#i seem to have way more energy than i should have after being on the road for hours

[prael]

Day 3: Reciprocation

Itzy Yeji x male reader smut

words: 6,714 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

If there's one thing you've learned dealing with the rich, the famous and the devious, it's that there's always a deal to be made.

-

"Not often that I see a girl like you in a place like this."

"Well, you're an incredibly difficult man to track down."

It's the girl who's supposed to be on the main page of your site starting tomorrow morning. You gesture for Yeji to sit by your side, and while there are more than enough empty seats around you, she prefers to stand. What is this, a fucking power move?

"Well, you could have just called my office and made yourself an appointment."

It doesn't amuse her. She simply brings her hands up to rest on her hips as she looks at you.

"Look, let's get to the point. You can't post the article." There is something rather endearing in watching how she talks to you. Her hips are cocked and her face bears a look of determination, but she lacks confidence. You're not sure she even believes herself. Maybe she's just hoping that you'll cave.

You meet her eyes and hold her gaze for a few moments, searching for a crack in her armour. It's hard to say for certain when the only lighting in this club is what little neon they have on display, but there seems to be something else hiding behind her stare. A nervous energy, perhaps. So, you correct her, "I can post the article."

"Look— I, I have money." She takes a single stride towards you, with her long slender legs of which only part of her thigh is covered by the bottom of her dress. That thing clings to them like it does every other inch of her body. One hell of a figure.

"I'm well aware."

"Okay then, how much money will it take for you to drop the article?"

"Money doesn't compare to an article like this one—you know that. Come on," you lean forward a bit. "You should be smarter than that."

"How much?!" Yeji says again. There's an edge to her voice now and a stern look in her eyes. She must feel that you're not taking her seriously—honestly, you aren't. You can't count the number of times an agency has tried to block an article by simply throwing money your way. The novelty has worn off. 

"Listen, Miss Hwang, I appreciate the effort you have gone through to manufacture a meeting with me, however, just like I told your PR team, I'm not for sale. Should you want to avoid this sort of thing, then I'd recommend being a little more discreet the next time you want to fuck around." You glance at the door leading out. The exit sign above is blinking erratically, but it serves its intended purpose nonetheless. "I'll see you in tomorrow morning's news."

"No."

"No?" You raise an eyebrow. She may be a star and she may make people go crazy in more ways than one, but if you've learned something about yourself over the years, it's that you aren't as easily swayed by beauty alone, nor impressed by fame.

Yeji remains silent, her eyes looking down to the table in front of you and your mind instantly starts conjuring up scenarios where the girl goes into a screaming fit or starts throwing a tantrum until security drags her sorry ass out the door.

Her head snaps up again. "Fine." Yeji turns sideways and steps around the small table. It becomes apparent that she plans on sitting by your side, after all. She isn't exactly looking at you as she plops herself onto the cushioned bench. "You said 'next time', right?" She begins quietly.

In spite of yourself, a smile appears on your face when you see the wheels turn inside of Yeji's head. "I don't think I understand."

"Yes, you do," Yeji replies dryly. And with the certainty now back in her voice, it appears you've misjudged her.

When you remain silent for a few moments, Yeji eventually gives in and takes a quick, inconspicuous breath before looking up again. Her face is but inches from your own. "Have sex with me tonight."

It takes effort not to burst into laughter in response to such an absurd offer, and as a result, the amusement is probably pretty damn clear in the tone of your reply. "You're cute."

"I'm serious."

You look the girl in the eyes once more, leaning backwards. "You know how much trouble you could get into for trying something like this, right?"

Yeji's jaw clenches momentarily. "Yeah."

You gaze down along her body again. The skin on her thighs seems smooth and silky; definitely worth a closer inspection, and you would be lying if you said the knowledge of her dirty hook-ups didn't have your mind wondering about all the ways she might be willing to work her body in an attempt to sway you. You wonder if she likes it rough; likes having someone grab hold of those black locks of hers and yank her head back. Likes having a cock slammed down her throat. Your thoughts quickly go into a tailspin which has you imagining Yeji crawling towards you dressed up in nothing but skimpy lingerie, a hungry smile plastered across her face and a yearning desire to find out what sort of mess you could turn her into.

"So," you begin quietly. "I don't release an article about the K-pop star who keeps sneaking out into hotels to get herself fucked—and in exchange, I get to sleep with the K-pop star who keeps sneaking out into hotels to get herself fucked. Do I have that right?"

You see the embarrassment cross Yeji's features briefly, yet she still manages to bite out her reply with certainty: "Yes."

For some reason, even though she's been found out and forced into making such an absurd deal, she refuses to lower her gaze away from yours, almost daring you to judge her. You've seen her music videos online—goddamnit, everyone has—and she's sexy as hell. No one would deny that, and she looks stunning in that black dress of hers. It really compliments her figure. Legs go on for days, a toned physique and looking down the front of her dress as she leans into you, a pretty little pair of tits hidden somewhere in there as well.

"I've been propositioned before, you know, but usually that's to get their face on the front page, not off it." You cock your head at her. "How badly do you want this dropped, anyway?"

"What are you trying to say?"

You lean back slowly, deliberately, resting your shoulders against the seat as you feel Yeji's eyes study your every move. Despite the terrible lighting, you can tell she's biting her lip nervously. She's so close that the scent coming off her fills the air around you. It's a pleasant smell. One you wouldn't mind having all over your bed.

"I'll be blunt." Your eyes fall to her chest and you take note of how Yeji squirms under your stare. A tiny smile appears on your lips. "I'd love to fuck you. Hell, anyone in their right mind would love to fuck you. You're a very attractive girl, after all." You nod in her direction. "So, that part will happen if I agree to this deal of yours, however, there's one thing you haven't accounted for."

Yeji meets your stare. Her voice is low, yet resolute. "Which is?"

"You have no idea of whether or not I'm actually going to uphold my end of the bargain."

She pauses in silence and then moves her hand across the table, scooping up your drink and raising it to her full lips. As she knocks back the remainder, the way her slender neck stretches makes you wish you could wrap your hands around it.

The glass hits the table and Yeji licks her lips softly. The sight has you licking your own and for just a second, the both of you simply gaze at each other in silence, almost sizing each other up. Yeji finally shifts closer to you until she's right by your side. Her breasts press up against your shoulder and you feel her warmth on your arm.

One of her delicate hands lands gently in your lap and slides upwards onto your thigh where she starts to draw small circles with her fingertips. You wonder if she notices the slight hitch in your breath as she touches you. "We can go to your office. Sign a document. Legally binding. Non-disclosure. And agree to write a favourable piece about me. You can send out the request to your best columnist there and then. And then you can take me right there." Her words come out in soft whispers and her eyes dart over your face, trying to read your reaction.

Yeji is young and beautiful and she's clearly horny enough to get herself into this kind of mess. It doesn't come as too much of a surprise to you, then, when you feel a delicate fingertip trace over your crotch. "Take you?"

"On your desk. Over your desk," she elaborates shamelessly and with a hint of cheek in her voice. There's a smug expression on her face. She's enjoying herself but also relieved to be getting through to you. "However you want me."

"So, it's an exchange? A dirty deal done in the darkness?"

Yeji smirks. "I prefer to call it reciprocation."

-

Friday night in the office and it still has the passive hum of life, though not much of it. Cutting through the air is the loud clack of Yeji's high heels as she follows you silently past empty room after empty room. The interns putting in the long hours are all on the lower floors, giving you just enough discretion.

You glance back briefly at her before rounding the corner. Just like you had imagined, she seems rather timid now. Head held slightly down and glancing around the place, almost like she's embarrassed to be here with you.

Finally, you reach your private office near the far wall of the floor and wave Yeji inside. As you step up to your desk and turn, Yeji closes the door behind herself and watches you intently. The soft light in here gives you a much better opportunity to appreciate her.

"Come." You gesture her over while simultaneously logging into your PC.

It only takes a few simple clicks to bring up a basic confidentiality agreement which you proceed to edit. "As requested," you begin. "This agreement prohibits me from writing anything related to your numerous encounters with nameless men and women in various hotels throughout Seoul. Failure to abide by these terms enables you to take legal action against me and my firm to any extent deemed necessary."

She places her palms on the desk as you turn the monitor to show her. She reads it. You read here. Leaning forward has the front of her dress hang open a bit further. It's the first glance you get of her red bra underneath and the swell of her chest, just big enough for handfuls. She sees your wandering eyes, yet continues to scan the terms of the contract. It makes you curious if the idea of being looked at like some cheap slut turns her on. Maybe you should try referring to her as such. Would she object? Or encourage?

Yeji nods in approval and you click 'print'. She looks past you, watching it emerge from the machine.

"That's all we need," you say, never looking away from her. There's something mesmerising about her eyes. They're large, they're dark and they tend to draw you in. "Now I can't expose your whorish tendencies."

She looks offended momentarily. "Whorish?"

"Two months. Forty-two hotel visits were recorded. Thirty-five different partners." The chair rolls away as you push it back and stand up, towering over her frame. "Yes, you're fucking whorish, Yeji. Our research was thorough."

"I'm just having fun." She stops leaning on the desk. You both take a step in unison, beginning to round the desk while staring each other down. The moment feels tense. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Oh, I agree completely."

Another step. Another inch towards each other.

"There's no shame in being a bit of a slut. An incredibly beautiful slut."

A third.

You're face to face. Those heels make her almost as tall as you, and you glance at Yeji's lips as the tip of her tongue suddenly darts out over them. The only sound between the two of you is your shared breathing. Yeji tilts her head back slightly and gazes into your eyes, waiting expectantly for you to act upon your desire. Waiting for you to throw her onto the desk and fuck the living shit out of her, just as she asked for.

You wait.

Her lower lip disappears beneath the bite of her teeth.

Wait.

A sudden flush rises up onto Yeji's cheeks, undoubtedly born from her frustration, but you don't miss the excitement hiding within it either. Then, Yeji takes another step forward, one which has you taking hold of her waist, pushing yourself hard up against her body.

Almost instantly, the pair of you go from hesitant to frantic, moving without a single word being spoken between either of you.

Your mouths meet in an open-mouthed kiss of heat, passion and impatience. There's a gasp coming from somewhere, a mixture of a moan as the two of you collide. It takes more willpower than expected not to shove your tongue down Yeji's throat as you feel hers slide against yours in an instant. Fingernails dig into your neck; not hard enough to leave marks, yet not soft enough to be mistaken as anything else than a woman showing what she wants. It's exactly what you wanted to do when you first saw her tonight.

She bites on your lip, sucks on it and goes straight back in. You grab hold of her tightly and shuffle her backwards towards the desk. You can barely restrain yourself. A groan rises up in the depths of your stomach when Yeji parts her legs slightly, welcoming your body in between them.

Every part of you tells you to bend her over and start hammering yourself into her, yet there's still one last detail you must attend to. You break free of Yeji's grasp and shove her roughly down onto your desk.

Her hair fans out around her head and her gaze looks darker somehow, more lustrous under this light. You follow her shape, down, over the bumps of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips and then to the hem of her dress, where bare thigh begins again. She shudders under the weight of your stare. Legs falling apart, invitingly.

You feel Yeji tremble under your tender touch as you run your hand up the outside of her thigh and push up the fabric of her dress. The tips of your fingers bump along the rim of her underwear before reaching her hip where you trace shapes absentmindedly. She's smooth and silky everywhere.

"What is it?" Yeji asks breathlessly when you don't move for a few moments. Your attention remains firmly locked on that final detail. The thin lace material covering her cunt.

You look her dead in the eyes and curl your fingers around it. "Just wondering how many different people have had you like this."

The red lace is pulled aside. Yeji stares at you, seemingly taken aback by your bluntness as you lean down a little further and angle her leg to the side, letting cool air hit every inch of her bare sex. And it's a lovely sight, all things considered. Neat, trimmed and glistening wet. Your hand moves across her thigh to hold her in place. "Usually I'm on top," Yeji replies, finally regaining her confidence.

"You'd rather be riding me, huh?"

"Yes." Yeji's answer comes immediately. Your cock is stiffening already at the mere thought of having her small body bouncing in your lap as she rides your length like a bitch in heat.

She runs her own hands up her slender frame, feeling up the sides of her own waist, skirting around those perky tits and letting out the smallest whimper of anticipation as she caresses the side of her neck. Her eyelashes flutter with desire. It seems the girl enjoys being admired just as much as you enjoy admiring.

"Don't worry, you'll get to ride it soon enough." Slowly, you drag your middle finger up between her folds, making sure you put enough pressure down against the sweet little bud of nerves to make her arch her back at the sensation. A deep inhale catches itself in the back of Yeji's throat when you sink your fingertip inside of her, only for it to turn into a disappointed sigh when you withdraw.

She bites her lip in embarrassment, no doubt mortified that she couldn't keep quiet at such a simple action, although that doesn't stop you from repeating the movement, applying more pressure and then sinking further into her. This time you withdraw and then taste your finger curiously. If the sweet scent wafting off her wasn't enough indication, she tastes as good as she looks.

"How are you so wet already?" you ask. "All from thinking about getting railed over my desk, hmm?" You ask teasingly, lowering your mouth down closer to her pussy and holding your breath for a moment. You can feel the warmth coming off her.

"It's exciting."

"What, fucking a stranger?"

"Yes," Yeji says bluntly. She wets her lips. "There's nothing quite like giving yourself up to someone completely random."

Your hand slides down her calf and gently pulls off her heel. As soon as it hits the ground, it's replaced with a slow and tender kiss on the inside of her ankle. The skin is just as smooth and supple as the rest of her. From here you have a much better view of how her delicate little flower pulses in longing.

Your head dips and you suck hard on Yeji's inner thigh. You delight in the surprised yelp leaving her mouth as you rake your teeth over her soft skin, pulling at it before letting go. It leaves behind a lovely purple bruise which you blow cold air over, soothing the irritated skin. It makes you smile, knowing that mark will remain for a week, to be seen by whoever she fucks next.

"Do you get excited thinking about having me join the list of cocks pounding away at you?"

Without allowing Yeji time to think, your tongue finds her clit and starts drawing shapes around it. "Yes!" You hear her hiss. Your left arm reaches under her thigh and keeps her pinned down to the table while your right does the same, only giving your tongue freedom to dance over her wet cunt.

You sample her thoroughly, getting her used to the feeling of your warm tongue running over every part of her. You apply more pressure to your work once you notice Yeji bucking her hips upwards to grind against your mouth.

"Oh shit." Yeji is panting heavily now, gasping for breath whenever you pay special attention to her clit. Her thighs quiver every so often, tensing around your head. "Don't—don't stop."

Yeji has the nicest legs you've ever laid eyes on. The way they wrap tightly around your head, squeezing the air out of you when you suck down on her swollen clit, it feels heavenly.

Suddenly, Yeji's hips thrust forward, throwing your rhythm off momentarily.

"Mmm, oh—fuck," she whimpers as you feel her body shake and quiver underneath your touch. Your pace doesn't slacken even once throughout.

"Fuck," Yeji whines louder this time. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

Already?

You put more pressure on her hips, keeping them pinned down as best as possible, whilst your tongue attacks her with fervent desperation, spurred on by Yeji's declaration. As the seconds pass by, Yeji becomes more vocal, though not with her words—with her actions. Her breathing picks up noticeably. Soon it becomes short and ragged. Her chest heaves. Her fingers claw into the surface below her. Her spine curves beautifully and her lips hang open wide, allowing loud cries to escape her.

She practically sings out for you as her nails scratch at your desk, looking for something to hold on to, something to ground her. Her whole body tenses up for several moments.

Then it happens.

Her mouth opens up wide yet no sound comes out, her back arches almost unnaturally and her juices coat your chin. The silence hangs in the air, heavy, palpable as her walls contract in ecstasy. Then it's finally broken with a loud snap. One of her fake nails pops off and flies across the room as she grips too hard on the edge of the desk.

Then she moans. Guttural, wanton, unrestrained, absolutely filthy. It fills the room, reverberating back to you in a delicious chorus of hedonism and pleasure. She lies there limp with her eyes shut. Her mouth open. Panting heavily. Basking in the glow.

"So easily?" you ask quietly. Yeji takes a deep breath, trying to steady her heart rate. Your hands leave her hips, caressing her trembling flesh, sliding upwards, running up her dress and over the curve of her waist until you reach her shoulders. You tug the straps down the length of her arms and lean closer, pushing the soft material down to reveal the top of her matching red lingerie. Your hand cups the back of her head. She instinctively knows to lift it.

You lower your lips down to her collarbone as you reach behind her to unzip her dress. The sensation of your kisses against her neck draws another moan out of Yeji. A quiet one this time, however. Gentle. Contended.

You kiss upwards, planting several against the underside of her jaw and the corners of her lips. "I can't stop myself," she whispers, opening her eyes just in time for you to press your lips against hers, tasting the lingering sweetness in your mouth. She smiles.

"Let's get you out of that dress," you say and she nods in agreement. "Up," you order softly and Yeji complies, lifting herself high enough for you to pull the material down her waist and over the length of her thighs. It falls to the ground in a heap at her feet. All that remains is the expensive-looking red underwear set she chose for this occasion.

The two of you exchange looks. She bites her lip. She can see the burning lust raging within your eyes. You don't care if it gives the game away.

There's an absolutely wicked smile that draws across her lips as you start to unbutton your shirt. Her voice is all sultry seduction when she says, "I've been meaning to ask you, are you always swayed so easily?"

"Honestly? Not really," you respond calmly, watching how her eyes eagerly take in your torso as you shrug off your clothing. "Maybe there is something about you that's just..." you trail off, unsure of how to end the sentence.

Yeji sits up on the edge of the desk and throws her arms around your neck, dragging you in closer so that your bodies connect. You feel her lips press against your chest in soft kisses. A finger trails over your abdomen, drawing patterns over your skin before moving downwards. "Yes?"

"Different." Your belt is quickly undone and dropped alongside her dress. Nimble fingers begin unbuttoning your trousers. You run your hands through her hair, appreciating how silky it feels running through your fingers.

Yeji has her gaze focused between your bodies, on her hands as they push your jeans down to the floor and you notice the change in her breathing the moment she wraps her hand around your cock.

She kisses her way up to your neck where her lips tickle your skin as she mumbles: "In a good way?"

Yeji presses the flat of her palm against the base of your erection, rubbing slowly. Your head tilts backwards slightly and you allow yourself a low groan. There's a warm puff of air as she giggles quietly against your neck.

"In a great way," you answer.

"Good," she purrs, suddenly tightening her grip on you and giving you several deliberate strokes. You watch intently as Yeji runs her thumb over the tip of your dick, circling it a few times before continuing with her motions. She leans closer, wrapping her legs around your body and placing her mouth by your ear. "I know what I said earlier about loving to ride a cock and all that," her voice is filled with lust. Pure, unbridled desire. "But honestly? I'd do just about anything right now to have you fuck me against this desk."

And that does it for you.

All semblance of control vanishes entirely in a heartbeat.

You drag her from her perch, only to turn her around and push her right back against the desk. Yeji bends over the edge and places both her palms flat atop it. You watch her toned legs move apart as she spreads them invitingly. Your hand reaches out to rest on her ass.

Soft. Round. Supple. Just begging to be fucked. Your dick rests comfortably between her cheeks, which are covered by the flimsiest piece of lace you've ever seen. The pair of you groan together in anticipation at the sensation of feeling each other so intimately. The anticipation of what is soon to come.

"You want me to fuck you, huh?" you ask.

Yeji turns her head to look at you, dark strands of black hair hanging before her beautiful, desperate eyes. "Please."

