#i couldn't resist drawing her again

[hoodedcrowart]

Isadora is so pretty.

[milkbreadtoast]

caramel arrow... 🏹🖤🥹🫰

[transgenderfivepebbles]

Pietà

[yurki-posts]

Merry Christmas everyone :]

[fayes-fics]

Eden

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Seeing you with other Bridgerton offspring has an interesting effect on your new husband...

I couldn't resist using a Season 3 gif cos hello.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, breeding kink, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, ie filthy babymaking. Also, the smut is bookended by fluff; yeah, that probably needs a warning, lol.

Word Count: 4.2k

Authors Note: This is a very belated request fill for @victoriaholland (HERE) and Anon (HERE) about Benedict with a touch of baby fever. I decided to combine the asks as I saw a way to weave them together. Sorry for the delay, but well at least babymaking seems appropriate for spring hehe. Thank you to @colettebronte for being an awesome beta, as always. Err, Enjoy! <3

Daphne’s latest child is beautiful; you delight in his joy as he bounces on your lap, learning the strength of his sweetly chubby legs, little fists wrapped tight around your fingers. 

Looking up, you catch your husband's eye from afar, his stare intense across the gardens of Bridgerton House as you sit under a tented shelter upon a picnic blanket. The rest of the family are scattered around, playing games or chatting, but you are quite content minding the little one while his nanny takes a few moments to eat lunch.

“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquire as Benedict draws closer. 

“Yes… I….” He seems a little flustered. 

“Are you sure?” 

You pull a funny face for the infant, who breaks out into the most adorable infectious giggles that has you grinning from ear to ear and hugging him into your body, swaying with him. 

“Are you alright? Minding the child?” He checks, his voice a touch odd.

“Oh yes. We are more than happy, are we not, my little prince?” You talk in a vaguely silly baby-talk voice, addressing the child in your arms as much as Benedict. 

Again, the child peals with delighted noises and spit bubbles enthusiastically, looking up at Benedict eagerly as much as you do.

“Well, that is wonderful news,” he blusters, and you could swear he is out of sorts, breathless almost. “I shall… leave you to it,” he adds, giving you a bow and then withdrawing as the little one wiggles out of your arms.

“Ignore your Uncle Benedict; he is being a silly billy,” you whisper conspiratorially once the man in question is out of earshot.

The response is babbled nonsense as the child bashes one wooden brick against another.

“I quite agree,” you state sagely before breaking into a goofy grin.

——

“Please?” Hyacinth wheedles.

“No, Hy,” you sigh without even looking up.

“Ugh, you are no fun!” she scowls, crossing her arms defiantly.

“What is all this?” Anthony clips as he strides into the drawing room, Benedict on his heels, as Hyacinth flounces dramatically across the room. 

“Your little sister is angry at me because I will not allow her to drink the punch; it has brandy in it,” you explain cooly.

“Quite right, too!” Anthony chimes as Hyacinth rolls her eyes.

“Listen to y/n, Hyacinth, and do as she says,” Anthony lectures, and you feel grateful for his support, effectively neutering her rebellion. “Despite a temporary lapse of judgment when choosing a spouse, she is otherwise one of the most sensible people in this family.”

“Hey…!” Benedict protests.

“Please…” Anthony withers, twisting towards him. “Brother, if there is one thing us Bridgerton men know how to do, ‘tis to marry a woman entirely too good for us. And well done on that, by the way.”

You smirk at Anthony’s hilarious way of putting his brother - your husband - in his place, catching Kate’s eye with a wink as she enters the room carrying her baby. 

“Y/n, come and meet the future Viscount; he’s awake at last,” she calls to you. 

You are immediately on your feet and grinning, taking the tiny bundle from her arms and cooing at the sweet little boy. The baby opens his enormous brown eyes and observes you for a second before breaking into a one-toothed grin and happily waving his fists at you.

“Oh, he really likes you!” Kate enthuses, delighted.

“As I do you, little one,” you smile, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

You look up to see Benedict with that same look on his face as earlier. A tempest, almost an energy over his being. It’s almost as if he is… aroused?! Which is most odd.

As you hand the baby back to Kate, giving him one final kiss, Benedict is suddenly by your side. Announcing to the family that there has been a change of plan and, regrettably, you will not be able to stay for dinner, his arm an insistent tug around your waist.

——

“Why did we not stay for family dinner as originally planned, my love?” 

Your question is soft, only just audible over the noise of the carriage as you trundle over the cobbled streets of Mayfair a few minutes later. 

“I decided that we should perhaps dine at ours this evening…” his voice adopting that deeper edge which always causes butterflies in your tummy. His hand lands on your knee, a heavy weight that feels portentous. He slides closer on the bench seat.

“Why might that be?” your ask turns breathy, entirely without you meaning it to.

“I want to be alone with you,” he murmurs, unmistakably pitched to arouse. 

The carriage seems to notch up a few degrees as the rocking motion presses your side rhythmically into his. The sound of the wheels and hooves is so loud. He twists to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pulls your back against his flank. 

“All day today, I have watched you,” he rumbles, hand warming the skin around your clavicle, fingertip brushing in circles. “You are so very good with children, darling. Seeing you so naturally with the babies and how you handled Hyacinth… you would be the perfect mother.”

You blush a little at his praise. “Thank you, my love. I would like children one day. Your children. Imagine a child with your eyes. They would be quite the most beautiful,” you sigh wistfully, leaning back into him, his hand feeling heavier on your skin.

Benedict chuckles modestly. “And what of your beauty? Would a child version of you not be the most fetching?”

You giggle and turn your head sideways to nuzzle against his jaw. “I think we would indeed make beautiful babies together, Benedict.”

“I agree,” his voice a tempting lilt, fingers skating downwards over the swell of your breast now, slipping inside the fabric and making you gasp as he tweaks your nipple. “And I think we should start as soon as we get home.”

“Did seeing me with babies suddenly make you want your own, Mr Bridgerton?” Your hand flexes on his knee as he toys with your breast.

“Oh yes darling, it made me want to take you right there…” he asserts, finally admitting those looks he gave you were indeed pure arousal.

You reach up and run your hand into his hair, fingers flexing on his warm scalp as you pull his face to yours.  “And suddenly, it appears I am no longer hungry for dinner…” you whisper flirtatiously, your cupid's bow brushing his stubbled upper lip.

He groans, and his passionate kiss is plundering, a tingle running over your limbs, just as your carriage comes to a shuddering stop outside your townhome. 

Uncaring of the neighbourhood or any prying eyes, Benedict sweeps you out of the carriage in his arms, carrying you bridal style over the pavement and through your front door.

“My wife and I are not to be disturbed,” he announces crisply and loudly to the staff as you enter the hallway.

Leaving no room for doubt about his plans by pulling you into a searing kiss for all to see before ascending the stairs rapidly. He practically growls as he kicks open the door to your master bedroom door and slams it shut again with his foot. 

“Benedict…” you stammer, heart pounding at how overwrought he is. 

You have never seen him like this. Commanding, crackling with an energy that has your body simmering. He is usually so sweet, affable, and kind. Every time you have been intimate since your wedding night a few weeks ago, he has been a complete gentleman: loving and so very tender. The grip he has had on you tonight feels different. This is something primal—like a switch has been flipped at a basal level in his being.

He places you down onto your feet before the roaring fire, his face intense.

“Wife…” The way he says it makes you feel a flush creep over your skin.

“Husband…” you respond in kind, belly fluttering with excitement.

“Take off your dress,” he orders, his dilated pupils shining in the firelight.

This is new. Usually, he is the one to remove it slowly and softly from your body. 

“I cannot, the buttons…” you confess, signalling behind you. You would need your ladies' maid to unhook them from between your shoulder blades.  

He moves closer, seeming so much taller; his ragged breaths dance in the tendrils of your hair as he reaches around behind your shoulders. With a rough tug that makes you startle, he tears the fabric asunder, the sound of tiny pearl buttons skittering across the polished wooden floor behind you as you gasp in surprise.

“There…” he smirks dangerously, “problem resolved.”

You are speechless as he withdraws a pace, looking at you expectantly. You follow his order, a slight quake in your hands as you push the frayed dress down your body, still a little shocked by his strength. Then you reach for the crisscross lacing of your stays, feeling the weight of his stare as each loop relents, his eyes hungry, his body heaving with deep breaths his fitted jacket taut with each inhale. You peel the item away, leaving just your thin white cotton chemise.

“Rip it too,” you plead before you realise it, enthralled by this assertive demeanour.

With a noise in the back of his throat, he takes a pace forward again, and you stare up at him, enchanted. He grasps the fabric above your breasts and then rips it loudly from your chest all the way to your ankles, the sound echoing up the walls. Again, his strength has your knees weak. As the torn pieces flutter from your body, you want to bathe in the hungry sound he makes as he realises you are clad only in white knee-high silk stockings, no underwear to be seen, the warmth from the fireplace swirling around your intimate area. 

As you stand almost naked before your imposing husband, him still fully dressed, there is a knot low in your gut. But it’s not fear; it’s something else entirely—desire. Trembling, breathless and wanting. An elemental wish to be thoroughly taken.

He steps forward, eyes glittering, and his fingers plough roughly between your legs, making you gasp.

“Eden,” he proclaims, his fingers snagging over your swollen pearl of a clit with almost rough strokes, the callous where he holds his paintbrush abrading your folds. “A wonderful, lush, wet garden. Just waiting to be planted.”  His words are hypnotic and low, questing fingers being coated with a dewiness that is entirely of his making.

“Please…” you whimper, squirming on his touch, captivated by this version of your husband, wanting to submit to him, a burning need low in your belly. His fingers slide faster, making a lewd, wet noise. 

“Are you going to let me?” Benedict croons. “Plant my seed inside you?”

Until now, he has always been careful to complete outside your body. A slightly bereft feeling every time - the wonderful moment cut short as he leaves you suddenly empty, a warm splash upon your thighs, tummy or spine. The idea he will stay inside you is alluring in a way you don’t fully comprehend.

“Yes, please, husband,” your nipples puckering almost painfully against the wool of his lapels as he crowds into you. 

“Good. Get on that bed right now,” Benedict orders roughly, pointing at your four-poster bed as he tugs off his jacket.

You scramble to obey. Feeling under a spell. Being naked save your stockings feels illicit as you lay back into the soft pillows and watch as he undresses, staring you down the whole time. 

You slide a hand between your legs instinctively as more of his toned body is revealed. He growls at the sight, you biting your lip and watching him, his torso bare, his trousers clinging to his shapely legs, to his swollen cock. He bends to remove his shoes, and the sight of his broad shoulders flexing is enough to make you moan. As he stands back up and hooks his elegant fingers around the trouser buttons, a smug look on his handsome face that he is doing this to you.

“Husband…” you call out to him, writhing on your fingers shamelessly now, one hand shooting up to brace your movements against the headboard, flushing warm down to your toes.

With a few dextrous flicks, the buttons relent, and his trousers drop to the floor. His naked body is always a delicious sight, but tonight feels more, every sense heightened, moaning again as he takes a step towards you, thigh muscles flexing, his cock standing proud to attention.

Again, a soft plea falls from your lips, your eyes raking every plain of his tempting form, feeling yourself swell under your fingertips.

“Not yet,” he clucks, the arrogance somehow more beguiling as you bite your lip. “I think I want to watch you come, my darling. All by yourself. I hear female pleasure can aid with conception after all.”

“Will you not touch me?” you petition, reaching your other hand imploringly towards him.

“No darling, I shall watch,” his lopsided grin deadly. 

He wraps a strong fist around his own cock, pumping slowly, a bead of moisture gathering at his tip, glistening in the candlelight as he does. 

“Now, use both hands, please. Place your fingers inside yourself,” Benedict instructs as you blindly follow, a languid buzz in your brain—you would do anything he told you to right now.

Planting your feet squarely on the bed, you drag your ankles up higher towards your bottom, letting your legs fall open wider to give him a better view as your other hand slides down. You plunge two fingers into yourself, your hips canting off the mattress with a staccato breath at the sensation of yourself, so hot and tight.

“That's right,” he endorses, a leisurely movement of his hand up and down his cock as he watches you from a few feet away. “‘Feel yourself, darling. Tis paradise, is it not?” that trademark rumbling voice skittering over your skin, goosebumps raising down your arms just at the tone. 

“Come closer,” you appeal breathily, wanting to smell him, feel his heat, his flesh—anything.

He shakes his head, smirking wider as his refusal spurs you on, desperate to come. Mewling as your fingers speed up, one circling your clit, the others buried as far as you can, wishing instead it were his long, graceful fingers reaching places you are unable. Watching him squeeze his own cock hurtles you fast, already aroused from the moment he slid a hand into your dress in the carriage. 

Unable to fight the tide in your body, you screw your eyes shut and call out his name as your pussy starts to convulse around your own fingers, toes curling into the sheet, your muscles all going stiff, your hips again raised as you feel the tide break. A gush of wetness runs down your palm and your bottom cheeks as your mind floats away. Distantly, you can hear him speaking, but it’s fuzzy as you flop back down, sated, your legs going flat, too shaky to balance.

You startle as a warm hand circles the wrist of your fingers still inside yourself, bringing you abruptly back into the room. Benedict looms over you, his chest heaving, that power still there.

“What was that?” your query drowsy, lips dry.

He chuckles richly. “I said that was spectacular,” he repeats, bemused. “But also that I want you to paint your nipples with your arousal, my love, for me,” he commands, tugging your hand so your fingers slide out of yourself.

You do as bidden, still floating down from the high, smearing your own warm juices onto your puffed areolas.

“Perfect..” he intones.

In one swift, athletic move, he mounts the bed. You cry out as his warm mouth encloses your left nipple, groaning lewdly as he licks you clean of your arousal, his tongue a heavy, warm, wet weight curling around your sensitive bud, his lips tugging gently, reawakening those synapses only just recovering from your orgasm. 

“Why do you always taste like heaven?” his dusky question is rhetorical, his breath gusting over your sternum as he swaps to your other breast to meter out the same treatment. He has you moving under him again as he settles his body over you more firmly, your hips tilting up to feel his hard cock graze your inner thigh. “I wonder if you will still taste like heaven when you are heavy with my child?” he hums thoughtfully as he teases your nipple with the tip of his nose, one hand cupping your empty belly. “I dare say even moreso, ripe like a vine, bearing fruit…” That sonorous voice teases over your skin as he moves slowly upwards to nuzzle your neck. “My fruit….” he adds, possessive as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, so loud now right by your ear.

His hands wind around your thighs as he shuffles position so he is kneeling between your legs, his ropey thighs spread wide under yours…

“Are you ready for that, my love?” he pauses until you nod almost imperceptibly; you squeak as he suddenly hauls you down the bed, hips onto his lap, your pelvis now higher than your head upon the sheets. Your stockings unfurling down your legs where he quickly plucks at the ribbons holding them aloft.

“Good, because I am more than ready for you,” it almost sounds like a warning.

Then, with a solid thrust, he spears into your body, the invasion toe-curling, your fingers grasping his muscular forearms that are clamped around your waist. It is a primal position, and he begins to thrust with no mercy, his cock feeling huge and heavy, a strong weight that drags heavily over your walls as your pussy clings to him. Your eyes flutter closed as you whimper his name, powerless to do anything but take his thrusts, draped across his lap as you are.

“Look at me,” he demands raggedly. And you do, his handsome face contorted with effort as he slams into you, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow. “Look at me while I fuck a baby into you, wife.”

He’s never spoken to you like this before, clipped, harsh. It seems appropriate that he would be almost desperate in an act so elemental, so of the earth—to create life. Stoking a fire deep in your core that is a clarion call for him, a frisson running over your skin at the idea you are being impregnated. Bred.

You know neither of you will last long with this almost frenzied coupling, the tendrils of your arousal already swirling so soon after your last, his near-brutish handling precisely what you need, your swollen pearl slammed into his flat abdomen with every stroke he takes. The sheets roll under your shoulder blades as he keeps the same position, your hips high, a mounting that you cannot and do not want to escape, knowing he is leaving fingertip bruises around the dip of your waist, marks you will carry secretly with pride just for him.

You moan his name, so close again to that ephemeral bliss, thrashing your head from side to side as if willing the pleasure to break and wash over you.

“Come on, come for me, milk me, darling. Take what you need, take my seed,” his voice a deep wrecked purr, the lines of his body tense, craving release as much as you.

That command is what breaks the dam for you, an almost violent ricochet fanning out from where you clench around him, his cries muffled behind the rushing noise in your ears, every part of you convulsing in a pleasurable wave. And then, in a floating haze, for the very first time, you feel your husband come inside you, a warm bloom that coats your walls. It's an intoxicating feeling; you never want him to come anywhere else ever again.

“That's it, well done, my love,” he croons, eyes still shut as he shudders with little aftershocks, not leaving your body—as if he wants to stay inside you always.

——

As the embers in the fireplace glow white, you lay in post-coital bliss, bodies dewy from exertion. Benedict rests his head upon your stomach as you card your fingers leisurely through his hair.

“Do you believe we may have made a baby, darling?” he hums, pressing his ear to your belly button as if listening for a heartbeat.

“I am certain of it, husband; you were so very thorough with your attentions,” you assure as he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I hope our baby has your face,” you opine.

