “She’s between us. Even when she’s not here, she’s here.”

Rio gasped as Agatha’s teeth grazed her skin, a mix of pleasure and provocation. Rio’s hands slid up Agatha’s back, gripping her shoulders with almost desperate strength. “It’s like she’s in every thought,” Rio admitted, her voice hoarse, almost surrendered. “I see her in everything, Agatha. It’s unbearable.”

Sun down on the sorry day

By nightlights the children pray

I know you're prob'ly gettin' ready for bed

Beautiful girl, get out of my head

Agatha smiled against Rio’s skin, a smile that was more predatory than anything else. “She’s too pure for this,” she whispered, her fingers trailing down Rio’s body with torturous slowness. “And yet, that’s what makes her so... irresistible. You want to mold her, don’t you? Take the youthful life in her before the world corrupts her.”

I'm so tired of the same old crud

Rio closed her eyes, her body yielding to Agatha’s touch, but her words echoed in her mind like a challenge.

Agatha pressed her body against hers, hands gripping Rio's wrists and pinning them above her head, taking control. "Maybe I want this," she confessed, her voice tinged with something dark. "Actually, maybe I want everything. Her purity, her energy... I want to see her cry and beg for more. I want to control her until there's nothing left but what I desire."

Sweet baby, I need fresh blood

Rio gasped, not from Agatha's strength but from what those words ignited inside her. The corrosive desire was mutual, and they both knew it. "You're not the only one, Agatha." Rio murmured, her gaze burning with intensity. "I want it too. So much it scares me."

Agatha loosened her grip on Rio's wrists, but the closeness between them remained unchanged. Their eyes never wavered, the tension in the air growing thicker. "So what will we do, my love?" Agatha asked, almost in challenge. "Destroy ourselves for what we want from her? And... share?"

The proposal lingered between them like a forbidden secret, but no words were needed to confirm the answer. Rio leaned forward, her lips capturing Agatha's with wild intensity, her hands finally free to explore the woman's body above her.

"You've never wanted to share anything because you're a selfish fucking bitch." Rio murmured against Agatha's lips, her hands sliding lower, teasing. "But maybe this time... maybe for her... you'll make an exception, won't you?"

Agatha laughed—a low, dangerous sound—before leaning in again, capturing Rio's lips with a hunger that was nearly insatiable. "Careful, my love," she whispered, her voice hoarse and full of promises. "I always play to win."

And with that, the bed became a battlefield of desire, control, and surrender as both let their barriers fall, surrendering to the intensity of something they knew was as wrong as it was inevitable.

The moon shines in the autumn sky

Growin' cold, the leaves all die

I'm more alone than I've ever been

Help me out of the shape I'm in

Rio pulled Agatha closer, their lips colliding forcefully, the kiss anything but gentle. It was a battle of wills, full of teeth and tongues—a fierce confrontation that spoke more than any words could. Rio gripped Agatha's neck firmly, forcing her to lean further in, to submit to the moment. But Agatha never surrendered without a fight.

"You think you can control me?" Agatha whispered against her wife’s lips, her voice a hissed challenge. Her body was tense, the heat between them almost unbearable.

Rio laughed, a rough, low sound, as her hands slid along Agatha's waist, pulling her closer. "Control you? No," she answered, dark eyes gleaming. "But I know you're just as broken as I am."

The name neither of them dared to say hovered between them, a shadow darker than the desire they already shared. The confession in Agatha's gaze made Rio grip her hips tighter, pushing her down onto the bed.

Their bodies pressed together, slick and aching. Agatha, on top, massaged her own breasts, imagining you sucking on her until she came.

"You're no different from me," Agatha murmured, her face so close to Rio's that their breaths mingled. "You want to break her too."

After the fires, before the flood

My sweet baby, I need fresh blood

Agatha smiled—a crooked, dangerous smile—as her hands trailed down to knead her own breasts, hardened nipples under her fingers. "Then don't stop." She whispered, eyes locked on Rio, as if seeing directly into her. "Moan her name for me. I want to hear you say it."

Rio hesitated for a moment, eyes closing as if trying to shield herself from the confession. But then, as if torn from her, the name slipped from her lips in a pained whisper.

"Y/n..."

The sound echoed through the room, charged with an intensity that made Agatha shudder. Rio repeated it, louder this time, voice broken by desire. "Y/n, make mommy come. Be good for her."

Agatha froze, her body still throbbing with pleasure, but her mind spiraled into a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The word "mommy" echoed in her head like thunder, awakening something primal and uncontrollable within her. It was both delicious and cruel, a blade twisting in her mind.

"Rio..." Agatha called, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desire. But Rio was beyond restraint. Her body moved in perfect sync with Agatha's, seeking something deeper, more visceral.

Rio opened her eyes, wild and provocative. "Oh, don't play innocent, my lady." She responded, voice low and husky. "You want to hear those words... because deep down, you want to shape her into that for us. Someone who obeys us, who trusts us blindly. Someone who needs us."

Agatha choked, hips pressing involuntarily against Rio. "That's not..." she tried to protest, but the words died in her throat. Her mind, against her will, conjured images of you—your innocence, your vulnerability—and the contrast between that and what they wanted was like a drug, corrosive yet irresistible.

"I just want to use her." Agatha whispered against Rio's mouth, but her voice sounded fragile, as though trying to convince herself.

Rio laughed—a low, rough sound that made Agatha shudder. "Liar," she murmured, lips brushing Agatha's ear. "You want to possess her. You want her to be yours, to depend on you, to look at you like you're the center of her universe."

Agatha's blood boiled. Rio's words were sharp, cutting straight to truths she tried to bury. And yet, the heat in her core became unbearable, a living force demanding more.

Whatever trepidation you may feel

In your heart, you know it's not real

In a moment of clarity

Summon an act of charity

She leaned forward, lips capturing Rio's with a violence that felt more like warfare than a kiss. It was a declaration of power but also palpable desperation, as though trying to burn away the memory of what she'd just heard.

Agatha's mind—against her will—summoned images of you. The contrast between your innocence and what they desired was like a drug, corrosive yet irresistible.

Their movements became frenzied, almost brutal, the room filled with sounds that blended pleasure and raw need. Agatha's mind flickered, pulsing to the rhythm of desire she could no longer contain. Rio gripped her wife's hips tightly, tilting her head to bite Agatha's shoulder, drawing a sharp moan that nearly became a scream.

Agatha let out a rough moan upon hearing the name they both tried to avoid, now filling the air like an electric current. "That..." she whispered, voice heavy with almost animalistic desire. Her hips moved more intensely against Rio, the frantic rhythm reflecting the chaos within them. "Say it again. Tell me how you want her."

"Y/n..." Rio murmured, the name slipping from her lips like a forbidden confession. Her fingers dug into Agatha’s waist, guiding her wife’s movements with an urgency that burned them from the inside out. “I want her on her knees. Humiliated for us— Oh, fuck!”

Agatha lowered her head, biting Rio’s bottom lip before dragging her tongue along the curve of her neck, savoring every gasp that escaped.

“You're so pathetic.” Agatha taunted, her voice a wild whisper. “Just as desperate for her as I am.”

You gotta pull me out of this mud

Sweet baby, I need fresh blood

“Oh—FUCK! Agatha!”

The climax that seized them was like a storm—brutal and devastating. Their bodies arched together, muffled screams swallowed by intense kisses as their combined magic filled the room with an almost unbearable energy. When they finally collapsed onto the bed, their bodies still trembled, and the name that had bound their minds hovered in the air like a curse.

Agatha collapsed on top of Rio, breathless, their bodies still trembling from the wild, destructive wave of pleasure that had overtaken them.

Rio turned her head to the side, eyes half-closed, breath uneven as she ran her fingers through Agatha’s disheveled hair. Agatha rested her forehead on Rio's shoulder, her body still pressed against hers, a mix of sweat and desire radiating a near-intolerable heat.

The silence that followed was thick, heavy, laden with everything that couldn’t be spoken. Then, with a falsely casual tone, Agatha lifted her face, eyes gleaming with a dangerous mix of amusement and curiosity.

“So…” she began, voice lazy, lips curving into a mischievous smile. “‘Mommy,’ huh? What was that about?”

Rio squeezed her eyes shut, letting out an exasperated sigh, though she couldn’t stop the flush rising to her cheeks. “Shut up.”

“Oh no, my love,” Agatha countered, her hand sliding lazily over Rio’s torso in a possessive yet teasing touch. “You can’t just drop something like that in the heat of the moment and expect me to ignore it.”

Rio tried to sit up, but Agatha’s strength—both physical and emotional—kept her pinned. “It was just…” She hesitated, searching for the right words and failing miserably. “It was just what came to mind.”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Just what came to mind?” Leaning closer, she nipped at Rio’s earlobe before whispering, “So you want her to call us that? 'Mommy Agatha.' 'Mommy Rio.' I have to admit—it does have a certain charm.”

Rio groaned, but this time it wasn’t from pleasure—it was pure frustration. “Agatha...”

“I’m kidding.” Agatha said, though the smile on her lips suggested otherwise. She slid to the side, lying beside Rio, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as her fingers traced lazy patterns across Rio’s exposed skin.

For a moment, silence reigned again, but this time it was lighter, more intimate. Agatha turned her head, watching Rio with a gaze that was both soft and penetrating.

“I really missed this.” She murmured, her voice low, almost vulnerable. Her lips found Rio’s shoulder in a tender kiss—a gesture starkly contrasting the intensity they’d just shared.

Rio turned to face her, eyes still hazy but now filled with a deeper emotion. “It’s been a while since we were like this.” She admitted softly, almost in a whisper. “Really connected.”

Agatha nodded slightly, her fingers still drawing circles on Rio’s skin.