She waits expectantly as you move back just enough to hook your fingers into her underwear and pull them down slowly, revealing the pretty little cunt you had tasted earlier. The desk is ever so slightly too tall for her, and her long legs stretch to rest on her tiptoes.

You run your hand down between Yeji's pert cheeks, delighting in the gasp of relief leaving her mouth as you cup her heat. Your fingers slip through her slick, coating themselves with her natural arousal before one sinks inside effortlessly. You push it deep, drawing a content sigh from her lips as your digit bottoms out.

A second follows shortly after and she clenches hard around the pair of them.

"Your cock," Yeji demands. You curl your fingers inside of her, delighted by how she struggles to speak when you graze her weak spots. "Want it..."

"But this is fun," you state simply, continuing to explore every inch of her, learning which places cause the biggest reactions and relishing in her quiet hums of satisfaction every time you stimulate them. You'd be lying if you said it didn't make your cock pulse with the need to be inside her. That warm wetness wrapped snugly around your fingers would feel downright amazing around you.

Yeji wriggles her body, pressing her ass against you and whimpering as your digits push inside again. "Please... your cock." Your eyes drop from the beauty bent over in front of you and focus instead on the sight of your fingers disappearing repeatedly between those gorgeous legs. How her muscles clench and her toes curl against the carpet with each and every motion of your digits inside her. She looks ready. She feels ready.

"Well, seeing as you're asking so nicely—"

You slip your fingers out. The whine of loss from Yeji barely has time to fade as you grab hold of her ass with both hands, spread it out, line yourself up with her cunt and sink inside without hesitation. Fuck it. Why go slow?

"Oh god," Yeji moans as your hips meet. Her knuckles turn white as she claws at the surface of the desk in an effort to cope with the feeling of fullness that she's clearly experiencing right now. Her eyes widen and she bites hard into the back of her lip as her cunt stretches around you, accommodating you perfectly. She exhales deeply.

It's all worth it—the workplace compromise. This moment right here where your thick cock rests deep inside of Hwang Yeji's warm, wet cunt. Finally. And holy fucking hell—it's everything you could've ever asked for.

"I knew you'd feel so fucking good," you murmur, trailing your hands up Yeji's slender figure, feeling her back tense slightly when she lets out a small moan of agreement. Your fingers tangle into her long hair, wrap it around your fist, give a harsh tug to pull her head backwards, earning a sharp intake of air—and then you start rutting your hips into hers. Long, forceful strokes fill the air with repeated claps of skin slapping against skin.

The choked moans which tumble from Yeji's lips are music to your ears, encouraging you to keep her pinned down against your desk with a strong hand on the small of her back. Your fingertips press into her flawless skin hard enough to bruise, yet neither of you cares—not when there are far more important matters to attend to. Namely, pounding Yeji's brains out and filling her tight little pussy with ropes of hot cum.

So, you pick up your pace, quickening the tempo and making sure each thrust of your hips goes harder than the previous. Her mouth hangs open in a silent scream with each movement of your body against hers. Every slap of your hips against her ass elicits a reaction.

You're already addicted to her. Everything about Yeji makes you want to hold nothing back, and as you pull yourself out only to slam back inside her depths, you can't help but notice the absolute debauchery dripping from her words when she begs: "Harder. Fuck me harder."

And who are you to refuse her request? She looks incredible anyway, but seeing her eyes screw shut in bliss while a strand of saliva escapes past her open mouth? Nothing would convince you to let up now.

The constant clatter of objects rattling and shifting across the surface of your desk adds a nice soundtrack to the experience. So do the increasingly frequent moans spilling freely from Yeji's lips, each one higher-pitched than the last. They spur you on. Give you the incentive to chase after her pleasure.

And then you feel the telltale clamping down of her walls around you. Your cock is held tightly in her warmth, refusing to relinquish its grasp on you until you've filled her with cum. Until you've pumped your load deep inside of her wanting cunt. You know it's coming and you adjust accordingly. Forcing yourself to maintain rhythm as you pound her pussy into submission.

You yank on her hair and tug her upwards, forcing her back to crash against your torso. You bring your other hand to her chest, sliding beneath the fabric of her bra to cup at her tit. Her hands desperately search for but fail to find, purchase on the desk. She's helplessly suspended between your grasp and your cock as she cums. Helpless to do anything except take it. Take what she's given.

An indecent series of shrieks and wails erupts from somewhere deep within her chest as Yeji's body seizes up and convulses violently against yours. It sets you off. You bury yourself hilt-deep inside of her and explode. Your vision goes blurry, your toes curl, your jaw clenches shut and your teeth grind painfully together.

It takes everything within you not to collapse forwards on top of the girl you're filling to the brim, instead relying solely on the strength of your grip to stay upright as your cock jerks erratically inside of her, pulsating again and again, releasing stream after stream of creamy spunk deep into her.

As soon as the world stops spinning and the fog starts clearing from your mind, you're met with the sight of Hwang Yeji trying desperately to regain any semblance of control over her own body as well. She's slumped atop your desk, panting heavily, her body twitching occasionally.

You lean down, peppering a gentle trail of kisses down the side of her neck, stopping briefly at the space just below her ear where you whisper, "You look stunning like this."

It takes Yeji several seconds before she manages a reply. She eventually opens her eyes halfway and gives you an exhausted smile. "Like what?"

"Sweaty. Thoroughly used. Filled to the fucking brim."

Your comment draws a faint giggle from her which ends abruptly the moment you drag yourself backwards, slipping your softening cock out of her cunt along with the rush of semen that spills from her and trickles onto your desk.

"Oh god," Yeji mutters as the mess slips from between her legs. She pushes herself up from her prone position and lifts herself off your table, leaving behind a lovely sticky patch where her crotch had rested. You stumble towards your chair and plop down on it, resting your back against the cool leather whilst admiring Yeji's flushed features.

"I still haven't gotten to ride your cock yet."

"I don't know if I—"

Yeji drops to her knees in front of you and grabs the base of your shaft without a second thought, squeezing it lightly and causing it to stiffen slightly. "Well I do," she declares.

She leans closer.

You catch sight of your reflection in her dark brown eyes just before Yeji extends her tongue, running it carefully over the sensitive skin of your cock before planting a wet kiss against the tip. Then she does it again. And again. The movements become a pattern until, suddenly, you're enveloped by the heat of Yeji's mouth.

"Ah," you gasp as she takes you. So sensitive to the touch of her tongue as it swirls around you. She hums approvingly at your reaction and slides deeper, taking your semi-erect cock further into her mouth as she continues to suck you off. Her head bobs slowly up and down, gradually coaxing you back to life until she slips you out from between her lips with a pop.

"That got you hard fast enough." Yeji grins. She stands up straight, and then your jaw falls open slightly at the sight of Yeji reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra. It falls to the ground in slow motion. Delicate pale skin stretches beautifully over perky breasts topped with cute pink nipples. God damn.

Yeji straddles your lap, trapping your body underneath hers. It doesn't take much to push you inside. To have her slide down the length of your shaft once again. She sits still for a few seconds, grinding her hips subtly against yours whilst biting on her lower lip. "Fuck, this feels good." She rotates her hips in little circles. "Feel that? I'm still full of your cum."

The pace is slower now. You're content to sit back, listen to the sounds of wet, sloppy sex filling the office air, and watch how her beautiful features contort with pleasure when your cock scrapes against a weak spot. There's something incredibly arousing about having such a famous idol sitting in your lap, fucking herself silly on your dick alone. She uses it like a toy to chase after her own pleasure.

One of her hands laces itself into your hair, tugging on it harshly. You retaliate with equal ferocity by sinking your fingers into Yeji's plump ass. It earns you a wonderful hiss of approval which comes accompanied by a tight squeeze around your shaft as her free hand moves down between your bodies and furiously rubs at her clit.

It's not long before you realise that she's close, and judging by her frantic behaviour, you figure she isn't looking to make it last longer.

Yeji whimpers cutely. Her head falls backwards, exposing her perfect neck. An expanse of unblemished, untouched skin that simply demands to be marked. Claimed. Taken.

And so you lean forwards, place your mouth on the soft skin and start sucking on it, nipping at the supple flesh. You feel her tighten around you instantly.

"Oh god!" She cries out. Yeji tries to bounce in your lap but fails miserably. She's no longer in control of her body. All she can do is quiver, cry out, and gasp in ecstasy as another orgasm surges through her. It's nowhere near as powerful as the previous two. Instead, it's drawn out. Lasting longer and keeping her moaning throughout.

When it's over and done with, you release your hold on her neck. In return, her exhausted head comes to rest against your shoulder. Her hot pants hit your cheek as she lay there limply against your frame.

"Too much?" you tease and Yeji scoffs. You give her a gentle spank and ask, "That's all you've got?"

"Just catching my breath."

She puts action to word immediately and picks herself back up. There's a determination etched all over her face as she brings both arms to rest on your shoulders, locking you in place and supporting herself on top of you. The expression she wears leaves little room for misinterpretation; this one is yours.

Yeji begins riding you again. Slowly at first, letting herself grow accustomed to the sensation of being filled again. Then faster. Harder. Using your cock to fuck herself on. Taking charge once more. You happily allow her to have it. Glad to let the beautiful starlet do whatever the fuck she wants with your body. Relishing the fact that you're balls-deep inside of her and she loves every inch of you.

"I need it," Yeji whines, slamming herself down on top of you again and again, her soft ass smacking against your thighs repeatedly. Her hair billows wildly around her, sticking to her sweaty skin, flying every which way without rhyme or reason, driven mad by her insatiable desire to keep on going. She keeps saying things under her breath, nonsensical at best, unintelligible at worst.

But her efforts get results. As much as you want to prolong the moment forever, your body can only handle so much. Pleasure courses through your veins like electricity, setting alight every nerve ending within your body until finally, you feel that familiar heat rise from somewhere deep within.

Yeji must sense it because she suddenly kicks it up yet another notch, crying out incoherently as she drops down on your shaft once more, twice more—a third time sends you toppling over the edge. You grip her hips tight, digging your fingertips deep into her flesh as your cock pulses powerfully inside of her cunt, painting her walls white.

She drags it out. Uses gravity to force you as deep inside as possible, allowing every single drop to spill inside of her again. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as you grunt loudly. Any coherent thought becomes impossible as you cum.

Once more, it takes several moments before you come back down from the clouds. When reality sets in again, Yeji is still straddled atop your lap, watching you with an amused grin stretching from ear to ear. You're left with nothing else to do except admire how her flushed cheeks accentuate her gorgeous features even further.

"I know. I know," she says while stroking your cheek. "I'm amazing."

"You're trouble," you correct breathlessly.

She rolls her eyes at your choice of words and then glances downwards. You follow her gaze just in time to see her raise herself off your spent member, allowing several thick strands of cum to dribble from her cunt and onto your leg. You both share a brief laugh at how filthy it looks before Yeji clambers off you and steps away, leaving you completely bare whilst she reaches down to retrieve her panties.

"No," you blurt out immediately. Your interjection catches her attention and she halts mid-motion, quirking an eyebrow curiously.

"No?"

"You can leave them."

She gives you a knowing look but acquiesces anyway, stepping aside and grabbing her dress instead. "Disgusting," she winks with a coy smirk.

[foodiegoogie]

pahinga (rest)

remus lupin x fem!reader | 1.7k

summary: remus can’t sleep again. luckily, you come to save him, and he finds his rest in you. cw/tags: self-deprecation, slight anxiety (?), three little eepy bois and one (1) insomniac, peter pettigrew appears (he’s not corrupted here), hurt/comfort <3 note: 'pahinga' means rest in filipino. its root word, 'hinga,' means 'to breathe/breath.' the 'pa' part can make it literally mean, 'let me breathe.' also, u can never have too much “reader patches up remus after a full moon” fics 🥰🥰 p.s. the vibes are inspired from isa lang (only one) by arthur nery <3

It’s way past midnight in the Hospital Wing, and Remus knows this because his friends are knocked out around him; James is sprawled out like a starfish on a cot to his left, Sirius laid asleep at the edge of Remus’ own cot, and Peter had long since made himself comfortable in the cot on the right, curled up in a blanket. 

Usually, they’d be up late with Remus. Something about boys being boys, having an endless amount of energy surging within themselves. But they were also only human at the end of the day, despite being unregistered Animagi. 

Remus also knows that he should be asleep himself alongside his best friends, but this particular night had taken a toll on him. Sure, he’s had full moon nights happening every month, every year, ever since he was turned at four years old. But regardless of how frequent they took place, it never became easy to deal with for the lycanthrope. Especially not now while he’s unable to sleep.

Poor Madam Pomfrey—she’d given Remus countless potions to aid him in his condition, time and time again. But it seems like even the Sleeping Draught that was brewed for him earlier just couldn’t work on him either.

Thinking about failing to fall asleep is ironically keeping him from falling asleep. Remus Lupin is, quite frankly, stressing out about not being asleep yet. He knows he needs it, so why can’t he do it? He almost feels immensely envious of how easy it was for his own friends to have fallen asleep quicker than he did, and he was the one who turned into a werewolf that night. 

Remus turns his head to get a look at Sirius’ slumbering face where it lay at the edge of his cot. Sirius is a handsome being, whether asleep or not. But right now, his wide-awake friend doesn’t know whether to be glad because he gets to appreciate his friend’s company because he’s asleep, or if said friend should be frustrated for the very same reason.

Before Remus even gets to decide however, he hears footsteps scurrying towards the entrance of the Hospital Wing. He perks up at the sound, attempting to sit up in his cot but failing, wincing as he was reminded of his injuries.

He doesn’t know which comes first: the sound of the double doors being pushed open or the bags of chocolate falling to the ground, coming from your arms.

Remus’ bleary eyes flicker over to your incoming presence - how he knows you’re here for him is needless to say with the bags of chocolate you’re re-gathering in your arms presently. He sees you throw an apologetic glance, mouthing “sorry,” but Remus receives it with a lazy smile, more amused and fond than it was teasing.

“Hope I didn’t wake them,” You whisper to him as you approach his cot, looking warily at the three slumbering boys surrounding him. Remus feels compelled to follow your gaze towards them, address that you didn’t actually wake them (and he’s certain that you didn’t, the lads sleep like a log), but his eyes remain on you as well as his smile.

“What’re you doing here?” He murmurs.

You scoff quietly, giving him an incredulous look. “What, not even a ‘hello, how are you?’ You’ve changed, Lupin.” 

Remus’ smile widens at your words, the familiar banter bringing a lighthearted feeling in his chest. He doesn’t know if it’s because of his fatigue mixed with frustration that’s making him feel lightheaded, but he finds himself momentarily entranced by the sight of you as you start to near him in his cot. The moonlight which filtered through the windows finally landed on your features, and Remus was convinced at that moment that he’s met an angel in person: you.

“Anywho, I come bearing gifts,” You perch yourself on the edge of his cot, setting down the array of chocolates beside him. Remus shifts so that there’s more room for you in his bed.

He looks down at the sweets, the corners of his lips quirking up into a lazy smile, then looks back up to you. 

“Dark or milk?” Remus asks.

You furrow your eyebrows, giving him an incredulous look to which the boy grins at. “Milk, duh. I’m not dumb, Remus. You only go for dark when you’re feeling fancy.”

It’s true; Remus doesn’t like dark chocolate as much as he likes milk chocolate, which is a classic and a whole lot sweeter than the former. He tries not to think too hard about how you knew that about himself like it was just sitting casually in the place of your mind. He wonders, then, about what else you knew about him, and took care to remember and save for times like this. His heart races at the thought. 

“Did you come all the way here to butcher me for my taste in chocolate? Flattering, really,” Remus quips, reaching for one of the chocolates.

“No. I came here to do just that and more actually,” You mirror his actions, unwrapping the chocolate from its plastic shell, popping the whole treat in your mouth all in one go. 

It’s a lot more attractive than Remus would like to admit - you being so unapologetically yourself, uncaring about being seen as prim and proper. Here you are, sitting in front of him, munching on the chocolates you’ve brought him and looking like a squirrel stuffing nuts in its mouth for the winter. Adorable, he thinks.

But then your eyes narrow at him, and he’s caught in the act of shamelessly staring at you. It’s only then that he realizes that he has been staring at you.

“See something you like?” You wriggle your eyebrows suggestively, reaching for another chocolate from the dwindling bunch on the bed.

“No,” His voice comes out a little breathy, an octave a tad higher than what’s normal. Remus clears his throat. “Just- it’s amazing how you keep going.”

You pause mid-bite into another chocolate drop, putting it back inside its plastic wrap with a sheepish smile. “Right, I brought these for you. Not for me.”

“S’alright,” Remus smiles fondly at your suddenly shy expression. “I couldn’t finish them all by myself, anyway.”

A soft chuckle falls from your lips, shoulders relaxing from his reassuring words. Even in such a state, Remus still goes out of his way to make sure people are cared for in his own, heartwarming ways. But rarely does he ever take the time to inflict the same kind of treatment to himself. 

And, speaking of which—

“I thought you’d be asleep, you know,” You blurt out all of a sudden, fidgeting with the unwrapped, uneaten chocolate in your hands. “coming here. So… why aren’t you?”

“Dunno,” Remus lets out a deep sigh, his fatigue finally coming through in his expression. Your chest tightens at the sight and sound of it.

Finally, he finishes, saying, “I just… can’t.”

Almost instantly, a knot forms between your brows at the same time the corners of your lips turn downwards into a slight frown. Remus hates being pitied. He’s had enough of people apologizing on his behalf, as if he had been a mistake in the first place long before he was given this unfortunate tragedy, a weight he has to bear on his shoulders for the rest of his life. 

But with you, it’s never pity that he sees in your eyes when you look at him. It’s something warmer, something that’s coming from a deeper place of intent. Something like care—genuine care, and concern. Perhaps there’s more than that, but Remus is already dizzy enough as it is right now, and he doesn’t want to render himself unconscious just because he’s feeling a little lovesick by you. 

“Oh no, I’m keeping you up, aren’t I?” You say, and Remus is a bit startled by it. You don’t notice. “Should I leave? I– I feel like I should leave—”

“No, no. Just—” Stay.

Remus reminds himself to be very careful with his next words, lest he betrays his true feelings and ruins one of the few good things he has in his godforsaken life. 

Another thing that he hates is owing people something, or anything really. It’s no big deal for him to go out of his way and be the giver rather than the receiver out of a pair, but it bothers him to no end to think that he’d actually have people do something—anything just for him. 

For some reason, it just feels… wrong for him. Almost as if Remus believes that he doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment. 

But for the love of Merlin, he’d really like to get some sleep, and he really likes you being here with him. And if you walked right out of the Hospital Wing right now, leaving him alone, Remus is certain that he’d be getting no sleep at all. 

So, just this once, he’ll be selfish. 

“Just… just talk to me. Tell me about your night.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, a slightly amused smile coming alive on your face as you ask, “My night? Well, my night’s going pretty well right now.”

Remus rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face betrays his true emotions. “Tell me about your day, then.” 

Now, a full-blown grin takes place on your face. “Now that I can do.”

And so, you start telling him about your day in a hushed voice, careful not to be too loud as you recount something that had made you happy during the day so as not to wake the other three boys you’re surrounded by. 

Far along the way as you’re speaking to him, your hands—yours and his—drift closer and closer to each other. Remus wonders if you notice this, even as you’ve taken ahold of it now and started to play with his fingers absentmindedly.

Before he knew it, he was on the way to dreamland by the ticklish yet gentle feeling of you tracing the lines of his palm, coupled by the soft timbre of your voice, low and sweet. 

It is then that Remus realizes that he finds his absolute rest in you. 