“Even if it is a girl?!”

“Thou art as pretty as thou art handsome, Mr Bridgerton,” you quip.

He laughs, carefree, crawling behind you and pulling you into a spooned embrace. “Be careful with such provocation, wife; I may not be done with you after all,” he jests idly. “I, on the other hand, hope our child looks like you, even if it is a boy.” he posits, crowding into your back, his lips warm on the shell of your ear.

“Why?” you laugh, frowning, twisting to look back at him.

“So that I may love them as much as I do you,” he breezes nonchalantly as if what he says is not the sweetest thing you can imagine, causing a tart, sudden spike of want through your body, even as you lay sated.

“Be careful, husband,” you volley back, coquettish. “Or I may not yet be done with you.”

There is a sharp, approving intake of breath, and his hand slides low from your belly into the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“Is that a promise” he rumbles, your gasp loud as his fingers expertly drag against your clit.

“It is whatever you want. Just do not stop,” you rush out, your hand curling around his bicep, feeling a rigid mass slide hot against your bottom. “Again, husband,” you appeal breathily. “Impregnate me again.”

“With pleasure, wife,” he growls, surging into your body with a force that again steals the very breath from your lungs.

The pinkish light dawn is streaking over the ceiling above when you both finally succumb to sleep after many more vigorous attempts at babymaking. The last one, perhaps the most desperate, you pinned against the headboard, him fucking into you so hard from behind that a jagged crack appears, spidering up the wall from where the bedframe slammed into it. A flaw which he steadfastly refuses to get fixed, claiming it to be the most profound art—a souvenir and ode to a momentous night.

——

9 months later

Benedict’s lips mash against your sweaty brow as he keeps lauding you with praise, excitement and pride evident in his every word. You flop back onto the bed, exhaustion deep in your bones, your body turned inside out, hurting in a way you have never known.

But it was all worth it.

What feels like only moments later, in your shattered, addled state, the doctor and nurses depart. Your husband perches on the bed next to you, his face a picture of wonderment. Holding not just one but two bundles of joy in the crooks of his arms. One girl, one boy—fraternal twins.

“My love, we have created the most beautiful creatures on all of this earth,” he attests partisanly, his voice profound with emotion, his eyes pinging from one swaddled face to the other as they sleep soundly.

You shoot him a watery but ironic smile. “I suppose, dear husband, that is what happens when you spend a whole night impregnating me. You succeed twice over.”

His brow raises pointedly, his tongue shooting out to pass over his bottom lip. “Are you suggesting next time around, wife, we keep going for three days straight? So that I may have a brood of eight by the time we are done?” Deploying his bedroom voice that he knows full well makes your knees weak.

“Do not say such things in front of the children!” you chide, swatting his knee where it touches your thigh. “And no, I am not carrying six of your progeny at once; that is simply preposterous!”

“Four?” he petitions with a wink.

You roll your eyes affectionately, settling back into the mound of pillows. “A maximum of two at a time is my final offer, Benedict Bridgerton,” you respond drolly.

“Entirely reasonable,” he chuckles contentedly, dropping a kiss onto each of their foreheads before handing both to you so delicately, as if they are the most precious bundles in the world. 

Which to you both, they are.

Join my taglist HERE

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @notanotheruniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[umulata]

Cheeky Daniel based on lovely @hummingbee-o0o 's Picking Lint off the Sofa, which I love dearly. But then again I love everything she writes so eh. Go read her fics if you feel like gifting yourself some unmatched witty writing and feels!!

Oh and a lil sketchy extra because I couldn't resist drawing Armand's outfit as well

[inkedinshadows]

Unraveling Truths

This is a bonus scene for my miniseries "A Helping Hand". You can read part 1 of 3 here. I know I wrote it in August, but I got a few requests for more so here we are.

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: Azriel finally explains to his mate what the wingspan business is all about.

Warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), written in 3rd POV (matching the rest of the series)

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: I love time zones because it’s 2am here but it’s still the 16th in the US so I’m technically not late :) This fic is just another proof that I can't write drabbles lol. Anyway, hank you @azrielsshadows42 for the inspo 🫶🏻 and thank you @azrielappreciationweek it was so much fun writing for this event 💙💙

“You still haven't told me.”

She watched him from his bed, the sight still so new that Azriel's heartbeat quickened each time he saw it.

For the past week, she had spent every night with him, usually in his room. Yet walking in to find her reading a book while she waited for him was something he was still getting used to. And something he would never take for granted.

Azriel sat on the edge of the bed, leaning closer to brush a kiss to her temple as she set the book down. “Told you what, beautiful?”

The corner of his lips curled up at the small blush that colored her cheeks, even after a week of hearing that nickname. He was never going to stop using it.

He began to take off his boots, holding his breath as she knelt behind him and unfastened the latches of his shirt. Her fingers brushed the base of his wings, and he had to muster all his self-control to keep his body from reacting.

“About wingspan,” she replied casually. “You still haven't explained it.”

He froze, sitting a bit straighter. “Why do you want to know?”

She undid the last latch, and though the shirt now hung loosely around his torso, he made no move to remove it.

“Because I want to know all about you.” She moved to sit beside him, seemingly unaware of his slight change in demeanor. “And because you said you'd explain, but you still haven't.”

Azriel swallowed thickly. He'd been happy to hold her in his arms every night, knowing she'd be the first thing he saw in the morning. His hands had never wandered too freely over her body. He wanted to take things slow with her, not only to respect the trauma she had endured, but also because she wasn't just another girl. She was his mate, and he'd be damned if he ruined things by rushing them.

But he couldn't deny he had thought about how she would feel. How she would taste. How she would look while he pleasured her.

Her question about wingspan certainly didn’t help.

And if she was bringing it up again after a week, her curiosity wasn’t likely to fade anytime soon.

“Alright,” he finally said, and she rewarded him with that beautiful smile of hers—the one that never failed to make his heart skip a beat. “Rumor has it that the span of an Illyrian’s wings reflects the size of… certain body parts.”

She frowned, a small crease appearing on her brow. He resisted the urge to smooth it away with his thumb.

“What body parts?” she asked, her gaze wandering up and down his body as if she could see the answer somewhere.

He was glad she wasn’t looking at his face when he replied, “Intimate body parts, Y/N.”

Her eyes shot up to meet his, wide with surprise and shock. A faint blush colored her cheeks as she looked down again. Straight at his crotch.

Azriel had to draw on five hundred years of composure to keep himself from shifting—and, more importantly, from hardening under her gaze. She’s just surprised, he told himself. That’s why she’s looking. Nothing more.

When she met his eyes again, her voice was quiet, as though she was too shy to ask but couldn’t help herself.

“And, uh…” She paused, clearing her throat before finishing. “Are those just rumors?”

The words slipped out before he could think. “No. It’s true.”

She studied him for a moment, and he feared he’d said too much and made her uncomfortable. But before he could apologize, she spoke again.

“Does Cassian really have the largest wingspan?”

He couldn’t stop the smirk that spread across his lips. “He likes to brag about it, but no, he doesn’t.” And though he knew he probably shouldn’t, he added, “I do.”

Her eyes widened, dropping to his crotch again. This time, his body reacted before he could stop it, and he felt himself beginning to harden in his pants. Her cheeks flushed an ever deeper shade of red.

“Hey, it's alright,” he murmured, tilting her chin up so she would look at him. “I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

To his surprise, she gave him a soft smile. “You didn't. I asked. It's just…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked away for a moment before returning her focus to him.

“I just don't have much experience,” she whispered.

Azriel needed to change the topic immediately before his mind began running wild, thinking of all the things he could show her, all the sensations he could make her feel, all the possibilities. He reeled in his thoughts.

Sliding an arm around her waist, he pulled her closer. “It's alright,” he repeated, pressing another kiss to her temple. “We don't have to do anything. I don't want you to feel pressured.”

“But what if…” She hesitated, but as she bit her lip, she placed her hand on his leg, just above his knee but close enough for Azriel to be acutely aware of every small movement of her fingers. He was caught in a suspended moment, where everything hinged on her next words.

“What if I want to do something?”

His heart pounded in his chest. “You… want to?”

Despite the blush still coloring her cheeks, she held his gaze and nodded, a shy smile playing on her lips. He struggled not to kiss her right then and there and let his hands explore every inch of her body.

“Tell me what you want, beautiful,” he said instead, keeping his voice quiet and steady. “Anything you want, you can have it.”

She looked down, her gaze landing on the erection he could no longer hide. “I want to help you with that,” she murmured, her hand sliding up to his thigh and squeezing gently.

Azriel sucked in a breath. Unable to stop himself, he shifted, spreading his legs slightly to bring her hand closer to where he wanted it.

“Are you sure?” he asked. He needed her, desperately, but he didn’t want her to feel obligated.

Instead of answering, she stepped off the bed. Her eyes never left his as she moved between his parted legs, her fingers reaching for his shirt. He didn't stop her as she tugged it off, revealing his tanned chest.

“I'm sure, Az,” she whispered, her finger tracing the swirling lines of his tattoos. She'd done it many times before, but now it felt more intimate, more intentional. “Let me do this for you.”

He couldn't hold back any longer. Not when she looked at him with rosy cheeks and eyes full of desire. They both wanted this, and he wasn’t going to turn her down.

Cupping her face in his hands, Azriel pulled her in for a kiss. As their lips met, the bond between them came to life, glowing bright and golden in his chest and filling him with warmth that had nothing to do with the heat of his growing arousal.

“Go on, then,” he murmured against her lips when he finally found the will to break the kiss. “You can do whatever you like.”

She smiled, and under Azriel's attentive gaze, she knelt between his legs. From where he sat, the neckline of her nightgown left little to the imagination. He swallowed, his breath catching as she began unbuttoning his pants. He lifted his hips just enough for her to slide them down his legs, along with his underwear, leaving him bare before her. Her eyes widened slightly as the took him in.

“You weren't lying about it,” she murmured, glancing up at him. “I didn't expect you to be… this big.”

His smirk turned smug. “You certainly know how to flatter a male's ego.”

She chuckled, averting her gaze for only a moment before reaching out. Her hand wrapped around his aching cock, making him gasp audibly. At the sound, a smile of delight appeared on her face, and she began to stroke him slowly, her movements gentle and exploratory.

His eyes locked with hers, and, encouraged by the connection, she grew bolder. Her grip tightened slightly, and he instinctively bucked his hips forward. Still, he held back as much as he could, letting her set the pace she was most comfortable with. But she leaned closer, her eyes searching his for permission, a silent question lingering in them.

Azriel brushed her cheek, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. “Whatever you like,” he repeated in a whisper.

She nodded, and as his hand slipped away, she leaned in, her tongue flicking out to run along his cock before her lips closed around his tip. He sucked in a breath, resisting the urge to push himself deeper into her mouth and holding his body still. The only sign of his impatience was the faint rustle of his wings behind him.

She continued to stroke him slowly, teasing him with gentle squeezes and soft touches, her tongue swirling around his head until precum leaked out. But with each of his sighs and the small, involuntary twitches of his hips, her confidence grew. She took him a few inches deeper, hesitating briefly sliding before her lips farther down his cock, stretching her jaw to fit as much of him as she could.

“Fuck…” he groaned, the word escaping his lips as she hollowed her cheeks. Her mouth was warm, wet and impossibly tight, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to thrust into her. Instead, he tangled his fingers in her hair—not to guide her, but to ground himself, needing the connection, needing to feel her any way he could.

His little outburst seemed to wash away the last traces of her shyness. She began to bob her head, still using her hand to cover what her mouth couldn’t take, her tongue swirling around him with ease. Her eyes stayed locked on his, and Cauldron boil him, Azriel could have come right then.

His mate was on her knees before him, pleasuring him in a way he had never dared to dream of. Over the last week, he'd fantasized about it once or twice, but he’d assumed she wasn’t ready to take that step and relished the simple intimacy of a gentle, teasing touch while cuddling.

But here she was, her boldness lighting a fire inside him.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, a moan spilling from his lips.

She blushed again but only moved faster, taking him deeper. His eyes rolled back, and his fingers tightened in her hair. When she whimpered softly, the sound sent a shock of pleasure through him, clouding his mind and driving him closer to the edge. He rocked his hips once, unable to hold back any longer.

“I’m… I’m close, sweetheart,” he panted. He didn’t care if he didn’t last long, didn't care that she’d been working him for only a few minutes. His release coiled tighter in his gut, his breaths coming faster, and he knew he couldn't hold it back. “You should stop if you don’t want me to come in your mouth.”

But the desire in her eyes only burned brighter, and she didn’t stop. Instead, she put even more effort into it, her free hand resting on his thigh while the other one squeezed gently at the base of his cock. When she hollowed her cheeks again, her warm mouth enveloping him so perfectly, Azriel’s control shattered.

With a groan, pleasure crashed over him, his release spilling down her throat. She swallowed every drop, the rhythmic contractions of her mouth around him drawing out his pleasure for a few more moments before he relaxed again, loosening his grip on her hair as he struggled to catch his breath.

After a moment, she pulled back, and Azriel immediately felt the absence of her warmth around him. Her hand slipped away as well, and for a beat, they simply looked at each other, twin smiles of satisfaction on their faces.

“You were wonderful,” he said eventually, helping her stand and guiding her to sit on his lap. “That was incredible.”

Her blush returned, deepening at his praise, an endearing sight he would never grow tired of. It made him want to keep complimenting her, especially after the pleasure she’d just given him.

He kissed her, savoring the softness of her lips and the familiar taste he’d come to cherish over the past week, now mixed with a hint of own release. His tongue slid into her mouth, entwining with hers while his hand drifted down to her thigh, brushing the hem of her nightgown. She didn’t pull away, but Azriel sensed the sudden tension seizing her body, despite her attempt to hide it.

He immediately withdrew his hand, silently cursing himself for assuming too much, especially after being so careful to let her dictate their pace.

Pulling back from the kiss, he searched her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I should have asked.”

She shook her head, but she didn't look at him. “No, it's my fault. When I said I don't have much experience, I… I actually meant I don't have any experience.”

Azriel did his best to mask his surprise, not wanting to make her feel more self-conscious. Gently, he placed his hand on her waist, drawing slow, soothing circles over the fabric of her nightgown.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked softly.

Her eyes remained fixed downward as she nervously fidgeted with her fingers. “Because you're five centuries old,” she whispered. “You must have so much experience with these things, and I don't, and I didn't want you to be disappointed if I—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, unwilling to let her continue down that path. Tilting her chin up with a gentle finger, he waited patiently for her to meet his eyes. When she didn't, he murmured, “Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

Slowly, her gaze slid to his. Azriel offered her a soft, reassuring smile, hoping it would ease her worries.

“I don't care if you don't have any experience,” he said, his hand still caressing her side. “I'm not disappointed. All that matters to me is you and whether you're comfortable with whatever we're doing.”

She nodded, though some tension still lingered in her body. He could tell she struggled to believe him, but he wanted to make it clear that he would respect any boundary, any hesitation. She came first, and she always would. Everything else could wait.

“We can take things as slow as you want to,” he continued. “I won't rush you. You're in control, Y/N. Always. Okay?”

At last, he felt her body relax, a relieved smile appearing on her face. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

“Good.” Azriel smiled back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Will you let me get up for a moment? I'll wash up quickly, and then we can go to sleep.”

Her smile grew, a hint of playful anticipation gleaming in her eyes. “Can we cuddle?”

He chuckled. “Of course we can cuddle, beautiful.”

As she slid off his lap, he stole one last kiss before getting up and heading to the bathroom. He could feel her eyes following him, and he couldn't help but smirk.

He wanted her, but if she needed more time, he'd give it to her without question, even after what she'd just done for him. After all, her trust and comfort were more important than his need, and he knew that waiting would only make the moment she was truly ready even more special. The wait would be worth it.