Rio laughed softly, though a shadow of concern flickered in her eyes. “Maybe we should do something about that.” She suggested hesitantly, testing the waters.

Agatha remained silent for a moment, eyes fixed on the ceiling, but her hand found Rio’s, fingers naturally intertwining. “Maybe.” She agreed, her voice soft yet weighted with meaning.

Rio turned her face, brushing her nose against Agatha’s tangled hair. She wanted to respond, to say she felt the same, but words seemed inadequate. Instead, she simply tightened her arms around her wife, pulling her closer as if she could hold her there forever.

And maybe she could.

Maybe this was a new beginning.

Or perhaps it was the start of something even more dangerous.

Because deep down, both of them knew.

The reason that had brought them to this moment.

You.

~*~

911, what's your emergency?

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01

@aboutcustardcreams @upsidedowndanvers @starbucks-06

@absolute-memegarbage

[littleprinces]

Day 15: Public Sex

Loosemble Hyunjin x Male Reader

Kinkvember Day 15

Happy Birthday Hyunjin!

Hyunjin, my sister, is a stunningly beautiful woman with a thick, voluptuous body that I can't get enough of. Today, I had the pleasure of running into her at the library. The library was practically empty, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and opportunity.

"Hey, Hyunjin," I said, approaching her with a confident smile. "Fancy running into you here."

She looked up from her book and smiled back. "Hey, Oppa. What brings you here?"

"Just thought I'd check out some books," I replied, trying to play it cool. "What about you?"

"Same," she said, holding up the book she was reading. "I love getting lost in a good story."

We chatted for a few more minutes, making small talk about our favorite books and authors. I couldn't help but feel a growing attraction to Hyunjin. Her curves were even more enticing than I remembered, and I couldn't wait to get her alone.

Finally, I decided to take a chance. "Hey, Hyunjin," I said, leaning in closer. "Do you want to go somewhere more private and continue this... conversation?"

She looked at me for a moment, a glint of excitement in her eye. "Sure Oppa," she said, biting her lower lip. "Lead the way."

We found a secluded corner of the library, away from prying eyes. I could feel my heart racing as I pulled Hyunjin close, our bodies pressed together in the dim light.

"I've wanted to do this for so long," I whispered in her ear, my breath hot against her skin.

"Me too," she replied, her voice husky with desire.

We started kissing, our lips meeting in a passionate embrace. Our tongues danced together as we explored each other's mouths, our hands roaming over each other's bodies.

I could feel Hyunjin's nipples harden beneath her shirt, and I couldn't wait to taste them. I broke our kiss and started kissing down her neck, making my way to her breasts. I pulled down her top and started sucking on her nipples, my tongue swirling around them as she moaned with pleasure.

"Oh, yes," she breathed, her hands gripping my hair. "Don't stop."

I continued to tease her nipples, my other hand slipping down to her pants. I started rubbing her clit through her panties, feeling her wetness seep through the fabric.

"Fuck, you're so wet," I murmured, my fingers slipping inside her panties.

"Yes, yes," she moaned, her hips bucking against my hand.

I started fingering her, my fingers sliding in and out of her pussy as she moaned louder and louder. I could feel her muscles clenching around my fingers, and I knew she was close.

"I'm going to cum," she gasped, her body shaking with pleasure.

"Cum for me, baby," I whispered, my fingers moving faster and faster.

She came hard, her juices flowing over my fingers. I pulled them out and started licking them clean, savoring the taste of her pussy.

"Fuck, that was amazing," she breathed, her body still shaking.

"I'm not done with you yet," I said, my voice low and seductive.

I stood up and pulled down my pants, my hard cock springing free. Hyunjin looked up at me, her eyes wide with desire.

"I want you to ride me," I said, my voice husky with desire.

She nodded, her eyes glazed with lust. She climbed on top of me, straddling me as she lowered herself onto my cock.

I moaned with pleasure as she started riding me, her hips moving back and forth as she bounced up and down on my cock.

"Yes, yes, yes," she moaned, her small tits bouncing with each thrust.

I reached up and started playing with her nipples, tweaking and pinching them as she rode me harder and harder.

"Fuck, you feel so good," I groaned, my hips bucking up to meet hers.

"Yes, yes, yes," she moaned, her pussy clenching around my cock.

We fucked like animals, our bodies moving together in a rhythmic dance of pleasure. I could feel myself getting close, my balls tightening as I prepared to cum.

"I'm going to cum," I gasped, my hips bucking wildly.

"Cum inside me," Hyunjin moaned, her pussy milking my cock.

I came hard, my juices filling her pussy as she moaned with pleasure. We collapsed onto the floor, our bodies spent and sated.

"That was amazing," Hyunjin breathed, her head resting on my chest.

"Yes, it was," I agreed, my hand gently stroking her hair.

We lay there for a few more minutes, our bodies still tangled together. I knew we would have to get dressed and leave soon, but for now, I was content to enjoy the moment.

As we got dressed and left the library, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction and contentment. I had finally fulfilled my fantasy of fucking my little sister, and it had been even better than I had imagined.

[idkyetxoxo]

Aegon Targaryen - Poisoned Love

Summary - In a match born of duty, Aegon swore he'd never love—but fate had other plans. Passion ignites, turning to a love so fierce it defies their world, only to be shattered by a cruel betrayal that tests the very soul.

Pairing - Aegon Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2711 

Masterlist for Aegon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

Love was never part of the plan. 

From the very first moment, Aegon had railed against the idea of the match his parents arranged—a calculated alliance, devoid of romance and brimming with obligation. He had sworn not to be a pawn in their schemes. 

But fate, with its penchant for irony, was relentless. 

Against the tide of his own resistance, Aegon found himself falling—slowly at first, then all at once—into a love so profound that it threatened to consume him entirely.

Hopelessly. Tragically. Unstoppably in love.

"So, my love, why exactly must we attend this feast when I have you in such a serene position?" His voice was a rich, teasing purr, the words sending sparks of heat skittering across my skin. 

The flickering light of the candles cast shadows on the walls, softening the sharp angles of his face, yet it couldn't dim the intensity of his gaze. 

His fingertips traced idle circles along my hips, their warmth seeping through the thin fabric of my dress. With a gentle tug, he pulled me closer, his breath mingling with mine.

I tilted my head back to look at him, a playful smirk on my lips. 

"Serene, is it?" I countered, raising a brow. "I didn't realize being at your mercy was so... calming." My words were light, but my pulse quickened as his eyes darkened with desire.

"Oh, it is," he whispered, a smile curving his lips as if I had unknowingly handed him a victory. 

"Serene, because it gives me the perfect vantage to appreciate you." He leaned down, his mouth brushing the hollow of my throat, lingering long enough to draw out a soft gasp. His lips moved lower, each kiss deliberate, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. 

"And," he continued, voice huskier now, "it allows me to do this." His hands slid slowly, reverently, beneath my skirts, fingertips grazing bare skin. 

The anticipation alone sent a shiver coursing down my spine.

For a moment, I tried to hold on to a shred of propriety. "Aegon, we have to—" The rest of my sentence disintegrated into a breathless sigh as he pressed his body against mine. 

The world beyond these four walls faded, leaving only the heat between us. His name became a prayer on my lips, a whisper that carried all the longing and need I had been trying to suppress.

"We have time," he murmured, his lips ghosting over mine. "Just enough to make this moment ours." His words, laced with promise, made my resolve crumble. 

He kissed me slowly, with an intensity that made my toes curl. Time stretched out as I melted into him, savouring each caress, each breath, each shared heartbeat.

When he drew back, it was only to study my face—his eyes tracing every curve as though trying to commit it to memory. 

He brushed a thumb over my cheek, then lower, tracing my jaw and down the column of my neck. His touch was light, reverent. 

He leaned in once more, this time catching my lips in a kiss that was deep and unhurried as if he had all the time in the world to taste and explore.

He lifted me gently, laying me back onto the softness of the bed, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. 

Our movements were slow, languid as if savouring every second. 

His hands roamed, mapping familiar territory but treating it like uncharted ground, and I arched into his touch, needing more of him, more of this.

He smiled against my lips, sensing my impatience. 

"Patience, my love," he teased, trailing kisses down my collarbone, taking his time. 

Each touch, each press of his lips and whisper of his breath against my skin left me trembling. I ran my fingers through his hair, desperate to ground myself as desire built within me.

At last, he met my gaze again, and the look in his eyes made me feel as if nothing else in the world mattered. 

"You are everything," he said softly, a confession that left me breathless. He moved then, slowly, achingly so, guiding our bodies together. 

The sensation was overwhelming; a slow burn that built intensified with every motion.

"Aegon," I breathed, my hands clutching at his shoulders as he set a rhythm that was both torturously slow and deeply satisfying. 

He shifted slightly, finding that perfect angle, and I bit down on my lip to stifle a cry. 

Every thrust sent pleasure radiating through me, a tide that rose higher with every touch, every whispered endearment.

"Let me hear you," he urged, his voice low and rough. His thumb traced the edge of my bottom lip, a gentle pressure that sent sparks skittering down my spine. 

I gave in, letting him hear every sigh, every soft moan that escaped. The intimacy of it—the closeness, the vulnerability—was almost too much to bear.

He held me as we moved together, his touch firm but tender. 

My senses were overwhelmed: the press of his body, the weight of his gaze, the way his breath hitched when I responded to his touch. 

I felt myself spiralling higher, pulled inexorably toward release.

When it finally came, it was like shattering into a thousand pieces. I clung to him, calling out his name as waves of pleasure crashed over me. 

His own climax followed, and he held me tighter, as if afraid to let go. For a moment, we were both suspended in that perfect, breathless stillness.

Slowly, he withdrew, his touch still gentle, almost reverent. 

"My pretty wife," he murmured, the words a soft caress against my skin. He reached for a cloth to clean us, his movements tender and unhurried. 