A shame that he managed to miss the featherlight kiss you leave on his forehead as you bid him a good night, though. 

aaa thank you for reading! (づ￣ 3￣)づ as always, likes, replies, and reblogs are very much appreciated !! <3

[midnightwritingsessions]

Cigarettes and conversations

Summary: After having a bad day a stranger comforts you at the bar. This stranger somehow becomes a big part of your life.

Requested

Masterlist

A/n: working the 6 days before Christmas in retail is not for the weak I swear 🥲 I’m sorry for not being active but I should be back now my hours at work are going back down

Sorry it’s quite short!

-

The pub was buzzing with life, laughter, and music spilling out through the slightly cracked door. Inside, your friends were chatting away, entirely immersed in their conversation. But you couldn’t focus tonight, not with the weight of the day sitting squarely on your shoulders. So here you were, standing just outside in the crisp evening air, your coat pulled tight against the chill. A cigarette dangled from your fingers, glowing faintly in the dim light of the streetlamp. You took a slow drag, trying to let the nicotine calm the storm brewing in your head.

“You alright there, love?” The voice came from a few feet away, startling you slightly. You turned your head and immediately froze. It was him. Louis Tomlinson, standing casually with his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. His blue eyes held a hint of concern, his head tilted just enough to make it clear he was genuinely asking. You blinked, unsure what to say. “Uh… yeah, I’m fine. Just needed a breather” you said while pointing to behind you to the pub. He nodded slowly, his gaze flickering to your cigarette. “Mind if I join you?”. “Sure” you said, your voice coming out more casual than you felt.

Louis stepped closer, pulling out his own pack and lighting up with practiced ease. He leaned against the wall beside you, his movements relaxed but deliberate. For a moment, the two of you smoked in silence, the sound of distant chatter filling the space between. “Long day?” he asked finally, breaking the quiet. You exhaled a puff of smoke, glancing sideways at him. “You could say that”. He chuckled softly. “I could tell. You’ve got that look about you”. “What look?”. “You know” he said, gesturing vaguely with his cigarette. “The ‘I’d rather be anywhere else right now’ look”.

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and Louis’s lips curved into a small smile. “Am I wrong?” he asked. “No” you admitted, shaking your head. “You’ve got me there”. He gave a small hum of acknowledgment, taking another drag. “Well, at least you’re out here. Better than bottling it all up, yeah?” You nodded, glancing down at your shoes. “What about you? Why are you out here instead of inside with your mates?”

Louis grinned. “Maybe I just had a feeling someone out here could use some company”. The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, and for the first time that evening, you felt the tension in your chest ease ever so slightly.

Over the next half hour, the two of you chatted about everything and nothing. Louis had a way of drawing you out, his playful banter balancing perfectly with his moments of genuine interest. You found yourself laughing at his quick wit, forgetting for a while why you’d even needed to escape in the first place. When you finally stubbed out your long gone cigarette, Louis did the same, turning to you with a curious look. “So” he said, “you heading back inside?” You hesitated, unsure if you were ready to dive back into the noise and energy of the pub. Louis seemed to pick up on your hesitation, because he added, “Or we could stay out here a bit longer. No pressure”. You smiled, grateful for his understanding. “Let’s stay. It’s quieter”. “Good choice” he said, his eyes twinkling.

That night turned out to be the beginning of something neither of you could have predicted. Over the weeks that followed, you and Louis kept in touch. He started texting you casually little jokes, updates about his day, or random thoughts that made you laugh out loud. Before you knew it, those texts turned into phone calls, and those phone calls turned into plans to meet up. At first, it was just friendly, grabbing coffee, taking a walk in the park, sharing another cigarette outside a different pub. But with each meeting, you couldn’t help but notice the way Louis looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, or the way his voice softened just slightly when he said your name. You hoped that you weren’t imagining these things and that maybe in the not so distant future he might act on whatever it is he’s feeling. Looking back you were now more grateful for the bad day you had, never imagining that it could have lead you to something so special in the future.

[lilmisshellfireswritingblog]

The Prophecy Chapter 3: Please, I've Been on My Knees

Summary: Aurelia retreats to her private quarters after their wedding feast and Lucius visits.

A/N: Thank you everyone for taking this journey with me! This may be the shortest chapter of the series but who knows. I hope you keep enjoying this story! If you want any specific blurbs from this universe, I can take requests! ALSO, I started making a playlist for this story so, if you want it, let me know and I can share it. Warnings: 18+, arranged marriage, hint of marriage consummation, she's not excited about consummation but she consented, flashback, Geta being Geta, Lucius being an okay dude and not pressuring our girl.

Separator banner credit to: sweetmelodygraphics.

Flashbacks are labeled as such.

Aurelia’s private quarters were dimly lit by a few flickering candles, their flames casting long shadows against the marble walls. The opulent chamber was still and quiet, far removed from the jubilant clamor of the banquet hall. Aurelia stepped inside, her crimson gown trailing behind her, her face drawn with exhaustion and a kind of quiet fury that had built throughout the evening.

She crossed the room with deliberate steps, her shoes clicking softly against the polished floor and came to a stop in front of the wide window, looking out at the twinkling lights of the city below. The moon hung high, casting a pale light over the Roman rooftops. It should have been a sight of beauty, but to her, it was just another reminder of the cold empire she was a part of—one that had stolen so much from her, including her peace.

Behind her, she heard the quiet rustling of fabric as Lucius Verus entered the room. She didn’t turn. She didn’t have to. His presence was unmistakable, as it always was. He had been quieter tonight than she expected, but then again, he didn’t need to speak to make his presence known. His energy filled the room with a heavy tension, the kind that always lingered after a battle—an uneasy truce between two warriors who had fought their own wars, even if they had never met on the battlefield.

"I didn’t think you’d be here so soon," she said, her voice betraying the fatigue in her bones.

Lucius didn’t answer right away, and when she finally turned to face him, he was standing by the door, his posture rigid, as if he too were unsure of what to do with the space between them. He had removed his imperial cloak and his tunic, revealing the broad expanse of his shoulders and the hard lines of his body, still as striking as ever. But there was something else about him—something softer now, something that seemed less like an emperor and more like the boy he must have been in his faraway childhood, a time before all of this.

Aurelia felt a sudden pang of something she couldn’t name—a fleeting sympathy, perhaps?—but she quickly shoved it aside. She had learned long ago to bury her emotions, to guard her heart. There was no room for such weaknesses now.

Lucius’s piercing blue eyes met hers, searching, almost as if he were attempting to read her.

"Did you mean what you said?" he asked, his voice low, but the question hung in the air like a challenge.

Aurelia didn’t flinch. She wasn’t afraid of him, not in the way others were, not anymore. She had already seen what he was capable of—he was a gladiator, a killer, a man forged in the heat of battle. What could he possibly do now, except attempt to break her.

But she was already broken.

"I meant every word," she replied sharply, her voice gaining strength. "I will never love you, Lucius. I will never be your ally by choice. But I am here. I will play my part, for Rome and for the Empire."

Lucius didn’t react at first. He just stood there, watching her. His gaze was steady, unwavering, but there was something different in it now—less of the emperor’s cold authority and more of a man who had seen too much of life’s cruelty to believe in anything like love.

"You think I want your love?" His voice was quieter now, almost a whisper, but it carried a certain bitterness that made her pause. "You think I came into this marriage with the hope that we’d be some great power couple, ruling Rome with passion and glory? I have no illusions, Aurelia Carina Cassia."

The use of her full name—Aurelia Carina Cassia—felt like a weight, as though he were not just speaking to her, but to the very woman she had been before all of this. The name she had been born with, the name that had been tied to another life. A life that was no longer hers.

"Then why did you marry me?" she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them. She had asked herself the same question countless times, but hearing him speak so bluntly, without pretense, it made her want to understand.

Lucius's jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to hesitate, as if searching for the right words. "Because I had no choice," he said, his voice low but firm. "I couldn’t rule without legitimacy. I needed you to secure my claim. Your bloodline... the Empire needed to see me as the true heir."

Aurelia felt a sudden wave of disgust flood her, but she fought it back. She had known the truth from the moment she had been offered the choice: marry Lucius or die. There was no illusion of love here. No romance. Only survival.

"Just like me," she said bitterly, her eyes narrowing. "You needed my bloodline. I needed your power and protection."

Lucius’s eyes darkened slightly and he took a step toward her, closing the distance between them in a way that felt more predatory than protective. "We are not so different, are we?" His voice was softer now, tinged with something that felt like understanding—but whether it was real or just another layer of manipulation, she couldn’t tell.

Aurelia’s pulse quickened. She felt a strange mixture of irritation and something else—something she didn’t want to name—stir inside her. She had been in control of her emotions for so long, yet here he was, reminding her of everything she had tried to bury.

"Don’t mistake me for someone you can control, Lucius," she said, her voice suddenly cool and sharp. "I am not a prize to be claimed or a piece of property to be used. I may wear your crown, but I will never be your puppet."

Lucius didn’t flinch at her words. Instead, he stopped in front of her, his gaze locked on hers with that unnerving intensity. For a moment, there was silence, and the only sound in the room was the soft flicker of the candles.

"Who says you have to be?" he asked, his tone shifting again—this time with a flicker of something like respect, or perhaps understanding. "Maybe we don’t have to be anything to each other, Aurelia. Maybe we can just exist in this world, for whatever time we have left, without trying to change the other."

Aurelia swallowed, her chest tightening at his words. There was something in his eyes now that made her feel exposed, as if he could see through her carefully constructed walls.

For a moment, she considered saying something else—anything else—but she bit her lip and kept silent. She had no more words, no more energy to fight. This marriage, this empire—it was a cage, and they were both trapped inside it.

"Fine," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "We will exist. For as long as we must."

Lucius nodded, though his expression remained unreadable. He stepped back, giving her space, but the tension between them was still palpable, hanging thick in the air.

"I’ll leave you to rest," he said quietly, turning toward the door but before he could reach the threshold, Aurelia’s voice stopped him.

"Lucius," she said, her tone softer now, though no less guarded.

He paused, glancing back at her.

"For what it’s worth," she said, her words hesitant but true, "I don’t hate you. Not yet."

Lucius’s eyes flickered with something—maybe surprise, maybe something deeper—but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he gave her a short, almost imperceptible nod and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Aurelia stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty space where he had been, her thoughts a swirling mass of anger, confusion, and something she was too afraid to admit.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, her fingers curling around the fabric of her gown and let out a long, shuddering breath. In the Roman world of power and survival, love had no place. All she could do was endure.

And in the silence of the room, she realized that perhaps, in this strange marriage, endurance would be all they would ever have.

Flashback ~ Wedding Nights and Feasts

The grand hall of the imperial palace was alight with the glow of hundreds of candles, their flickering flames casting long shadows across the marble columns and golden tapestries. The air was thick with the sound of voices—nobles and senators, officials and soldiers—laughing, clinking goblets, and speaking in hushed tones of political matters, all the while pretending to enjoy the extravagance of the evening.

Aurelia sat at the center of the room, her back straight and her face a carefully composed mask of regal calm. The feast was elaborate, more lavish than any she had seen before, with tables laden with roasted meats, fresh fruits, pastries of all kinds, and goblets of wine that never seemed to empty. It was a celebration meant to mark the union of two powerful families, a political marriage cloaked in the facade of love and festivity.

Beside her, Geta sat in his place as Emperor, his posture rigid and his eyes scanning the room, his expression cool and detached. He rarely spoke to her, his lips pressed together in an unreadable line as he occasionally exchanged formal pleasantries with the dignitaries at his side. He did not look at her directly, but rather, his gaze seemed to skim over her, as though she were just another part of the evening’s decoration—a beautiful, silent accessory to a ceremony that had more to do with power than affection.

Aurelia shifted in her seat, the weight of her wedding gown pressing down on her shoulders. It felt heavier than she remembered, the delicate silk and embroidery stifling in the warmth of the hall. The wine, which she had sipped sparingly, made her head spin a little. The noise of the crowd seemed distant, like the murmur of waves crashing far away, while the tension in her chest built steadily. She wanted to be anywhere but here, anywhere but beside Geta, who barely acknowledged her presence.

She glanced up at him, and for the first time that evening, their eyes met. His gaze lingered for a moment—barely a second—but in that moment, she saw something flicker behind his dark eyes. A glimmer of something unreadable.

It was not affection, but perhaps it was acknowledgment. Or perhaps it was just the weight of the situation bearing down on them both. He was the heir to the throne, but he was also, in some ways, as much a prisoner as she was. Aurelia quickly looked away, not wanting to read too deeply into it. They were both bound by duty. Perhaps that was all they ever would be.

"Empress Aurelia, it is a pleasure to finally see you in a laurel wreath. It suits you well," came a voice, pulling her from her thoughts. It was one of the senators, his smile oily and too wide. He was leaning in, his wine-stained breath making her skin crawl.

"Thank you," she replied coolly, offering a tight smile, but her attention was drawn back to Geta. The way his mouth tightened when his twin entered the room, or how his gaze flitted from guest to guest, never settling on her. He was far more interested in the politics of the evening than in the woman at his side.

The moments dragged on, the sound of clinking cutlery and polite laughter filling the air as the night deepened. Aurelia’s stomach twisted with the knowledge that she would spend many more nights like this, forced to sit at the table, to smile, to pretend that this was her choice.

Her fingers, which had been tightly gripping the edge of her goblet, tightened around the stem, her nails digging into the delicate glass.

Geta, still barely acknowledging her, looked up then, catching her eyes once again. This time, there was a flicker of something in his gaze—perhaps curiosity, or even frustration. But whatever it was, it was gone in a heartbeat. He turned his attention back to the men beside him, a conversation about military matters beginning to unfold.

The night wore on with little change. The banquet was lavish, yes, but it felt more like a gilded cage. The guests praised her beauty, complimented her elegance, but they never asked her what she thought. No one cared for her opinions, her desires. It was all about marriage. It was all about power. Duty.

After what seemed like an eternity, the music began to swell, signaling the end of the feast and the start of the traditional dances.

Aurelia had no choice but to follow. She was led away from her seat by a servant, her movements stiff and controlled. She did not look at Geta as she passed him, but she knew he would be at her side for the next dance.

As they joined the throng of dancers in the center of the room, Aurelia caught a glimpse of Geta moving toward her. His movements were slow, calculated—his posture never changing, even as he took her hand in his. His fingers were firm, but not gentle. There was no warmth in his touch, only the cold certainty of what was expected of him.

The music swelled around them, and they began to dance. The movements were practiced, each step a part of a ritual that had been passed down through the generations. But even as they moved together, Aurelia couldn’t help but feel a sharp sense of isolation. She was surrounded by the thrumming beat of the music, the eyes of the court watching their every move, but there was no connection. Nothing to bridge the distance between them. She felt as though she were dancing with a stranger.

Geta’s gaze remained distant, his eyes fixed somewhere far beyond her, as if he were looking at the empire rather than his bride. He did not seem to care for the spectacle, for the performance. He danced because he had to—because it was expected of him.

Her chest tightened, a lump forming in her throat, but she swallowed it down. This was her life now. A life of duty and silence, of rituals and politics.

When the dance ended, Geta offered her a curt nod, his hand slipping from hers with no more warmth than when it had first touched her. He turned and walked away, lost in the swirl of the crowd, leaving Aurelia to stand alone at the center of the hall, her heart heavy with the weight of it all.

Hours later, the imperial palace had quieted. The last of the guests had been sent away, and the halls were still. Aurelia had changed out of her wedding gown, donning a simple silk robe that was far more comfortable than the heavy dress she had worn for the ceremony and the feast. She had been bathed and prepared by her attendants though she felt no sense of relief. The ceremony was over, but the reality of her marriage had just begun.

Her chambers were vast, opulent and yet it still felt hollow, as though the walls themselves were closing in on her. Aurelia sat at the edge of her bed, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on her shoulders. The soft light of the moon filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the room.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Enter," she called out, her voice steady despite the apprehension twisting in her gut.

The door creaked open, and there he stood: Geta, dressed in a simple night tunic, his expression absolutely unreadable. He glanced at her briefly before stepping inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

Aurelia stood, her heart pounding in her chest. This was the moment. The moment that would define their marriage, the moment that would bind them together—at least, in the eyes of the empire.

Geta didn’t speak at first, his eyes scanning the room with an almost clinical detachment. It was as though this was just another political alliance, another transaction. Not a marriage. Not an intimate bond.

Transactional.

The emperor walked toward the bed, his movements deliberate, but not rushed. He removed his shoes and sat at the edge, the silence between them thick with unspoken tension.

Aurelia swallowed hard, her mouth dry. She stood across from him, her hands trembling as she clasped them in front of her.

"Is it... time?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, the question feeling strange even to her.

Geta turned his head slightly to look at her, and for a fleeting moment, she saw something softer in his eyes. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the cold, distant look she had grown quickly accustomed to.

“It is,” he replied, his voice steady, but there was no warmth there.

Aurelia’s heart sank as she stepped toward him, the enormity of what was to come hanging between them like a weight. This was not the passionate union she had imagined. This was not love. This was duty.

Geta reached for her, his touch firm but unfeeling, pulling her toward him. There was no tenderness in the way his hands gripped her, no gentleness in the way he kissed her. His lips were cold, mechanical, as though he were performing a duty rather than seeking a bond.

And how she hoped it could be something. She already felt so lonely.

Aurelia closed her eyes, feeling the disconnect between them. The weight of their marriage, the distance between them, settled deeper in her chest. She didn’t feel loved. She felt like a pawn in a larger game that she had no control in.

She had no choice. She could not pull away. This was her life now. No love. Only duty.

Please the Emperor. Give him heirs. Serve at his side.

As Geta’s hands moved with practiced efficiency, Aurelia stood still, her body stiff and her mind elsewhere - somewhere by the seaside. She felt the sting of loneliness in the marriage bed, the ache of emptiness that nothing could fill.

And when it was done, when he withdrew and settled beside her, there was nothing.

[stylesonfilms]

ink & innocence - 16

word count: 5.0k

i've hidden some small things within my story that make up aspen and harry, have you guys noticed any? 🤭 where should i turn the story to from here? more dates, more intimacy, group activities, etc! let me know & thanks for all the support!

The next day, Aspen had cleared her schedule, wanting to use the free time for something meaningful. Her evening had been a whirlwind of laughter and warmth, spent with Isobel in her bed as they dissected every detail of Aspen's first official date with Harry. Takeout containers littered the nightstand, barely touched, because they were too engrossed in giggling over Harry's sweet words and Aspen's recounting of every look, every laugh, and every moment of connection.

Today felt different. There was a quiet kind of excitement humming in Aspen's chest, the kind that made her toes curl against the floor and her heart flutter every time she thought of surprising Harry. She'd been up early, not out of necessity but because the thought of doing something thoughtful for him gave her a sense of purpose she didn't often feel in her quieter routines.

Her plan was simple but heartfelt: bring Harry lunch. She'd realized, after observing how carefree and spontaneous he seemed, that he probably didn't bother with packing himself meals. He struck her as the kind of guy who either grabbed something quick or skipped lunch entirely. The thought tugged at her, making her want to do something about it.

Aspen had spent her morning channeling her rare bursts of culinary motivation into creating something she hoped Harry would love. The kitchen had filled with the warm, savory aroma of steak bites sizzling in butter, the citrusy tang of cilantro lime red rice, and the comforting, creamy scent of mac and cheese bubbling on the stovetop. Cooking wasn't something Aspen did often, but when she did, she poured herself into it entirely. Each stir, each sprinkle of seasoning, carried her thoughts to Harry—how he'd smile when he opened the container, the way he might tease her for going through so much effort, and how he'd hopefully enjoy every bite.