Because she was worth it. She was worth everything.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[nobodyknowsimalesbian777]

Watch - Sevika (Arcane)

NSFW tags - brief arguing, masturbation (s!), switch!sevika, switch!reader, cursing, pussy-eatting (s!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), scissoring (yay!!), 18+

authors note - gang im working on my first request im so excited 😈😈 everyone clap for anon rn pls & thank yewwwww

----------------------------------------------------------

"you're such a bitch!" you yelled as you slammed your bedroom door, sevika was trailing close behind

"what did i even do?!" she was clearly avoiding raising her voice with you, and you found it difficult to avoid rolling your eyes as you sat on the bed

"go fuck yourself, sevika!" you didn't recognize the malice in your voice, and you almost regret the words as you spoke them

almost.

until your burly, stubborn girlfriend was sinking to her knees in front of you, wrapping her big arm around your calves

you felt the words leave you as you let out an unimpressed huff, hoping she didn't see you press your legs together

"i'm sorry sweet girl.." her hand traveled slowly up your leg until it was resting on the plump of your ass

"let me show you how sorry i am" the soft rasp in her voice made you dizzy

in spite of this, you petulantly turned your head away from her, letting out another unsatisfied huff

sevika continued to drag her hand up and down your side, placing delicate kisses on your exposed thigh

you tried to control your shaking breaths, lacing your hands into her hair as you mumbled something inaudible

the woman at your feet cocked her head at you, encouraging you to speak up

"i want to watch" you murmured, an uncharacteristic look of confusion appearing on sevikas face as you spoke

"watch?" her short brown hair swayed to the side as she questioned you

your face flushed as you spoke again, "i want to watch you..touch yourself, vika" you trailed off, turning away in embarrassment

sevikas confused expression quickly turned to a smirk, "oh?" her confidence was heightened by what you saw as your pure humiliation

you couldn't seem to find words as her grey eyes scanned yours,

and you failed to ignore the growing wetness between your legs as she slowly brought her hand down to the bottom hem of her shirt

in one swift movement, she pulled her shirt over her head, exposing her unbelievably toned chest

you felt yourself let out a small gasp, and your embarrassment seemed to go out the door when she moved her hand down farther and worked on the button of her jeans

her fingers flexed beautifully as she started pulling them off, giving you a full view of her muscular thighs

finally, your eyes landed on the wet patch on her boxers. the sight alone was enough to make you shudder, and you had an unbearable urge to bury yourself in her

you sank down to the floor with sevika as she continued slowly pulling her boxers down, but just as you were leaning forward you were met with her hand on the center of your chest

"no," she said firmly, continuing to pull down her boxers once you backed up, "watch."

you sat on your hands, not being able to take your eyes away as sevika spread her pussy with her index and middle finger

she was putting on a show you couldn't resist, sliding her fingers down to play with her glistening clit

"vikaaa" you couldn't bother being embarrassed by your whining, simply focused on the woman playing with her pussy in front of you

sevikas hands traveled farther down, and you watched as she threw her head back with every stroke of her fingers

the heat between your legs was getting unbearable, and you wanted nothing more then to get lost in between your girls legs

her fingers kept drawing down, eventually pressing her middle finger into her leaking hole

your eyes flew down, watching her fingers dissappear into her cunt. the sight alone was ruining you, and you knew you wouldn't last with the sounds she was making

sevikas head flew back, rough groans and near whimpers leaving her pretty mouth

you took your opportunity and inched towards her, lowering yourself down and watching her fingers pump into her at a pace you could barely believe

after what felt like hours of watching her stuff herself full, sevikas hand moved back up to rub circles around her clit

she looked down at you and cocked her brow, before nodding at you as you moved in to plunge your tounge into her

as soon as your tounge filled her, she let out an intense moan, letting you take her pussy over

her big hand knot into your hair, pulling you closer while she pushed her cunt into your face

you felt completely at peace letting sevika use your face the way she was, covering the bottom half of your face in her slick

she completely let herself go, moaning and breathing heavily as her orgasm caught up to her

much to her amusal, you reached your hand under you, rubbing your own clit in search of release

her moans were laced with breathy chuckles as she watched you desperately try to get yourself off

sevikas hand trailed down your back, reaching for your pussy.

your moans echoed and mixed with sevikas, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from her face, slack with pleasure

"this pretty pussy all mine?" she murmured above you, so sexy without having to try

you nodded aggressively into her, pussy drunk and just wanting her to finish on your tounge

of course her timing was impeccable, as she gripped your hair, her moans raising in pitch. "gonna come on that pretty face" she moaned out, her body tensing with her grip

you pushed your tounge deep inside her, your eyebrows screwing together as you lapped up everything she gave you

she noticed you still working yourself back onto her fingers, chasing your own high while working her through her own

without a second thought, sevika pulled you up into her, eliciting a surprised yelp from you

she leaned back, putting her abs on full display while she lined your pussy up with hers, slowly lowering you down and easing your hips back and forth

your moans echoed through the room as you slid your dripping cunt against sevikas, her clearly overstimulated pussy pulling needy groans from her

with the way the band in your stomach was tightening, you knew it wouldn't be long before she pushed you over the edge

her big arm slithered around your waist, pulling you in and clashing her lips against yours while you continued your ministrations

sevikas hand traveled freely along your body, adjusting you to exactly where she wanted you to come

knowing she had that physical power over you was enough to snap the band in your belly, and your moans spilled out while you continued grinding against sevika

her eyes were glued on you as you came, her hand eventually coming up to cup your face and trace your lips

sevika, of course, rode you through your high, telling you how pretty you sounded slutting yourself out for her

after your eventful evening, sevika was sure to lay you down. her generosity was endless as she prepared you for the rest of the night, knowing she wasn't even close to done with you

----------------------------------------------------------

need to see sevika masturbating 4K what who said thattttt

[fangswbenefits]

Curiosity

Summary: Astarion wishes to satisfy his curiosity when it comes to breastfeeding... and comes up with a proposition that is mutually beneficial.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Lactation/Breastfeeding kink. Cockwarming. Blood drinking. Vampire bite.

Word count: 1.6k

You could tell Astarion was up to something from the moment you stepped into the living room, hurriedly shoving a blanket and a stuffed owlbear toy into your backpack.

He sat elegantly on the padded sofa, book closed on his lap, and crimson eyes watching you intensely.

“We need to go.” You said with a smile, adjusting the front of your dress.

“Must we?”

You arched an eyebrow at him and he merely smiled deviously. “Come here.”

Oh, he was definitely up to something.

You took careful and measured steps towards him, trying to decode his intentions.

He motioned for you to sit on his lap.

Oh.

You rolled your eyes with utmost impatience. “Astarion… we need to go pick her up.”

A faint pout settled on his lips, and he reached one hand to tug gently at the waistline of your dress.

He was good.

Too good.

You could feel yourself ready to melt into a puddle from his intense gaze alone.

Hoisting the fabric, you lowered yourself until you had both legs on either side of him, dropping the backpack on the floor with a thud.

His hands immediately gripped your waist, and you felt him gently pulling down. It was clear he wanted you to sit on him, but…

“Astarion… we have to go pick her up,” you said, locking your arms behind his neck. “Gale must be losing his mind by now.”

His hands slid down your thighs to tug on the hem of your dress, gliding the satin fabric up just enough for you to feel bare under his gaze.

“Please - it's probably the most fun he's had ever since he got stuck in that portal.”

He gripped your waist again, urging you to sit on his crotch, but you remained unmoving.

“She's teething…” you said, coiling some of his curls around your fingers. “She tried to bite his finger off the other day.”

“She takes after me, then. Are you even surprised?”

You shook your head, feeling your resistance begin to crack under his persistent touch.

Slowly but surely, your knees gave out, and you finally pressed yourself down against him.

His playful smile dropped, and his lips parted with a low groan.

He wasn't hard.

Yet.

“I do adore this position, but we must go.”

He dipped his hands under your dress, only to grip your thighs tight, thumbs drawing circles on your already flushed skin.

“A nibble, then?”

His eyes dropped to your chest, and you nodded.

Ever since giving birth to your daughter, Astarion had taken a liking to biting you on the upper swell of your breasts, claiming your milk had surely increased your warmth in that area and that your blood tasted particularly delicious.

So you indulged him, also enjoying the fact that you could see his face more clearly as he downed your blood.

He hooked his forefinger on the low neckline before brushing the knuckle along the curve of one breast and lowering the fabric to expose just the right amount of skin.

“Be quick.” You urged, tangling your fingers along his soft curls,

Astarion didn't need to be told twice, and you felt the familiar sharp sting as both fangs sank into you, cold lips spreading wide enough and tongue ready to capture any stray droplets.

You caressed the back of his head, feeling his cock slightly twitch under you.

Without a fail, Astarion was getting hard from your blood.

And without fail, you felt the overwhelming need to roll your hips against him.

You felt his hands shift to his belt, undoing it, and you couldn't help but look down to stare as he pulled his cock out with a sigh of relief.

His fingers accidentally brushed against the swell between your legs and you gasped, hips involuntarily bucking into his touch.

Surprisingly enough, he pulled back to look at you with your blood staining his lips.

“What is it?”

And then his gaze dropped down to your breasts once again, and you noticed a damp spot on either side.

Fuck.

Too much milk…

You felt a wave of embarrassment hit you in full force as a few droplets of milk began to sip through the fabric.

But Astarion didn't seem bothered at all.

If anything, he looked rather… interested in this turn of events.

“I apologise… I'm too full.” You said quietly, wiping a few drops away with your fingers.

He shook his head, eyes still glued to your chest. “And I'm too willing… and rather curious.”

That caught you off guard.

“Astarion?”

Was he…

Surely not, right?

“I could offer to alleviate you…” he began, finger dragging the fabric down, fulling exposing one breast and the leaking nipple. “And I ask but one thing.”

Gods…

“What is it…”

He ran the pad of his thumb across your skin, gathering some beads of milk.

“Let me be inside you.”

You immediately clenched hard around nothing, surprised that your body had so eagerly responded to his suggestion.

He then brought his thumb to wrap his lips around it, sucking gently.

Your eyes widened.

Astarion had never tasted your milk before.

In fact, you weren't even sure he had ever wanted to.

Until now.

He hummed softly. “A slight sweetness to it… I like it.”

You were too perplexed to formulate a coherent reply to that remark.

“Will you indulge me, darling? I am curious to know how much harder I can get from your milk.”

He grazed his thumb across your nipple again, and you nearly moaned from the sight of it.

As you slowly nodded, you felt his other hand snake in between you two until he had one finger pushing your undergarments to the side.

“You don't have to do anything,” he said sweetly. “I just want you to sit on it and warm me up.”

He pulled gently and you shifted your hips, rapidly feeling the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance.

You were aroused and wet enough to comfortably have him slide inside with little to no resistance.

Unexpectedly, he craned his neck until he captured the nipple with hungry lips, latching perfectly.

Your hand dropped to his shoulder for support as you lowered yourself on him, not able to hold back the breathy gasp that tore through your throat from the initial stretch.

He was hard, but not hard enough as he hadn't drunk enough of your blood or indulged in enough foreplay to get to that point of no return.

You felt a growl rumble from his mouth as he buried himself inside you to the hilt.

Your half-closed eyes shifted to the sight of him latched perfectly, eyes closed as he vigorously swallowed your milk.

It felt slightly more arousing than having him drink your blood.

The thought of him drinking something that he was partly responsible for you to be producing had you clench around him, earning a grunt.

You placed one hand to his cheek, drops of milk pooling at the corner of his mouth before trailing down.

You clenched again, and he immediately let go of your nipple with a strained groan, both hands gripping your waist tightly.

He looked heavenly with all the white liquid coating his lips and dripping down his chin.

Not able to resist the sight any longer, you tilted his head back and kissed him, immediately parting your lips.

He promptly pushed some of the sweet liquid against your tongue with his own and it was enough for you to roll your hips, teasing his cock.

But he immediately stilled you by increasing the grip on the flesh of your waist.

“Do not do that… allow me to get harder from just your milk.”

Gods… he was doing a terrific job edging you just with words.

His cock did already feel harder than before, but you were curious to see - and feel - how much more he could throb for you.

He shifted his attention to the other breasts, exposing it to the cool air as the other nipple kept on dripping milk that was beginning to soak his shirt.

“Be quick… Gale is….”

Astarion frowned. “Can you perhaps not mention his name as I'm inside you, darling?”

You nodded, biting back a chuckle at how visibly annoyed he looked.

Clearing his throat, you watched as he took your other nipple in between his fingers, once again latching perfectly, the suction and eagerness drawing out a moan from you.

You dragged your finger from his cheek to the corner of his mouth, wiping it clean before dragging it down his neck, a trail of wetness glistening on his skin.

Driven by lust and lust alone, you pressed your palm flat against his neck, just so you could feel him downing your milk.

His vigour never faltered and you could only moan, going crazy from not being able to properly ride him, but being compensated with his cock progressively getting harder and harder, twitching deep inside you.

You could still feel your breasts rather full, but Astarion was experienced when it came to downing heavy flows of blood, so this posed no challenge to him.

And sure enough, with each gulp, you could feel it getting lighter and less strained.

He only tore away once he couldn't get the desired flow anymore.

You could only smile warmly at the sight of your milk dripping from his chin, down his neck and staining his shirt.

“So? How much harder did you get?”

His cock immediately twitched inside you.

“Can't you feel it?”

You dragged your thumb across his lower lip, admiring his beauty.

Then he gripped your wrist, and pulled you against his chest, grunting as you clenched instinctively around him.

“Astarion… we need to go now,” you said with a soft smile.

You could feel some of your milk spilling into his shirt, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

And neither could he.

“Let me stay inside you a while longer, lover.”

Masterlist

[etheraltides]

BITTER SWEET ᥫ᭡࿔

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x kook!thornton!Reader

Summarize: Rafe Cameron, a rising name in the business world, desperately needs a date for the wedding of the year. With a major investment deal on the line and his image at stake, he finds himself reluctantly turning to the last person he ever expected for help: Topper’s little sister, a girl he’s bickered with since he could remember.

Warning(s): cursing, mention of grief, drugs.

A/N: I hope y’all like long chapter ‘cause your girl seriously got carried away with building things between them. Feedback is always heart warming <3!

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ Chapter three: Can we call it truce? ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

The hum of the engines filled the cabin, lulling most of the passengers in the business class into a calming state. Most, that is, except for you. You sat beside Rafe, trying to focus on the book at hand, your foot tapping a frustrated rhythm on the floor as he sprawled beside you enough to invade your space, oozing an insufferable amount of calm. Even with the extra room, it felt cramped - his very presence seemed to fill the air in the whole plane. His breathing was annoying you.

Rafe, meanwhile, stretched out his legs, his arm draped across the armrest to the point his fingers would brush your knees if you moved just a tide bi, his gaze lazily drifting away from his phone towards you. "You look like you're about to combust or something." He murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. "What? Didn't that douchebag do a good job with you?"

You gritted your teeth, resisting the urge to smack him across the face with your self-improving book, slamming its cover closed. The last thing you wanted was to have everyone looking at you as you shared your lovely words with Rafe. "Why the fuck are you so obsessed with him? Sounds like someone isn't getting laid..." You gave a cynical smile, thriving as you noticed the smirk dropping from his lips instantly. Now, that'd always be priceless. "I wouldn't be, if you didn't act like you owned half of my seat as well."

"C'mon, don't be dramatic." He stretched out further, nudging your eyeglasses as you tried to dodge your head but of course, his long arms would reach you. His smirk widened when you shot him a warning glare, almost as if daring you to do something. "You're by choice, remember? I can always tell Topper about that broken touron... Plus, I paid for both seats so I technically can be as comfortable as I wish."

"Barely." Your eyes narrowed, fingers clenching around the book. "One wrong move and I'm asking for a different seat."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening enough to grace you with a dimple. A ridiculous dimple that'd be adorable in anyone but not on him. "Go ahead. Maybe you'll find a seat in coach where you belong."

That was it. Without thinking, you raised your hand, drawing the attention of a flight attendant passing by as you smacked your book against his chest with the other, a small satisfied smirk on your lips as you heard him groan.

"Yes, miss? Can I help you?" The attendant's polite smile faltered as she glanced between you, clearly sensing the simmering tension. Even a senseless person could tell. Anyone but you two.

"Yes, actually." You leaned forward, using your best sweet voice but not even it couldn't hide the clipped tone completely. "Could I switch seats? I'm afraid I'd be more comfortable elsewhere."

The attendant looked at you, then at Rafe, and back again, her expression sympathetic but warry. "I'm sorry, miss, but we're at full capacity here in business class. I could check for a seat in coach, but..." She trailed off, her eyes shifting to Rafe's amused expression as he tried to cover his laugh with a cough.

The tension in your shoulders tightened, your jaw clenched as you forced a smile. That’s what you get for trying to be a good human being. “Never mind, I'll manage.. Thank you."

You could feel his gaze lingering on you. amusement sparkling in his eyes as he leaned back, satisfied. "Looks like you're stuck with me." He murmured, his finger hooking on top of you glasses again only to push them lower on the bridge of your nose before you slapped his hand away.

You ignored him, staring ahead and steeling yourself. Yet as the minutes passed by, his presence beside you felt unbearable. You could feel his gaze every now and then, could sense his satisfaction in your discomfort. When the plane finally touched down, you were nearly ready to explode and take the first flight back - but then you remembered your part of the bargain and something strange tugging at your chest.

Hours later, in the quietness of your hotel room, you inspected your dress in the mirror, mind turning over the insanity of this arrangement. Why had you agreed to this? You hardly owed him anything, especially not this. And yet, here you were, preparing yourself to play a role in his life that the mere thought of the idea made you want to throw up. Maybe, deep down, you'd wanted to help, wanted to see him succeed just this once - he had recently lost Ward so... Maybe you could cut him some slack just this once. But as you took one last glance in the mirror, your couldn't shake the creeping doubt that this was all a huge mistake.

By the time you arrived at the beachside reception, you were determined to remain calm, to put up with Rafe and all of this madness for one weekend. You'd view it as one of your college projects. A small leaf of kindness to a boy who lost his father. "I'm doing these for Topper." You thought to yourself. It'd be one less thing for Topper to deal with.