He rearranged my skirts, his fingers lingering as he smoothed the fabric.

"I cannot wait for the day you carry my child," he whispered, a hopeful smile curving his lips. The thought made my heart ache with both joy and trepidation.

I felt my cheeks warm, the secret I held threatening to spill forth. But instead, I met his gaze and smiled. 

"Soon," I said softly, kissing his cheek. 

With a deep breath, I slipped from the bed and took his hand, leading him toward the feast in the great hall, the promise of our future shimmering between us.

We moved together through the grand feast, weaving our way past the gathered lords and ladies, exchanging greetings and nods. 

The hall buzzed with life—laughter mingling with clinking goblets and the melodies of minstrels perched on the dais. Black and crimson banners hung from the high stone walls, flickering in the torchlight, casting shifting patterns over the revelry. 

Yet, despite the opulence around me, I felt a growing heaviness in my limbs.

My feet throbbed with each step, a dull ache creeping up my calves. The hours dragged on, and an unsettling churn took root in my stomach, as though the venison I had forced down earlier was a beast clawing to escape. 

I pressed a hand to my midsection, hoping to calm the storm.

"Aegon, I don't feel well," I murmured, barely able to keep my voice steady. Within moments, he was at my side, guiding me away from the throng with a gentleness that belied his imposing presence. 

He led me to a cushioned chair, his touch firm but tender.

"What troubles you?" he asked, his voice low and laced with concern. He brushed a stray lock of hair from my face, his fingers lingering at my temple. 

His gaze pierced mine, searching for answers I was not ready to give.

I swallowed hard, struggling to mask the truth that threatened to spill from me. 

How could I tell him? How could I reveal that every ache in my body, every wave of nausea, was more than fatigue from the night? 

That I carried a secret, nestled deep within, stirring with every heartbeat?

Before I could summon an answer, a shadow fell over us. I turned, and Aegon shifted, his hand instinctively resting on my arm. 

A man stood before us, his presence both familiar and foreboding.

"Lord Darry," I said, my voice tighter than I intended. He regarded me with a smile that never touched his eyes—a smile I remembered all too well. 

It was the same expression he had worn in my father's halls, where harsh words and sharper glances had been exchanged between our houses. 

The rivalry between House Darry and my kin was a bitter one, more entrenched than even the long-standing feud of Blackwood and Bracken. 

Marrying into the Targaryen family had done little to soften those wounds.

"My lady," Lord Darry intoned, his words slow and deliberate as if testing their weight. "Or should I address you as 'Princess' now?" 

His laugh was light, a mocking echo that resonated beneath the surface pleasantries.

I clenched my jaw, forcing a polite smile. "Whatever pleases you, my lord," I replied evenly, determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. 

Aegon's posture stiffened beside me, his protective instincts flaring. I placed a hand on his arm, a silent plea for restraint. This was not the time or place for old grievances to be rekindled.

"Is there something you require, Lord Darry?" I asked, keeping my voice calm. 

Beneath the mask of civility, I could feel the pulse of history—a history filled with blood and betrayal—stretching taut between us. 

Lord Darry's smile widened, his eyes narrowing as he took a small step closer. 

"No," he said softly, the false warmth in his voice barely concealing something darker. "I merely wished to ensure you are well. You appear... pale."

His smile, a blade hidden beneath velvet, never reached his eyes. "Pale, indeed," he murmured, as though tasting the words. "The Targaryen court must be... exhausting."

I forced myself to hold his gaze, my stomach twisting tighter. "I am just a little unwell," I replied, striving for a lightness I did not feel. 

My words came out brittle, a thin veneer of composure over the turmoil within.

"Ah," Lord Darry said, his expression one of exaggerated concern. 

He reached for a nearby goblet and filled it from a nearby pitcher. The water gleamed in the torchlight, a deceptive mirror to the innocence he feigned. 

"Please, take this. It will help," he insisted, pressing the cool metal into my trembling hands.

I hesitated. There was something in his gaze that set my nerves alight, some unspoken malice that I couldn't shake. 

But the eyes of those around us were upon me, and refusing his offer would be seen as a slight—a provocation. 

Reluctantly, I raised the goblet to my lips and drank. The water was cold, the taste clean, but an icy dread settled deep within my chest.

"Thank you, my lord," I managed, my voice thin. Lord Darry bowed with a flourish, his smile never wavering. 

"Rest well, Princess," he murmured, before disappearing into the crowd, leaving only the faintest scent of his oils and the weight of a promise unspoken.

Moments stretched into a cruel eternity. Aegon's voice reached me through a haze, his words distorted, as if carried from some distant shore. 

His hands were warm against my shoulders, anchoring me to the here and now, but the world had begun to tilt, a spinning blur of noise and light.

I tried to focus, to hold on to something solid, but my breath caught in my throat, and an overwhelming wave of dizziness sent me reeling. 

I clung to him, desperate, as the edges of my vision darkened, shadows closing in.

"Something's wrong," I gasped, my fingers digging into his arms as though he could pull me back from the abyss. 

Panic flared in his eyes—an intensity I had rarely seen, raw and unguarded. My mouth flooded with warmth, metallic and bitter. I tasted blood before I saw it, crimson spilling down my chin.

"Poison," I whispered, barely audible. The word hung in the air like a death knell.

"No," Aegon breathed, a plea more than a denial. He gripped me tighter as if he could hold back the inevitable by sheer will. 

"Stay with me," he begged, voice cracking, his desperation slicing through the haze. He guided me down, his movements careful, his touch reverent, lowering me onto the cold stone floor as chaos erupted around us.

The sounds of the feast faded—distant shouts, the pounding of footsteps—but all that mattered was him. 

I saw his face above mine, his features carved in anguish, his eyes searching mine for answers, for hope.

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, blurring his face. I had so little time. My heart thundered in my chest, every beat a cruel reminder of what was slipping away. 

I needed him to know—I needed him to understand.

"Aegon," I managed, each breath a struggle. "There's something... I have to tell you." Pain rippled through me, but I forced the words out. "I'm... I'm with child."

The realization struck him like a blow. His breath caught, his face crumpling with grief that cut deeper than any blade. 

He drew me closer, his eyes wide with shock, disbelief, and a helpless sorrow that broke my heart all over again. For a moment, he was silent, his lips moving soundlessly as if struggling to comprehend. 

When he spoke, his voice was low, trembling. "You'll be alright," he insisted as if saying it would make it true. "You have to be."

I felt the sting of tears on my cheeks, mingling with blood. "I don't... want to die," I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of fear. "I'm scared, Aegon. I'm so scared."

He pressed his forehead to mine, his tears falling onto my skin. 

"I'm here," he swore, his words fierce, desperate. "I won't leave you. I love you." The confession hung between us, raw and unvarnished.

His grip tightened, his hand trembling around mine as if he could hold me here by force alone. I felt the warmth of his touch begin to fade, and with it, my strength. 

The pain surged, twisting in my chest, a reminder of every breath I was losing. Around us, the world blurred, but I focused on his face—the desperate lines of his jaw, the tears streaking down his cheeks. 

The sight of his anguish was a dagger to my heart.

"I'm with child," I repeated, my voice weaker now, barely a breath. The words, once a promise of life, became a cruel taunt—a cruel joke played by fate. 

I watched the hope that flickered in his eyes shatter, leaving behind nothing but raw, unbridled grief.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head as if he could deny reality itself. "You can't—" His voice cracked, a jagged sound that tore through me. "You can't leave me. Not now. Not like this."

"I don't want to," I managed, my chest tightening with every word. I tried to reach for him, but my strength was gone. "I wanted... I wanted to see them. Our child. I wanted—" 

The rest was swallowed by a sob, my body trembling in his arms.

"Please," he begged, the mighty prince reduced to nothing more than a man pleading with the gods. "Don't go. Fight. For me. For us."

The pain sharpened, and I knew there was no fighting this. Death had its claws in me, dragging me down.

His forehead pressed against mine, his tears mixing with my blood. "I love you," he said, his voice fierce but laced with despair. "I love you. I should have told you every day. I should have—"

His hands cupped my face, his touch both a comfort and a cruel reminder of everything slipping away. "No," he said, his voice a broken echo. "We still have time."

But time was a lie, slipping like sand through his fingers. I drew in one last ragged breath, each heartbeat a hammering drum of finality. 

My vision dimmed, the world receding, and in those last moments, I saw him—just him. 

Grief-stricken, helpless. And I hated it. I hated that he had to bear this weight. That he would have to live with this cruelty, to carry our love as a scar.

Darkness took me, cold and unrelenting, and the last thing I heard was his scream—raw, animalistic, echoing in a world that no longer had room for the life we had dreamed of. 

The gods had been cruel. Fate had been cruel. And love... love was the cruellest of all.

A/n - I feel cruel xx

[noirsfantasy]

𝕽𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖋 𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊 | 𝖕𝖙. 1

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Michael B Jordan as Adonis Creed x Black!Plus-sized Reader

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Smut

𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪 ➛ Creed

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛3.4k

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛A chance encounter between you and Adonis at a label party turns into a passionate and intense romantic night.

𝔞/𝔫 ➛Guys, guys, GUYSSSSSS!!! Y'all are gonna love this one, I'M TELLING YOU! You won't be disappointed.

Next Part

My heels click loudly as I make my way into a large bustling event. I had been invited by my best friend, Bianca to attend the label party she set up for one of her artists. As I walk in, my heart races with excitement as the buzz of the crowd fills my ears. I had been to a few of these exclusive events before and I knew how to dress the part. I'm dressed to impress, my black dress hugging my curvy frame and accentuating my hips. My hair, curled to perfection, falls gently onto my shoulders, and my red purse adds a touch of sophistication to my look.