When the meal was ready, she carefully packed it into a container, sticking a pink sticky note on the lid. She spent longer than she'd admit debating what to write, eventually settling on a simple but warm message:

For my favorite person. I hope you love it! ❤️ —Aspen

The little heart at the end made her blush as she stuck the note firmly in place. It was bold for her, but she wanted to leave him with a tiny piece of her feelings—nothing overwhelming, just enough to make him smile.

Aspen slid the container into her light pink lunch bag, patterned with scattered white stars, and tucked in a bottle of water and a Redbull, knowing he might need the energy boost. Napkins and a fork were added as the final touches. Checking her phone, she noted the time—she had about thirty minutes before his usual break, just enough to pull everything together.

She dashed upstairs, her heart fluttering with a mix of nerves and excitement. After rummaging through her clothes, she decided on the grey flared leggings from the other night, paired with her trusty Converse. For her top, she grabbed the shirt she'd "borrowed" from Harry—it still smelled faintly of him, which made her cheeks flush as she pulled it on and tied it in the back to better fit her frame.

Aspen worked quickly, brushing her hair and pulling it into a simple half-up, half-down style. She swiped on a light coat of mascara, just enough to make her eyes pop, and dabbed tinted lip balm on her lips, giving them a subtle sheen. Glancing at her reflection, she smoothed the shirt over her waist, trying to quiet the small voice in her head wondering if she looked okay. It wasn't about being perfect—Harry had already seen her in her coziest clothes—but she wanted to feel confident and put-together.

With her tote bag and lunch bag slung over her shoulder, she took a deep breath, her heart thudding softly in her chest. The thought of surprising Harry, of seeing the look on his face when she handed him the meal she'd made with him in mind, made her smile. It was a small gesture, but one she hoped would let him know how much he meant to her.

As she locked the door behind her and stepped into the bright spring afternoon, the warmth of the sun seemed to echo the warmth in her heart. Today, she wasn't just thinking about Harry—she was showing him how much she cared, in her own quiet, thoughtful way.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The bell above the tattoo shop's door jingled softly as Aspen stepped inside, her lunch bag clutched tightly in one hand. She paused just inside the threshold, taking in the space that felt both familiar and slightly intimidating. The red-accented walls were lined with framed artwork and sketches, a testament to the creativity that buzzed within these walls. Aspen adjusted the strap of her tote bag on her shoulder, her heart racing—not from fear, but from anticipation.

Zayn was the first to notice her. He was behind the counter, flipping through the appointment book, and his face lit up when he saw her. "Well, if it isn't little miss Aspen," he greeted warmly, leaning casually on the counter. "What brings you here today?"

Aspen offered him a shy smile, shifting on her feet. "Hi, Zayn. I, um... I'm here to see Harry."

Zayn's brows lifted, his grin widening with mischief. "Here to see Harry, huh?" His tone was teasing, but not unkind. He gestured toward the back of the shop with his chin. "He's in his office. Go on back."

Before Aspen could move, another voice chimed in—Niall, sitting in the nearby waiting area, sketchpad in hand. "Ooh, Harry's got visitors now? And bringing lunch, too? Look at him, living the dream." His Irish lilt made the teasing even more playful, and Aspen could feel the heat rising to her cheeks.

"Shut up, you two," came Harry's familiar voice from somewhere behind them. He appeared a moment later, his flannel sleeves rolled up, ink staining the tips of his fingers. His green eyes softened the moment they landed on Aspen. "Hey, love," he said, the corner of his mouth curving into a lopsided grin. "You didn't tell me you were coming."

Aspen smiled nervously, lifting the lunch bag a little as if to explain herself. "I thought I'd surprise you... I figured you might not have had lunch."

Harry's gaze flickered to the bag, then back to her, and something warm and unspoken passed between them. "Y'know me too well," he said softly. Then, turning to Zayn and Niall, he added, "Don't you two have something better to do than nose into my business?"

"Not a chance," Niall quipped, earning a laugh from Zayn. "You're the entertainment, mate."

Harry rolled his eyes but didn't bother responding. Instead, he placed a hand lightly on Aspen's lower back, guiding her toward the hallway that led to his office. "C'mon, let's get out of here before they make it worse."

Aspen's skin tingled where his hand rested, and she couldn't help but glance back over her shoulder. Zayn gave her a wink, and Niall mimed a slow clap, his grin wide. They exchanged a look between each other, surprised at Harry's sudden softness. 

She turned forward quickly, her cheeks flushing even more. "They seem... nice," she murmured. Harry chuckled, his voice low and warm. "Nice isn't the word I'd use, but they mean well."

When they reached his office, Harry pushed the door open and gestured for Aspen to step inside first. The space was small but cozy, with sketches pinned to the walls and a desk covered in art supplies and paperwork. A worn leather couch sat against one wall, and the scent of ink and faint traces of cologne lingered in the air.

"Make yourself at home," Harry said, shutting the door behind them. He leaned back against it for a moment, watching as Aspen set her bag down on the desk. There was something about the way she moved, so quietly yet purposefully, that tugged at his chest. And he would be lying if he said his eyes didn't wander lower, lingering on how her gray leggings hugged the beautiful curve of her ass. He looked back up with a small smirk when she turned back to face him.

Aspen glanced around, taking in the little details of his space. It felt so him—creative, a little messy, but warm. She carefully unzipped the lunch bag, pulling out the container and setting it in front of him. "I, um, made this for you," she said softly. "I hope it's okay... I wasn't sure what you'd like, but..."

Harry stepped closer, reaching out to lift the container's lid. The smell of the warm food hit him immediately, and his eyes widened slightly. "You made all this?" he asked, looking at her in surprise.

Aspen nodded, twisting her hands together nervously. "I thought... maybe you don't bring lunch with you? And I just wanted to, you know... do something nice for you."

Harry stared at the meal for a moment, then back at her, his expression unreadable. Finally, he smiled—a slow, genuine smile that reached his eyes. "You didn't have to do this," he said, his voice soft, almost reverent. "But... thank you, Aspen. Really."

Her heart fluttered at the way he said her name, the warmth in his tone making her feel like she'd done something right. "I just... I wanted to," she admitted, looking down at her hands. "You do so much for me, Harry. I wanted to do something for you, too."

Harry stepped closer, reaching out to touch her arm lightly. "You're somethin' else, y'know that?" he said, his voice low. His touch was gentle, grounding, and Aspen felt her nerves settle slightly under his gaze.

They stood there for a moment, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around them like a blanket. For Harry, the thoughtfulness of her gesture was almost overwhelming. He wasn't used to people doing things for him, not like this—not with so much care. And for Aspen, the way he looked at her, like she was the most important person in the world, made her chest feel light and full all at once.

Harry reached down, his hand sliding gently along Aspen's arm as he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers in a soft, lingering kiss. It wasn't rushed or demanding, just a quiet moment that seemed to still the world around them. Aspen's breath caught, her eyes fluttering shut as her heart raced in her chest. When he pulled back, his gaze lingered on her face, his green eyes warm and filled with something she couldn't quite name but felt deeply all the same.

"C'mon," Harry murmured, his voice low and coaxing. He slid his hand into hers, guiding her toward the worn leather couch against the wall. Aspen followed, feeling lightheaded but blissfully so, her fingers curling around his instinctively.

As they settled onto the couch, Harry unwrapped the container she'd brought him, his brows raising slightly as he took in the meal. The sight of it—the steak bites perfectly cooked, the fluffy cilantro lime red rice, and the creamy mac and cheese—made something tight in his chest ease. She'd done this for him, thought of him enough to go out of her way. He wasn't used to that kind of care, and it both surprised and humbled him.

He took the first bite, letting out a low hum of approval. "Bloody hell, Asp," he said, looking at her with wide eyes. "This is incredible. You've been holding out on me, haven't you?"

Aspen's cheeks flushed immediately, her fingers twisting in the hem of her borrowed shirt. She ducked her head, a small, shy smile tugging at her lips. "I don't cook much," she admitted, her voice soft. "It's kind of rare that I actually feel like doing it."

"Well, I'm lucky you felt like it today," Harry said, taking another bite and savoring it. He glanced at her, his grin softening into something more genuine. "You're spoiling me, baby."

The word "baby" made Aspen's stomach flip, and she pressed her lips together to keep from smiling too widely. She couldn't help the warmth spreading through her chest at his words, though, or the way her heart seemed to skip every time he looked at her like that.

As Harry continued to eat, he threw in compliments here and there—about how perfectly seasoned the steak was, how the rice was better than anything he'd had from a restaurant. Each word made Aspen shrink a little further into herself, not because she didn't like the praise, but because it made her feel so seen. She wasn't used to this, to being appreciated so openly, and the intensity of it made her shy.

But as she watched him eat, a different thought began to creep into her mind, one that made her pulse quicken. She wanted to kiss him again. Badly. The way his lips curved into a soft smile as he spoke, the way he licked a stray bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth—it all drew her in, leaving her with a quiet ache she didn't know how to voice. The realization made her blush even more, and she turned her gaze toward the floor, embarrassed by her own thoughts.

Harry, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in her demeanor. He set the container down for a moment, leaning back against the couch as he looked at her. "Y'alright?" he asked, his voice gentle but curious.

Aspen nodded quickly, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her leggings. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said, though her voice was quieter than usual. She glanced at him, and the intensity of his gaze made her heart stutter. "Just... thinking."

"Thinkin' about what?" Harry asked, tilting his head slightly. He had a feeling he knew, but he didn't want to push her too much. He could tell she was feeling shy, and the last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

Aspen hesitated, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she looked down again, her blush deepening.

Harry couldn't help the soft chuckle that escaped him. "Asp," he said, reaching out to take her hand in his. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, and the touch sent a shiver up her spine. "Y'don't have to say anything if you're not ready. But if i's about me, I'm all ears."

Aspen bit her lip, her gaze flickering up to meet his for a moment before dropping again. "I was just... thinking about... how much I liked—" She broke off, her face flaming as she stumbled over her words. "Never mind."

Harry's grin widened slightly, though his tone remained soft when he spoke. "How much you liked what? The food? Or somethin' else?"

She groaned softly, hiding her face in her hands. "Harry," she said, her voice muffled but filled with exasperation. "You're making it worse."

"Alright, alright," he said, laughing quietly. But he didn't let go of her hand, and the warmth of his touch was enough to steady her nerves. He was patient, waiting for her to speak when she was ready, and that alone made her feel a little braver.

"I was thinking about kissing you," Aspen finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She peeked at him through her fingers, her heart hammering in her chest. "And now I'm all embarrassed, so... yeah."

Harry stared at her for a moment, his chest tightening in a way he hadn't expected. She was so endearingly honest, even when it made her nervous, and he found himself falling for her all over again. "You're somethin' else, Asp," he murmured, his voice soft. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her temple. "Y'don't have to be embarrassed, love. I've been thinkin' the same thing."

Aspen's blush deepened, but this time, there was a small, shy smile tugging at her lips. "You have?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

"Course I have," Harry said, his tone gentle but firm. "Who wouldn't?"

Aspen fidgeted with her hands as she tucked her legs beneath her on the couch, her blush still lingering as she glanced shyly at Harry. The words danced on the edge of her tongue, but she hesitated, biting her lip as if she wasn't sure if she should say them. He waited, patient as ever, his eyes soft as they studied her face. Finally, she took a deep breath and let the words tumble out.

"Maybe it's the whole... 'I have a boyfriend' thing," Aspen murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, "but I've been thinking about you more than usual. Like... a lot more." She peeked up at him from beneath her lashes, her cheeks burning with the admission.

The corners of Harry's mouth curved into a slow, warm smile. His chest tightened at her honesty, and a wave of gratitude washed over him. He knew how much it took for Aspen to open up like this—how much courage it required for her to let him in on the thoughts she usually kept to herself. That bravery was one of the things he admired most about her.

"Y'know," he said softly, setting the half-eaten container of food aside, "you're so brave, Asp. For tellin' me all this. For lettin' me in." His voice was warm, laced with sincerity, as he leaned forward to take her hands in his. His thumbs traced gentle circles over her knuckles, his touch grounding her in the moment.

Aspen looked down at their hands, her lips curving into a shy smile. "It's easier with you," she admitted. "You make it... safe. Like I can say anything, and it'll be okay."

Harry's heart swelled at her words, and a quiet sense of wonder settled over him. He'd never expected to find someone like Aspen—someone who made him want to be better, softer, more present. He gave her hands a gentle tug, guiding her toward him.

"C'mere," he said, his voice low and coaxing. Aspen hesitated for only a moment before letting him pull her onto his lap. Her hands instinctively went to his shoulders for balance, and his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her securely.

She let out a small, breathy laugh, her cheeks flushing again as she settled against him. "This is so unfair," she mumbled, though her tone was more playful than anything.

"Unfair?" Harry repeated, raising a brow as he gave her a teasing grin. "How's this unfair?"

"You're too... you," she said, gesturing vaguely as if that explained everything.

Harry chuckled, his hands resting gently on her waist as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. His lips lingered there for a moment, and he couldn't help but take in the details of her outfit—the way the leggings hugged her legs, the way his shirt looked impossibly better on her than it ever had on him.

"You're wearin' my shirt," he teased, his voice a low murmur against her skin. His grin widened as he leaned back slightly to get a better look at her. "Didn't think you'd steal from me so soon, love."

Aspen's eyes widened, and she quickly tugged at the hem of the shirt, her blush deepening. "I didn't steal it!" she protested, though her voice was soft and her smile betrayed her. "You didn't mention needing it back, and it was... just there, and it's comfortable, so..."

"So y'stole it," Harry finished for her, his tone light and teasing.

She buried her face in her hands, letting out a soft groan. "You're impossible," she mumbled, though the warmth in her voice gave her away.

Harry laughed, his hand sliding up to gently pull her hands away from her face. "Impossible, huh? Guess that makes two of us," he said, his grin softening as he looked at her. His thumb brushed over her cheek, and he leaned in just enough to rest his forehead against hers.

For a moment, the world outside faded, leaving only the quiet hum of their connection. Aspen felt her heart steady, the nervous flutter settling into something warm and sure. Harry's presence had a way of grounding her, of making her feel like she could let go of the walls she'd spent so long building.

"You're somethin' else, Asp," Harry murmured, his voice filled with quiet reverence. "Y'know that?" Aspen bit her lip, her gaze meeting his. "I think you might've mentioned it," she said softly, her smile shy but genuine. Harry chuckled, leaning in to press a tender kiss to her temple. "Well, I'll keep sayin' it," he promised, his arms tightening around her. "Every chance I get."

Aspen’s fingers moved delicately along Harry’s shirt collar, their slow, rhythmic movements betraying the nervous energy coursing through her. She felt the soft material between her fingers, grounding herself in the moment, but all resolve slipped away when Harry pulled her closer. A small, involuntary sound escaped her lips, blending into a soft giggle as his lips curved into a smirk against hers.

Harry’s hands rested on her hips, his grip firm but reassuring. He tilted his head up to meet her lips, their familiar softness igniting a warmth in his chest. It had been too long—much too long—since he’d kissed her like this, and the moment felt like a long-awaited reunion. The cool press of his lip ring against her skin sent a shiver through her, its gentle nudges against her teeth a comforting reminder of their closeness.

For Harry, kissing Aspen always felt different—more intimate, more profound. Her lips molded perfectly against his, and the subtle gasps she made only fueled his desire to savor every second. It wasn’t just the act itself; it was the way she melted into him, the way her quiet trust was woven into every kiss.

Aspen slid her arms around his neck, her thumbs brushing lightly against the soft curls at the nape of his neck. The sensation made him hum low in his throat, the sound reverberating between them. Her touch was featherlight, reverent, and it made Harry feel cared for in a way he couldn’t quite describe.

Their kisses were slow and tender at first, each one a quiet confession of how much they’d missed this. But when Aspen tilted her head slightly, granting him better access, Harry’s lips parted. His tongue brushed against her bottom lip, and Aspen’s breath hitched. Without hesitation, she parted her lips, letting the kiss deepen.

The moment their tongues met, Aspen’s body instinctively leaned closer, her movements shy yet intentional. The languid motion of their tongues moving together sent a warmth coursing through her, spreading from her chest to her fingertips. Her thumbs brushed gently over the curls at the base of his neck, grounding her in the moment.

For Harry, it was as if time slowed. Every touch, every small sound Aspen made, was etched into his mind. His fingers tightened slightly on her hips as he sat up straighter, his head tilting to match the new depth of their kiss. The soft noise Aspen made from her nose—a quiet exhale laced with pleasure—sent a jolt through him. He didn’t want to stop, but the need to taste more of her overwhelmed him.

Reluctantly, Harry pulled away from her lips, but he didn’t stray far. His lips pressed gently to her jawline, tracing a line of tender kisses down to the side of her neck. Aspen tilted her head instinctively, granting him better access, her cheeks flushed with a deep blush that spread all the way to her neck. The warmth of his mouth against her skin made her dizzy in the best way, and she let her eyes flutter shut as she leaned into his touch.

Though this was only the second time Harry had kissed her like this, the intensity of it all overwhelmed Aspen in the best way. It wasn’t just the physicality of it—it was the way Harry’s touch felt deliberate, the way he seemed to cherish every inch of her. She buried her manicured nails gently into the curls at the back of his neck, her fingers tightening slightly as she let herself sink further into the moment.

Harry’s hands shifted, his fingers splaying out over her hips as they began to wander. He tested the waters carefully, his hands slowly moving toward the curve of her ass.

“This okay?” His voice was low, thick with want but tempered with care, his words murmured between kisses as his lips lingered against her skin.

Aspen’s breath caught at his question, but she nodded, her voice soft yet assured. “Yes,” she whispered, her tone trembling slightly but filled with trust. When Harry kissed that one particular spot on her neck, a breathy whine escaped her lips. “Yes, it’s okay,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry hummed in approval, the sound vibrating against her skin as he kissed her again, focusing on the spot that had made her gasp. His fingers moved lower, trailing over the curve of her ass before gripping gently, pulling her closer against him. She fit against him so perfectly, it almost made his head spin.

“You’re perfect,” Harry whispered against her skin, his lips brushing against her collarbone. He pressed wet, lingering kisses there, his teeth grazing her lightly, just enough to make her shiver. Aspen’s hands tightened in his curls, her soft breaths quickening.

The next sound she made was different, not quite a whine but unmistakably a moan. It was quiet, shy, as if she hadn’t meant for it to slip out, but it made Harry pause for a moment.

She had moaned for him, on his lap, in his office, because of what he was doing. 

Harry groaned softly against her neck, his lips trailing wet kisses along her skin. The nip he gave to her sweet spot drew a quiet gasp from Aspen, followed immediately by a soothing kiss that made her body relax under his touch. She felt warm, wrapped in the cocoon of his arms, and completely consumed by the moment—until a sharp sound jolted her out of it.

Her eyes shot open, her ears now hyper-focused on the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching the door. Panic shot through her like lightning, and her hands quickly slid down from Harry’s neck to his shoulders. She gave him a gentle but urgent push, scrambling off his lap and onto the seat beside him.

Harry blinked in confusion, leaning back against the cool leather as he tried to process what had just happened. His brows furrowed deeply, his green eyes clouded with concern. Had he done something wrong? The thought made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Asp?” His voice was low, tinged with worry as he studied her flushed face. “What happened? Did I—.”

Before he could finish his thought, Aspen shook her head frantically, her soft voice rushing out a series of breathless “no’s.” She was practically vibrating with nerves, her fingers twisting in the hem of his shirt when the door swung open.

There, standing with smug grins and bags of crisps in hand, were Zayn and Niall.

“We just came to check on how your homemade lunch was,” Zayn began, his tone dripping with mock innocence. His gaze flitted between Harry and Aspen, taking in their disheveled state. His grin widened. “But it’s very clear you need some alone time.”