The sun was setting over the ocean, casting a warm golden glow over the guests. It was exquisite honestly. Small tables dotted the pavemented area, surrounded by low, flickering lanterns and decorated with delicate pinkish flower arrangements. The sound of waves mingled with the soft music being played by the band as people chatted and laughed. You inhaled deeply, letting the salty ocean breeze wash over you. It felt good to be away from home. You loved Outer Banks but the way people were always paying attention and gossiping about the smallest steps of each other made you feel like someone had a hand on your throat, cutting your air from time to time. Here, despite a few familiar faces, you didn't have to be Thorton's perfect girl nor live under your mother's pressuring expectations 24/7. Even if you were here to play a fake part, it felt a bit more freeing than being your family's fake part at home. You smoothed down your dress. You could do it and you would enjoy this weekend.

Rafe held back a smile as he shook the man's hand, his heart pumping with adrenaline and pride as South Carolina's biggest real estate agent said he'd love to see some of the properties Ward had left for Rafe back in Charleston either to sell or rent. Rafe needed money after his deception with the Golden Cruise and wouldn't use most of the properties now in his name - that'd be some easy way to make money. The man excused himself with a squeeze on Rafe's shoulder and for what felt like hours, he finally had a moment to breathe.

His gaze shifted through the crowd, looking for a specific familiar face he hadn't seen since they arrived at the hotel - part of him was afraid you'd turn your back and be on your way to Outer Banks now without a word. You hadn't come outside your room when he knocked earlier, though he hadn't exactly waited around to see if you'd answer. He counted to thirty before sending you a text with the location and hour. But now, with the deep hues of the setting sun casting an amber glow across the venue, he spotted you. Faster than he'd like to admit.

You stood on the edge of the terrace, deep in conversation with a small group. The soft fabric of your dress catching the light and floating with each of your movements and the kisses of wind. Rafe's jaw tightened as he took you in, the vibrant color of your dress constrasting with your sunkissed skin and the effortless confidence setting you apart from the crowd. Your lips curled into an easy, practiced smile as you listened to an elder woman, but your eyes held a spark he'd seen many times before - sharp, observant.

A guest brushed past him, and he blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. Shaking his head slightly, he turned and made his way over the bar, feeling the strain of your reality settle in his muscles. You'd worn him thin on the flight, the words you exchange a mix of cutting remarks and barely veiled insults. And yet, here he was, his gaze drawn back to you as if on a string.

While he waited for the drinks, he glanced your way again, just as you glanced toward him - though you looked away just as quickly, a subtle arch of your brow signaling that your attention was far from amused. Rafe's lip twisted into a smirk, though he couldn't shake the strange irritation knotting in his chest.

When he finally turned back with the drinks in his hands, you were nowhere near where he'd last seen you. Annoyed, he scanned the crowd, his brows drawing together. He had texted you to don't be all over the place by yourself, not wanting to risk you doing something wrong that would fall on him. Then, across the terrace, he saw you.

You finally managed to take a breath from your grandma's acquaintances, the tension ebbing away from your shoulders until you felt a hand on your lower back, guiding you forward. You could know it was him before you even looked. That scent of warm spices with a touch of amber. His touch was infuriating to raise a few bumps on your skin. His breath brushed your ear as he leaned closed. "Try not to get too lost in the view, sweetheart." He murmured. "We're her for business, remember? I need you around."

You bristled, shifting away from his touch. "I'm perfectly aware, Cameron. You think I'm talking to them because I'm having the time of my life?"

He laughed under his breath, the sound grating before he sipped on his whiskey. "Relax. You're wound so tight, it's a miracle you haven't cracked yet."

You gritted your teeth, sending him a glare. The comment hit a bit deeper than he probably meant to. "Maybe I wouldn't be if I weren't stuck here with you."

His eyes glinted with something unreadable. "Right. Because I'm such a nightmare." He gave you a once-over, an annoying cockish smirk curling at the edge of his mouth that could barely go unnoticed. Barely. "That's rich coming from the one rolling around with low-life tourists... Just don't embarrass me, alright?"

Your mouth fell open, anger flaring as you held the urge to roll back your eyes. Shit, he would never let you hear the end of it, wouldn't he? Well, you had tried to be civil but he wasn't really helping so two could dance. "Embarrass you? I think I should be the one saying that giving your... history."

"Let's hope so." He said, shrugging nonchalantly but you could notice his jaw clenching, the way he quickly brought the glass to his lips again. You had got him. "This is my reputation on the line, after all."

Of course, he'd give the last word. You felt the urge to shove him, to break through that self-assured arrogance. But instead, you squared your shoulders, grabbed the glass from his hand, and turned your back on him, weaving through the crowd on your own. The farther you were from him, the better. How dared he? Embarrass him? You? He should be thanking you and making sure you were content enough to don't simply abandon him, and not acting like an asshole. "But that was Rafe Cameron." You reminded yourself.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself talking to a few guests, your confidence growing with each conversation and familiar faces. This was more your territory than Rafe's. Some of them you knew because of your grandfather, the others because of your mother, having seen them in the events your family hosted throughout the year - coming from an influential family had its perks as much as it had its downs - but, of course, you wouldn't tell Rafe yet. Then, you notice someone.

Mr. Rossi’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he spotted you. He made his way through the small crowd, his gray hair neatly combed back, a hint of cologne trailing behind him.

“Ah, you have grown so much since we last saw you,” he said, his voice rich with genuine affection. He extended a hand, firm yet welcoming. His grin revealed lines carved by years of smiles.

Before you could respond, Mrs. Rossi appeared at your side, her silk dress rustling softly as she leaned in, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. “Look at you,” she whispered with a warmth that made you feel instantly at home.

You took his hand, giving it a confident shake, your eyes sparkling. “Mr. and Mrs. Rossi, it’s so good to see you both!” A touch of nostalgia filled your voice, mingling with excitement. “And not just that,” you added, a playful lilt coloring your words as you shifted your weight, leaning slightly forward. “I’ll be taking my grandfather’s place in the upcoming tennis match this year, so... you two better come prepared.” You finished with a wink, your smile broadening as a flush of warmth crept into your cheeks.

Mr. Rossi let out a hearty chuckle, the sound resonating in his chest. He squeezed your hand before releasing it, exchanging a glance with his wife, who raised her eyebrows in mock alarm. “So, you’re the partner he’s been bragging about all lately.” He said, his tone laced with pride. He leaned slightly closer, his eyes narrowing playfully. “I guess we better watch out, love” He said to Mrs. Rossi, who nodded with a conspiratorial smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling with mirth.

“Oh, we’ll be there.” She said, a teasing note in her voice as she crossed her arms gently. “But don’t think for a moment we’ll go easy on you.”

The three of you laughed, the sound weaving seamlessly into the lively background, quickly launching into conversation. You remembered Rafe detailing every single thing about the business partner he wanted to attract but you'd never linked that with Mr. Rossi, an old good friend of your grandpa. You wanted to laugh at the coincide of it all, ignoring the small part of you that worried he'd bring this eventually with your family around.

It wasn’t long before Rafe appeared, a new drink in hand, eyes narrowed as he assessed the scene before him. His gaze swept over Mr. and Mrs. Rossi, then settled on you, a flash of frustration momentarily darkening his features. He took a slow sip, composing himself before approaching with a casual stride, masking the tightness in his chest.

You felt the subtle shift in the room before you saw him, the energy becoming taut. A mischievous smile played on your lips as you glanced his way, catching his eye. Without hesitation, you reached out, your fingers curling around his forearm to draw him closer. “I imagine you’ve already met my boyfriend.” You said, the word ‘boyfriend’ laced with a playful edge that danced just shy of sarcasm.

Rafe’s expression softened as he took his cue, slipping seamlessly into the role. “Not formally.” He said smoothly, a spark of amusement flickering in his eyes as he glanced at Mr. and Mrs. Rossi. “Rafe Cameron.” He added, offering his hand with a practiced charm that belied the tension beneath the surface.

Anne’s eyes lit up as she clasped Rafe’s hand, her touch light but approving. “You’ve got yourself a keeper, Mr. Cameron.” She said, her smile sincere as she exchanged a knowing look with her husband.

Rafe chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “I try my best,” he replied, casting a sidelong glance at you. “Though she makes it an interesting challenge.”

Mr. Rossi nodded, a hint of businesslike interest crossing his face. “Speaking of challenges, I hear your office has been making waves recently.” he said. “I’ll make sure to pay a visit while I’m in town for the match.”

Rafe’s eyes flickered with a moment of surprise as he processed the unexpected connection but remained composed. “We’d be glad to have you,” he said, keeping his voice steady.

You squeezed Rafe’s arm gently, catching the subtle tension in his jaw. “Looks like we’ll be keeping busy.” You said lightly, breaking the moment with a smile.

Mr. Rossi chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Indeed. I look forward to seeing just how much you both can juggle.”

The laughter that followed softened the air, weaving seamlessly into the lively atmosphere. Then Mr. Rossi checked his watch, saying it was time for his speech, joking about how he didn't want his daughter going bradzilla for his small delay.

You bit back a laugh, turning to Rafe. "You don't look happy, boyfriend." The word rolled off your tongue sweetly, a pout on your lips as a hint of mockery shone in your eyes.

Rafe's jaw clenched, and he took a slow sip of his drink, his gaze unwavering as he watched you. "You're awfully smug for someone who almost ended up in coach."

"Oh, come on." You retorted, leaning a little closer, your fingers opening the first two buttons of his shirt as you adjusted the collar, feeling a rush of confidence. God, it felt great to have the upper hand on him. "You needed me here tonight more than you imagined, huh? I'm the reason Rossi even bothered with you for more than a call from his secretary and an invitation to this."

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes looking down at your manicured nails on his shirt before he met your eyes, amusement flickering in them but it was laced with something darker. "Don't flatter yourself too much. He had already invited me here to discuss business. You're just playing your part to make me look more... stable."

"Sure... I'd hate for you to realize he'd avoid you in this crowd but yeah, suit yourself. Maybe I should get a cut of whatever deal you're hoping to land here."

Rafe smirked, leaning close enough that his breath ghosted over your cheekYou should push him away. Nope, couples don't push each other away. Playing your part. "Maybe you're enjoying this a little too much. I hate to say it but you look like you're having fun, princess."

Heat prickled at your cheeks as you realized his nearness, but you refused to back down. Couples don't push each other away and as he said, you were here to play your part. "Maybe I am. Pretending I'd choose you willingly has been quite the challenge though. I deserve a medal for this, maybe a Nobel."

Rafe chuckled, low and dark, your hand felt the vibrations on his chest as you tried to recall when you had rested them there. "Keep telling yourself that.”

You found yourself mingling with Mr.Rossi's daughter and her friends as the evening unfolded, laughing over shared stories about her soon-to-be-husband and single days while you sipped on champagne, letting yourself unwind in their easy company.

Across the terrace, Rafe nursed another glass of whiskey, his gaze wandering lazily around the crowd as he tried to pretend to be listening to whatever the man has been telling him for the past few minutes. He caught sight of a few men gathered nearby, theirs heads turned in one direction as they didn't bother to keep their comments to a low tone. His curiosity piqued - anything that wasn't the man talking the details about his basic sanitation network company. Rafe followed their line of sight and he froze, his glass top mid way to his lips.

There you were, surrounded by a group of women, your laughter light and genuine as you gestured with your hands excitedly, oblivious to the attention around you. You looked radiant, a far cry from the guarded, defensive person he was used to sparring with.

For a moment, Rafe felt his breath hitch. You looked... Happy, and there was something about that image, about you, that made his chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. He couldn't tear his gaze away, struck by how beautiful you looked when you weren't rolling your eyes or trying to push him away. Honestly, he couldn't even remember seeing you this carefree... Ever.

Then he caught the voice of one of the men beside him, a dark-haired guy leaning over to murmur to his friend. "Shit, man... I may shoot my shot. It doesn't look like she's with anyone here."

Rafe felt an unexpected, sharp pang on his stomach that quickly irradiated through him, and before he knew it, he was turning to the man with an arrogant smirk, an unmistakble edge to his voice. "She's taken, actually. My girl."

The man raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise and dissapointment crossing his face that had Rafe's smirk widening. "Really? Lucky bastard, hm. If I were you, I'd be as close as possible to her." He gave Rafe an amused nod, his eyes briefly running over your figure one last time before he turned back to his friends.

Rafe felt his grip on the glass tightneing, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his jaw. He was here for business. To show a clean image - he reminded himself.

As he dawned the rest of the liquor, the words that just spilled from his mouth echoing in his mind. My girl. His jaw clenched as the licour hit his throat, the reality of what he'd implied without thinking twice settling heavily on him. He wasn't jealous. Of course not. This was all just a part of the act, part of maintaining the appearances. He was just making sure they didn't ger the wrong idea - that was all. Definitely.

But as he looked towards you, he couldn't deny the surge frustration that rose in him when he saw another guy approach your group, a bright smile on his face as he joined in the conversation. He watched as you smiled back, looking genuinely delighted, your laugh seemed to pull everyone around you into your orbit. His fingers tightened around his glass again, and he felt a strange mix of pride and irritation twist inside him.

After a few minutes of watching, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Excuse me." He patted the sanitation guy on the shoulder without sparring him a glance nor bothering for a reply. He strode over, inserting himself into the circle with a charming smile, though his gaze was focused entirely on you. The other women greeted him with polite nods, but you turned with an arched brow when you felt his arm circling your waist, pulling you closer to the side of his body as if he had every right to.

"Having fun, baby?" He murmured, his eyes scanning your face, noting the soft flush in your ceeks - either from the champagne, him or your laughing, he couldn't tell. "Seems like you're doing better than I expected on your own."

"Why, jealous?" You teased, not missing a beat, a smirk curling at your lips as you caught the slight edge in his tone.

Rafe's smirk faltered for a split second before he forced a scoff. "Of you? Hardly. Just keeping an eye on things. After all, you are here with me, remember?"

Your gaze narrowed as he was the one to excuse himself earlier when both were walking around together and chatting with the other guests. The glint of amusement in your eyes told him that you weren't taking his words to heart. "Oh, I remember..." You replied, tilting your head to the side. "Just didn't realize you'd be so... attentive."

He shifted, suddenly a bit unsure. "I'm just... Making sure everything goes smoothly tonight, alright?" He muttered, sounding more defensively than he expected. "Look, it's not like I care who you're talking to or anything. We just have an image to keep."

You arched your brow, a playful smile tugging on the corner of your lips as you leaned a little closer, dropping your voice just low enough for only him to hear. "Good. Because I almost thought you were jealous, Rafe."

Rafe scoffed, straightening up and immediately tearing his gaze away from his lips to the ocean behind you. "Please. Like I'd be jealous over you... this." He waved a hand, gesturing vaguely at your figure, thought his eyes betrayed him, lingering a moment longer than he intended. Stupid dress.

The band started playing something softer and Lia, Mr. Rossi's daughter, grabbed the champagne glass from the people's hands, handing it to the first waiter that walked by. "Come on. I want all the couples dancing to this. I'd love to have it on footage."

You furrowed your brows, glancing over at her and then Rafe. The idea of dancing with him sounded absurd, even more in a crowd, making you hesitate for a moment but the mischievous glint in his eyes pulled you in.

Rafe held out a hand, his expression challenging. "What's wrong? Afraid you're going to catch feelings?"

You rolled your eyes, but before you could second-guess yourself anymore and make it suspicious, he took your hand and you let him lead you to the dance floor, feeling your heart speeding up. It's okay. It's just like midsummer - you repeated to calm yourself even if you always panicked during dances on midsummer, afraid that’d take a wrong step and all the heads would turn and see you.

The moment his arm wrapped around your waist, drawing you close, you felt a spark of electricity run through you. It was probably your anxiety, right?

The world around you seemed to blur, the hum of conversations fading into the background as he kept you close, his grip strong but not bruising. Firm as he pulled you into a gentle sway, his gaze locked onto yours with something that made your heart race a bit more. His hating gaze looked a bit different...

For once, you weren't fighting, weren't throwing sarcastic comments at each other. You were simply... around, moving in rhythm, caught up in a moment you hadn't ever thought possible. His hand was warm agaisnt your bare back, his touch not letting you move too far from him as he guided you.

Rafe's voiced dropped to a murmur, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. "You don't always need to be at my throat, you know?"

You raised an eyebrow, a soft laugh escaping. Honestly, you couldn't even remember why it started but you were sure he had given you a reason. "And miss out on all the fun? Never."

He huffed a quiet laugh, the corner of his mouth curving upward as he shifted his weight, leaning a fraction closer. The playful defiance between you seemed to thrum in the small space left between your bodies. A ghost of a smile played on his lips, but his eyes narrowed, holding yours with an intensity that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. “Careful, you might start to like me.”

For a heartbeat, silence settled between you, thick and humming, before you felt the corners of your mouth twitch, shaking your head as a disbelief chuckle left your lips.

“Shut up.” You chuckled, your arms wrapping around his neck tired of holding resting his shoulder because of the height difference.

But as you looked up at him, the warmth of his hand on your back, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, even if it was just for a moment, you’d both let your guard down – and neither of you had hated it.

You and Rafe had just stepped off the dance floor, still laughing over the memory of Topper’s ridiculous stunt at last year’s family gathering. The thought of him, trying - and failing - at impressing everyone with his off-key karaoke performance that he had trained for weeks, was enough to keep the laughter bubbling between you.

“Honestly.” Rafe laughed, shaking his head. “He’s lucky he didn’t break something. I’m not even sure how the microphone survived the entire thing.”