I feel a buzz from my phone and smile, seeing a text pop up.

"Someone's looking sexy," It reads and I see that it's from Bianca. I scan around the room, looking for her as she's already spotted me. When we make eye contact, I smile and make my way over. She smiles at me and gives me a big hug, which I return.

"I'm so glad you made it!" She tells me as we part.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, B. Besides I'm always down to support my bestie." I reply with a wink, causing Bianca to chuckle.

"You sure you not just tryna steal the show?" She questions playfully as she raises an eyebrow. I giggle and shake my head.

"No way, girl. I just threw something on that I thought would match the theme." I assure her but she purses her lips.

"Really? Cus from what I'm seeing all that ass is getting more attention than my artist." She says, gesturing to my outfit and the way it complements my body. I nudge her shoulder.

"Girl, whatever! That is not true." We share a laugh and I shake my head.

"Anyways, make yourself at home. There's an open bar and, you know, just enjoy yourself. I gotta go talk to these producers real quick." Bianca takes my hand and gives it a squeeze before letting go and walking over to do some networking. I sigh a bit, rubbing my glossy lips together as I look around for anyone familiar.

I'd always been a bit shy, but there's something about being in a room full of celebrities that makes me feel like I'm living a dream. I smooth out my skirt as I weave between people, smiling politely at acquaintances. That's when I see him - Adonis Creed, a famous boxer. I've been a fan of his for a while and, I must say, he's even more breathtaking in person. His brown skin gleams under the warm lights, his goatee and large stud earrings giving him a rugged yet sophisticated edge. And those dimples? Those lips? They can make anyone weak at the knees.

I realize I've been staring when our eyes meet and he holds my gaze for a moment. A smile tugs at his lips and I have to look away quickly to hide the blush that is forming.

As the evening progresses, I find myself crossing paths with him a few times. He'd always give me a charming smile and I'd smile politely back, before going back to what I was doing. Each encounter only serves to leave me feeling more intrigued and attracted to him.

I decide to get a drink from the bar and as I order from the bartender, someone appears next to me.

"I'll have what she's having." He says and I look up to see Adonis. I clear my throat nervously and I smile politely at him as I shift in my seat. He smiles back, taking in the way I cross my legs, my movements effortless and sexy. The heat starts to rise in my cheeks as I feel his eyes on me. "I gotta say," He starts, leaning against the bar. "You killing with that outfit." I meet his eyes once more and smile at the flattery.

"Thank you, glad to know my efforts haven't gone unnoticed," I reply as the bartender hands me my drink. I thank him and then look back at Adonis.

"Yeah, you caught my eye from across the room. But I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting you before. What's your name?" He inquires, his eyes never leaving mine. I feel a blush creeping onto my face as I take a sip from my drink for courage.

"Y/N. It's nice to meet you." I introduce myself, holding my hand out. He takes my hand in his, giving it a gentle shake before lifting it to his lips and landing a soft kiss on my knuckles.

"The pleasure's all mine, Y/N. I'm Donnie." He replies, his grip on my hand lingering for a bit before letting go. The action sends butterflies through my body. "You a friend of Bianca's?" He asks.

"Yeah, her best friend, actually," I say with a chuckle, taking another sip of my drink and feeling the warmth rise through my chest. Adonis raises an eyebrow in pleasant surprise.

"I thought your name sounded familiar," He says with a smile, his eyes studying my face. "She mentioned you a few times. Said you were important to her." His gaze roams over me, enjoying how the alcohol visibly loosens me up.

"Really? That's sweet. I never knew she talked about me to other people." I hide a bashful smile, appreciating my friendship with the producer.

"Although, I've gotta admit, her descriptions of you don't do you justice at all." The compliment rolls off of his tongue easily, but it's clear he means every word. I find myself blushing again and laughing softly as I look away. There's an undeniable spark between us and, as we speak, my shy nature seems to dissipate. We find ourselves engaging in witty banter, my lips curling into a smile as I match his flirty tone.

"So, you a fan of boxing, gorgeous?" Donnie asks, leaning a little closer, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes seem to see right through me and I get the sense that he's just as interested in me as I am in him.

"Maybe," I reply with a playful grin, enjoying the game of cat and mouse. "It depends on the boxer," I say with a shrug.

"Ah," Donnie shoots back with a wry smile, leaning in even closer. "You've got a type, I see. Let me guess, you're probably into those pretty-boy fighters, the ones who don't get their hands dirty. Guys like Ryan Garcia, maybe?" I tilt my head as if I'm thinking.

"Hmm, no not really. I'm more into the dangerous ones." I say, my eyes locking on his. A wolfish grin spreads across Donnie's lips as I share my preference.

"Ah, so you're after someone who can bring the heat, huh? Someone who gives you that flutter in your chest just by being near them." A pause as Donnie lifts his drink to his lips. "You're not afraid to mix it up and get your hands dirty?" I raise an eyebrow, biting my lip slightly.

"I think getting dirty is part of the fun," I tell him with a knowing smirk.

"Oh, I can promise you, it always is," Donnie replies, his voice low and husky. Our eyes lock, the air between us feeling charged with a heat that wasn't there before. "But be careful, gorgeous," he adds. "Some games can end in a brutal knockout."

"Really? Well, good thing I'm always up for a challenge." A mischievous glint appears in Donnie's eyes as he leans even closer.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" Donnie muses, his gaze flickering with a predatory flash. We talk for a bit longer, flirting back and forth until the party eventually draws to a close. I find myself unable to resist the pull between us. With a boldness that surprises even me, I approach him, my heart pounding in my chest.

"So, Donnie," I begin, my voice having a suggestive edge, "are you going to ask for my number, or do I have to make the first move?" A flash of desire crosses his face, and he steps closer, his body radiating heat.

"I think we can skip the whole dating game charade," he murmurs, his lips inches from my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "Why don't you come back to my place? I'll show you why they call me Big D." My breath quickens as I slowly nod, unable to speak past the lump of desire in my throat. Taking his hand, I let him lead me out of the event and into the night, a delicious anticipation building inside me.

The ride to his place is a blur of streetlights and adrenaline, my body tingling with eagerness. As soon as the door to his home shuts behind me, Donnie presses me up against it, his lips claiming mine in a passionate kiss. I melt into him, my hands roaming over his muscular back, feeling the definition of his powerful body.

His hands find my curves effortlessly, his touch a perfect balance of firmness and gentleness. My body presses against his as my hands caress his jaw and neck, the stubble on his face tickling my skin.

"Damn," Donnie curses under his breath as he pulls away briefly, his lips moving to explore the expanse of my neck. Each kiss leaves fire in its wake and I let out a soft moan, my eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

Breaking the kiss, he looks deeply into my eyes, running his thumb along my bottom lip. Our lips crash together sloppily as I tug at his shirt impatiently.

"Eager, are we now?" Donnie teases, his breath warm against my neck. He gently pushes my hands away and lifts his shirt, revealing chiseled abs and a defined chest. I trace the ridges of his muscles with my fingertips, feeling every contour, every line. I feel like I'm dreaming, but the heat of his body and the taste of his lust on my tongue are all too real.

He lifts me into his arms and my legs instinctively wrap around his waist. I feel small in his embrace, but also protected. The way he easily carries my weight and holds me, all while showering my neck with kisses, sends tingles through me. I moan softly, tilting my head to give him better access as my hand rests on the back of his head, my acrylics grazing his scalp. Donnie brings my lips to his once more, sucking on my bottom lip slightly. He carries me into the bedroom, never once breaking the kiss, and lays me down on the edge of the bed.

Donnie's hands slide down my body, tracing the curves of my thighs and legs as he gently slips my heels off. His hands travel up my back his fingers finding the zipper of my dress, slowly pulling it down.

I lift my hips to help him undress me, a playful thrill coursing through me as I expose myself to his hungry gaze. He strips away my clothing until the only thing left are my lacy panties. His eyes rake over my body, taking in every curve, roll, and stretch mark, before returning to my face, the fire in his eyes searing me to my core. He leans down, cupping my breasts and taking my sensitive nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth as I whimper from the pleasure. He kisses the soft skin tenderly, before trailing his finger along my jaw, ghosting over my lower lip as I look up at him.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispers, kneeling before me and guiding my legs over his shoulders. His fingers run along my outer thighs as he presses a kiss to the damp fabric between my legs, his touch leaving goosebumps in their path. I bite my lip, watching him gaze upon me in a mix of awe and lust. "I've been dying to taste you all night."

A ripple of excitement runs through me as his eyes burn with desire. He pulls my panties off, discarding them somewhere in the room. Without another word, he lowers his head, his tongue lapping at my core, flicking my clit and driving me wild.

A strangled moan escapes my lips as his mouth sends shockwaves of pleasure through my body. His talented tongue works me over relentlessly, every lick and suck driving me wild with want. My hips buck against his face as I lose myself in the sensations, my hands on the back of his head, pressing him closer.

"Donnie~" I pant breathlessly, aching for more. A low growl rumbles in Adonis's throat as he hears his name fall from my lips.

"That's right, mama," He breaths against my slick folds, sending tingles through my core. His grip on my thighs tightens as he resumes his devouring assault, his tongue lapping and swirling with unyielding hunger. I can feel the vibrations of his moans against my sensitive skin, causing my back to arch off the bed slightly.

A wicked grin spreads across Donnie's face as he feels my body react to his stimulation. He sucks and swirls his tongue around my clit, intent on driving me wild with pleasure. My hands grip the sheets, fueling his desire as he moans against my core. Donnie's strong hands firmly hold me in place as I squirm beneath his grasp.