Niall snickered beside him, not bothering to hide his amusement. Harry ran a hand through his wild curls, his face twisting into a scowl.

The picture Zayn painted wasn’t far off. Harry’s hair was a mess, his lips red and slick from their kisses, and Aspen’s face was a shade of crimson that matched the heat she felt radiating from her cheeks. They probably looked the part of being “busy,” and that only added to Harry’s irritation.

“Don’t you dipshits know how to knock?” Harry growled, his voice sharp as his glare bore into them. “Get the hell out.”

Zayn and Niall didn’t seem phased, their laughter echoing as they backed out of the room. They continued to crack jokes through the muffled door, their chatter trailing off as their footsteps faded.

The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the sound of Harry letting out a long, exasperated sigh. He leaned back and turned his head to Aspen, his expression softening the moment he saw her face. She was burning red with embarrassment, her wide brown eyes fixed on the closed door as if willing it to lock on its own.

Harry chuckled softly, the sound low and warm as he reached out to brush her hair behind her ear. His fingertips lingered against her cheek, his touch gentle and grounding.

“That was somethin’, huh?” he said, his lips curving into a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry 'bout that, love. Was what I was doing okay? Didn’t scare you off, did I?”

Aspen let out a shaky breath, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt as she tried to gather her thoughts. Slowly, her eyes peeled away from the door to meet Harry’s.

Her gaze took in everything about him—his unruly curls, his lips still glistening and swollen from their kisses, the cool glint of his lip ring catching the light. He looked confident and composed, as if the interruption hadn’t rattled him at all. It was unfair, really, how effortlessly handsome he was, and the realization only made her blush deepen.

“No, no…” Aspen’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper as she tried to convey her feelings. “It was good. I liked it. Really… liked it, H.”

Her words were sincere, and though her tone was laced with shyness, it carried a weight of gratitude. She appreciated how Harry always checked in with her, how he never took her silence or hesitation as anything but a reason to ensure her comfort.

Harry’s heart swelled at her honesty. He knew how much courage it took for her to open up, and every time she did, it felt like a gift. His lips curved into a small, lopsided grin as he hummed in approval.

“Mmm.” His fingers wrapped gently around her ankle, tugging her closer with ease. “Yeah?”

Before Aspen could process what was happening, Harry guided her down onto the seat, coaxing her to recline fully. She felt her heartbeat thunder in her chest, each pulse so loud she swore it echoed in her ears.

Her breath hitched when Harry nudged her thighs apart with his knee, settling himself between them. The closeness made her head spin, her fingers instinctively reaching up to tangle themselves in his curls at the nape of his neck once again.

Harry’s grin widened, playful and teasing as his gaze roamed over her. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and tinged with amusement as he kissed her shoulder and worked his way slowly up the side of her neck.

“’Cause I wasn’t done.”

[phantajam]

my hot take about descendants is that NONE of the core four were ready for a relationship until maybe like, the third movie (rant in tags)

[vanmarkus]

oh i'm back on my slavic kick. i'm sure that'll bode well for me and everyone in my vicinity

[lymtw]

Aftercare

Aftercare with Toji, where after all the roughness and manhandling is over with, he can't take his eyes off of you. All he cares about is making sure that you're not in excruciating pain, yet he hasn't been able to say a word for the past five minutes. You've pressed so many tender kisses to his face and expressed that you're okay enough times to him, but he can't seem to drop the smallest, lingering coil of guilt he feels at the sight of your scuffed up body. You look like you fought off a bear and ripped octopus tentacles off your skin—simultaneously, with all the scratches, bruises, and hickeys that littered you from your jaw to your ankles.

"Quit staring," you say, bringing your knees up and crossing your arms, your hands gripping your biceps.

"Nah- baby..." he finally says, softly, like he's quickly trying to justify the gaze he had set on you. "Come here."

Toji makes quick work of crushing this wave of insecurity that threatens your peace. He knows what you just endured was not the softest experience, and that you practically let him—a man capable of showing the aggression of a pack of wolves, devour you. Really, he did not hold back at all.

You slide down the bed and pull the covers over your body, laying your head on his chest with an arm thrown over his midsection. He pulls you close with an arm wrapped around your shoulder, and kisses the top of your head. "You know I love you, right, mama?"

"Mhm," you hum. Minutes ago you would have thought those words were a cruel joke being played on you with the way he gripped onto you like he wanted it to hurt.

"Wasn't trying to hurt your feelings by staring at you like that. Just did a lot of damage, this time, and it looks like it hurts... a lot."

"I'm fine," you repeat, for the nth time. You look up at him, briefly, sparing a smile before resting your cheek on his chest again. "A hot shower will melt it all away, I promise," you mumble.

He brushes over one of the many stains he left on the side of your neck. "My little trooper," he sighs, very much relaxed by your side. "You know i'd be proud even if you told me you were hurting." He knows it'll take more than a shower to get all these new semipermanent tattoos off your pretty skin, but for the sake of not making you feel small, again, he shuts up about it.

"I know," you assure. "I just don't wanna burden you. You're probably just as tired, if not more."

"What do you need?"

You lift your head again and look at him, confusion filling out your features. "You heard me, didn't you? I can take care of myself."

"I know that, and I don't doubt it for a second, but you're really gonna reject me?" He hisses, dramatically clutching his chest. "Damn, mama, just like that?"

"Well, no. Of course not-"

"Right. Of course not," he says, with that horrible tendency he has of cutting you off when the situation benefits you. "Gonna ask you one more time, and if you don't answer, i'm just gonna do what I want for you. What do you need?"

You had to think about it for a minute, about how you wanted him to help you. Independence shone through your thoughts. Everything he could help you with, you could also do alone. You didn't want to be needy.

"Five..." He's timing you, now. "Four..." The countdown has your brain scrambling to pick something. Anything, but you're blanking, losing second by second the already little time you were gifted. "Three... it shouldn't be this hard," he teases, a smirk on his face.

"I don't know, um."

"Two... you're gonna lose the option of telling me what to do, doll."

"No- I don't know."

"One." The countdown ends. "Alright," he groans, pulling you up with him as he sits up. "Let's go."

–

Sure enough, once the lukewarm water hit your skin, you gained a burst of energy. You made the washing of your body an amusing, yet tedious task for Toji. With all your little excitement fueled dances and laughter, what should have been a ten minute session turned into a twenty minute one.

"Doll, turn around. Let me get your back," Toji says, holding back a grin at the sight of you trying to soothe the burning sensation you feel in your nose after inhaling water.

You turn your back to him, before jovially turning to face him again. "Joking, joking," you say, when you catch his lidded eyes. You quickly turn your back to him, again, with giggles slipping past your lips.

He sighs, unable to hold back the gentle curl of his lips any longer. "What am I gonna do with you?" He lathers you from the nape of your neck to your lower back, with soap. The contrast of the white foam and the darkened stains on your skin, were enough to have him thinking about what ended just a little over half an hour ago. There wasn't a spot on you that didn't have some mark of his on it. Your shoulder blades and spine were mottled with stains of his lips, and your hips had opaque fingerprints on them.

You winced and took a step forward, away from Toji's touch, successfully pulling him out of his zoned out state. "You're scrubbing the scratches too hard," you say, turning to him while running your hands over the tender skin.

"Shit," he gently pulls you back and turns your back to him again, "sorry, princess." A few soothing kisses are pressed into the strikes, enough of them to make you forget that it even stung in the first place. He makes sure his mind stays out of the gutter, at least until he's done washing you, so that he doesn't hurt you again.

After showering, you stayed in bed while Toji went to the kitchen to make some tea for you. He did this for you after every night of intimacy, to expedite the betterment of your exhausted throat. He also knows of the calming properties that ease you into slumber. He wants nothing more than for you to sleep off the soreness your body retains.

"There you go, baby. I know you don't like it, but it'll make your throat feel better, so you have to drink the whole thing." He settles down next to you, on his side of the bed and watches you sip on the steaming hot drink.

The familiar scrunch of your nose appears at the taste that hits your taste buds, a sight that Toji has started looking forward to. "I hate the flavor just a little more every time I drink it. Oh well," you say, taking another sip, ignoring the scalding heat that embraces your tongue.

"I know. It sucks," he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Hopefully, next time we choose correctly and get something you'll like."

You set the mug down on the nightstand and turn to him. With warm hands, you cup his cheeks and tilt his head up slightly.

"What?" He asks, his eyes directed towards you.

Your smile evolves into a short giggle as you stare at one pinpointed spot on the side of his neck. "I got you, too. Right..." you drag a finger down his neck, gently pressing on the dark spot you left on him. "...here."

His hand tracks your touch and replaces it with his own, feeling the mark. "Damn right, you did. You got me, baby," he says through a grin. "My turn?"

You sigh, with faux irritation. "Fiiine."

"Let's see..." He cups your cheeks the way you did his. "I got this whole area here." His thumb brushes over your jawline, dragging beneath it to where the marks end. "Then there's this entire patch right here." He turns your head, exposing the reddish-purple splotches on the side of your neck to the light. His eyes trace the slope that leads to your shoulder, spotting the marks that remain visible beneath the collar of your shirt. He coordinates his touch with his sight, dragging his fingers over your delicate skin. "Right here," he says, after pulling the collar of your shirt down your shoulder, revealing more of his marks.

"Okay, okay. You win," you say fixing your shirt, covering up again.

"There's one right there," he continues, tapping the column of your neck. "Some more there," his finger glides over your left collarbone.

"Toji, I swear, if you point out one more, i'm gonna bite your finger off."

He stares at you silently, the corners of his lips twitching as you watch him, intently. After a few seconds, he slowly starts directing his finger towards a mark on your chest. Once he makes contact with your skin, he gently presses on the smear of color that marks it, still holding eye contact with you. "Here, too."

You swat his hand away from you, and huff. "Why did I even try to threaten you? You want me to bite your finger off, huh?"

"Not in the slightest. I just knew you weren't actually gonna do it, so I pushed it."

You cross your arms. "Whatever. I'm just gonna put a hoodie on so you can't look at them anymore."

"Woah, baby, put down the knife," he says, hands up in playful surrender. "No need to take drastic measures over this. Don't hide all my hard work."

"Hard work," you mutter, an incredulous scoff following.

Toji's gaze falls on your lips. "You're pouting like you wanna be kissed," he teases.

"And you're... you're being annoying," you say, covering your mouth with your hand, concealing the involuntary lift of your lips.

"Yeah, but you still want me to kiss you," he says, with a sly, knowing smirk on his face. "Look at you. Look at that blush. Even your knuckles are red, doll."

"Oh my god..." you groan with embarrassment. You use both hands to cover your entire face, now.

He chuckles, pulling you into his arms. "You're so pretty, ma. A total work of art." His hands have never gotten lost on you, but for now, in any way he holds you, he'll be able to see the trails his lips left behind.

"Stop..." you mumble, smiling softly at the sweetness poured into his words.

"You look mine, with all these marks," he says, pulling down the collar of your shirt a little, to see the blots of color that appear at the start of your spine.

"Shut up," you say, blushing furiously against his chest.

"Sounds like you still want that kiss, huh?"

"Not anymore," you say, lifting your gaze to meet his. The look in your eyes betrays every ounce of your denial. Toji can very clearly tell that you're lying.

"Those rosy cheeks are saying something else," he says, grinning. "Damn, look at those pretty lips. They're ready for me."

"If you want to kiss me, just say so," you chide, lightheartedly.

"I'm gonna kiss you so hard, doll," he says, cupping your cheeks again. "Your lips lack a little more of me."

[kitten4sannie]

backstage bukakke with ateez ♡

a/n: is anyone in need of post coachella performance brainrot?? :33 and if any of you were wondering,, no i’m not okay 🙂‍↔️🫶🏼 without further ado, here’s a LOT more backstage debauchery (like i went insane….i should be in a padded cell rn….) except this time san brought the whole crew to help drown you in cum <333 enjoy the meal my dears bc i can never show my face in public again after this 😭😭

w.c: 2.4k

warnings: alcohol use, subby fem manager! reader, free use, domteez, gangbang, who’s the biggest menace here? that’s for you to decide 🫵🏼, this is just complete filth btw,, dirty talk, degradation/praise, pet names/name calling, so much cum….., yungi confirm the big cock allegations, hongjoong might have a captain kink idk, double penetration, anal, implied sloppy seconds/thirds/fourths kskssb, brief tit play, brief oral, cum eating, size kink, bulge kink, breeding, creampies for days, a bukakke as promised <3

Once the members sent out their last waves and finger hearts to the adoring fans and locals in the vast festival crowd, they made their way back to their temporary dressing room to catch their breath and have a celebratory drink or two. Brimming with adrenaline and energy due to their momentous performance, they erupted in enthusiastic greetings as soon as their dear manager entered the room, a few of them draping their arms around your shoulders to give you a quick hug.

“Manager-nim, did you like the show?” San spoke up, bringing his glass up to his mouth, taking a small sip of the potent liquor.

“You know you can just call me by my name, San, and I thought you guys absolutely killed it, like always,” you replied, scanning their faces, lightly adjusting the hem of your work blazer. No matter how many times you had all of their eyes and attention on you, you couldn’t seem to get used to it. It always made you feel hot under the collar, not knowing what was going through each of their minds when they looked at you the way they did. With interest. Hunger.

San couldn’t help but smirk, his dimples visible. You had taken the bait. He watched Yunho serve you a glass of whiskey. “You’re right. We’re way past titles, aren’t we? Especially considering the way I had you bent over for me right after our set last weekend.”

You choked on the liquor, your body suddenly feeling hot, especially under the heated gaze of the men standing around you. “S-San, behave yourself.”

He lightly licked at his lips, his gaze sharpening, ready to add to the growing heaviness of the atmosphere in the room. “Don’t act so coy now, sweetheart. You know better than that, don’t you?”

You bit into your bottom lip, looking up to Yunho for help, only to find that he was giving you an increasingly perverse smile, like he was reminiscing about something filthy.

Yunho reached down to wrap a lock of your hair around his jewelry adorned finger, sighing, “We could all hear the way Sannie fucked your brains out, doll, but you wanted us to hear, didn’t you? Even though you’re our manager, you’re still our good little slut, yeah?”

Something clicked into place inside your brain like it usually did when they talked to you like this. You could finally stop being so uptight and in control, instead allowing the eager members to do as they pleased with you. “Yeah, I am,” you nodded shyly, your insides on fire.

San took a step towards you, reaching out to run his fingers along your collar bone. “Can I ask you something?”

Your breath caught inside your throat. You knew what he was going to ask. You knew what they wanted. Despite the professional relationship you had with the members, you always seemed to end up in increasingly unprofessional situations with them. You couldn’t help it, not when they always made you feel so good. Wanted. Craved. “Say it, San….”

His pointer finger drifted down your chest, along the seam of your blazer, gazing down at you. “Can we make you our whore, Manager-nim?”

The members exchanged pleased glances with one another, some of them pulling at the crotch of their tailored pants.

“As long as someone locks the door, okay?” you answered underneath your breath, your eyes beginning to glaze over with lust.

San simply took a step around you, running his hands up and down your shoulders, coaxing you out of your blazer and unzipping your work dress, presenting you to his beloved members like you were a treat — one they would savor together.

-

“Don’t pass out on us now, baby,” San’s husky voice attempted to reach you through the fog you were in, his fingers gently rubbing at the fresh load that had splattered onto your flushed cheek, sliding his digits into your panting mouth for you to clean. “How many was that, hm? How many cocks have been inside you so far? Can our slutty manager remember?”

You stopped counting long ago, too fucked out to think about whose cock had already rearranged your insides and who had stuffed your ass full. You couldn’t even remember who had fucked your face either, but your sore jaw was proof that it was most likely one of the more gifted members. “I-i don’t know how many, just want more,” you whined out, looking up at San past your wet lashes.

“Yeah, you always want more from us, don’t you, baby? Want us to go to our limit? Want us to give you our all, huh? Are you going to milk us all dry like a good slut?”

You could hardly listen to his breathy, self-serving monologue, not with the way Wooyoung was gripping your hips and shoving his thick cock into you with abandon, like you were his own personal sex doll. “Uh-huh, wanna be good for you all…”

“How precious,” San sighed under his breath, all while he jerked himself off, beads of pre-cum spilling out of the twitching tip, watching the way his closest friend pumped himself in and out of your clenching hole, noticing the way his hips began to stutter. “Then, be good and take Wooyoung’s load inside that tight little cunt of yours, just like you took our Captain’s and Seonghwa’s earlier, okay? Can you do that for us, baby? Can you be our pretty little cum dump?”

You couldn’t speak, simply responding by squirting all over Wooyoung’s thrusting cock, just about ready to fall over from the overwhelming pleasure, but unable to with the way Mingi was behind you, his heaving chest pressing into your back, his ringed fingers lazily groping at your sore tits, balls-deep in your tight ass.

“Pretty baby, our pretty girl,” Mingi praised in a gravelly voice, his lips against your ear, squeezing your tits just as his groans began to crescendo, driving himself into you a few more times before he held still, previous loads leaking out of your ass and down the sides of his veined cock to the base as he filled you up again. “Can you feel that, babydoll? Feel the way I’m stuffing you full of cum? It feels so good, you want to cry, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod drunkenly, tears pricking at the corners of your hazy eyes, your trembling thighs growing more and more numb.

“Look at her, guys, she’s cumming just from being bred,” Wooyoung panted out, his hands squeezing into your sides, holding you still on his pulsing cock, not attempting to pull out until he was sure your inner walls were coated with his cum, chuckling smugly along with his fellow members at the way you desperately drew in another shaky breath and simply whined instead of forming words. “Poor slut can’t even talk. Someone should shoot their load down her throat. Maybe it’ll help ground her.”

“Way ahead of you,” Yeosang softly interjected, giving you a princely smile as he walked up to where you were positioned on the lengthy couch. He ran his slender fingers through your hair, slowly angling your head back as he did, bringing his slicked-up cockhead to your parted lips. “Say ‘ahh’, darling.”

Just as you obeyed, you watched Yeosang’s pretty flushed face contort in pleasure, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his pulsing length, milking it for all it’s worth, rope after rope of hot cum shooting into the back of your throat, a few dribbles remaining on your tongue. You were so full of cum, all of your holes were used up, and yet you needed more. “Not enough…More, please. I’m being such a good girl, aren’t I?”

San’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip, sharing glances with the other members, squeezing around the base of his cock to keep himself from busting right then and there. “Guys, I think we broke our manager.”

“Isn’t that the point? Look at her. She loves it,” Wooyoung pointed out, motioning to your blissed-out face, before he finally pulled out of you, reaching down to spread open your used hole, pleased sighs echoing inside the room. “Look, Sannie, her cunt’s all messy now. Ran through. Just the way you like it, huh, you sick fuck? You want sloppy seconds?”

San nodded his head, salivating, practically in a trance.

“Then, hurry up and shove your cock inside her before my cum leaks out,” Wooyoung tsked, climbing off of the cum-stained couch and smacking his hand against San’s ass to get him to spring into action, which he did, laying down on his back and sliding you down onto his cock inch by inch, but not before he tapped his leaking cockhead over your swollen clit a few times for good measure.

San’s dimples accompanied his shit-eating grin as he bottomed out, slowly running one of his hands up your lower abdomen to feel the outline of his stiff cock. “It’s so big inside, isn’t it, Manager-nim? Am I stretching you out nice and wide?”