You snorted, your amusement lighting up the moment and you quickly covered your mouth, cheeks heating as you waited for Rafe’s teasing but he did none, the crease on the corner of his eyes deepening as his smile stretched. “I think the whole room aged ten years listening to him butcher that song. We should’ve charged tickets.”

Rafe’s smile softened, and for a moment, the usual tension between you both seemed to melt away. But before you could tease him further, a man approached, his expression serious, as if he’d been waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“Rafe.” the man said, clapping him lightly on the back, his tone overly familiar. “I just wanted to say how sorry I am about your father. Losing him like that… it must be incredibly hard.”

Rafe’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. He couldn’t even remember this man’s face. Probably someone that saw him and his dad in one of those award parties. “Thanks.” He replied, his tone polite but distant.

The man seemed to ignore the subtle shift in Rafe’s mood, continuing on with his monologue. “Yeah, I can only imagine. Your father was a legend - everyone respected him. I mean, not many people could’ve built what he did. A huge legacy. It must feel like a heavy burden, huh?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and his eyes flicked to you. You could practically see the frustration building in him, but the man kept talking, completely oblivious to the discomfort he was causing or simply not caring enough.

“You know, the pressure of living up to someone like that…it’s gotta be tough. Everyone’s always expecting you to fill those shoes, to carry on the family name. I don’t know how you manage it, but it must be exhausting.”

The tension in the air was palpable, and Rafe was clearly struggling to stay polite. But before he could respond, you couldn’t take it anymore nor risk Rafe loosing his cool here out of all the places.

“I need air,” you blurted out, voice sharp and breathless. You placed a hand on Rafe’s arm, pulling at him urgently. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out or something. I just— I need to get out of here, baby.”

Rafe looked at you in surprise, his brows furrowing for a second before he caught onto it. He stood straighter, clearly thankful for the distraction. You gave him a small but determined nod, practically dragging him away from the conversation.

“Come on, let’s get to the beach. Now.” you added, not giving him a chance to argue. You tugged him harder this time, the tension in your voice sharp, hoping it was enough to convince the man to leave him alone for the night.

The man was still rambling, oblivious to Rafe’s discomfort. “It’s just… it’s not easy living with that kind of legacy, right?”

Rafe turned back to him with a forced smile, cutting him off before he could say more. “Sorry, we really need some air.” He said quickly, his hand around your waist as if you needed to be supported to the way. “She’s not feeling well, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to stay in the crowd.”

Rafe shot the man a tight smile. “Thanks for the condolences.”

The man looked confused but nodded. “Of course. Take care, Rafe.”

As you pulled Rafe toward the beach, you didn’t stop until you were far enough away from the terrace. You let out a shaky breath, your frustration turning into a quiet laugh of disbelief.

“You okay?” You turned your head back, looking at Rafe cautiously once both had put enough distance between the man, almost reaching the beach.

He turned to you, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. “Yeah. Just… feels like everyone wants to remind me of it tonight.” he said, glancing back to the party before he glanced at you, chewing on his bottom lip as he tried keep his emotions at bay. He had lost the count of how many people came to talk to him about his dad and how impossible would it be to fill in his shoes. “You really saved me there.” He rubbed the back of his head.

“It was nothing.” You shrugged, letting out a long sigh as you felt the breezy air in your face.

Rafe gave you a grateful look, his stiff posture relaxing a little. “No, I’m glad you stepped in. That guy was relentless.”

You stopped just before you could step onto the sand and bent down to slip off your heels, the sound of your dress rustling as you lifted the hem to avoid dragging it through the sand.

Rafe’s gaze lingered on you, a mixture of admiration and confusion etched across his face as you balanced your heels in one hand. For a fleeting moment, you noticed a hint of something in his eyes, something that made your heart race. You released his hand to free up both of yours, but the sudden loss of his warmth sent a strange ache through you, as if you were missing it. Must be the chilly wind.

“Are you coming or what?” you called over your shoulder, a teasing lilt in your voice that made him smile.

The sound of the waves, rhythmic and calming, filled the space between you, casting a serene contrast to the fading noise of the party behind. The cool night breeze touched your skin, making you feel both exposed and comforted, wrapped in the solitude of the beach.

Rafe stood beside you, his features illuminated by the silver glow of the moon. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blunt, rolling it between his fingers with easy practice just to make sure it was tight in place. You watched him discreetly, curiosity stirring as he flicked the lighter and brought the flame to the tip. The brief burst of light illuminated his features – sharp jawline, focused eyes, the way his lips curved slightly as he took a drag.

You couldn’t look away, your eyes tracing the path of the smoke as it curled and rose, dissipating into the cool night air. It felt almost intimate, watching him like this, and you swallowed, trying to steady your thoughts when he turned and caught your gaze.

“Want some?” His voice broke the silence, low and inviting as he could sense your eyes on him.

A rush of nerves surged through you, mingling with anticipation. “I uh… haven’t smoked before. Topper always said it’d look bad for the family and that mom would disown me if she ever found out” you admitted, the corners of your lips lifting in a faint, rueful smile though your voice was quieter than usual, small.

Rafe’s brow arched, the shadow of amusement flickering in his eyes. If only you knew the things Topper did whenever he magically disappeared from the parties. “And what do you think?” The question was casual, but there was an edge of something deeper beneath it.

You took a breath, letting the salt-laced air fill your lungs. “I think I’m done caring about that.”

His smirk grew, and for a second, the intensity in his gaze softened. “Good.” He took another slow drag, the orange ember glowing against the dark, and held it out to you. His fingers brushed yours as you reached for it, a spark of contact that sent a shiver through you.

“Just inhale slowly, let it settle,” he said, his voice steady, a grounding presence in the rush of your heartbeat.

You brought the blunt to your lips, eyes flicking to him once more as you mirrored the movement you’d seen him make. The smoke tasted sharp, unfamiliar, and you exhaled with a cough, eyes watering slightly. Rafe’s smirk turned into a grin, warm and teasing. Almost proud.

“Not bad.” he said, amusement lacing his words. “Better than most the first time.”

A laugh escaped you, loosening the last of the tension. “I’ll take that.”

The two of you walked slowly, the cool sand shifting beneath your feet as the night deepened. The warmth from the smoke spread through your chest, lifting the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, catching the way the moonlight traced the strong lines of his face.

“Do you smoke often?” you asked, more to break the silence than anything else and you wanted to slap yourself for the question. Really?

Rafe’s expression shifted, a brief shadow crossing his features. “Not really. Only when I need to clear my head.” He looked out at the horizon, where the dark sky met the shimmering waves as he took the joint from your fingers, taking a long drag. “It helps keep the noise out.”

A quiet understanding settled between you. “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of what you didn’t say. “Losing your dad…”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, his guard slipped, cracking enough to allow you to catch a glimpse of the raw ache beneath. “Yeah.”

For a moment, the space between you felt smaller, the silence charged with shared vulnerability. You took another drag, the taste still foreign but less jarring, and exhaled slowly as Rafe’s eyes returned to yours, something unreadable in their depths.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer before he shifted his gaze back to the horizon, the moonlight casting a silvery sheen over the waves as they rolled in. For once, the silence wasn’t biting.

You took another careful drag, this time holding it a bit longer before exhaling, just like he did earlier, but you were still unable to get rid of the cough completely. The warmth in your chest spread further, easing the last traces of tension from your body. It was strange and exhilarating to be here, outside the lines your mom had always drawn for you, with him of all people.

Rafe broke the silence, his voice softer, almost contemplative. “You know, you don’t have to be ‘perfect’ all the time.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a hint of something unreadable in his expression. “It’s okay to let people see the real you. Acting like a human being and all.”

The words hit deeper than you expected. You looked down, your toes digging into the cool, damp sand. “I don’t even know who that is half the time" you admitted, the confession slipping out before you could stop it, swinging your heels softly to distract yourself from the embarrassment in your chest.

Rafe turned to face you fully, his expression serious but not hard. “Maybe it’s time you find out.”

The sincerity in his tone made your heart stutter. You met his gaze, and for a moment, everything else fell away - the distant party, the rolling waves, the cool bite of the night air. It was just the two of you, standing on the edge of something that felt completely new.

Before you could say anything, he took a step closer, close enough that you could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way the moonlight caught the flecks of grey in his blue eyes. The scent of smoke and saltwater surrounded you, heady and grounding, mixed with his perfume.

“Rafe…” Your voice came out quieter than intended, the space between you charged with tension.

He searched your face, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah?” His voice was low, a whisper meant for only you.

The truth is, you didn’t know.

You felt the urge to close the gap, to see what would happen if you let yourself fall just a little further into this to see where would it go. But before you could move, he reached out, fingers brushing your cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was fleeting but sent a shiver down your spine.

What was happening?

“I kinda like this version of you.” he said, the honesty in his tone making your heart thump wildly.

For the first time in a long while, you felt seen - not as the person everyone expected you to be, but as yourself. The realization was both thrilling and terrifying. You looked up at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe I do too.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and without another word, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his fingers placing the blunt in front of your lips. The two of you walked without a hurry and direction, the few glasses of champagne you had earlier and Rafe's glasses of whiskey distracting both of you from the situation, from what it looked like and what it could possibly mean.

The air between you felt different now, the silence thick with something unspoken, the kind of tension that crackled in the spaces between your words. Rafe’s eyes lingered on yours a moment longer than usual before he shifted his gaze back to the horizon, where the moonlight kissed the waves in a dance of silver and blue.

A strange warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading through your body like the soft glow of embers catching fire. The world felt sharper - every scent, every sound more pronounced. The night air nipped at your skin, but it felt distant, almost dreamlike.

Then it hit you like a wave crashing against the shore: you had just smoked weed. You, the one who had lived carefully, each step monitored, each decision weighed against the unspoken expectations of your family, had done something completely impulsive. The absurdity of it made your lips twitch, and before you could stop it, a small laugh bubbled up from deep inside.

You covered your mouth quickly, but it escaped anyway - another giggle, this one louder and harder to contain. You shook your head, eyes wide with disbelief, and tried to stifle the sound, but the harder you tried, the more it slipped free.

Rafe's gaze flicked to you, his lips curling into a grin as he watched you. “There it is” he teased, a knowing lilt in his voice. “I was wondering when the giggles would show up.”

You shook your head in mock exasperation, still unable to stop the fits of laughter, feeling your cheeks burning in embarrassment. “I can’t believe I just did that. I actually smoked weed. Oh my God. Don't tell Topper!" You looked at him with wide eyes, pointing a manicured nail towards his chest.

Rafe arched his brow, his head leaning down until his breath was touching your ear. “What’s your bargain?”

You blinked for a second, before you pushed his chest away, letting out a dramatic “Ew, Cameron!”

Rafe chuckled, his voice warm in the cool night air. “Welcome to the club, sweetheart. It’s liberating, isn’t it? Letting go for once?”

You nodded, the last of your giggles dying down as you met his gaze. There was something in the way he looked at you - understanding, maybe a little deeper than you expected. It made your chest tighten in a different way now.

“Yeah..." you whispered, your voice softer than before. “It really does.”

The next few moments passed in a quiet, comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft rush of waves against the shore. Every so often, a burst of laughter escaped you, and Rafe joined in, his chuckle easy and carefree.

By the time you reached the hotel, the city hummed with late-night life, a symphony of distant laughter and the occasional honk of a cab. The mix of champagne and weed had left your steps unsteady, your senses softened around the edges. Somewhere along the way, Rafe’s arm had slipped around your waist, steadying you as you swayed with a giggle. The warmth of his touch felt too natural, too easy for two people who supposedly couldn’t stand each other.

“You think we’ll make it to the room before I collapse in a heap of elegance?” you teased, the words slurred with playfulness, though a flicker of doubt clung to the end.

Rafe smirked, casting a sideways glance down at you. “At this rate? You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you over my shoulder already,” he said, voice threaded with a teasing edge, but there was a softness there, something almost protective, that he quickly masked.

You leaned into him, the movement instinctive, your giggle breaking free as you stumbled slightly. “Oh, please. I’m fine.” you quipped, tilting your head up, your eyes catching his. Without thinking, your hand pressed against his chest, fingers curving around the muscle beneath. You blinked in surprise before watching your brows at him. “Damn, nice boobs.”

His eyes widened for a split second before he threw his head back in a laugh, the sound reverberating through him and into you. “Jesus, Y/N.” He felt the heat rise in his cheeks, an unfamiliar sensation he brushed off with a roll of his eyes. He caught your hand as it lingered, the playfulness replaced for a heartbeat with something charged, before he let it go with a chuckle. “Keep that up, and I’ll start charging for these services.”

“So that one was on the house?” you asked, your grin lopsided, unable to hide how much you were enjoying this rare break in your usual dynamic.

Rafe’s gaze softened for a fleeting moment, the walls you both kept between you forgotten under the haze of laughter and the city lights. “Depends. Will you keep assaulting me?”

The two of you burst out laughing, the sound a contrast with the rather quiet lobby but none of you could care less. For once, none of you were being bothered by the image that you were supposed to keep and the animosity felt like a distant memory, replaced by the sharp realization that maybe pretending wasn’t the hardest part after all.

Once inside the hotel, you both went straight to your hotel rooms. You fumbled for the key cards, sliding one into the door, but the red light blinked mockingly. You tried again, turning the card. Still no luck. Your frustration began to mount as you tried once more, and then again, but the door stubbornly refused to open.

Rafe stood back, watching with a bemused smirk. “Having trouble?”

“Are you serious right now?” you muttered, glaring at the door. “These damn things are broken, I swear.”

“Sure, sure,” Rafe said, his grin widening. “You’re not just the problem, huh?”

You shot him an exaggerated glare but couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up again. “I swear, it’s not my fault.”

“Right.” Rafe teased. “Because nothing is broken when you get involved.”

He glanced over at you, his brow furrowed. “Great.” he muttered, pulling the card out and trying it again, only for the light to flash red, mocking him. He tried once more - still nothing. His expression darkened with frustration.

“Rafe, are you sure you know how to use those?” you teased, leaning against the wall, an amused grin tugging at your lips.

He shot you a half-amused, half-annoyed glance. “I’m not an idiot.” he said, giving the card one last try before slapping it against his palm. “It’s the damn door.”

With a sigh, he turned to the door across from yours - the one that led to his room - and gave it a shot with his card. You leaned in just enough to watch, your curiosity piqued. He slid his card in, turning the handle with the same precision.

Nothing. Again.

“Well, that’s just great!” he muttered, letting out a punch on the door before he . He looked over at you, his expression a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

You snickered softly, crossing your arms. “Looks like we’re both stuck.” you said, your voice laced with teasing. “Are you sure you paid for the rooms, Cameron?”

Rafe shot you a playful glare. “I blame the hotel staff” he replied, rubbing his forehead as if this whole situation were somehow their fault. He shoved the card back into his pocket. “Let’s check the front desk.”

As you both headed toward the elevator, you couldn’t help but notice the faint frustration in his eyes. But there was something else there, too - a glimmer of something you couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the way he’d been looking at you all night like he was trying to figure you out, or maybe it was just the ridiculousness of the situation.

The receptionist smiled sympathetically, taking the cards from you and swiping them through the system. You glanced over at Rafe, your eyes landing on his red, bloodshot gaze, and blinked in surprise.

“Damn, dude. What happened to your eyes?” you asked, voice a mix of shock and amusement.

Rafe shot you a side-eyed glance. “Shut up.” He muttered, but there was no hiding the playfulness in his voice.

You paused for a second, a small laugh escaping as your mind quickly connected the dots. “Wait, wait. You’re high as hell, aren’t you?” you teased with a grin, whispering as you thought the receptionist wouldn’t hear but the poor lady did a good job at pretending.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, smirking even more. “You’re real observant one, huh.” he replied dryly, his eyes narrowing as he watched the receptionist typing on the computer, ready to cause a scene.

Just as you were about to keep joking, Rafe suddenly pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you. You blinked, a little surprised, but he just raised the phone to show you the screen with a smug look on his face.

There, right on the screen, was a close-up of your face – your eyes bloodshot and glowing red.

You froze, staring at it for a moment before your face broke into a laugh. “Oh my god, really?” you said, trying to stifle your giggles.

You leaned in to get a better look at the photo, your own laughter bubbling up. “That’s cute. We’re matching, Cameron!” you joked, raising an eyebrow.

Rafe shook his head, still grinning. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, but there was warmth in his voice.

The receptionist checked the system again, then looked up, a surprised smile on her face. “Actually, I see that your rooms has been upgraded.” she said. “Mr. Rossi made special arrangements for you. You’ll be staying in one of our premium suites, with an incredible coastal view.”

Rafe exchanged a glance with you, both of you processing the unexpected news. "Upgraded?" you repeated, still a little disoriented. "Wow... really?"

The receptionist handed you two new key cards with a smile. “Yes, enjoy your stay. All your luggages and belongings have been transferred already.”

“Guess we’re living the high life now,” Rafe said with a grin, taking the cards from her.

You snorted at his words, still buzzing with laughter. “Yeah, right… Literally.”

You both headed to the elevator, your footsteps light as you approached the suite. As the door opened, you brows shot up. A king-sized bed sat in the center, surrounded by luxurious vintage furniture. The floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a panoramic view of the coast - moonlight glimmering on the water, the soft rumble of the waves reaching your ears.