"Oh god, I'm so close~" I moan as I throw my head back, rolling my hips. Sensing my impending release, Adonis doubles down, his tongue working my swollen bundle of nerves with ruthless precision as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge. My thighs tremble against his grip as I feel my climax rising to the surface. With one final flick of his tongue, he sends me hurtling over the peak into a crashing wave of ecstasy.

My body tenses as my thighs grip his head, holding him in place as I come undone. Adonis laps up every last drop of my sweet nectar, groaning with unbridled satisfaction. When my tremors finally subside, he slowly pulls back, his lips glistening as he lightly kisses my inner thigh.

"You taste so good, babygirl," he purrs, his voice dripping with lust. I pant heavily as I start to calm down, my racing heart beginning to slow. I whimper softly as he moves up my body, pressing his hardness against my thigh.

Adonis's eyes darken with desire as he hears my whimpers and he leans in closer, his breath ghosting over my lips.

"Don't worry, gorgeous. I'm just getting started." His fingers trail up my outer thigh, his touch feather-light but electrifying. "I'm gonna make you feel so good," he whispers before capturing my mouth in a searing, passionate kiss.

My arms wrap around Donnie's neck as I whine into the kiss, tasting myself on his tongue and aching to feel him inside me. He teases me, grinding his clothed cock against my entrance, soaking the fabric. A groan emits from his throat as the delicious friction drives him wild with need. He pulls back just enough to swiftly rid himself of his remaining clothes.

Donnie's cock springs free, thick and throbbing as he positions himself at my entrance. "You feel that, baby?" He rasps, rubbing the tip teasingly against my slick folds.

"Yes-" I gasp as he prods my hole, just barely pushing in before pulling back again. I roll my hips to try and press you deeper, but you don't budge.

"Someone's impatient." He taunts, eliciting a whine from me.

"Please~" I beg, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment at how desperate I sound. A chuckle escapes him as he continues to tease me with his cock.

"Say it again," he demands, drawing his lower plump lip between his teeth while pressing into my heat, only allowing the tip to enter. I grunt with frustration.

"Please, Donnie," I whisper, my voice thick with desire. "I need you. Now." Without warning, he surges forward, burying himself to the hilt with a moan of ecstasy. I let out a yelp as I stretch around him, feeling his dick pressing against my cervix. Adonis's eyes widen as he feels me tighten around his hard length.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight," he growls, his fingers digging into my hips. Slowly, he begins to rock his hips, establishing a deep and steady rhythm as he fills me over and over.

"Oh my god- So big~" I manage to say between moans. I meet his thrusts, my legs locking around his waist, pulling him deeper. My long nails dig into his back, threatening to break, but I don't care. I groan as he fills me up completely, stretching me just barely past my limit.

Adonis's eyes flash with lust as I cry out, relishing the feel of every inch of him buried inside me. He groans throatily, driven wild by the sensations of my silky walls clenching around his throbbing length.

"That's right, take it all," he rasps, his hips rolling in a steady, punishing rhythm. His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me flush against him as his lips claim mine again. My tongue swirls around his as I pull him impossibly closer, my body melting against his. The kiss becomes more possessive Donni's large hands roam my body.

He tears his mouth from mine only to latch onto my neck as he starts rolling his hips against mine, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. He uses one hand to turn my neck, exposing more of my skin, and the other to capture my nipple in his fingers, rolling the sensitive peak between his digits. His hips increase to a relentless pace, driving his thick shaft in and out repeatedly. The obscene sounds of our joined bodies fill the air, only rivaled by my mewls of pleasure.

"Fuck, I'm gonna wreck you." He whispers against my skin, his voice hoarse as the force of his thrust urges another moan out of me.

"Mhm, yes please f-" My breath hitches, unable to finish my sentence as he picks up speed. He shifts his weight to his knees, leaning his head back as his cock slams deliciously into my core. Donnie's powerful hips snap forward with relentless abandon, the bed creaking under our combined weight.

I press my hands to the headboard behind me for support as the force of his thrusts move me further up the bed. I look up at Adonis, but his eyes are screwed shut, his brows knitted together and jaw clenched as every muscle in his sculpted body strains with the effort. My whimpers and moans mutate into screams of pleasure as he chases his own release, his thrusts growing more erratic.

"Don- nie-" My words are stuttered as my brain turns to mush from his movements, his hands grip my hips bruisingly tight as he pounds into me, desperate to find his edge.

"Yeah, that's it, baby. Let me feel that sweet pussy milk my dick." He urges, his voice hoarse. His words send me over the edge, my body clenching around him as I climax, my back arching off the bed as a flood rushes from between my legs. I let out a whine as he continues to thrust, splashing my fluids back onto me as the feeling of me tightening around him sends him over the edge as well.

A strangled cry of pleasure tears from his throat as his hips stutter, losing their rhythm as he is enveloped in the throes of his own climax. He collapses forward, burying his face in the crook of my neck as his body shudders with the intensity of his release. Waves of blissful ecstasy washes over us, every nerve ending alight with sensation. When the tremors finally cease, he rolls to the side, pulling me flush against his sweat-slicked body.

"Damn, baby..." he breaths, placing a tender kiss on my forehead.

"That was... fuck, I don't even have the words." I reply softly as my cheek rests against his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat slowing. Adonis chuckles breathlessly, his strong arms wrapped securely around me.

"Tell me about it. That was..." He trails off, shaking his head in disbelief. I smile to myself as we lie there in bed, basking in the bliss of our pleasure. At this moment, nothing else matters. It's just me and Adonis. Just two strangers, yet it feels like he knows every part of me. I sigh contently, feeling the lull of sleep falling over me.

[livelaughloveluffy]

yearning - black leg sanji

a/n: my heart is full with nothing but love for this man. i'd give anything to be with him 😭😭😭😭

nothing but fluff here 💗

---------------------------------------------------------------------

you couldn't help but be drawn to the curly-browed cook. tip-toeing into the kitchen just before dawn for a glass of water, when your eyes happened to fall upon the blonde, already up and alert, prepping ingredients for breakfast and testing new recipes, occasionally pausing his stirring to take notes on the taste of his concoction.

his passion and attention to detail was truly admirable. it was abundantly clear the amount of thought and love the cook put into his meals. his ocean blue eyes remained focused on the sauce he was making, glimmering with excitement as his lips wrapped around a small spoon to taste his mixture, clearly perfecting the flavor he was going for.

a giggle escapes your lips before your brain can catch up and hold yourself back, his eyes dart up, wide and on you, with rose-colored cheeks you gently ask "finally perfected the recipe?"

sanji beams and with a wide smile he excitedly replies, "yeah, i really think i may have outdone myself with this one! would you like a taste, mon cheri?"

•♡•

you couldn't help but notice the way that sanji carefully plates everyone's food. his deft hands working with such delicate care on the presentation of the meal. his long bangs falling into his face, as he leans down to inspect his work. how he serves everyone else before himself, with his plate put together with not even half the amount of precision as the rest of the crews.

throughout the meal, you watch as his eyes repeatedly scan the table, mentally taking note of the member's facial expressions as they eat, gauging their palates, and remembering their favorites, as he haphazardly eats his own food.

his expression of love for the crew can often be overlooked, but when his eyes glance over to you, only to find yours already locked onto him, sanji's cheeks flushed.

how could you not fall for him?

•♡•

after stepping out of the girl's dorm for some fresh air and some stargazing, your eyes were drawn to the familiar blonde, who had just stepped outside the kitchen to light a new cigarette. his long slender fingers raw from all the excessive hand/dish washing, and some occasional small cuts.

you cleared your throat, to make your presence known. as the cook turned to face you, you couldn't help but tell him "dinner was truly amazing, sanji. you outdid yourself yet again."

the smile that you were met with was so intoxicatingly sweet, filled with pure pride and satisfaction, as he replied with a soft "thank you, mon amour." made your heart swoon for the curly-browed cook even more.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

tags ♡: @twiishaa @3v37773 @irethepotato @peachycat17; want to join the taglist? click here!

a/n: finishing this fic is my treat for finishing all my tests and school stuff, since i did a good job with all of it 😌

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[fa1ry03]

could you do a joe fic where the reader is a ballerina?? i’m one myself so i just thought it’d be cute :,)

Dancing Into Love

Author's Note: Thank you so much for requesting this piece! I absolutely loved writing it, especially since I used to do ballet myself and even danced on pointe for a while. Your idea brought back so many wonderful memories, and it was a joy to weave that experience into the story. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it! 😊

Word Count - 729

Joe wasn’t one to frequent theaters, much less ballet performances, but his best friend had practically dragged him along, insisting he needed a "cultural experience." Sitting stiffly in the velvet seat, he’d expected to be bored out of his mind. That was until you stepped onto the stage.

From the moment you appeared, Joe couldn’t look away. Your movements were captivating, each twirl and leap filled with such precision and emotion that he found himself leaning forward in his seat. You seemed untouchable, almost otherworldly, and Joe couldn’t help but wonder who you were beyond the shimmering costume and pointed shoes.

After the performance, his friend convinced him to stick around for the meet-and-greet with the performers. Joe stood awkwardly at the back of the line, clutching the program he’d been handed at the door. When it was finally his turn, he felt a jolt of nervous energy as you looked up at him, your stage makeup still intact but softened under the lobby lights.

"Hi," you greeted warmly, your smile as graceful as your performance.

"Hi," he replied, suddenly forgetting every word in the English language. He handed you the program for an autograph, but before you could sign, he blurted, "You were incredible out there."

You looked up, a hint of surprise in your eyes. "Thank you. That means a lot."

And just like that, Joe’s fumbling attempts at conversation turned into a fifteen-minute chat about your passion for dance and his awkward but earnest appreciation for the arts. By the end, he’d mustered the courage to ask if you’d like to grab coffee sometime. To his astonishment, you said yes.