All you could do was whimper pathetically, because not only were you taking San’s curved cock inside your cunt, but meanwhile Mingi had been showing Yunho the way your hole had begun to gape after the rough treatment you had taken, especially from someone with his size, knowing it was best that he prepped you for his best friend, knowing the term ‘horse cock’ didn’t even begin to describe what Yunho had to offer you. “It’s all for you, bro. Come and get it,” Mingi mused huskily, getting out of Yunho’s way so that he could replace him, one hand on your ass to keep it spread open for everyone’s viewing pleasure, as your hole slowly swallowed up Yunho’s obscene girth.

San and Yunho seemed to be in the middle of an intense competition, considering the way they both would continually thrust into you harder, and faster, grabbing at your tits and hips for leverage to fuck into you even deeper than before, if that was possible. “I-it’s not a–fuck–race, guys,” you cried out, suddenly being pressed back into Yunho’s warm chest when San sat up on the couch and folded you up, jack-hammering himself into you, using you like a cocksleeve. 

“Yes, it is, and I’m gonna knock you up first, not this loser,” San grunted out in between shaky moans, smiling with his canines at you, then at Yunho past your shoulder, who responded by bucking his hips up into you so roughly, he had to wrap his arms around your middle to keep you in place. 

“I’m fucking her ass, dumbass, I can’t even knock her up if I wanted to,” Yunho replied breathlessly, shaking his head, giving San a playful smile, before pressing his lips to your earlobe. “And I want to, tiny. Wish I could.” 

“Not with that attitude,” San huffed, blowing his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, his vision beginning to blur with the sudden onset of pleasure surging through him. “I’m going to fucking–unnnh–fill up your slutty cunt with my cum, baby. Gonna make it so messy. And you’re, fuck, you’re so tight now. That’s our good cumslut.” 

“The perfect cumslut,” Hongjoong interrupted in a low voice, suddenly towering over you, holding his cock near your mouth, nodding approvingly when you began to suck and lick at the tip. “That’s right. You love Captain’s cock the most, don’t you, pretty girl?” 

Seonghwa pushed his way past the other thirsty members who were hovering around you like vultures, slipping his fingers into your hair and gently guiding you to his own cock, cooing at you approvingly when you let it hit the back of your throat. He smiled smugly at Hongjoong, who was now side-eyeing him. “Stay mad. It’s not my fault she has taste.” 

“You better watch it, Seonghwa.”

“You can watch our slut suck my cock.” 

Hongjoong grumbled to himself, reaching down to tug your head back just firmly enough to lead you back to his cock, before you took it upon yourself to sandwich their lengths together so that you could please them both at once. They stopped bickering and instead held onto each other, biting into their lips as their highs began to take over. 

It was then that San and Yunho emitted similar sounding guttural groans, fully sheathing themselves inside you, their fingers squeezing tightly into your hips from either side. 

“Cumming,” they both exhaled, resting their heads on either side of your shoulder, beads of sweat dripping down their jaws and along their straining necks. 

Just as hot cum poured into both of your used holes, Seonghwa and Hongjoong began to shudder and grunt out obscenities, aiming their milky streams towards your lolled-out tongue.

San suddenly waved for Jongho to come closer, pulling out just enough so that obscene globs of cum began to leak out of you, making you whine. “Here, cum inside her, JJong. I want my favorite maknae to finish our cumslut off.”

Jongho gingerly positioned himself near your gushing entrance and plugged you back up with his thick, throbbing cock, his strong thighs smacking into your delicate ones as he vigorously bounced you on his lap. “Want it?” he simply asked near your lips, making you blush.

“Please!”

Just as Jongho pounded his load and the others deep into your womb, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Mingi pushed their way closer to you, vigorously jerking themselves off in order to leave their own individual mark on you for the second or third time, extremely pleased with themselves once they covered their dear manager’s face and body in their cum. 

Once you all came down, you found that you couldn’t quite operate your body properly, not when your lower half was completely numb and throbbing with residual pleasure. San and Yunho took it upon themselves to cuddle you from either side, while Jongho gently rubbed your tummy in circles, wondering whose load would knock you up first. Only time would tell.

“How was that?” San asked softly near your ear. 

“We weren’t too rough with you, were we?” Yunho murmured, biting his lip. 

“How are you feeling, Manager-nim?” Jongho added gently, patting your tummy.

You sighed gently, reaching up to pat their heads, smiling at the men around you. And to think you actually got paid for this. You couldn’t have asked for a better job. “Guys…I’m fine, and for the record, it was so good, I don’t think I can ever go back to having normal sex again. I’m a bit concerned, actually.”

The rest of the members began to laugh, and you joined along, before clearing your throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortably sticky, looking down to see what you had all done to the poor couch. “Okay, so, who’s going to clean this mess up? And, it’s not going to be me. I can’t move my legs. I…think you guys actually broke me.”

San looked over to Wooyoung, who was already rolling his eyes, pointing dramatically at him. “I told you!”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[goldfades]

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐄? ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "Omg a fic where Paige and reader have always had this sort of sarcastic bickering borderline mean type of relationship/rivalry but one day the tension suddenly just goes from competitive to sexual and thennnnm ykkkk"

─ word count | 3.7k

─ warnings | NSFW under the cut, read at your own discretion! whoo, where do i begin???? paige/reader being a fucking ASSES (like super mean) and lots of insecurity, cc mention and comparison (pls don't come 4 me it's for the plot!!!!!! i didnt mean it!!!!), lots of arguing and fighting, mean!paige (like.... im talking MEAN), fingering (r receiving), so much dirty talk, idk if i missed anything lmk

─ ev's notes | the chokehold the pic in the middle has on me IS INSANE, also finishing a smut at 11 am should be a crime 😭 (but i’m feeding yall so be grateful)

THE GAME COULDN'T have gone worse.

The opposing team seemed to effortlessly dominate every aspect of the game. Shots that normally found their mark clanked off the rim, passes were intercepted with unnerving frequency, and the defense resembled more of a sieve than a fortress. Your entire team was quiet in the locker-room and Geno had told them that they needed the night to regroup, and they'll talk about it when they got home.

You made your way upstairs with Azzi and Aubrey, both trying their best to make you feel better. You played like shit, plain and simple and despite what your teammates were telling you, it was true.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of letting your team down. In the game, you were a shadow of your usual self. Your shots seemed to lack both the usual power and precision. Your attempts to drive to the basket were easily thrown by their defense, leaving you frustrated and angry.

Even your usually reliable defense broke under the pressure. You found yourself out of position more often than not, leaving gaping holes for the opposing team to exploit. Your reactions were slow, your movements sluggish, as if your body refused to respond to the commands of your mind.

"Hey," Azzi grabbed your arm so that you could meet her gaze. "We win and lose as a team, alright? This isn't all on you, we all played like shit tonight."

"But we always come back, Y/N." Aubrey added as you met her gaze as well. Their words would've made you feel better if this wasn't the worst you'd played all season, maybe even your entire college career.

You didn't bother to respond, you stayed quiet as you walked in your Azzi's hotel room and in there was Nika and Paige. They were seated on the bed, Nika looking more defeated than Paige, she looked more pissed than anything.

Paige didn't even acknowledge you as you walked in as she greeted Azzi and Aubrey, but you didn't even care right now. You were not in the mood for her shit, not after the game you just played tonight.

You sank into a chair in the corner of the room, the weight of the defeat pressing down on you like a leaden blanket. Nika's defeated expression mirrored your own feelings, while Paige's indifference grated on your already frayed nerves.

You listened as Azzi and Aubrey exchanged small talk with Nika and Paige, their voices a distant murmur in the back of your mind. But you couldn't bring yourself to join in the conversation, couldn't muster the energy to plaster on a fake smile and pretend that everything was okay.

Instead, you sat in silence, lost in your own thoughts. The events of the game replayed in your mind like a nightmare, each mistake magnified in the harsh light of hindsight. You wanted nothing more than to forget about the game, to push it to the back of your mind and move on, but the sting of defeat lingered like a stubborn stain.

"You okay, babe?" Nika's voice rang out as you got pulled back into reality. All the girls attention was now on you, feeling a bit self-conscious.

You forced a weak smile, attempting to brush off Nika's concern. "Yeah, just... processing everything, you know?" Your voice sounded hollow, even to your own ears.

"What's going on?" Nika asked, the concern evident in her face. "Talk to us, please, Y/N."

Nika knew how hard you were on yourself, she had seen you weather victories and defeats alike, always striving for perfection. Her gentle prodding encouraged you to open up, even if it meant admitting your own vulnerabilities.

"I played like shit," was all you could get out as you leaned forward, feeling their gaze on you. "I don't know what was so different about tonight but I just felt like the weight of the entire team was on my back and I didn't know I was carrying it until the end, and I just crumbled to the pressure."

"We all have our moments, Y/N." Azzi spoke up, empathy evident in her expression. But before anyone else could respond, Paige scoffed as she met your gaze.

"Carried the team? We all did what we could tonight and we don't need your shit." Paige's voice dripped with contempt, her words like a slap in the face.

You felt a surge of anger rising within you, fueled by the frustration of the game and now mixed by Paige's bitter words. How dare she dismiss your struggles so callously?

"What's your fucking issue, Paige?" you retorted, your voice tinged with frustration.

Paige's eyes narrowed as she glared at you. "My issue? Maybe if you didn't choke every time the pressure was on, we wouldn't be in this mess," she shot back, her words cutting like a knife. "You're always making excuses for yourself, Y/N."

You scoffed, getting up from the chair to glare at her. "I'm not making excuses, I'm acknowledging reality. We all had a bad game, Paige. It's not like you were lighting it up out there either."

"I did better than you, that's for fucking sure." Paige's voice came out bitter as you felt yourself let out a quiet scoff. You couldn't fight with her anymore, you were exhausted, both mentally and physically.

"Guys, stop it." Azzi's voice cut through the tension like a knife but neither of you acknowledged her, you both just kept glaring at each other.

"You're a bitch, Paige. You're just jealous because at the end of the day, you're just a burnt out star who can't handle not being in the spotlight anymore. Sorry that Caitlin's out there doing better than you, and that you feel the need to be a fucking ass all the time," you retorted, your words dripping with venom.

The frustration of the game, mixed with years of simmering animosity, boiled over into this heated argument that neither of you seemed willing to back down from. You didn't know why you brought up Caitlin, but all you knew was that you'd definitely get a reaction.

Paige's eyes flashed with anger, her jaw tightening as she glared up at you. "The fuck you have to bring Caitlin into this? At least I was a star, you'll never make into the WNBA with that attitude, I promise you that. You're just a selfish brat who can't handle criticism-"

"Hey!" Nika's shout rang out as she glanced in between the two of you. "One more word from either of you and I'm telling Geno, you guys are teammates and you need to act like it."

You glanced at Nika, seeing the disappointment etched on her face, and then back at Paige. Despite the rivalry between you, you knew that Nika was right ─ however, you weren't quite ready to admit that.

You scoffed as you exhaled, feeling everyone's eyes on you. You didn't acknowledge any of them as you left the hotel room, feeling your eyes burn with unshed tears. You were embarrassed, Paige had always been hard on you for seemingly no good reason but it's never gotten this bad.

You two had always been good sports, even when the other played like shit. She never brought anything up that would actually hurt your feelings, unlike tonight. You didn't know why, you tried to think back at what could've changed tonight but came up with nothing that made sense. You just hoped it wouldn't affect the way you played with her, you didn't want it to effect the team more than it has.

You walked into your hotel room, locking the door behind you as you walked into the bathroom, ready for a warm shower to drown out the rest of the world.

──

"Who is it?" You asked as you heard the knocking on the door. It was nearing two in the morning and you had just stepped out of the much-needed shower, clad only in your robe.

"It's me," Paige's voice was quiet as she spoke, your whole body tensing up just at the sound. You sighed deeply as you walked up to the door, opening it to reveal a slightly disheveled Paige.

She looked really, really good; she had her hair up in a loose bun, her gray sweats were slightly rolling off her hips and her shirt fit her just perfectly. Goddamnit, Y/N ─ focus. You tried to hide the tug of attraction you felt towards Paige, pushing the distracting thoughts aside as you met her gaze.

"What do you want?" you asked, your tone guarded as you leaned against the doorframe.

"Let me come in," Paige's statement didn't come off as a question, more like a demand. You sighed and leaned backward so that she could enter.

Before you could say anything, Paige started talking. "I don't appreciate you comparing me to Caitlin, especially after the season I had."

You scoffed in disbelief as you closed the door. "You came in here just to say that?"

Paige turned so she could send you a glare. "I came in originally cause I was gonna apologize. But then I remembered the whole Caitlin thing-"

"What's up with you and Caitlin?" Your words came out with the same intensity as hers did. "I don't know why you took that comment to heart because you started this whole damn thing."

Paige's expression hardened, a defensive edge creeping into her demeanor. "What do you mean by that?" she snapped, her tone sharp with irritation. "I had the most terrible season, and everyone has been comparing me to her-"

You felt a surge of frustration rising within you, the tension between you and Paige reaching a boiling point. "And what about everything I've been through this season?" you shot back, your voice tinged with anger. "You think this season has been a cakewalk for me? You think I don't know what it's like to struggle?"

Paige's jaw clenched, her gaze hardening as she met yours head-on. "This isn't about that," she retorted, her voice low and tense. "This is about you and Caitlin suddenly being all buddy-buddy after the Iowa game. The comments under your posts, the calling and the texting. It's obsessive and annoying, I don't like it and I don't want you hanging around her anymore."

You paused for a second, trying to process her words. Paige's accusation caught you off guard, the weight of her words sinking in like a lead weight in your chest. Was she jealous? You couldn't help but let out a small laugh as Paige's eyebrows furrowed.

"The fuck you laughing for? You think this is funny?" Paige's eyebrows furrowed even further, her frustration palpable as she waited for your response.

"Aww, are you jealous?" Your words came out amused as Paige kept glaring at you. "I'm not replacing you or the team, she has a boyfriend."

"I'm not jealous," Paige's glare intensified, her jaw tightening with frustration at your teasing remark. "Don't flatter yourself, Y/N. I couldn't care less about your little fling with Caitlin."

"Then what's your problem?" you pressed, unable to resist the urge to push her buttons further. "If it's not jealousy, then why are you so worked up about it?"

Paige's nostrils flared slightly as she averted her gaze for a moment, before looking back up at you. "Cause it's no damn comparison. At the end of the day, you're on my team and you're mine," she paused as she shook her head. "My friend," she quickly clarified.

You blinked in surprise at Paige's sudden intensity, the weight of her words sinking in like a heavy anchor. The possessiveness in her tone left you feeling flustered, unsure of how to respond.

"Paige..." you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find the right words. But before you could even process anything, her lips were on yours and your back was pushed up against the wall.

Instinctively, your arms found their way around her shoulders, pulling her closer as you responded to her kiss with equal fervor. The heat of the moment consumed you, erasing any doubts or reservations as you lost yourself in the sensation of her lips on yours.

Her lips on yours sent a shiver down your spine, electrifying every nerve in your body as you surrendered to the passion that consumed you. All thoughts of the past were forgotten as you gave yourself over to the intoxicating enticement of Paige's lips.

Her hands slide up your body and hold your neck as you let out a soft whimper, causing your head to fall back against the wall. Paige's lips began leaving open-mouthed kisses all over your jaw and neck, as her hands explore your body.

This couldn't be happening, you kept thinking to yourself. After playing on the same team as Paige for almost three years now, it felt like this was a fever dream ─ but you didn't mind it, not at all.

Her lips found yours again, kissing you roughly as your hands gripped her head. With ease, she lifted you up into her arms, your weight feeling insignificant against her strength. She kept her lips on yours as she carried you toward the bed, dropping you swiftly as your hands found her face.

Paige's hands had easy access to your body due the robe, that she quickly slid off as her lips stayed on yours. She pulled away for a second, breathless, as she took in your body with admiration in her gaze. You felt self-conscious for a moment, but you had no time to dwell on it as Paige pulled you down on the bed.

"You're fucking gorgeous," she mumbled as she pressed kisses all over your neck. "I hate how gorgeous you are."

Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions as Paige's words and actions washed over you. Part of you wanted to resist, to question the sudden intensity of this moment, but another part of you couldn't deny the undeniable chemistry between you and Paige.

But as her lips trailed along your neck, you found yourself unable to resist the pull any longer. With each kiss, each touch, you felt yourself unraveling, giving in to the utter need that surged through your body.

"I hate how you make me feel," Paige whispered against your skin, her voice husky with desire. "Every time I'm near you, it's like I lose control. Like I can't think straight."

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each moment. You reached up to cup her face, guiding her lips back to yours in a desperate kiss, hungry for the taste of her against your skin.

You reached out to her, your fingers tangling in her hair as you pulled her closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull that drew you together. "I hate how much I want you," Paige groaned, her voice tinged with frustration as she pressed her lips against your neck with force, pulling a soft whimper from your lips.

"I hate how much I need you," Paige spoke as she gazed into your eyes, her grip tightening on your waist as she pulled you closer. "But I'm not gonna fight it anymore. I'm done pretending like I don't want you, okay?"

You felt a rush of heat flood through you at her confession swirling in the pit of your stomach. In that moment, all you could think about was Paige completely, letting her consume you with her passion and desire.

"I want you, too, P." You finally let out, your voice quivering as she began to caress your thigh.

Paige scoffed, shaking her head at your words. "I know, I know you do."

She pushed her lips into yours again, a needy moan escaping your lips as she pushed you onto the bed. She straddled your hips as she kissed all over your neck, feeling yourself pulsate beneath her. You couldn't even think straight anymore, your mind was complete mush as she kept kissing all over your neck and jaw.

Paige mouth traveled down toward your stomach, leaving sloppy kisses and hickeys all over it. Your hands found her blonde hair, tugging as she teased you. Her blue eyes were completely focused on you, every reaction and every sound that you made, fueling her desire even further. With each kiss, each touch, she seemed determined to leave her mark on you, to brand you as hers in every way possible.

And you welcomed it, craving the intensity like a starving soul. With each tug of your fingers in her hair, Paige responded with a groan of satisfaction, her lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire across your skin.

She pried open your legs slowly, her gaze still lingering as your breath hitched. "Fuck," she mumbled as her eyes flickered toward your soaking cunt ─ she was at a loss for words.

Paige fingers teased your entrance, pulling needy whimpers from your bruised lips. "You're so wet for me, baby," she finally plunged a finger into you, causing a borderline pornographic moan to leave your mouth.

Every sensation was heightened, every touch sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body as she thrusted her finger in and out of you. She wasn't gentle by any means, you could practically feel the anger radiating from her body as she watched you.

You leaned further into the bed, covering your face with your arms as a string of moans left your mouth. Almost immediately, Paige gripped your arm and pulled it off of your face. "I want you to look at me while I fuck you, alright?"

You couldn't reply with any words, you weren't even sure you were conscious at this point ─ the exhaustion from the game, the anger from the earlier argument and now the utter pleasure of you were feeling was fogging up your brain, you couldn't even think straight anymore; all you could do was sit there and take it.

You tried your best to keep your eyes on her, but you felt yourself slipping as you arch your back. She added another finger, causing a new sensation jolting down your body ─ you hadn't even orgasmed yet and you feel beyond overstimulated.

"Does Caitlin do this better than me, huh?" She mumbled as she leaned forward to press a sloppy kiss to yours lips. "Fucking answer me," she groaned as she pulled away.

You shook your head fervently, the only words you were really understanding were "Caitlin" and "better". Her movements became faster and deeper with your answer, causing another loud moan to slip out of your lips.

"Fuck, please," you cried out as you leaned back into the bed. Paige quickly pulled you down by your hips, making sure to pin you down as she continued to finger-fuck you. "Please,"

"So polite, baby. Fucking three years, it took me three years to realize that they only thing you needed was a good fuck for you to be nice, huh?" She spoke harshly as she felt you tighten around her fingers, your face contorting into utter pleasure as you shut your eyes. "Now I know whenever I need you to shut up, all I need to do is fuck you, right baby?"