But then you looked at the bed again, and your stomach sank as everything clicked into place. You slowly turned to face Rafe, wide-eyed.

“Wait… we’re sharing this bed?” you asked, the realization slowly sinking in.

Rafe snorted. “Guess so. Unless you want to sleep on the couch.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, I’m not sleeping on the couch. But how are we going to-?”

“What? Afraid you’ll be tempted?” He arched his brow, a teasing smile on his lips as he already move to his side of the bed, kicking off his shoes.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I’ll take the bed. You can take the couch.”

“Not a chance.” Rafe cut you off with a raised hand. “I’m not sleeping on the floor either, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You paused, thinking it over. “Okay, here’s the deal. You take one side, I take the other. No crossing the line, no touching. Agreed?”

Rafe crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’ll agree to those terms, for now.”

The two of you stood there for a long moment, an unspoken tension between you, both looking each other in silence as if in some sort of staring contest.

“Fuck, whatever.” You sighed, running a hand on your hair as you could feel your eyelids too heavy. “I’m too tired for this shit.”

The soft click of the bathroom door broke the silence as you stepped out, the quiet only punctuated by the steady thrum of your heartbeat. You hesitated, taking a deep breath before moving. The silk ivory nightdress you wore was far too short to be comfortable with someone else in the room. The fabric brushed high on your thighs with each step, and a delicate lace traced the neckline, dipping low enough to tease. A matching robe hung loosely around your shoulders, but it offered little coverage - just the pretense of modesty. You had packed it for the warm weather but you didn’t imagine you’d share a room with him.

You’d taken your time getting ready, hoping that by now, Rafe would be asleep. But as you tiptoed around the bed, trying to slip under the covers unnoticed, the soft click of the lamp switch made you freeze.

Warm light bathed the room, casting shadows that flickered along the walls. You felt his eyes on you, burning with a heat that made the silk on your skin feel even thinner. Rafe was propped up on one elbow, his hand the back of his head and eyes sharper than they should be at this hour. The smirk that curled at the corner of his mouth sent a shiver through you.

He let his gaze travel slowly, unapologetically taking in the way the nightdress hugged your body. The ivory silk clung to your curves, highlighting the bare slope of your shoulders and the length of your legs. The lace skimmed the line of your chest, delicate and inviting. His eyes lingered where the fabric dipped and rose, tracing every detail as if he were memorizing it.

“Couldn’t sleep…” He said, voice low, the tease there but edged with something that made your breath catch. “But I see I might now.”

A nervous laugh escaped you, and you pulled the robe a little tighter, though it did nothing to ease the warmth spreading through you. “I didn’t think you’d still be awake.” you said as if trying to explain yourself, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

Rafe’s smirk morphed into something deeper, eyes glinting as he pushed himself to sit up, muscles flexing under the thin cotton of his shirt and you’d never admit your gaze wandering to the contour of his muscles. “With you bringing the bathroom down? Not a chance.” He paused, the humor giving way to a quieter, more intense look. “You know, you don’t have to hide.” he said, nodding toward the robe that you tightly wrapped around you as you were almost curling on yourself.

Your fingers hesitated on the fabric, heart pounding as his words settled between you. The buzz from earlier, the laughter and sharp words, had dulled into a warmth that made your skin tingle. Still clouded with the weed and the drinks, you take a deep breath and take off the robe, quickly sliding under the covers and pulling it up your chest.

“If you’re trying to make peace between us,” he murmured, eyes darkening as they met yours. “this is a damn good way to start.” The playful lilt in his voice didn’t quite mask the heat simmering beneath it.

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your lips lifted. “I thought the blunt of peace was already shared.” you said, voice soft but daring. The tension between you crackled, unspoken and electric.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he exhaled slowly. “Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, the word low and rough, like it slipped out without permission. He dragged a hand through his face, eyes looking to the ceiling as his head hang back before he shifted, grabbing a pillow and placing it firmly between you on the bed, quickly turning off the lamp.

“Good night, trouble” he said, the nickname rolling off his tongue with a mix of teasing and resignation, as if trying to convince himself more than you.

The corner of your mouth lifted, heart still racing as you pulled the sheets over you. “Good night, idiot.” you whispered back, the space between you feeling smaller than ever, despite the pillow.

The room settled into silence, but the tension hummed beneath it, making sleep a distant thought.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

TAGLIST: @megiiite @melsunshine @maybankslover @wearemadeofstardust0 @lilithblackkk @slutforoldermen @louxmcl @peter-parkers-gf @yootvi @v4mp1rr3

[chuluoyi]

Could you do a brother’s best friend!Megumi x reader?

like her brother being overprotective, but being oblivious of his best friend’s crush on her sister?

(not the) best kept secret

- fushiguro megumi x reader

cool, brooding and handsome. your crush on your brother's best friend is a secret you only keep to yourself. little do you know, he too feels the same. and so, your love story—and the trials and tribulations that come with it—begins.

genre/warnings: college au, reader being yuji's little sister and him and your family being protective, fluff, mutual pining, tiny weeny angst if you squint? with happy ending ofc!

notes: awww anon, this ask is so cute and so hidden love-coded! did you watch hidden love too? because this piece draws inspiration from that ehe. and uh it turned out longer than i expected and i haven't proofread it but pls enjoy!

general masterlist

You have had a crush on your brother’s best friend, Megumi, for a while now.

Actually, scratch that. For a long time now, since you were in middle school, in fact.

In your eyes, he was really cool. He was reserved and not very talkative, which was a stark contrast to your brother Yuji, who could talk a mile a minute every day. It always baffled you why the two could be bosom friends.

And he treated you well. Megumi may have bonked Yuji’s head at any given chance, but with you, he was different. He was gentler, kinder, and overall just considerate. Sometimes he would even pick you up in your brother’s place, and your heart would beat out of your chest from sheer giddiness.

Little did you know, he too didn’t quite see you as a mere sister of his friend.

It started with head pats. You heart would flutter and he would be more conscious of his actions. Yuji had furrowed an righteous eyebrow at the sight.

“Oi, Fushiguro, that’s some favoritism there!” he whined. “I helped you with homework and what did I get—”

“Shut up, Itadori.”

And then the text messages. You didn’t know how or why you ended up texting him on daily basis. He was the one who texted you first a few months ago, having obtained your number from a mutual friend in your circle to ask about the best gift for Yuji’s birthday. And somehow up until now, you found yourselves telling him how your day went, and he the same.

you: i've just finished my class today. so tired megumi: oh? mine is still in session. quite boring you: i see. well, ganbatte!

Those little interactions made your day, and for now, you were quite satisfied with them. But when your phone buzzed once again, signaling a new text, you couldn't resist the urge to swiftly open the messaging app to expect the expected.

megumi: wanna grab lunch later?

It was so incredibly childish, but you felt like winning.

Lunch invitations were often. You spent the whole duration of lunch with him almost every day at this point. The two of you talked about many mundane things, and he would have this small smile whenever you griped about your hard tests or annoying classmates.

Head pats. Texts. Lunches.

And then there was Nobara.

Now, don't get me wrong. You adored her—she was a fun person, pretty and you even looked up to her as your role model at some point. If Yuji somehow ended up with her, you were sure to give them 200% of your blessings.

But seeing her with Megumi was another story. Sometimes you envied your brother's close knit group of three. They had been friends since middle school, and it was granted that Nobara would spend a whole load of time with both your brother and Megumi. With Yuji, she was harsher and didn't take him seriously, but you couldn't deny what your peers had been whispering and what you yourself found very plausible—she and Megumi would make a fine match.

It wasn't your intention at all, but ever since you saw him and Nobara at the toy shop together, pulling for popular merchandises in gacha box, you started losing confidence in yourself and inadvertently put this distance between you and him.

At first it was subtle, Megumi didn't even realize it. But when your replies were few and far in between, he decided it was time to address the problem.

"You don't answer my texts," he stated one day, barely catching you at campus during the lunchtime. Now that he thought about it, you kept denying his lunch invitations too. "Are you avoiding me?"

"I, um," you stuttered. You didn't anticipate running into him, to be honest, and so you were at loss of words. "It isn't like that..."

Megumi figured that he had done something to make you feel like you should avoid him, but he didn't want the two of you to be in this awkward situation any longer, so he led you away from the crowd to your usual place of hanging out after lunch—the rooftop.

"Have I done something?" he asked warily. "It's okay, you can tell me."

"No, Megumi, I—"

"I don't want us to be like—this," Megumi said, his face contorting with a deep frown. "I don't like it at all."

Typically, he regarded friendships as a pain, but not with you. Not with the girl he had been pining over for who knows how long now.

Yuji's sister. He had to remind himself of that fact so many times and yet his heart didn't seem to get it. You were his best friend's dearest sister, and yet he fell for you regardless. If Yuji knew, he would definitely had some opinions on this.

And so for the last few months, he kept it hidden under his sleeves. He approached you, befriended you, took you out on lunch dates—acting on his growing feelings for you and yet he didn't have the courage to confess still.

But enough was enough. If not confessing meant losing you altogether, then he was willing to take the risk. At the very least, if you did reject him, he would have gone down with a fight.

"Y/N, I don't know if you're already aware of this or not, but..." he gulped. Apparently this wasn't as easy as he thought, especially when you met his gaze with your cutely confused ones.

"I have feelings for you. I... like you, quite much."

His voice was clear, without any hint of doubt. You were taken aback and widened your eyes out of surprise.

"You do...?" you shyly asked him back, finding it hard to believe. Fushiguro Megumi, the boy you've been crushing on since you were 15, when you were only able to hide behind Yuji and saw him from afar. The boy who once was indifferent to you, was now confessing his feelings for you? He liked you back in the same way you liked him?

"I do," he replied with clarity, and then a smile. That small smile that always made your insides do somersaults. "I want to ask you out for a while now, but since well... you know... out of consideration for your brother, I felt like I couldn't simply whisk you away."

To his surprise, you laughed, and Megumi found himself breathless. The way you laugh was so mesmerizing in his eyes, reminding him why he could fall in love with you in the first place.

"I like you too, Megumi."

And that was all he needed. Apparently that confirmation was enough to forget that you were the sister of his long-time friend, and that it was fine even if you were. After all, since when was it a crime to romance your best friend's sister?

Still, you two decided to keep it under the wraps first. Springing this on Yuji would startle him, you reasoned, and he agreed. It was more convenient this way anyways.

Your relationship with Megumi was a happy one. He was curt, but never failed to look out for you. He remembered things you liked, and would take you out on places you wanted to go. Arguments were there—granted, sometimes he was just too stubborn, so you may have a clash of opinions—but in the end, the two of you always managed to work it out.

But there was always something melancholic in Megumi that you weren't sure you could touch at all. Perhaps it was due to his upbringing—his incomplete family. You tried to fill that gap, giving him many fun and happy memories, hoping it would replace his sad ones. He was grateful for that.

Nonetheless, the reality persisted that your brother, Yuji, remained completely oblivious to all of this. Yuji still thought that you were his innocent younger sister, and Megumi was his best bro. Sometimes you felt bad to do all this behind his back, and yet you made no move to rectify it.

“Hey, let’s ask Fushiguro to join too!” Yuji would say, and you would agree. And then, in front of him, you and Megumi would refrain from being too friendly, and he would be none the wiser.

All things have karma. You have built your karma too, for deceiving your kind and sweet brother.

"Fushiguro! How could you?!"

When Yuji's fist collided with his jaw, honestly Megumi had given up on fighting back, because one, there was no chance of winning against him, and two, your scream pierced the air, filled with worry for him.

You two just had to be found out in the worst way possible—while making out. It was wrong in so many levels in the first place. Why and how did you even initiate making out in your house that you shared with your brother?

"It could've been anyone," Yuji fumed with anger, his teeth clenching. "Anyone at all! And yet it has to be Y/N—my own sister! Fushiguro, have you ever considered the magnitude of betrayal this is to me?"

"Yuji! Please stop!" you tried to intervene. "He's not at wrong—it was me who—"

"No, you don't get any say in this!" for the first time, you saw your kind brother got angry and it made you quiver in fear. Yuji had never been angry, not to you. "You too, Y/N. How could do this behind my back? The least you could do is telling me!"

"I'm an adult!" you stressed, now irritated at this display of protectiveness from him. "I can date whoever I want and you can't just punch the man who happens to be my boyfriend!"

Honestly, if asked, Yuji wasn’t like 100% against your relationship with Megumi. He and Megumi practically grew up together, he knew the best and worst parts of him, and overall he still considered him decent.

But what made it hurt was that the two of you decided to leave him out. It made him doubt everything he knew about his best friend. How could he trust his sister to someone he found hard to trust?

He turned to Megumi, who was still slumped on the floors of his garage. “No. If he really likes you that much, then he will willingly accept this.”

Megumi understood, if his own sister was dating… let’s say, someone like Gojo, whom he trusted but not at the same time, he too would definitely beat the crap out of him.

And so he willingly endured all the blows. Yuji had to let off steam, and this pain was worth everything if it meant he would give his blessing for you.

Yuji was taken aback that his friend actually let him do this. When Megumi got thrown one last time and almost passed out, Yuji finally decided that it was the end.

His best friend and his sister… it was almost laughable if he didn’t feel like the biggest fool between the two of you.

He saw how you immediately sauntered towards him with tears in your eyes, muttering several apologies. Yuji wanted to snort, but then Megumi took a hold of your hand that was on his bruised cheek, and smiled, saying that it was okay.

And despite himself, his heart felt warm. Seeing the usual gruff and cold Megumi be this… soft with you seemed to open his eyes to something more.

Looking back, he could’ve had realized it when Megumi started to get touchy with you. He completely missed that the head pats were actually his subtle way of expressing his fondness for you.

Yuji decided to leave you be. At least he had made his point across, and he hated to say it outright, but perhaps, it was okay after all for you to be with him.

Okay didn’t mean you two had obtained his full blessing, though. But another event soon changed his perspective.

“Itadori,” Megumi’s ragged breaths was what he registered first through the sudden phone call. “Please come here—Y/N—she was—”

It was Yuji’s first time to witness pure panic from Megumi. He proceeded to tell him how you had been in pain and then collapsed, and that he had brought you to the hospital.

When Yuji arrived at the hospital, he once again saw how restless his friend was over your wellbeing. He could no longer deny it—the sight moved him.

“Hey, you awake?” Megumi’s face was the first you saw when you awoke at the hospital bed. He looked so concerned, a frown creased deep in his face. “Are you not in pain anymore?”

No, not quite much anymore, you wanted to say, but your throat felt so dry and you only managed to shake your head lightly.

“That’s good,” he let out a relieved sigh, and that was when you notice your brother at the corner of the room, looking at you two with a somewhat exasperated expression, but then he smiled.

Who knew a severe case of appendicitis would lead to Yuji giving his complete approval for you to date his best friend, huh?

But life is nothing if not full of obstacles. The next obstacle you faced after Yuji’s finding out was your parents.

“Look Y/N, we know. Megumi is a good guy,” you mother started. “We've known him for a long time, of course, personality-wise, we have nothing against him.”

You bit your lower lip in frustration. Beside you at the dinner table, Yuji kept his silence, but listened attentively too.

“It’s just… the matters of his family,” your father added, carefully choosing his words.

“His father is never in the picture, is he? And there are also rather unsettling news about him too.” Your mother was always the one being more straightforward.

Both you and Yuji knew it already. As of now, Megumi only had his stepsister, and last you heard, his father was gambling somewhere and then became a convict. Megumi said he had cut ties with him, but there was no such thing as an ex-father. Until forevermore, Fushiguro Toji, a criminal, was his biological father.

“Mom, I know your concern,” Yuji had finally decided to step up, and you were grateful for that. “Fushiguro won’t end up—”

“Yes, we know,” your mother emphasized, letting out a sigh. “But we are your parents, Yuji, Y/N. If there’s even the slightest chance, we worry. We want the best for you. Always.”

You were at a loss.

You were young, and yet you already saw him in your distant future. Being with Megumi felt so right and comfortable. He was your safe space as you were his.

But you also understood where your parents’ concerns came from, or at least tried to. At least until you found out how your father approached Megumi to talk him into thinking your relationship over.

"How could you, Dad?" you asked, aghast. "You're... practically intimidating him into breaking up with me!"

"Y/N, listen—I never meant it like that," your father tried to explain himself, and yet you were already too heartbroken to hear him, and so you shut the door to your room, not giving him any chance.

Why did your relationship suddenly become everyone's business? Why couldn't they just let you be an adult?

Megumi could still hear your father's words rang in his ears.

"Y/N... we raised her with love and care," your father said with a forlorn expression. By all means, Megumi knew that he meant well. "She's always spoiled, my only daughter... Megumi-kun, you must understand, it's not easy for us too."

He knew that his rather colorful past would get in the way one way or another, and he had come to accept it. But it still stung, because of course, he wanted full blessings from the family of the girl he fell in love with.

You were like a ray of sunshine in his dreary life. Like Yuji, your presence had made an impact on him. Your cute smiles, pouts and vulnerability around him... he loved them all.

He would get upset when you looked sad, just as you were now.