------------------------------------

Dating a ballerina turned out to be a unique experience, one that Joe cherished more than he ever thought he would. Your schedules were hectic—his with work and yours with rehearsals and performances—but you both made it work.

Joe quickly became your biggest supporter, attending every performance he could and cheering the loudest at the curtain call. He even started to learn the names of different ballet positions and techniques, surprising you one day when he correctly identified an arabesque.

"Someone’s been doing their homework," you teased, stretching your legs after a particularly grueling rehearsal.

"What can I say? I’m dating a pro," he said, handing you a water bottle with a grin.

Joe also loved watching you practice, though he was careful not to distract you. He’d sit quietly in the corner of the studio, mesmerized by the way you moved, as if your body spoke a language all its own. Occasionally, he’d offer his unique brand of encouragement.

"You’re amazing, babe, but maybe add a little... Joe flair to it," he’d joke, waving his arms in an exaggerated imitation of your elegant movements.

"Joe flair, huh?" you’d reply with a laugh, pulling him onto the studio floor to teach him a basic plié.

"This is harder than it looks!" he’d protest, wobbling as he tried to hold the position.

"Welcome to my world," you’d say, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder.

Joe was also incredibly supportive during the tougher moments. On nights when you came home exhausted and doubting yourself, he’d sit beside you, rubbing your feet and reminding you just how talented you were.

"You’re not just good; you’re breathtaking," he’d say, his voice full of sincerity. "Don’t let one bad day make you forget that."

His encouragement always lifted your spirits, and you often told him how much you appreciated having someone who believed in you so completely.

One evening, after a particularly stunning performance, Joe surprised you with a bouquet of flowers and a small, wrapped box. As you opened it, your eyes widened to see a delicate necklace shaped like a pair of ballet slippers.

"For my favorite ballerina," he said, his cheeks turning pink.

You threw your arms around him, whispering a soft, "Thank you, Joe. I love it."

Joe’s life with you might not have been what he’d imagined, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Being with you taught him to appreciate the beauty of dedication, the art of storytelling through movement, and the joy of sharing his life with someone so passionate and full of grace.

And as he watched you twirl across the stage night after night, Joe knew he was the luckiest guy in the world to call you his.

Thank You so much for this request! <3 Send in more please!

[ranoosh2024kh]

‏A Birthday Wish for Hope and Survival

‏Today is my birthday. While birthdays are usually a time for celebration, mine comes amid hardship and uncertainty. I am from Gaza, where life has become a daily struggle for survival.

‏The challenges we face here are unimaginable—lack of basic necessities, ongoing instability, and the constant weight of uncertainty about tomorrow. Despite everything, I hold onto hope, but hope alone is not enough.

‏This year, my birthday wish is not for gifts or a party. My wish is for support—support that can help me and my loved ones navigate these difficult times. Any contribution, no matter how small, can make a significant difference in securing food, medicine, and essentials that are becoming harder to find.

‏If you cannot donate, please consider sharing my story. Your kindness and generosity can bring light into a life overshadowed by hardship.

https://gofund.me/c1c641e5

‏Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Rana

 Vetted campaign by @90-ghost

@gaza-evacuation-funds

@fancysmudges @brokenbackmountain  @mothblossoms @aleciosun  @fluoresensitive @khizuo @lesbiandardevil

@camgirlpanopticon @baby-girl-aaron-dessner

@omegaversereloaded @punkitt-is-here @tamamita @skunkes @ot3 @valtsv @wolfertinger666 @paper-mario-wiki @chokulit @ankle-beez @pitbolshevik @neechees @memingursa @afro-elf @beserkjewel @feluka @i-am-a-fish @nyancrimew @spongebobssquarepant @sabertoothwalru @90-ghost @komsomolka @sawasawako @hotvampireadjacent @certifiedsexed @isuggestforcefem @3000s @pissvortex @prisonhannibal @apas-95 @vampiricvenus @turtletofan @marxism-transgenderism @beetledrink @bevsi @spacebeyonce @bonkcreat @11thsense @boobieteriat @sporesgalaxy @spitblaze @space-is-the-place2 @sar-soor @sayruq @sadhoc @sappho114 @sailor-plut @gallade-x-treme @palhelp @paleolatrans

@dirhwangdaseul @b0nkcreat @tamamita @chokulit @3000s @apas-95 @pitbolshevik @ot3 @punkitt-is-here @vampiricvenus @turtletoria @paper-mario-wiki @valtsv @omegaversereloaded @i-am-a-fish-stinks @catsgifsarefun @spongebobssquarepants @postanagramgenerator @feluka @nyancrimew @90-ghost @beserkerjewel @neechees @memingursa @certifiedsexed @afro-elf @11thsense @sawasawako @spacebeyonce @skipppppy @beetledrink @fools-and-perverts @dailyquests @evillesbianvillain @wolfertinger666 @taffybuns @ankle-beez @sabertoothwalrus @meshugenist @isuggestforcefem @hotvampireadjacent @marxism-transgenderism

My family and I desperately need your help to survive the war.

For 14 months, Gaza has been under relentless assault. We’ve lost not only our daily routines but also countless loved ones. Death looms over us every day. I used to hear people call Gaza “the largest prison in the world,” and it saddened me. But now, amidst this war, I find myself wishing for the security of a normal prison, as no prison on earth compares to the atrocities we endure. Gaza is being ravaged by genocide and the destruction of every aspect of life.

I spent four years studying English and French, driven by a deep passion for learning and teaching. I even had the opportunity to live in France for a year, where I taught Arabic to French students. Upon my return, I pursued a master’s degree in education, and my joy was immense when I graduated. My dreams grew brighter when I began working as a teacher in private schools and as a freelancer in translation and online education.

But everything changed in an instant when war broke out. The school where I worked was bombed, leaving me jobless. The constant blackouts and lack of reliable internet have destroyed my ability to work online. We have no stability or safety. My family and I are constantly fleeing from place to place, trying to escape death.

Can you imagine the heartbreak and despair of watching everything you worked so hard for crumble? I went from being a determined, hardworking person to someone who has lost nearly everything.

Yet, I refuse to give up. I am determined to rebuild my life, but I cannot do it alone. I need your help. A donation from you could allow me and my family to escape Gaza and seek safety in Egypt, where I can work again and pursue the dreams I once had.

You can be the light in this overwhelming darkness. Even the smallest contribution can make a profound difference. Every Euro you give is a step toward survival and hope. Please don’t hesitate to help—it means the world to us.

❤️🍉🍉

With heartfelt gratitude,

Rana

  Vetted campaign by @90-ghost

@gaza-evacuation-funds

@palestinegenocide @queerstudiesnatural @90-ghost @el-shab-hussein @northgazaupdates

@apollos-olives @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vakarians-babe @90-ghost @fairuzfan

@sar-soor @fallahifag @humanvoicebox @plomegranate @queerstudiesnatural @commissions4aid-international @international-network @nabulsi @mushroomjar

@palestine @communistchilchuck @northgazaupdates2 @ghost-and-a-half @kyra45 @the-bastard-king @feluka @sayruq

@chososhairbuns @commissions4aid-international @soon-palestine @palestinegenocide @kyra45-helping-others

[pandacherryblossoms]

💗💗Strangers To Lovers With Seungcheol💗💗

Pt.4

Fluff/Smut/about 2k word

| Dom!Seungcheol | Camgirl!Reader | Rough Sex | Oral Fixation | Degradation & Praise | Spitting | Creampie | Face Fucking | Squirting |

18+MDNI

And there he was. Seungcheol. Black hoodie, silver chain glinting against his skin, one hand casually tucked in his pocket while the other held his phone. He was even more handsome in person, his sharp jawline and deep-set eyes making you momentarily forget how to breathe.

His gaze locked onto yours, and a slow smirk played on his face.

“You wanna sit?” You asked.

He tilted his head. “Nah. Let’s take a walk. Unless you’re scared of being alone with me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Please.”

Side by side, you and Seungcheol strolled through the city, the cool night air crackling with anticipation. Talking in real life was easier than you expected—like you’ve done this a thousand times before.

But then, there was the tension. The way Seungcheol’s fingers brushed yours, the way his gaze lingered on your lips when you spoke.

Finally, you stopped at a street corner. He turned to you, tongue swiping over his bottom lip.

“You nervous?”

“No.”

He smirked. “Liar.”

You scoffed, about to argue when he leaned in, voice dropping lower.

“You talk a good game over text, but now you’re quiet. What happened, Cherry?”

Your breath hitched.

Seungcheol chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re cute.”

Then it happened. He leaned in and kissed you passionately.

The kiss is deep, slow, and intoxicating, his lips molding against yours as if he’s memorizing the way you taste. Seungcheol holds your face in his large hands, his thumb stroking your cheek as he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes.

“Come back to my place so we can finally talk,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire.

You nod, still dazed from the way he just kissed you breathless.

The drive is short, but when he leads you inside, your eyes widen. His home is massive—modern and sleek with high ceilings and a breathtaking view of the city lights.

“Damn,” you breathe out, spinning to take it all in.

Seungcheol smirks, tossing his keys on the marble counter. “Like what you see?”

You nod, walking toward the kitchen island where he pours you a glass of wine. You take a slow sip before setting it down, watching as he leans back against the counter, studying you.

“So…” he starts, tilting his head. “What else do you do in your streams”

His eyes darken, and you can already tell where his mind is going. You hum in confirmation. “Well, I do solo shows, roleplay, JOI… pretty much anything my viewers want.”

His jaw clenches slightly. “Tell me more.”

You smirk, sipping your drink, knowing damn well he’s already hard under those sweatpants. “I use toys a lot—dildos, vibrators, wands. Sometimes I ride my pillow on stream just to tease them.” You bite your lip, enjoying how his breathing grows heavier. “Other times, I edge myself until I’m crying for release, but I don’t let myself cum unless they tip enough.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, raking a hand through his hair.