Her words all blurred in your mind as she began rubbing your clit, and you were cumming all over her fingers ─ the knot snapped hard, you were crying out so loudly, Paige was worried the neighbor's were gonna call the office.

She helped you ride your high as you caught your breath, before she pulled out her sticky fingers from your cunt. Before you could even process it, she stuffed them inside your mouth roughly as her blue eyes analyzed you.

You sucked them clean as you finally came back down to Earth, finally (kinda) being able to think straight. You were breathless, your legs were shaky and you were sweaty all over again. You finally opened your eyes to meet Paige's eyes, your heart almost jumping out of your chest at the look of utter admiration on her usually disinterested face (at least, when it came to you).

Before either of you could revel in the moment any longer, Paige's phone began to buzz in her sweatpants. She sighed loudly before picking it up, "What's up?"

You could recognize Nika's voice as she spoke but you couldn't quite understand what she was saying. However, when Paige's expression turned cocky as she took another look at you, you had a couple ideas on what it could be about.

"Yep, we made up. We're fine now, don't worry. Yeah, we're good, y'all can head to bed," she nodded along with whatever Nika was saying, a cocky ass smirk on her lips.

"You wanna talk to her? You sure?" Paige took a look at your disheveled appearance, laughing as your eyes went wide. Before you could protest, she handed you the phone. "Here you go,"

"Hey, babe," she spoke softly through the phone. "I made P go and apologize, I hate seeing you fight like this and-"

Her voice slowly became background noise as Paige leaned back into the bed, pulling you into her chest. Your heart began beating out of your chest as you relaxed into her embrace.

"-And I just love you guys, okay? Y/N, you still there?"

"Y-yeah, sorry. I'm just sleepy, we love you too, Nika," you got out as Paige smirked at you.

"Okay, okay," Nika replied, her voice filled with genuine affection. "Get some rest, okay?"

You said your goodbyes before handing the phone back to Paige, who ended the call with a satisfied grin. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Paige, only she would fuck your brains out then make you answer the phone.

You laid on her chest quietly as she pulled the blanket over your body, pulling you even closer. You guys sat in silence, both of you knew there was a lot of debrief ─ however, both of you were too tired to bring it up.

"I'm sorry for bringing up Caitlin, that was a bitch move," you began as you closed your eyes, getting comfortable beside Paige.

Paige's hand gently traced patterns on your back as she sighed softly. "No, I'm sorry too," she murmured, her voice filled with sincerity. "For being a bitch, and saying all that stuff about you not making it into the WNBA,"

"I know you didn't mean it," you mumbled as you felt yourself drift off into sleep. Paige leaned over slightly to turn off the lights, and you both slowly drifted off the sleep.

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[adelheidvonschicksal]

Nsfw scenarios/hcs for the LADS boys with their MC in ABO!AU (Idl if I wrote this right 😅) please? Like how they marked their mates, how they treated their mates during the rut and heat, etc.

+ Omegaverse, sexual content, alpha boys/omega reader, female reader

General

9/10 possessiveness level

Xavier is the most possessive of the main boys and gets jealous the easiest. He may seem calm about other alphas standing a little too close or talking a little too long to his mate, but the tension in the air is thick and unpleasant. There's a specific eery calmness to his face and falsely polite tone to his voice when he happens to cut into the conversation. He always wants to know the topic of conversation when you talk to anyone who has his suspicion. Xavier suddenly gets a little needier than usual, always trying to figure out a way to draw your attention back to himself. Or, purposely sliding an arm around your waist and holding you close in a silent hint that whoever is talking to you should back off, or he will drop his head against your shoulder, saying he’s tired, and asking you to hurry up so you can go home together,  he emphasizes. His last resort isn't pretty. 

While calm, he has a little of a competitive streak with others, whether that means scoring higher in your hunter team battles or building the largest snowman together. He is competitive for your attention against those he thinks are interested in you; and when he has you alone, he insists on scenting you or mating you. You better be prepared to hide large bite marks or hickeys by the time he’s done claiming you.

Protective Level: 6/10

Xavier has no problem with you running about your daily life. He has confidence that you’re strong and don’t necessarily need much protection. He only insists on coming with for two things: (one) if he’s jealous of the person you’re meeting or (two) if you’re going somewhere to fight on your own.

As long as he’s around, he’s confident that things will work out fine. However, he gets extremely protective when you’re hurt, asking for you to stay behind him, rushing ahead to be the vanguard, and trying to take on the brunt of everything himself. And if you get hurt being rash, prepare for him to be upset with you and insist that you allow him to protect you more.

Scenting

Scent: Fresh Linen

Xavier smells good, but there isn’t something to pinpoint about his scent that is unique to him. Simply put, he smells clean, like freshly dried laundry with a touch of lavender.

Xavier loves covering you in his scent, cuddling and sleeping with you until you’re no longer entirely sure what your scent smells like not mixed with his. He scents your things, like your plushies, before you even need to ask. 

He likes to tease you, asking if you want him to scent his hoodies even more since you take them so much, and he’s always happy to oblige. His first instinct to calm you down consists of three options: scenting, cuddles, and food, in that order.

Mating

Xavier already likes to mate with his partner a lot, like a constant rut minus the attitude that comes with it; always wrapping his arms around you, nudging the back of your neck, and lightly coercing the situation to where he wants it to end up whenever the opportunity shows itself.

In a rut, he’s twice as easy to rile up and much more direct about wanting to be alone with you, wanting to hold you and shove his head into the divot of your neck, and audibly inhaling your scent. You can already feel him against you in more ways than one.

He doesn’t waste his time trying to play games with you during this time, choosing to show you exactly how much he wants you before taking charge. You’re burnt out by his energy when you’re used to him napping right after a round or two. This time he isn’t letting up, but he promises that he’ll treat you so well, promises that he’ll get you there twice in exchange for letting him have one more time, as if you're aren't already overstimulated with jellied legs.

He asks if you're already tired. He'll let you sleep but can he at least squeeze and kiss you while he uses his hand. He promises to clean his mess if it gets on you. He'll be good, he swears, and he's so puppy eyed that you let him.

When he finally is tired, he’ll fall asleep while inside you. His knot stopped swelling a long time ago, but he enjoys your warmth around him as he nuzzles the back of your head.

Xavier does his best to tend to his mate when they’re in heat. He’ll get warm compresses and try his best to cook for you (most likely failing) and offer to nap with you when you’re in pain. He’ll let you use him how you want as long as it makes you feel better, whether that’s using his hands, mouth, or knotting you.

There’s a small bit of worry from him, with the way he asks,

“Where do you need it?” “Like this?” “Are you sure you only want my fingers? It’s okay to ask for more.” “Open your legs wider. You don’t have to be embarrassed. It's only me." "Next time, I'll let you take care of me, deal?

You’re so cute like this, needing and wanting him, but he hates how it causes you pain.

General

3/10 possessiveness level

Rafayel tends to have confidence that he can have you before anyone else, trusting your judgment to take care of yourself. He also has pretty high esteem of himself when it comes to the social world. A few properly chosen words is usually enough to get any seducer to back off. Rafayel can’t believe someone else could possibly think they’d have a chance with you when you have him.

As repentance, he wants you to do things for him after little incidents like that. It’s so exhausting chasing lesser alphas off, after all. Whether he’s serious or not when he says he could use some affection after his omega so cruelly ignored him for another alpha remains to be determined.

If there ever is a time where he feels insecure or jealous, he isn’t above trying to cut off someone’s relationship with you. If it comes to threats so be it, but it will end. It doesn’t matter if it’s from your side or the pursuer. It’s an ultimatum, either him or the other person, but not both.

He has a bigger concern about you not needing or growing bored of him than falling in love with someone else. Otherwise, he tends to have faith in you.

Protectiveness Level: 8/10

Rafayel knows you’re strong. Trust him—a twisted arm and playfights abound—he knows. But you are also bulledheaded and naïve. He worries you might end up getting yourself injured; or worse, killed.

So, he’s observant as always, watching for any suspicious activities with the people you’re around, whether warranted or not. He wouldn’t just do that for anyone, only for his precious mate and also for his precious peace of mind. He tends to operate from the background to not be too overbearing, but he doesn’t mind being the one to step in—to get hurt—if it means keeping you safe.

Scenting

Scent: Beach Sand with a Hint of Citrus

Rafayel smells of white beach sand and tropical fruit. He smells like the first hint of salt air and the ocean breeze and mineral. It reminds you of family vacations and old memories. He insists most Lemurians have scents like these, but his is special! It's the only one that mixes so lovely with yours.

He does scent you when you ask, but he requests that you do the same. It’d be much better for you to scent each other. He loves to tease you when you ask him to scent things for you.

“If you like it so much maybe I should make it into a perfume.” But he’d hate it if you actually agree. “Wait, let’s not be too hasty. A perfume really can’t compete with the natural source.”

Mating

Rafayel dislikes his mating cycle only because he dislikes losing his sense of control over himself. But when you’re there, with your scent clouding his mind, it’s all bets off. He’s so needy and HAS to have you. He feels like he’ll die if he isn’t burying himself in your scent, your presence, in you. He needs to feel your hands on him and isn’t below demeaning himself or being more forceful than usual to get it.

He’ll constantly seek you out, calling you late at night. He has nothing to say. He just needed to hear your voice, just keep breathing for him, he’s almost there. He needs you to come over to his place right now. It’s all your fault he’s burning like this. You need to get there immediately and take responsibility before he goes insane. He's already dizzy and his hand isn’t cutting it anymore.

In person, he grabs your hand, and the look in his eyes is begging in place of his mouth that’s too heavy with pants to talk straight as he savors your touch, desperate and gluttonous. 

“Right there...don't make me beg…just a little bit longer.” “I need to feel you. There. You feel incredible.” “If you want my knot, you can have it. Say you want it for me, and I’ll give it to you. Say it.”

When it’s your turn to go manic, he’s going to have his revenge for all the bullying and petting you did while he was rutting. He’s going to coo and fawn over how much you need him, and make you ask him nicely for his touch, but he’ll always give in to his little mate. He knows what’ll make you feel good, and he’s going to give it to you in due time. He thinks you look so pretty when you’re about to cum, covered in sweat, body tensing, the shallow, quick breaths.

“I wish I could paint you like this, but I don’t want to look away.” “Do you really want me to breed you that bad? Don’t say you didn’t ask for it.”

Rafayel is going to make sure you have an easy time, clearing out your schedule for you and letting you stay in the studio with him. Thomas' calls are going to go unanswered for a while.

General

6/10 possessiveness level

Zayne is able to get jealous; however, he isn’t one to distrust you. It’s other people he doesn’t trust. He’ll drop hints he doesn’t like something you’re doing, a sarcastic jab here, a polite warning there, and even a “you should be careful of the company you keep.”. He always introduces himself as your mate to ensure there are no misconceptions about your relationship with him.

Zayne occasionally has to remind you that he’s your partner especially when you insist on teasing him and being a brat, poking at that jealous side of his to rile him up. It doesn’t take long for you to get the idea after having him between your legs. It’s really more of a funny thing, seeing him possessive, because he becomes a lot more short-tempered but absolutely refuses to admit he’s being possessive.

However, he calms relatively easy with some reassurance, and he doesn’t care as much if someone likes you after he knows you have zero interest in them. It’s more of an annoyance than something for him to fear.

Protectiveness Level: 10/10

Zayne is always so worried about you. He always has to tell you to be careful, to watch where you’re stepping so you don’t trip, to not drink too much without him there to take you home, and to watch for injuries. It might be a bit of his doctor attitude coming out, but it’s so much worse when it comes to you. You know no one else who adds the weather of the city you’re in to confirm you’re okay.

He’s also protective of your mental wellbeing; he tends to be the rock you rely on. If someone is bothering you, you can tell him, and he’ll be sure to handle the issue immediately.

Scenting

Scent: Bamboo Forest

Zayne smells like bamboo forests, a mix of floral and earthy. It kind of reminds you of him, calm and quiet but strong and solid like the earth. Fresh, green, and slightly woody. It smells like nature.

He scents you when you ask, and he quietly scents you when he wants, always overthinking if it’s something you want him to do or appropriate at a given point in time. It doesn’t take long for him to become better at knowing when you want it, when to leave something with his scent for you when you’re upset, and when to simply cradle you against him. His mood improves exponentially whenever you shove your face into his chest and mumble about how good he smells.

Zayne loves the way you smell. It’s a familiar and comforting thing to have your scent greeting him after a hard day at work. It lets him know you’re doing okay, and he gets worried whenever your scent is off. He can usually tell the slightest changes of your mood, and it makes him agitated whenever you try to pretend you’re fine when he can clearly tell different from smell alone.

Mating

Zayne tries his best to control himself and avoid you during his ruts. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, which leads him to being too restrained whenever he’s with you to the point where you can tell he’s not handling himself well.

It’s going to take a few times to convince him that you can handle it, that he can let go and give you everything before he finally allows himself to dive into his hormones, throw you against the bed, and kiss you hard. It's almost like a completely different side of him. Sure, he could always be dominant in the bedroom but there was always a control to it. Instead, he's instinctive, running off the rush of endorphins to reach the peak he desperately wants to tumble over, harsh and tunnel visioned as he chases the sensation of you clamping down around his knot.

“Hold it there, we’re almost there. You can handle it.” “Let me have you a few more times. Then, you can rest.” “Good girl. You’re doing so well. So good to me.”

During your time, he is meticulous. Zayne knows you almost as well as you know yourself, knows what sweets you like to eat, what positions make you the most comfortable, and tips on how to keep yourself together.

That only works so long, however, and soon he takes a more hands on approach in helping you through your heat cycle. His fingers curled up inside you, pushing that sweet springy spot inside you that has your juices pouring over his palm. He shushes you as you beg for him to give you more and more, to please stop this edging and fuck you already.

He promises he’ll make it good, but he has to slowly work you up first, so you won’t get overstimulated. Then, he’ll give you what you want until you pass out.

“Hold still, or do you want me to stop?” “Does it feel that good? I’ll be sure to remember that for next time.” “See what happens when you follow directions?” “You’ll have your reward soon. Which do you prefer to have—my fingers or my knot?”

Zayne also takes special care of you no matter the situation, making sure to wipe you off and hold a warm rag to your swollen and puffy cunt as he makes out with you. He scents you heavily afterward and lets you fall asleep against him until it all starts over again.

[pellucid-constellations]

By the Book

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel is struggling to catch the attention of his mate. Cassian offers him some advice, but "putting the moves on you" is harder than it seems, especially since he's not a character in one of Nesta's novels.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Nothing much, just fluff and Azriel panicking <3

a/n: Enjoyyy :) And let me know what you think pleaseee!

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

“Maybe you should try something different.” 

“Something different?” 

“Yeah,” Cassian shrugged, kicking back in his chair. “Put some moves on her, give her eyes—something interesting to gain her attention.”

“I’m not just trying to gain her attention, Cassian,” Azriel grimaced. “I—” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m not an idiot. I see how you look at her. But you don’t want to scare her, you know?” 

Azriel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You think I scare her?” 

“No, no,” Cassian assured, lazily waving his hand in the shadowsinger’s direction. “But y/n’s new. She’s still got all the nerves of working for a high lord and being in court. And she’s kind of—well, you know.” 

Azriel raised a brow, remaining silent in lieu of further questions. Cassian gave him a look, one Azriel did not replicate, and then sighed dramatically. 

“Az, come on. She’s new and she’s young. She’s all innocent and skittish. If you drop all of your big feelings on her she could run for the hills.” 

“She’s not that young,” Azriel refuted, face now pressed in confusion and contemplation.

“Young enough to be shocked by a mating bond so early in her life.” 

Cassian’s words left a blanket of silence over the room. The fireplace crackled, the chair beneath Azriel groaned, and shadows wisped around bookshelves and walls. 

“Is it obvious?”

“No,” Cassian shook his head, straightening his lax posture. “I was honestly just confirming a hunch. But now that I know…” 

“What should I do?” Azriel stressed. 

“Let me tell you a few things I’ve learned from Nesta’s interesting choice in literature.” 

~~

Azriel had waited all day for you to show up at the townhouse. Radiating nervous energy only visible in the way he continuously shook out his hands, the spymaster was armed with an arsenal of tactics Cassian swore by and a vigorous motivation. 

Part of him had been wary of the “smooth moves” the general had shared, but another part took his brother’s warnings to heart. He didn’t want to scare you off and you were rather young. Not a child by any means, but if Azriel had found his mate within his first hundred years, he probably would have panicked. 

And you were just reaching a centennial.

Gods, and Rhysand had only just hired you a few months ago. 

Before Azriel could spiral and abandon his possibly catastrophic plans, you walked in. 

Arm and arm with Feyre, you breezed through the front door with a canvas in hand and a laugh still fresh on your lips. Azriel wasn’t sure if it was the mating bond or just you that caused his chest to ache. 

When you caught his eye, a bright smile plastering onto your face, Azriel deduced that it was just you. 

“Hi, Az,” you called, unwinding yourself from Feyre and stepping close enough for Azriel to scent the paint mixing in with the sweet smell of your perfumes. “I stopped by Feyre’s studio after work. I painted the Sidra but it looks… well, just look at it.” 

Azriel trailed his gaze down to the painting, but much of him was still lost in the giggle that followed your words. The “Sidra” was more of a collection of uneven lines and dots meant to be clouds, but Azriel found himself offering a few gentle compliments despite it all. 

You tugged the painting down to your side with a disbelieving scoff, quirking a brow at the shadowsinger. “Do you make it a habit to lie to me, Az?” 

There was paint on your cheek—just a small splotch, but enough to grab his attention. 

“If she has something on her face, you reach up and get it for her. But you have to get real close and grab her face. And look into her eyes—yeah that part was important.”

Azriel’s wings rustled in anticipation at the opportunity, but he pulled them in tightly and hoped you missed the tell. The shadowsinger took a small step forward and tucked his fingers behind your ear, letting his palm press against your jaw and his thumb swipe along the paint by your nose. 

One, two passes and the pigment was gone, but he hadn’t looked into your eyes yet and Cassian said that was key. 

Hazel eyes shot up to meet your wide, unblinking gaze. Azriel held his hand against your skin for another moment, relishing in the feel of you as your mouth parted to take in a sharp breath. That sharp inhale was followed by a shaky exhale, and Azriel decided that was a good cue to release his hold. 

And although his mind was running rampant with a slew of emotions and panicked thoughts, he took a step back and looked at his thumb nonchalantly. 

“There was paint on your cheek,” he stated, because Cassian also said he needed to act stoic. 

Azriel already considered himself stoic, but that was before he had held your face in his hands. 

At some point, the painting in your hands had fallen to the tips of your fingertips, the canvas just barely hanging from your grip. You licked your lips and stuttered out a few incoherent utterances before landing on, “Oh, thank you.” 

Azriel nodded, and a beat passed with only the whisper of shadows and the shallow intake of breath. 

Until a throat was cleared behind you, and Azriel distinctly remembered that you had not walked in alone. Avoiding his high lady’s knowing gaze, Azriel jutted his hand out to a random wall in the townhouse. 

“Should we hang it up?” 

~~

You were leaning against a wall in the House of Wind, forgotten drink in hand, gazing around the room with a content gleam in your eye. Rhysand had these parties every once in a while, but this was your first time attending one. The soft way you looked at his family—at Nyx and the stubborn way he escaped his parents—made Azriel’s throat tighten. 

You were part of that family now too, whether you knew it or not. 

You were part of him—a piece of his being just steps away. 