"It's really okay... Y/N." He swiftly wiped your tears with his thumb, as you sniffled. "I didn't take it to heart. Your father is just worried about you... I can understand that."

"But still—h-he shouldn't do that," you replied amidst your small sobs. Above all, you didn't want your father to have spooked him. "Megumi... I don't want to break up with you."

And honestly he didn't expect that. You were afraid of him... leaving you?

He, who did everything he could, just to have you to be by his side?

"Sir, I know where you are coming from. As of now, I don't have much. But I can say this with confidence—I... love your daughter very much, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that she is happy."

"Stupid," he huffed, putting a hand on your head, before messing up your hair. And gosh, you were so cute, glaring at him through your lashes.

"I won't. I've told your father that too actually."

"Just give me two years," Megumi added with unwavering voice, staring at your father earnestly. "After graduation, I'm getting my life in order. I'll secure a stable job and do my best. I'm... going to prove it to you, and you can be the judge if I can finally deserve Y/N or not."

He was 16 when he knew you, seeing you as nothing but a little girl too timid to approach him. And he was 19 when he realized that you were everything he wanted in a girl of his dreams.

At one point in his life, Megumi thought it was okay to be alone. But ever since getting to know you, he realized that loving and being loved by you were the greatest happiness of existence.

"Thank you," he muttered afterwards, as you were still starstruck that he apparently had the balls to declare something like that before your father.

"Thank you for giving me so much love. Because of you, I realized that I too deserve to be loved."

You could feel tears glassing your eyes once again. “You are. I’m glad that you finally think so.”

And that was it—your love story. Something that had started when you were 15, and ended ten years later when you were 25, with swearing your love for each other in front of the sacred altar before your closest family and friends, and Megumi by your side.

[et6rnalsun]

LET ‘EM KNOW, chris sturn

𝜗𝜚 pairing: chris sturn x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ smut, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up) literally js sex, chris being rough as always, slightly toxic! reader & toxic! chris

posted this cuz i needed to post something so here u go sum freaky smut. there’s a small time skip directly to the sex, hope it’s clear

your relationship with chris was complicated — and it couldn't even be called that.

something unfinished, that neither of you wanted to end. something that you had to let go but were too attached and dependent to the toxicity of the entire thing. you fucked, argued, argued while you fucked. it was a cycle that repeated itself, threats of never seeing each other again and then ending up in each other's bed with sinful moans escaping from swollen lips.

you weren't a jealous person, never been, especially towards him. you knew perfectly well he fucked other girls and pride ate you up completely before you could make a scene or something. but there was one of his hoes in particular, who made your hands tingle with the desire to beat her ass, that kept hanging around on him as if he was hers.

you fought the urge to nibble on your freshly manicured nails as you stared at that photo posted on his instagram story, their faces too close for your liking, clearly laying in his bed. so, you didn't think twice before clicking on his number, calling him. you waited one ring, two rings, and at the third he finally answered, his raspy voice saying your name slurredly.

"can you come over?" you asked shortly, getting straight to the point as you sat on the edge of your bed. chris sighed, knowing where you were going with this. "i'm busy right now, i think you know that"

"do you think i care? drop this bitch, chris, we both know you're dying to come here anyway" you huffed, not caring in the slightest that maybe you sounded too cocky. then your voice took on a more pleading tone, trying to get to him. "please, i need you. i’m not even kidding"

you could practically hear him wavering, his silence the answer you needed while you were already smiling in victory. "i'm coming. i fucking hate you" and hang up.

you then stood up, walking to the bathroom as you changed out of your underwear into his favorite thong, a smirk on your glossy lips the whole time. you had won, as always. you had confirmed that chris couldn't even resist you and your sweet voice of yours that begged him so subtly.

you didn't care if you sounded pathetic, or if you wouldn't do it for any other man anyway. you wanted him and had him again.

and then you didn't care even more as your fingers continued to pull the long curls of his hair to draw him closer to your neck, already tortured by marks and hickeys. your other hand gripping the crumpled sheets of your bed due to the inhuman rhythm of his thrusts. your moans were like music to his ears, especially after not hearing them for so long.

the tight, pink thong you had worn a few minutes before his arrival had been thrown to the floor without the slightest importance or care, like the rest of your clothes, only that one had been completely torn by chris's fucking impatient hands.

“you're such a needy slut,” he murmured through gritted teeth, one of his hands resting on your neck to keep you still. "you couldn't stand the fact that i was with someone else, huh? admit it" to those last words he added a thrust that hit right in that sweet spot, making you whimper.

“shut the fuck up” you managed to breathe out, your thighs tightening around him as you were desperate to reach your orgasm. "you didn't even - ah- didn't even hesitate to come here, didn’t you?”

he tightened his grip on your neck, lifting one of your thighs onto his shoulder with his other hand as he groaned. "fuck you" small beads of sweat had formed on his forehead at that point. “no one, no one has a pussy as fucking tight as yours” he felt like your walls were about to snap him in half, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head. "you drive me so crazy"

your moans had increased, feeling that pressure starting to persist more and more. “admit it” you whimpered, your long nails scratching his back as your arched yours slightly in pleasure. "admit that no one is like me"

his lips had found your bare shoulder, his teeth digging and biting into the sensitive skin as he whispered and moaned shamelessly into it. "no one makes me feel like you do, ma, i would gladly die inside this pussy if i could."

and you're cumming around him the minute the words leave his lips.

[leidensygdom]

Yesterday I got kind of possessed by the need to draw my most pathetic and sad looking girl, Nerium (my goth moth who is actually an android witch). I got to play her the other day again and I couldn't resist

[rosyrosethings]

Man Eater/Siren Y/n.

Y/n is a the girl every man desires and Harry can't resist her.

Disclaimer: I feel like a lot of writers make Y/n a little insecure girl and I know everyone has insecurities. But idk about yall but I feel like the I can have any man I want(sometimes) so I really enjoyed writing this. Hope you guys like it.

Warning: smut, cheating, sub harry, dom reader

4.5k words

Harry stood by the drink table, swirling the ice in his glass as he half-listened to Dan go on about his latest project. His mind was elsewhere, drifting back to Jane, who had opted to stay behind, nursing a cold. She'd insisted he go without her, to enjoy Mitch's birthday, to relax.

But relaxing had been impossible the moment he felt it—her presence. His body had sensed Y/N before his eyes had. A wave of heat and energy swept over him, tightening his chest, and without even thinking, he glanced toward the entrance.

There she was.

The woman he thought he had moved on from, the one who could ensnare any man with just a look—Y/N. Her dark skin seemed to shimmer under the dim party lights, her long legs accentuated by a dangerously short skirt. Her hair cascaded effortlessly down her back, swaying as she moved through the room, her smile dazzling as she greeted familiar faces.

"Harry? You okay, mate?" Dan’s voice snapped him out of his trance.

Harry blinked, turning his head sharply. "What?"

Dan chuckled, following Harry's gaze. "Oh, yeah... beautiful, isn't she?" That was the effect she had on men. Sometimes Harry wished he never met her. The power she held over him was unreal. Even Dan calling her beautiful had him feeling a bit possessive   

Harry gritted his teeth, feeling his heart race as Y/N hugged and mingled with the guests. Her laugh floated through the air, and Harry swore he could feel it wrapping around him like a spell.

"Excuse me," Harry muttered to Dan before heading for the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and leaned against the sink, gripping the porcelain edges tightly. His reflection stared back at him, his jaw clenched. Get it together, Styles, he thought. Don’t let her lure you in again.

It had been months since they last saw each other, months since they last… messed around. He would text her, no response for hours even days but whenever she texted him. He would respond immediately. If she called for him he would jump.

Jane was everything stable, safe. But Y/N? She was wild, unpredictable. A siren, pulling him deeper whenever she was near.

He took a deep breath, splashing cold water on his face. He couldn't let himself get caught in her orbit again. Not tonight.

When he finally left the bathroom, the air felt charged, his skin tingling with anticipation. He weaved through the crowd, heading straight for Mitch. He needed something—anything—to distract him.

"Mitch, mate, happy birthday!" Harry exclaimed, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

"Thanks, man! Glad you made it," Mitch replied, smiling.

They chatted easily, Harry grateful for the reprieve, until—

“Happy Birthday, Mitchell!" a familiar voice cut through the conversation.

Harry froze.

He turned just in time to see Y/N wrapping her arms around Mitch in a tight hug, her voice sweet as honey. She was the only person who called him Mitchell, a nickname she'd coined ages ago. Mitch didn't seem to mind; in fact, his grin widened as he hugged her back.

"Thanks, Y/N," Mitch said with a chuckle, patting her on the back.

"I got your gift. It's over on the table," she said, pointing behind her. "Didn’t know where else to put it."

Mitch barely had time to respond before someone else called his name from across the room. "Sorry, guys," he said, excusing himself. Sending Harry a sympathetic look before walking away.

And then, it was just Harry and Y/N.

"Look who it is," Y/N said, her voice dripping with playful mischief, her eyes sparkling as she smiled at him.

Harry felt a lump form in his throat, her gaze drawing him in like it always did. She tilted her head slightly, as if daring him to speak.

But he couldn’t move. Not yet. The memories of their last night together—the heat, the tension, the way her touch lingered far longer than it should have—flooded his mind, clouding his judgment.

"Long time, no see," she said, stepping closer, her presence commanding all his attention.

Harry swallowed hard, trying to muster the willpower not to fall under her spell again. But the pull was undeniable. She was electric, like pure fire, and he, once again, was the moth drawn to her irresistible flame.

He forced a smirk, trying to seem casual despite the chaos swirling inside him. "Didn’t think I’d see you tonight. Thought you were off traveling."

She shrugged, her smile lazy and seductive, never wavering. "I was. But Mitch's birthday is special, you know? And besides… I always find my way back."

Her words lingered between them, heavy with a meaning he couldn’t ignore.

"Where’s that little girlfriend of yours?" she asked, her voice soft but pointed, her gaze locking onto his. Every time their eyes met, it was as though her power seeped into him, coiling around his thoughts. He could feel the familiar tug, the way she seemed to unravel him with just a glance.

So he looked away, pretending to scan the room.

"Jane couldn’t make it," Harry said, clearing his throat, the weight of her name like an anchor tethering him to some semblance of control. He hoped it would be enough to ground him.

Y/N’s smile faltered, but only for a fraction of a second, something darker flickering behind her eyes. She stepped closer, leaning in just enough for her voice to lower, teasing him. "Shame. I guess it’s just us, then."

His heart pounded, the sound of it deafening in his ears. He kept his eyes fixed on the crowd, avoiding her like he was running from a storm he couldn’t outrun.

"Uhh… so, how are things?" he asked, his voice dry and brittle. It was the only thing he could think to say, a flimsy attempt to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters.

"Things are okay," she replied softly, her tone suddenly casual, as if the tension between them hadn’t just spiked. "I’ve been around the world, but I think I’m staying put for a while."

There was something about the way she said it that made Harry’s stomach twist. He was about to respond when her voice dropped, the concern in it almost unnerving. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

Her question threw him off balance, her concern cutting through the haze in his mind. "Just a bit parched. I’m going to grab a drink," he muttered, stepping to the side, desperate to escape her gravitational pull.

But before he could slip away, her hand wrapped around his arm, firm but gentle. The touch was electric, sending a jolt through his body, forcing him to look at her. He met her eyes, and for a moment, he was lost all over again. Maybe a drink could help him relax.

"Can you bring me something, too?" she asked, her voice soft but commanding, her gaze locking him in place.

His breath hitched, his mind spinning. The look in her eyes was hypnotic, and no matter how much he tried to resist, he couldn’t pull away.

"Yea, I can do that." He said, his nerves getting the best of him. He made his way to Mitch kitchen. Quickly grabbing him some water to help deal with the tension he could feel building. He looked over to see look at her again. Seeing another man already talking to her. His jaw clenched it was no time wasted. It was always like this with Y/n. He could tell that the man was offering her a drink but she denied making eye contact with Harry who was already looking at her. He could see her implying that Harry was getting her a drink. Harry grabbed a glass filling his with scotch. Needing something strong to deal with this. Filling Y/n a can of lemonade. She hated the taste of alcohol. Pouring her lemonade in a cup so she gives off the appearance that she is drinking. Which is what she likes. Harry remembers every detail about her.

Harry made his way back to Y/n. Stepping beside the random man.

"Here you are love." He said with a smile handing her the drink. Adding the 'love' almost like he's claiming his territory. He knew he shouldn't be behaving this way. But he hated how attractive she was.

"Thank you Harry." She said with a smile. The guy looked between them. Taking a hint before walking away. Y/n didn't even notice too focused on her newest victim.

Y/N raised the cup to her lips, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she took a sip. Harry stood beside her, his pulse quickening as the man who had been lingering near her quickly took the hint and left. He wasn’t sure if it was the scotch in his hand or the tension that had been simmering all night, but he felt a surge of possessiveness he couldn’t shake.

"You didn’t have to scare him off, you know," she teased, glancing up at him through her lashes, her voice smooth and low.

Harry raised an eyebrow, forcing a nonchalant smirk. "Scare him off? I didn’t say a word."

"You didn’t have to." She leaned in just slightly, her eyes locking onto his, her lips barely brushing the rim of her cup. "It’s like you claimed me in front of him, Harry. Didn’t think you’d still care that much."

His grip tightened around his glass, his mind spinning as her words hung in the air. He took a sip of his drink, letting the burn of the scotch fuel his response. "I don’t care," he lied, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. "Just didn’t want you to get stuck with some guy who’s not worth your time."

She laughed softly, the sound sending a wave of heat through him. "Is that so? And here I thought I could handle myself." Her eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was something more beneath the surface, something that felt like a challenge.

Harry felt the tension building again, the same magnetic pull between them that he had been fighting all night. He knew he should walk away, keep his distance, but there was something about her that always drew him back in.

"Maybe you can," he said, his voice softer now, his gaze flicking down to her lips. "But it doesn’t hurt to have backup, does it?"

Y/N tilted her head, studying him with a look that made his heart race. "You offering to be my backup now?" she asked, her voice dropping lower, teasing. "I remember a time when you’d jump at the chance."

Harry swallowed, trying to steady himself. "Things change."

"Do they?" She stepped closer, her body brushing against his as she whispered, "Because it feels like nothing’s changed at all."

He felt the heat of her body, the scent of her perfume filling the space between them. His breath caught in his throat, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts, none of which involved Jane or any sense of control.

"You really should stop looking at me like that," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

"Like what?" Y/N asked, feigning innocence, but her eyes betrayed her. She knew exactly what she was doing, and Harry hated how good she was at it.

"Like you know exactly what’s going on in my head," he replied, his voice thick with tension. "Because I’m trying really hard not to—"

"Not to what?" she interrupted, stepping even closer until their faces were just inches apart.

"Not to fall for your game again," he admitted, his voice hushed, almost like a confession.

Y/N smiled, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of his collar. "Who says it's a game?" she whispered, her lips dangerously close to his ear. "Maybe I just missed you."

The words sent a shiver through him, and he couldn’t stop the way his body reacted. His hand instinctively reached out, brushing against her waist, pulling her closer. He was losing the fight, and he knew it.

"I don’t believe you," Harry said, his voice low, but even as the words left his mouth, they felt weak.

She laughed softly, a sound that felt like it wrapped around him, teasing him, pulling him in deeper. "Then don’t," she whispered, her lips brushing against his jaw. "But you’ll stay anyway. You always do."

Harry closed his eyes, his mind screaming at him to stop, to pull away, but he couldn’t. The way her body fit against his, the way her breath felt warm against his skin—it was all too much.

"You’re impossible," he muttered, his voice strained, but his hands were already on her, pulling her closer.

"You love it," she teased, her eyes flicking up to meet his, a challenge dancing in their depths.

For a moment, they stood there, the tension between them crackling like electricity, neither of them willing to break the spell. It was dangerous, playing with fire like this, but Harry couldn’t resist her. He never could.

"I should walk away," he said, though his hands remained firmly on her hips.

"Then why don’t you?" Y/N whispered, her voice sultry and daring as she leaned in, her lips barely brushing his.

Harry's breath hitched, the fire between them burning hotter by the second. He knew he should walk away, but the pull was too strong. "Because you won’t let me."

Y/N smiled, her fingers tangling in his hair as she closed the distance between them, her lips grazing his in a soft, tantalizing kiss. "Exactly," she whispered against his lips, and before he could think, he was kissing her back, their bodies melting into each other like they had been waiting for this moment all night.

The kiss was slow at first, testing the waters, but it quickly deepened, the heat between them rising as all the restraint he had been clinging to shattered. Harry’s hands roamed over her back, pulling her closer as if he couldn’t get enough of her, as if he needed her to breathe.

It was everything he had been trying to resist, and now that he had her in his arms, he didn’t want to stop.

"See?" Y/N murmured against his lips, her voice breathless and full of satisfaction. "I always find my way back."

Harry’s phone buzzed in his pocket, the vibration cutting through the haze of desire that clouded his mind. He broke away from Y/N, breathless, blinking as though he’d just woken from a dream. The air between them still crackled with tension, but the sudden intrusion of reality jolted him back. He glanced down at the screen.

It was Jane.