You lean in, eyes locked on him as you whisper, “I love putting on a show—spreading my legs for them, letting them watch as I touch myself, moaning their names like they’re actually fucking me.”

Seungcheol groans, his grip tightening on his glass before he suddenly sets it down. He moves closer, his body caging you against the counter.

“All this talk about your pussy is making me hard,” he murmurs, his voice deep and dripping with hunger. “Now I’m fucking starving.”

Your breath catches as arousal pulses through you. He notices—the way your thighs press together, the way your nipples harden beneath your shirt.

“So wet already, huh?” he teases, brushing his lips over your jaw. “Just from talking about it?”

You nod, whispering, “Yeah.”

“That’s my good girl.”

His mouth crashes against yours, rough and demanding. He lifts you effortlessly onto the counter, hands sliding beneath your shirt as he pushes it up and over your head. His lips trail down your neck, nipping at your skin, before moving lower.

Unclasping your bra, he tosses it aside before cupping your breasts, his thumbs rolling over your stiffening nipples. His tongue replaces his fingers, licking and sucking until you’re arching into his mouth.

“Cheollie,” you moan, gripping his hair.

He smirks against your skin before his hand slides down your stomach, reaching between your legs. His fingers press against your clothed core, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over your clit.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips. “Fuck—”

“You’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs, slipping a hand into your panties. He groans when he feels you. “Dripping for me, baby.”

With no warning, he grips the fabric and rips them clean off, tossing them to the floor.

Your cheeks flush. “Cheol—”

“No need to be shy,” he smirks, licking his lips as he steps back to admire the glistening mess between your thighs. “I already told you—I can be a lot more dominant than you think.”

His hands grip your thighs, spreading you open wider before he leans down and presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your pussy. Your head falls back as a moan spills from your lips.

Then, he starts devouring you.

His tongue flicks over your clit in quick, precise strokes before slowing down, teasing you, stopping every time he feels your thighs begin to tremble.

You whine, panting. “Please, Cheollie—let me cum.”

He chuckles darkly against you. “Not yet, Cherry. I didn’t give you permission.”

Tears prick your eyes as he pulls away, leaving you throbbing. Then, he steps back, peeling off his clothes. Your breath hitches at the sight of him—tan skin, toned muscles, his cock thick and leaking as he strokes himself.

Seungcheol grips your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter before lining himself up. “Ready?”

Before you can answer, he thrusts all the way in, filling you to the hilt in one motion. A loud, broken moan escapes your lips as your nails dig into his shoulders.

He doesn’t start slow. He pounds into you like a man starved, his hand goes to wrap around you throat gripping it as his hips snap against yours.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans. “Taking me so well, baby.”

The pressure builds fast, your body tightening around him. “Cheol—gonna cum—”

His grip on your throat tightens slightly. “Do it. Cum for me.”

With one last thrust, you unravel around him, shaking as you cry out his name. He fucks you through it, his thrusts growing sloppier before he pulls out and lifts you effortlessly into his arms.

You barely register being carried to his bedroom until you feel the plush sheets beneath you.

“On all fours,” he orders.

You obey, body still trembling.

Seungcheol kneels behind you, his fingers sliding inside your dripping cunt, curling against your sweet spot. Your moans are incoherent now, and when he presses against your clit with his thumb, you squirt, soaking his hand and the sheets beneath you.

“Good girl,” he praises, smacking your pussy lightly, making you jolt.

Then, he grips your hips and buries himself inside you again. This time, he fucks you even harder,pulling your hair with one hand as his other grips your waist. He pounds into you relentlessly.

Your arms give out as you cum again, your walls squeezing him tight. A groan rips from his throat as he fills you up, spilling deep inside you.

But he’s not done.

He pulls out, breathing heavily before turning you over. “On your knees,” he commands.

Your legs are shaking, but you obey, sinking onto the floor in front of him. Seungcheol smirks as he leans down, gripping your chin.

“Open.”

You part your lips, and he spits into your mouth. “Swallow.”

You do, sticking out your tongue to show him. His eyes darken. “My good little Cherry.”

He kisses you deeply before pushing his cock past your lips. You grip his thighs for support as he thrusts into your mouth, groaning as your tongue swirls around him.

Moments later, his hips stutter, and with a deep moan, he spills down your throat. You swallow every drop, licking him clean.

Seungcheol smirks, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “My baby, you did good,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your lips.

The room is still heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, your body trembling as he places you onto his bed. Your limbs feel boneless, your breathing uneven as you try to come down from the overwhelming pleasure he just gave you.

But before you can even think about moving, Seungcheol is already there, brushing damp strands of hair away from your face. His touch is softer now, all the dominance from earlier replaced with something warm, something tender.

“You did so well for me, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “So fucking perfect.”

Your eyelids flutter as you hum in response, too exhausted to speak. He chuckles softly, shifting off the bed for a moment. The sudden loss of his warmth makes you whine, but he’s back in an instant, a warm cloth in his hands.

“Shhh, just relax,” he coaxes, carefully cleaning between your legs, his movements slow and delicate. The contrast from how rough he was earlier makes your heart swell.

Once he’s done, he tosses the cloth aside and pulls the blankets over both of you. Strong arms wrap around your waist as he tucks you against his chest, his fingers tracing lazy circles into your skin.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice softer now. “Did I go too hard?”

You shake your head, nuzzling into his neck. “No… it was perfect,” you mumble sleepily. “You’re perfect.”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Damn right I am.”

You giggle, smacking his chest lightly, but he only holds you tighter. His hands never stop moving—rubbing your back, playing with your fingers, making sure you feel safe.

“Sleep, Cherry,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

And with his warmth surrounding you, his steady heartbeat lulling you to sleep, you know you’re in the safest place you could ever be.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

[worldlxvlys]

I need a fan fuck of those texts girly desperately

show me

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: smuttttt, p in v, cream pie, oral (fem receiving), very fluffyyyy

a/n: here’s your soft smut 🤗

based off of these

once chris and i got to my house, we made ourselves comfortable on my couch. when we finished our food, i turned to face chris.

“do you wanna talk about it?” i asked him softly.

“not really, can you just” he paused before continuing, “can you hold me?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly.

my heart broke for him, hearing the pain in his voice. without another word, i opened my arms for him, and he accepted my embrace.

his arms wrapped around my waist as he laid his head on my stomach.

i ran my fingers through his hair, gently twirling the ends around my finger.

“she makes me feel so worthless sometimes” he whispered against me, toying with the hem of my shirt.

“you are not worthless, chris. you mean so much to me, i don’t know what i’d do without you” i spoke softly. my top was slightly cropped, and chris’s face was pressed against my bare skin.

“you’ve poured your heart into this relationship and you’ve received nothing but disrespect and insults in response. you don’t deserve that shit. you deserve to be loved and cared for too” i said as i looked down at him.

“i am loved and cared for” he began “by you”he spoke as he looked up at me.

my brows furrowed slightly at his words.

“you’re always there for me” he whispered into my skin before leaving a light kiss on my stomach.

“chris” i whispered as my heart began to race, my breathing becoming rapid.

“you always make sure that i feel loved” he breathed out against my stomach, the touch of his lips igniting a fire under my skin.

he gave me another kiss, this one slightly higher up as he held eye contact with me.

i swallowed harshly, mind running wild with possibilities of what could happen.

“i want you to feel loved too” he grabbed my waist, lightly rubbing circles into the skin.

“chris, you have a girlfriend. we ca—” “she dumped me” he cut me off.

my eyes widened at that, “chris, you’re obviously upset, i can’t take advantage of you like that. and i’m definitely not gonna be a rebound”

he pulled my hands from his hair and laced them with his.

“ you don’t get it. i’m not upset about her. i mean, i was, at first. but now, i’m realizing that her treating me like shit was what i needed to appreciate the way you treat me. and it shouldn’t have taken all of that for me to realize it. and you’re definitely not a rebound. you have no clue how long i’ve been waiting for this moment. i’m sorry, let me make it up to you”

he brought his face to my jaw, but stopped himself.

his breath tickled my face as the tip of his nose lightly brushed my jaw.

“tell me you want this. tell me this is ok” he whispered to me.

i was so overwhelmed, i could barely concentrate.

i spent years pushing my feelings for chris aside, thinking he would never feel the same way about me.

i had convinced myself that i was being selfish and i forced myself to be happy for him.

i spent so long telling myself that i was fine and that i didn’t like him, that i genuinely believed it.

but if that was the case, then why did this feel so right ?

why was his touch alone driving me crazy ?

why was it taking all of my self control not to push my lips onto his ?

i couldn’t think straight when his lips were just centimeters away from mine.

“please, let me show you how much i love you. it’s the least i could do. i need you to know how much you mean to me”

my eyes closed as i took in the intimacy of the moment. i nodded my head at him, unable to speak the words.

he gently placed his hand under my chin, making me look at him.

“look me in the eyes and say it. i need to hear the words”

i slowly opened my eyes, meeting his intense gaze. “show me, chris. i want you to show me how much you love me”

without another word, his lips crashed against mine in a passionate kiss.

his lips were soft and they moved against mine perfectly.

this kiss was unlike anything i’d ever experienced before.

he kissed me like he was scared i would disappear in front of his eyes, like he didn’t believe it was real.

i pulled away for a second, to gauge his reaction.

his lips chased mine desperately, as though he wouldn’t survive without another kiss.

he pulled me back in for another without hesitation. this one being just as good, if not better, than the first.

he broke away from the kiss for a second. “is it ok if i take this off?” he asked gently tugging on my top.

“only if i get to take off yours” i whispered back.

“go ahead” he spoke. with that, i gently pulled his shirt off and threw it on the ground.

he then pulled mine off, eyes widening when he realized i didn’t have a bra on.