His heart raced for a different reason now. Guilt settled in his chest as he quickly looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed. But no one was paying attention. The room hummed with casual conversation, and he realized they had tucked themselves into a corner, mostly hidden from view.

"Hold on" he muttered to Y/N, his voice low, his throat tight. He stepped away from her, feeling the weight of her gaze on his back as he moved toward the hallway just outside the bathroom.

He answered the call, forcing his voice to sound steady. "Hey, Jane."

"Hey, baby," Jane’s voice was soft, concerned. "Are you okay? I was just checking in. It’s getting late."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, his pulse still racing. He leaned against the wall, trying to gather himself. "Yeah, I’m fine," he replied, his voice calm despite the chaos swirling in his mind. "I should be home soon."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Harry could feel Y/N’s presence even before he saw her. She had followed him into the hallway, her steps slow and deliberate. His back stiffened, but he didn’t turn around. Not yet. He could hear Jane asking something, but his mind was already distracted.

Y/N didn’t wait for an invitation. She stepped closer, her breath warm against his neck, her fingers grazing the back of his shirt. Harry’s entire body tensed, but before he could react, her lips found his skin, pressing soft, teasing kisses along the side of his neck.

Harry’s grip tightened around the phone, his voice nearly cracking as he tried to focus. "Yeah… I’m still at Mitch’s. Just... just saying goodbye." His words were hurried, clipped, but he tried to keep them even, praying that Jane wouldn’t notice the strain in his voice.

Y/N smiled against his neck, her lips trailing lower, dangerously close to his collarbone. She wasn’t holding back now, her kisses deliberate and slow, her hand sliding around his waist, pulling him back into her orbit. It was intoxicating—the way she knew exactly how to play him, how to unravel him even in the middle of a phone call.

"Are you sure everything’s okay?" Jane asked, her voice tinged with worry. "You sound… off."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, his breath catching in his throat as Y/N’s teeth grazed his skin, sending a jolt through him. "I’m fine," he forced out, his voice shaky. "Just… just tired. I’ll be home soon, I promise."

Y/N’s soft chuckle was barely audible, but he could feel the satisfaction radiating off her. She was pushing him, testing how far she could go. Her hand slid up his chest, and Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound.

"Okay," Jane said, clearly still concerned. "I love you, Harry. Drive safe, okay?"

He swallowed hard, guilt crashing over him in waves. "I love you too," he muttered, his voice almost breaking as Y/N’s lips continued to work their way along his neck.

As soon as he hung up, he let out a shaky breath, his head spinning from the intensity of it all. Y/N pulled back slightly, her smirk visible in the dim light of the hallway.

"You’re playing a dangerous game," he whispered as he turned to face her. his voice rough, his heart pounding in his chest.

Y/N’s smile widened, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You love it," she teased, her voice soft and seductive as she leaned in again, her lips just inches from his ear. "Besides, you didn’t stop me."

Harry’s breath hitched, his body still trembling from the closeness of her. She was right—he hadn’t stopped her. He could’ve, but he didn’t. Instead, he had let her push him further and further, crossing lines he knew he shouldn’t.

"I should go," Harry said, though the words barely held any weight. His body was still on fire from her touch, and despite everything, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Instead, he did the opposite. His hands slid down to her waist, gripping her tightly, pulling her closer to him, their bodies pressing together as if he needed the contact to breathe.

Y/N tilted her head, her smirk never fading, her eyes gleaming with victory. "You don’t really want that," she whispered, her hands finding their way around his neck, fingers gently brushing the nape. She pulled his face closer, their lips inches apart, her breath warm against his skin.

Her words hung in the air, thick with temptation. Harry felt like he was standing on the edge of something dangerous, teetering between falling back into the same patterns or somehow finding the strength to walk away. His mind screamed at him to stop, to go home to Jane, to salvage what was left of his control.

But Y/N’s pull was too strong. She was too close, too intoxicating.

He looked down at her, his breath shallow, the last threads of his resolve unraveling. He could see the amusement in her eyes, the way she knew exactly what she was doing to him, how she always had the upper hand.

"I hate you," he muttered, though the words held no conviction. His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her even closer until there was no space left between them. His lips hovered near hers, his body betraying everything he was trying to fight.

Y/N laughed softly, her lips grazing his ear, sending another shiver down his spine. "Mmhmm," she hummed back, her voice thick with satisfaction. She knew she had him.

And with that, Harry gave in. He kissed her again, harder this time, his lips crashing against hers as if he couldn’t get enough. There was no hesitation, no holding back, just raw, unfiltered desire. His hands gripped her waist even tighter, pulling her flush against him as they melted into the kiss, the world outside disappearing.

Harry pulled away, looking down at her. He reached behind her opening the door to the bathroom.

"Inside. Now." He said, his voice authoritative. She grabbed him by his collar pulling him in with her. Harry closed the door behind him. Kissing her immediately as she leaned against the sink. The kiss intensified behind closed doors. Harry has missed her mouth so much. She started to unbutton the shirt. Once unbuttoned her hands grazed all over her chest. Harrys lips made it way down her neck. Kissing her neck. All there movements were hungry and desperate. Her top was scoop neck no bra in sight her nipples hard harry pulled down the top revealing her small breast.his hands started pinching her nipples. Getting a small gasp from Y/n. He loved the sound of satisfaction from her. Whenever she gave him the slightest moans. It was more than enough for him.

Her hand slid his chest to the bulge in his trousers. "Ohh you're so hard already. Must have missed me?" She said with a smirk she worked the button of his pants undoing and quickly unzipping the pants before letting them fall to his feet. Once her hand grazed his dick through his briefs he felt like he was going bust right then and there. He quickly picked her up. By her ass putting her on the counter of sink. His lips found hers kissing her hungry as he grinding his bulge against her as he he kissed her. Their tongues exploring each other excessively. Her pleated skirt flipped up against his her. He let out moans. Enjoying every second of her. Grinding against the west spot between his legs. Feeling like a teenage boy who finally was able to touch a woman. He was so eager

"Take my panties off," she panted against his lips. He complied, stepping back and pulling the red lace down her legs over her red heels. leaving her skirt in place. As she took them from him, she held the soaked fabric up to his face; he buried his nose in them, inhaling deeply and savoring the scent of her arousal.

"You missed havent you?" She asked seductively , He nodded. His nose snuffed in the panties. He did miss it. Her scent was his favorite.

"Take them off." She said her hand gesturing to his gray briefs. He nodded pulling his briefs down to his ankles with his pants. He stepped closer to her. His dick grazing against her pussy. A small hiss released from his mouth. She grabbed his dick. Placing right at her entrance before he could push himself in.

"Do you want to fuck me?" She purred as his hardened tip grazed against her entrance. He nodded fervently, unable to form words with the overwhelming need coursing through him. She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Use your words, tired of the nods," she scolded, a hint of arousal lacing her stern tone.

"Yes, please," he pleaded desperately, earning a satisfied smirk from her.

"That's it, my good boy," she cooed, "come on baby."

With a soft sigh and an alluring smirk, she guided him inside her. Harry's eyes rolled back in bliss. He was lost in the ecstasy of Y/n's pleasure, craving nothing but the sweet release that only she could give him.

"My baby, did you miss my warm, wet pussy?" she purred, her hand caressing the back of his neck.

"Mmmhmm," he moaned in response. He grip tightened on his neck,

"Say it with your words," she demanded firmly.

"Yes, I missed it so much," he gasped, closing his eyes in pleasure. He craved this submission to her. Jane was a good partner, but Y/n ignited a fiery passion within him that he could not resist.

"Can your little girlfriend give you the same pleasure that I can?" she taunted with a knowing smirk. He didn't answer, instead thrusting faster and harder into her awaiting body.

"Answer me," she demanded, her grip tightening around his neck as she pinched his nipple with her other hand. The pain shot through him, but it only added to the pleasure.

He mumbled incoherently, desperately trying to answer her question. "She can't," he repeated, his words becoming more and more slurred as he lost himself in the moment. But Y/n just smiled, moving both of her hands to the back of his neck and pulling his forehead towards hers.

"You're such a good boy," she purred, looking deeply into his eyes as their bodies moved together in rhythm. The friction between them was electric, driving them both closer and closer to the edge. Harry could feel himself getting close, his release building within him.

"Are you gonna cum, baby?" Y/n whispered seductively, knowing exactly what effect her words would have on him.

"Yes, please," he groaned, still thrusting deeply inside her.

"Can I cum inside you?" he asked eagerly, desperation evident in his voice.

"Hmm, I don't know," Y/n teased, biting her lip playfully as she continued to move with him. She wanted to draw out this moment, make him beg for release.

"Y/n, please," he begged, his control slipping away from him.

"Tell me who your dick belongs to," she commanded with a sly smirk on her lips. And with that final push, Harry couldn't hold back any longer. He surrendered completely to her, letting out a guttural moan as he finally reached his peak.

The sound of their grunts and heavy breaths filled the room as they moved in perfect rhythm. "Fuckk! It's yours! Only yours!" he said, struggling to maintain a steady pace with his thrusts.

She smiled and whispered, "You can cum." With her lips still connected to his, she felt Harry release inside her, feeling his body shudder in defeat. He collapsed onto her, breathing heavily as he rested his head on her shoulder.

"You're always so good for me, Harry," she said lovingly, running her hand through his hair and placing a soft kiss on his ear. He didn't say anything in response, but the way he held onto her told her all she needed to know.

"Harry, you have to get back to Jane." She said, his dick still resting inside her. Harry's reality sinks back in. What he did. He pulled himself out of her quickly pulling up his pants. She could see the flustered look on his face.

”Harry.” she said placing her red lacet panties in his hand.

"Keep these for the next time I feel like playing with you," she whispered, a sly smile tugging at her lips as she handed him her panties. She casually fixed her hair and applied a fresh coat of lip gloss, her movements slow and deliberate. With one last teasing glance over her shoulder, she left the restroom, now panties-less, leaving Harry standing there, still burning with desire, his mind racing as he watched her disappear.

[moowmoon]

SANDWICHES, KISSES AND MESS

— spencer reid x fem!reader

— summary: it was the perfect afternoon for spencer. he was with her, making sandwiches and a slight mess.

— c/w: i think none?

— w/c: 1.4k

— a/n: hello! another spencer one-shot! i want to thank's margot (@pathologicalreid) and ket (@mandarinmoons) to help me choosing spencer for this one-shot! i hope you guys like it and let me know your thoughts! english is not my first language, so forgive me if there's any mistake!

The kitchen was illuminated by a soft light, filtered by the late afternoon that poured through the windows. Ingredients were spread out on the worktop, and a pile of bread slices and assorted cheeses were waiting for their turn at the small improvised feast. Spencer was focused, holding a knife with almost comical concentration as he cut a piece of cheese. Next to him, she was trying to open a jar of jam, the lid tougher than she imagined, drawing a restrained laugh from him.

“Do you need any help with that, Miss Independent?” he teased, with a smile that was a mixture of playfulness and defiance.

She rolled her eyes, laughing. “Spencer, I can open a jar of jam.” She tried again, but the glass slipped out of her hands, almost falling to the floor before she caught it in the air in an involuntary reflex.

“Of course you can.” he whispered with a wink, holding up the jar. Spencer slid her hand down the side of the glass, his fingers firm and warm against hers. Even though they didn't look at each other for a moment, the subtle closeness seemed to ignite something in the air, an electricity that hovered between them.

Little by little, the ingredients lined up on the counter, each one in its place as if waiting for the right moment to be used. Spencer reached out to take a slice of bread, but at the same moment she did the same, and their fingers met. They laughed, but no one moved for a second, their fingers lingering on the bread as if that simple touch could contain an entire conversation.

“You mean I'm stealing your piece of bread now?” she joked, looking at him with a challenging smile.

Spencer laughed quietly, still holding the slice of bread close to her. “Well, I'm not one to share my sandwich… but I think I can make an exception for you.”

She let go of the bread, laughing, and the two of them continued assembling the sandwiches. While she spread some mustard on the slices, Spencer picked up the pot next to her to pour in the grated cheese, and their arms crossed again, a light touch, but full of tenderness that they both pretended not to notice.

They exchanged glances between casual laughs, the tension between them growing as if each touch were a silent secret.

While she concentrated on spreading the cheese on the bread, Spencer grabbed a handful of flour from the worktop, a spark of mischief forming in his eyes. He waited for the right moment, leaning down next to her, pretending to be interested in what he was doing, until, with one agile movement, he dabbed a little flour on her nose.

She stopped, blinking in surprise. “Spencer Reid, did you really do that?”

He laughed, taking a step back, his hands raised in feigned innocence. “I couldn't resist. You were an easy target.”

She tried to wipe up the flour but ended up spreading even more, which only made him laugh louder. Determined, she picked up a piece of tomato from the board, threatening to throw it at him.

“Don't even think about it.” he warned, laughing, but her defiant tone only encouraged him further. She threw the tomato in his direction, hitting him lightly on the shoulder.

“Now it's war.” he joked, leaning towards her, but when she tried to dodge, he pulled her close, their laughter mixing as the space between them shrank, their eyes exchanging sparks in silent banter.

After the little battle with flour and tomatoes, Spencer and his partner were still panting with laughter. The kitchen was filled with a slight mess, scattered ingredients, and a delicious smell in the air. As she tried to catch her breath, Spencer watched her with a satisfied smile, admiring how the strands of hair fell over her face.

“You're a mess,” he said jokingly, running his hand over her cheek, where a little flour was still stuck. She smiled, finding it funny.

“You started it!” she retorted, but she couldn't look away from him, an intensity beginning to take over the space between them.

Spencer didn't withdraw his hand, letting it rest on her cheek for a second longer, their fingers intertwining gently. Their laughter subsided, giving way to a heavy silence where words seemed unnecessary. He stared at her, his gaze deep, as if he were evaluating every fraction of a moment. The warmth of his hands mingled with that of the kitchen itself.

She took a deep breath, a shy smile forming on her lips as the connection between them grew stronger with each passing moment. The touch that had only been playful now seemed deeper, and she wondered if he too felt the same electricity in the air.

“So,” he began, his voice a little lower, almost a whisper, ”what else do you have in mind for our sandwich?”

The moment seemed suspended, and she knew the answer was beyond words. The simplicity of the kitchen was transformed into a space where intimacy flourished, and every beat of their hearts seemed to shout that this moment was even more special.

The tension between them hung in the air, each absorbing the silent energy that pulsed between the touches and glances they exchanged. Spencer was still holding her hand, and slowly, as if time had slowed down, he raised his other hand, sliding it gently under her cheek. The touch was delicate, but the electricity they felt was palpable.

She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the sensation to envelop her. Spencer, watching her, realized the fragility of that moment and moved even closer. His hand caressed her cheek, his thumbs gliding gently over the soft skin. It was a simple gesture, but it carried the depth of everything they didn't say in words.

When her eyes opened, she met his, so close that she could feel his breathing. The world around them seemed to disappear, and all that remained was that intense connection. The laughter and jokes had given way to a silence full of unspoken meanings.

“I…” Spencer began, but the words died on his lips. Instead, he leaned in, the distance between them fading. She followed him, their hearts beating in unison, until, without thinking, he ended the distance with a soft kiss.  It was a delicate touch, but full of urgency that they had both tried to ignore.

The kiss was a mixture of restrained laughter and silent promises, and she gave in, wrapping her arms around him, and pulling him closer. The warmth of the embrace enveloped her, and at that moment, everything seemed perfect. The kitchen, with its chaos, became the refuge where they could finally be honest, their bodies fitting together perfectly while the world continued outside, but they didn't care.

But suddenly, the shrill sound of the oven timer cut through the romantic atmosphere, echoing through the kitchen like an emergency alarm. Spencer and she moved away quickly, their faces flushed and their eyes wide with surprise.

“Wow, that was… unexpected.” she said, trying to hold back her laughter as she walked away, her lips still slightly tinged with a smile. Spencer let out a laugh, running his hand through his hair in a gesture of playful exasperation.

“I didn't know cooking was so dangerous,” he replied, walking over to the oven and opening the door. The smell of what they were preparing enveloped the kitchen, a mixture of ingredients that now seemed even more delicious after that moment.

She joined him, and they both looked at what they had made, their laughter mixing with the aroma of the sandwich. “Look at that! I don't think we're going to be able to make a perfect sandwich with the mess we've made.” she commented, looking at the flour spread and the traces of tomato on the worktop.

“Ah, but the mess is part of the fun, right?” Spencer said, throwing some flour in the air as if it were confetti. The act made her laugh, the echo of laughter filling the kitchen once again, dissolving any trace of tension.

“You're right! Let's make this sandwich a real work of art… or a masterpiece of mess!” she said, picking up a piece of bread and starting to assemble the ingredients again. Meanwhile, Spencer watched her, admiring the joy she brought to the kitchen and the warmth they still felt from their shared moment.

As they continued to work, their gazes crossed from time to time, carrying the memory of their kiss and the feeling of intimacy that still lingered between them. It was a mixture of playfulness and affection, a light moment that promised more laughter and connections ahead.

[ask-pokecats]

AAAAAAAAWWWWW! ;; *happy dog noises* 💖💖💖

Fan Art Friday Saturday 9/14!!

Paula from @ask-pokecats !!