“oh my god” he mumbled to himself, “just when i thought you couldn’t get more beautiful”

his words made me flustered as i hid my face in his neck.

“don’t hide from me, ma. wanna see that pretty face”

he left kisses on my collar bones, trailing down the valley of my breasts. his kisses went down my abdomen and stopped right above my waistline.

“please chris” i moaned out, feeling the ache between my legs grow in anticipation.

he hooked his fingers around the fabric and tugged it down slowly.

i felt goosebumps rise on my legs as the cold air came in contact with the newly exposed skin.

chris left a kiss on my covered clit, making me let out a whine.

he gave me a long kitten lick through the fabric.

“please, chris. no teasing” i didn’t want to wait any longer than i already had.

“wanna take my time with you, baby. didn’t wait this long to rush it” he spoke against me, the vibrations shooting straight to my core.

“all you gotta do is relax, mama. let me take care of you” he spoke as he slid a finger into my panties, collecting the wetness that pooled there.

he took the finger that was covered in my arousal and slid it into his mouth, moaning at the taste.

“hmm, gotta taste more” he spoke as he pulled my underwear down.

as soon as his tongue touched my heat, i was a moaning mess under him.

“love hearing those sounds” he groaned against me, making my hips buck up into his mouth.

he swiped his tongue through my folds slowly and sensually, never breaking eye contact with me.

he watched the way my face contorted with pleasure, flicking his tongue in different ways to see my reaction.

he brought me closer and closer to my orgasm with just his tongue, before stopping.

before i could complain, he was pulling his sweatpants and boxers down.

“want you to finish with me inside of you” he spoke as he grabbed my hand.

he guided my hand toward his dick, looking at me with lust-blown pupils as i pumped him a few times.

“is this okay? are you good?” he asked.

“yes, please chris. need you so bad” i moaned.

he lined himself up and slowly pushed his hips into mine.

his face scrunched up as he tried to control himself, wanting to go slow.

he let out a slight whimper, making me clench around him at the sound.

“f-fuck, not gonna last if you do that again” he spoke as he willed himself to stay still.

“you can move” i spoke once i adjusted to his size.

he slowly began to move, letting out a shaky breath as my walls hugged him tightly, relentlessly squeezing him.

“holy shit, you’re so tight. don’t think i’m gonna last ma” he groaned out as his hands clung onto my waist like his life depended on it.

“chris, chris, oh my goddd. feels so good” i moaned out underneath him.

he dropped his forehead to rest against mine, cradling my jaw in his hand.

“you’re so” he cut himself off with deep groan “you mean so fucking much to me”

“love having you this close to me” i moaned out.

he began to thrust deeper inside of me, making me moan with every thrust.

i wrapped my legs around him, pushing him even closer to me.

“don’t know what i did to deserve you” he started, “but i’m never letting you go”

i squeezed his biceps as his dick twitched inside of me, signaling that he was close.

“i’m so close, chris” i cried out, feeling my orgasm creeping up on me.

“ i’m gonna wait, wanna cum with you” he spoke.

he brought one hand to my nipple, pinching and rolling the bud between his fingers.

“chris! i’m cumming!” i yelled out as my muscles began to tense.

“fuck, me too” he groaned out.

we both released together as our pleasure mixed together inside of me.

“oh my god” he breathed out, burying his face into my neck.

“you ok?” i asked as i drew little shapes into his skin.

“never better” he spoke as he moved his head back to look at me, smiling down.

“what about you? are you ok? did i hurt you?” he asked, looking my body up and down.

“no” i smiled lightly at him.

we both stared at each other for a while, silently processing what just happened.

after a little bit, i broke the silence.

“do you regret it?” i asked, not being able to get a good read on what he was feeling for once.

“of course not. i meant every word i said, i’d never lie to you. do you ?”

“no, baby. i’m pretty sure i’ve been in love with you for years, if it wasn’t obvious. i’ve wanted this for as long as i can remember” i said.

his face broke out into a grin at that.

“well that’s a relief” he spoke. “here, lemme help you to the bathroom”

he scooped me up from my spot on the couch, bringing me to the bathroom.

“you pee, i’ll run the water” he said, moving towards the tub.

once i did my business, he helped me into the tub and washed me off.

he helped me apply my favorite lotion and get into my robe.

after i was clean and dressed, he helped me to my room, and we got comfortable under the blankets.

the sound of his heartbeat and his deep breaths quickly lulled me to sleep.

“from now on, you’re the only person i’ll ever chose” was the last thing i heard before i fell into a deep slumber.

——————

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sturnsdior @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @rheaakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @sturns-posts @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn

[syoounn]

•A little scenario saying they are handsome (part 2)

•Characters: Fyodor, Nikolai, Poe

(Part 1)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Fyodor

You were quietly staring and admiring Fyodor's appearance as he made eye contact with you as it surprise you.

"Is something the matter?" He lifts an eyebrow, taking off his coat and putting it onto the coat peg. "You're gazing at me quite odd."

"Nothing.." you said shyly.

As usual, Fyodor sees through you rather easily. He approaches you with light, silent steps and cups your face in his hands, scrutinizing you intently with those violet eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Mhm.. you're just handsome.."

He huffs out a sound that's a near to a laugh, a rare sight. His eyes, however, remain calm and serious as ever, and they seem to be inspecting you as if you were a book. Slowly, Fyodor leans forward until the tips of your noses are nearly touching, and his voice is a mere whisper when he speaks again. "What are you up to, my dear?"

"Im not up to anything..." you said.

His eyes glint with amusement, and he allows himself a mischievous smirk. Fyodor's thumb gently caresses your cheekbone, and he speaks in a low voice. "I know you better than you know yourself, my dear. That's not very convincing, is it?"

As if wanting to test his own theory, Fyodor's left hand now sneaks around your neck until his fingertips skim over your skin. A shiver makes its way down your spine at the gesture, the faintest of touches, yet full of intention. He chuckles. "Ah. See? I know you are far better. Your body betrays you, my love."

"And now you blush." His eyes gleam in triumph. Fyodor's thumb brushes over your cheek again before he brings his face close to your ear, and his breath is hot on your skin. "You know I always see through you, no matter how elaborate your schemes. After all, you are mine."

It's so endearing how you are trying to hold on to your secret. Without warning, he suddenly pushes you against the nearest wall, the hand around you neck keeping you caged in place as he presses his body against yours, and his eyes glint with a mixture of teasing and hunger.

You'll have to pray for yourself tonight...

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Nikolai

“Guess what I did today~?” He exclaims excitedly.

"Dangerous stuff..?" you said.

“Of course not, my love!”

He pouts, and you can hear him being sarcastic about this as he hugs you. He rests his head on top of yours. He gives you a quick kiss on the top of your head, and he rests his chin on your head.

“I was just doing simple work for Dostoevsky…”

“A boring mission at that - I just had to disguise myself as another man’s secretary! They were so fooled, too… they thought I was this boring person, and not the great Nikolai!” He says proudly before giving you a kiss on the cheek. He spins you around to kiss your lips properly.

"Mhm... The great Nikolai is handsome after all.."

He grins as he kisses you and lifts you up in his arms. He is quite strong, so doing this isn’t a problem for him, even if you are quite tall as well. He holds you up in his arms with a gleeful look on his face.

“You think so, dove?”

He hums, He’s always been overly affectionate. He’s like a puppy if a puppy was a psychotic mass murderer.

“But, if you really think I’m handsome…”

He gently rests you against the counter, standing between your legs, holding your waist as he smiles down at you.

“How about I show you just how handsome I am~?”

He rests his hands on your hips, his hands slowly tracing circles on your body.

“A little performance, perhaps?”

He leans in and whispers into your ear, his mouth so close to your skin that you can see a sly, mischievous grin on his face.

"Performance..?" you said, confused.

“Tada! As my dove, you get a very, very special performance! One that no one has ever seen before…”

He lifts up your chin and captures your lips in a kiss. He kisses you with a feverish passion, one that makes you not question how someone as strange as him had been able to pull you.

He is always very gentle with you, even if he can be very… cruel when it comes to his other activities. But you just hope you'll enjoy his performance tonight.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Poe

Poe was currently working on the noble as you looked at him with curiosity while Karl was laid down on your lap sleeping soundly.

"Could you come closer..?" you said.

Upon being asked to come closer, Poe set down his pen and got up from the desk, walking over to you and stopping beside you, looking down at your sitting form.

“Is there anything you need, darling?” he asked a small smile across his face, his attention on you now and not on his work.

You lift up his bangs as you smile

"You're very handsome,"

He flushed a little upon hearing these words and smiles, and you called him handsome. Soon, a small embarrassed giggle left past his lips as his bangs were held up by you, revealing more of his face.

“Thank you- you’re very pretty too..” *he muttered out, leaning down a bit as to not pull your hand away as you held his bangs up with your other hand free hand to do as you pleased with it, his face was flushing a little.

Poe blushed a bit upon having his bangs lifted by you. You can see his flustered face.. it was cute.

“You are beyond beautiful. Perhaps you should model for me sometime?”

"Model?.." you said, confused.

Poe nodded, a warm smile on his face.

“Yes! To model, maybe for a book cover, for example, or to help me with some art references, I’m sure you would look amazing in whatever you did.”

Poe took a seat next to you and gently held your cheek in his hand. His gaze was filled with an immense amount of love as he smiled, gently rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

“Would you like to model for me, my love?”

That took you off guard, making you blush as you nodded shyly.

Poe practically grinned at your agreement, gently pulling your face closer as he kissed your forehead before speaking again, his tone softer.

“Do you perhaps have something in mind you would like to model? Like a dress, or something else?”

Both of you spent time discussing it..as it was the nicest and sweetest day you've had.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━