“You put your arm above her head and talk low. If you’re feeling adventurous, a hand on her waist.” 

Right. Cassian said not to scare you. 

Revealing his undying love for you would most likely scare you. 

Azriel abandoned his drink on a platter and closed the space between you. 

Arm above your head. 

Talk low. 

A hand on your waist? Maybe. 

This was ridiculous. Azriel knew how to talk to women. He had spoken to plenty of women and they had been more than happy to oblige him. Azriel knew he was attractive and was considering throwing this whole plan away, but then you looked up at him and he found himself placing his arm above your head anyway. 

Mother save him. 

He pressed in close, his forearm just inches from your head as he gave you a soft smile. “Hello,” he greeted, sure to keep his words low.

You wrapped your drink in towards your chest and smiled back, lashes fluttering as the shadowsinger held your gaze. 

“Hi, Azriel,” you smiled back. 

Shit, what was he supposed to do now? 

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, only because you were so pretty and the bond within him was glowing with so much warmth that he could think of nothing else to say. 

You hummed. “It’s rather lively. It’s nice that Rhys invites so many of his people. I really do love this court.” 

I love you. 

No, he couldn’t say that. 

“I’m glad you approve.”

Stoic. Perfect. 

A gentle conversation flowed between you. Azriel hung his head low as he discussed past parties and strangers and restaurants along common streets, and you angled your chin up so the words spoken were just breaths away. Azriel did not move from his position and you did not escape further into the wall. 

“Do these go all night?” you asked, breaking eye contact for one of the first times since Azriel’s arrival. 

He looked over his shoulder to follow your gaze. “Sometimes. With Nyx around, maybe not tonight.” 

You took a sip of your drink. 

Azriel turned back around. 

The pull to you was inescapable. He glanced down at your waist, the way you had turned to your side to look at him directly, and then he reached out. 

His hand fit perfectly, shadows sliding out to wrap around your body. Azriel took the time to watch how his fingers pressed up to your ribs, and then, in an act much bolder than he felt, he tugged you forward and lowered his mouth to your ear. 

“Are you tired?” he asked. 

You had placed your hands on his chest during his unexpected motion, your fingers tight against his shirt. “A little,” you breathily replied. 

He could feel the warmth of your skin against his lips. Just a small turn of his head and he would taste it as well. His heart thumped painfully in his chest. 

No, Cassian had said—

“Azriel?” Your call threw him out of his thoughts. Pulling back, he met your eye. “Are you tired, too? I think I might turn in early.” 

Were you asking him to follow you? 

He would follow you anywhere. For anything. 

But if he were overstepping… 

“Would you like me to walk you back to your room? Or fly you back to your apartment?” 

You took a step back, Azriel’s hand slipping from your body. 

A piece of him melted away at the loss. 

You bit back what looked to be a smirk. “I got it. I’ll see you tomorrow, Az?” 

He watched you walk away from him, silently cursing Cassian. 

This had to have been his fault somehow. 

~~

The next opportunity Azriel got was accompanied by a flurry of concern. 

He had come to walk you home from the clinic after a long day with Majda, his shadows informing him that you were tired, overworked, exhausted. When he opened the door to your disheveled figure slumped over a counter, the bond within him sent him rushing to you. Or perhaps it was just an intrinsic drive—just the love he held for you.  

“The hair is a big one. Tuck it back behind her ear. The males in Nesta’s books always go for that one.” 

To be honest, Azriel wanted to do much more than tuck your hair behind your ear. He wanted to wrap you in his arms and fly you home and tuck you into bed. But Cassian had warned him against grand acts, so the shadowsinger accepted your tired smile with a soft one of his own. 

“A bad day?” he softly asked, tilting his head to the side and leaning over the counter. 

His hands fell just a small breadth from yours. 

You sighed in agreeance, forehead meeting the wood between you before turning back up to the male. “Come to laugh at me?” 

Your hair had fallen into your face. 

“Never,” Azriel whispered. “I’ve come to walk you home.” 

“Hmm, always walking me somewhere, aren’t you?” 

A confused smile graced the shadowsinger’s face, and then he took his brother’s advice and brushed fingers against your temple, sweeping your hair from your eyes. His touch ran down the slope of your ear, your lashes fluttering at the texture of his skin. Azriel gave into temptation and traced a line down your jaw as well, taking advantage of the tire that seemed to overcome you as you leaned into his touch. 

Cassian’s tips seemed to work so much better when the two of you were alone. 

But not too well, Azriel reminded himself, the male beginning to pull his hand from your face. 

You caught his wrist in your unsteady hand. 

“When are you going to tell me?” you accused, a slight squint in your eye. “I really do appreciate all of the stops you’re pulling out, but I’m wondering when you’ll stop walking me home and start being honest.” 

Azriel’s mouth parted in shock. “What do you—” 

“The hand on my waist was a good touch, I will say. I didn’t think you’d go that far. Especially not after you forgot to kiss me and instead offered to hang up my gods-awful painting.”

Azriel felt his face begin to heat. There was no way you had picked up on his flirting so quickly. But, Azriel thought in mortification, he had been stiff, paused too many times trying to remember Cassian’s words. Maybe he had been obvious. 

Oh, Gods. 

“Azriel,” you called. A soft call accompanied by a slight tilt of your head. He looked at you despite himself, lost in the haze you created in his mind. “Are you going to tell me now?” 

Cassian had been wrong, clearly, because the way you looked at him was so sure. You held his hand against your face and a tired smile still lit up your features and you didn’t look scared at all. 

And then the bond within him moved. 

A tug. 

And then another 

You had known all along. 

“You’re my mate.” He stumbled over the words, each falling from his mouth with haste. “My mate.” 

“I am,” you whispered, turning his hand on your cheek to press a kiss to his palm. “And you are mine.” 

“I’m going to kill Cassian,” Azriel mumbled under his breath, but the sound was lost between breaths as you surged forward to kiss him.

And Gods, did he kiss you back. He kissed you and kissed you and forgot every bit of advice from Nesta’s books, because he didn’t need it. All he needed was you and every iteration of the future that was now promised between lips. 

He should have known better than to ask for advice. 

You were his mate. 

He didn’t need sly moves to win you over. 

He didn’t need anything. Just you.

[eccentricwritingbaby]

sex ban

carlos sainz jr x reader

summary - carlos puts down a sex ban in order to try and improve his racing performance. after he caves and realizes he can’t do it, you place your own sex ban to get payback. and it’s killing the both of you. 

warnings - smut

masterlist

-

carlos had been down and out with his performance recently, nervous about his impending unemployment. you knew he was stressing out and pushing himself harder than ever. every morning before the sun was even up he was out running, cycling, in the gym, you name it. you could tell he was losing his energy more than usual because your late night activities were consistent with you being only on top.

you and carlos had a very passionate and constant sex life. it was wild and lustful, a trait that didn’t waiver in your four years together. that was until recently. carlos was clearly drained and tired from his all day activities that the nightly ones had dwindled. while he was stressed, it was usually taken out on you in a pure day through night sexcapade as he fucked you every which way in every room and every position. 

your worry grew stronger as the sex stopped sporadically throughout the day and began only at nightime. even then, he was too tired to truly give you his all, ending up with you on top and exerting all the energy. riding him was nice, and you enjoyed the position, but you needed to be really fucked. thrown onto the mattress, handprints and bite marks to clean up the next morning. but all of that came to a worse halt when carlos arrived home in the evening from a day with his trainer. 

“hola, mi reina,” he sighs out, letting out a groan as he sat next to you on the couch, muscles clearly about to give out. 

“hola, mi amor,” you gently greet, leaning forward to give him a hug and kiss in greeting, “how was your workout?”

“good, i’m sore right now but i should be okay for tomorrow,” he grunts again, attempting to lean back into the couch. 

“los, are you sure you’re alright?” you ask again, your eyebrows pulling in concern, “you seem like you’re very sore,”

“no no,” he assures quickly, “i’m fine, just went a little hard today,” he cranes his neck to get a good look at you, the pain in his eyes evident as you stare into them.

“do you need a massage?” you quietly ask, beginning to run your hands down his chest and stomach, implying your intentions for a happy ending. 

“actually…” he trails off, eyes now darting everywhere but your own, “we need to talk about that,”

“what?” you ask sharply, removing your hands from his body and sitting up straight to look at him clearer. 

“my trainer thinks it’s a good idea to not have sex right now,” he lets out quickly, averting your gaze again.

“i’m sorry, what?” confusion is laced in your tone as you attempt to process what he just told you.

“he thinks that i need to save that energy, conserve it for races and training,” carlos now is bold enough to meet your gaze, regretting it instantly under your sharp stare. 

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you shake out with a laugh.

“mi amor, don’t be upset, please,” carlos pleads to you, “it will only be for a few months, until i get a contract for next year-,”

“MONTHS?!” your voice reaching a higher octave in surprise, “are you fucking kidding me, carlos?”

“mi amor-”

“no,” you cut him off, shaking your head and now standing up from your position on the couch, “you don’t get to ‘mi amor’ me right now, this affects both of us you know,”

“this is my career, y/n,” he lets out in a whisper, his insecurities on full display. 

“and this is our relationship, carlos,” you bite back quickly, “i hope you’re comfy on that couch, you’ll be sleeping there tonight,” with your final statement, you get up and walk upstairs to your bedroom, ready to head to sleep and hope his stupidity was all a dream. 

-

“it’s really been two weeks?” alexandra asks you as you both take a break from the bustle that was the ferrari garage during race weekend. you had already told her about the ‘ban’ last week at the other grand prix to which she was shocked and appalled that you were still standing. you and carlos fought for the first two days about it before you had come to terms with your situation. you weren’t happy about it. but you had come to terms with it. 

“two very long weeks,” you emphasize to her as you both begin your walk from the hospitality center back to the garage.

“i don’t know how you’re doing it,” she laughs, “if charles ever placed that i’d be done,”

“my vibrator and i have gotten really close,” you joke with a smile, “but really i understand carlos’ motivations, he’s freaking out about next year,”

“i’m sure,” alexandra nods in agreement, “it sucks that you have to deal with it too, though,”

“the things we do for love,” you laugh with her again. as you both continue to walk and talk about your predicament, two ferrari drivers were in the garage talking about the same thing.

“what is wrong with you?” charles asks your boyfriend, still in disbelief that he has been holding it out for two weeks. 

“i don’t know,” carlos laughs, “but it’s not working, i want to break it tonight,” he confesses to his teammate. 

“oh she’s going to be happy, i’m sure,”

“i hope,” carlos sighs, “she was pretty upset when i brought it up in the first place,”

“no shit,” charles scoffs, “i’d be pissed if alex put down a sex ban,”

“we’ve been fine since, she hasn’t been holding a grudge or anything,” carlos shrugs. 

“well good luck,” charles gives carlos a quick and firm pat on the shoulder, “you might need it,” he laughs as he walks away, leaving carlos to question the past few weeks quickly. just as he starts debating your feelings, he spots you and alex walking towards the garage, and he begins to sport his large smile. 

“hola, mi reina,” he shouts towards you, “come here,” he yells again, beckoning you closer to his hidden spot in the corner of the garage. 

“hi, baby,” you reply once you’ve reached him, his arm coming up to pull you into his body for a hug, “how’s it going?”

“good, i have to get in the car in a few,” carlos leans down to plant a few kisses to your lips, a warmth growing in your lower abdomen as he continues to roam your body with his hands, “how was alex?”

“good,” you reply, chasing his lips with yours to get some sort of relief, your own arms beginning to roam his body as well, “how’s the car feel?”

“not as good as you will tonight, cariño,” he speaks into your mouth as you both continue your pursuit of each others mouths.

“what do you mean, amor?” you ask in your sunken tone, too caught up in the feeling of his lips and hands on you to catch what he was implying.

“i mean tonight,” he moves his head to begin kissing down your neck before continuing, “the ban lifts,” he sighs out. 

“what?” you ask sharply, putting space between your bodies quickly in order to process the information. 

“we’re having sex tonight, amor. i can’t put it more simple than that,” he laughs as his nerves begin to rise, scared of your harsh reaction. 

“no, we’re not,” you direct, now moving further away from him, his arms itching forward to have you in his hold. 

“yes, we are, cariño,” he replies, pulling you into him yet again. 

“no,” you give him a cross look, stopping his actions from going further, “we’re. not,”

“why?”

“i believe you placed this ban in order to ‘train better’ and you weren’t going to lift it until you had a spot for next year?”

“mi reina, i can’t do this,” he groans in frustration, “i need you,”

“you should’ve thought about that before you started this stupid thing,” you laugh, tapping his cheek quickly before turning around to leave, “karma, my love, karma,” you leave quickly, but not before hearing a long groan come from your boyfriend, giving you a giggle as you disappear. 

-

“y/n?” carlos calls out into the hotel room. you had left the track after the race as carlos finished up with the media, giving him a kiss goodbye and assuring him that tonight nothing would happen. he had thrown a small tantrum to charles who just laughed at his behavior, giving him a stern ‘i told you so’. now back at the hotel, you had decided to give carlos some payback. after he had withheld sex, he still was coming home from his training, hot and sweaty. tempting you beyond belief. he needed to feel what you felt. so here you were, all dressed up in your best red lingerie set, where nothing would happen. 

“in here!” you call out from the bathroom. hearing his footsteps grow closer, you giggle for a second to yourself before making eye contact with him through the mirror. 

“cariño…” he trails off, raking your body with his eyes, lust overtaking his complexion within seconds. you could tell by the tent forming in his pants these were a long two weeks for him as well. 

“what?” you feign innocence with your question, widening your eyes and relishing in the effect you had on your boyfriend, four years later. 

“you know what,” he sighs out, making strides to get closer to you, but you just take the same length of strides backwards, moving away from him.

“i thought i made it pretty clear earlier, the sex ban has not been lifted,” you shake a finger at him, starting to move forward in order to push past him and out of the bathroom. his hands stop you in your attempt to slide past.

“y/n, please,” carlos tries, squeezing your hips to further his point of urgency, “you’re killing me,”

“now you know how i felt these past two weeks,” you lean in closer to really set him off with your next word whispered in his ear, “...papi,”

a loud groan escapes his lips as he squeezes your hips tighter, “mi amor,” he starts, settling his lips between yours, kissing you with the passion you had been needing the past two weeks. 

“carlos,” you squeak out, separating the two of you, “i’m tired-”

“baby-”

“this is what you wanted, remember?” you eye him pointedly, laughing to yourself at his pained expression. the same one you sported everytime you got into bed with him for another sexless night. 

“cariño, this isn’t what i want,” he pushes, trying to grasp you back into his hold as you push away from him. 

“it’s what you asked for,” you say to him as you climb into the bed, raising your ass in the right direction to catch his attention. 

“fuck, amor,” he sighs, staring at you shamelessly, basking in the moment of finally being able to appreciate your body after two long weeks, “you’ll be the death of me,”

“too bad you had to go and listen to your trainer instead of your girlfriend,” you spit back quickly, getting comfortable in bed.

“y/n, i’m sorry,” he sighs again, rubbing his hand over his face before moving to sit on the end of the bed by your feet, “what will it take for you to forgive me?”

“i don’t know,” you fake ponder, “maybe in two weeks i’ll let you know,” you scoff out, winking at him before turning around in bed and closing your eyes. you hear a quiet grunt of disapproval before he heads to the bathroom in order to ready himself for bed as well. you hear the shower turn on, it’s gotta be ice cold, you think with a laugh, before drifting into sleep. 

-

“i’m telling you alex,” you giggle into your coffee the next weekend in the hospitality section, “his face has been priceless,”

“i can’t believe you’re doing this to him,” she laughs along with you, “he told charles that he has been dying,”

“that’s exactly what i was going for,” you confess with a chuckle, “i’m running out of lingerie soon, so i think i’ll switch to just totally naked, that’ll really throw him off,” alexandra just keeps laughing at your game, and encouraging you as you tell her more ideas. 

meanwhile in the garage, carlos is beyond on edge and charles knows exactly why. 

“i told you so,” charles sing-songs as he passes by his teammate. 

“shut the fuck up, mate,” carlos shakes off, running his hand through his messy hair for the hundredth time, “this is-”

“killing you, i know,” charles laughs again, “just apologize to her, grand gesture,” he attempts to provide a solution to his friend. 

“i’ve tried that,” he shrugs, “i’ve bought her bags, shoes, dinners, and nothing,”

“wow,” charles eyes widen in surprise, “are you sure the sex is good for her?”

“shut. up. charles,” carlos says through gritted teeth, “she’s just stubborn, wants me to wait the two weeks like i made her do,”

“actually that’s pretty fair-” charles begins, but stops abruptly as carlos’ left shoe comes hurling at his head, “hey! i’m not the one who gave you the sex ban! don’t hurt me!” he cries out in laughter, running away quickly before the right shoe has a chance to be removed. 

-

the two weeks were up and you were burning. you needed carlos biblically in every way you could possibly imagine. however, the need to watch him squirm one last time tempted you completely. so there you stood - naked, oiled up, hair done, heels on - ready for carlos. 

“hola, y/n, i’m home!” carlos calls throughout your shared home as he enters. 

“i’m in the bedroom!” you call back, giddy with excitement as you hear his footsteps approaching. 

“oh, oh mi reina,” carlos stutters, stopping dead in his tracks as he tracks your body with his eyes. 

“hola, papi,” you seductively whisper, watching his eyes turn from their beautiful caramel brown to a lustful black. 

“ohhh,” he lets out in a groan, immediately dropping down to his knees, and crawling forward to be at your feet. just as he approaches, you push your heel into his shoulder, stopping him from moving closer, “mi amor…,” he sighs in a plea, moving his lips to meet your ankle, slowly trailing them up and kissing your legs in admiration. 

“carlos,” you warn as he inches closer to your heat, “i think there’s one more day on the ban,” his eyes snap up to meet yours, widening in hope for you to forget it already. 

“mi reina, please,” he whines, his lips furthering their pursuit on your thigh, “i’ll do anything, anything,”

“anything?” you ask with a smirk, an eyebrow cocked in amusement at his desperation. 

“anything,” he breathes out, “absolutely anything,”

“no more sex bans,” you start, your boyfriend already nodding his head in agreement, “you fuck me everynight,” you keep going, carlos still shaking his head as his lips don’t stop their attack on your leg, “and you fuck me good tonight, papi,” you finish, him already climbing up your leg in urgency to reach the place he needed once given the green light. 

his lips meet yours after leaving a trail on your entire body, you hum and moan into the kiss as his hand climbs up your body and begins to grip your neck. pushing your head to the side, his lips migrate to your neck, biting and sucking in the places he knows will keep pretty sounds leaving your mouth. 

“mm,” he grunts, pushing his thigh in between your legs, leading you to let out another silky moan and grind down onto his jeans, “y/n,” he chokes out, “on the bed,” he directs. you eagerly move away from him and slide onto the bed. as you start to remove your heels, he pulls your hand away quickly, “leave them on,” he sighs out as you just smirk towards him. 

with the confidence of his desire for you warming your insides, you pull on the collar of his shirt, ultimately forcing him on top of you and leading his lips back to yours, he slips a moan out at your boldness. he stops only for the removal of his shirt before his lips come crashing to yours once again. 

he slides his hand down your body, giving your nipple a tight pinch on his way before meeting his desired destination. once his hand cups your heat, your moan echoed the walls as you hadn’t felt anything but your toys for a month. and they were not nearly comparable to your boyfriend. 

“i’ve barely touched you, amor,” he chuckles out between your kisses. 

“shut up,” you bite back, “it’s been a month,”

“i know,” he breathes, lips moving back to your neck, him relishing in the sound of your sweet moans as his fingers get to work, “so wet for me, reina,”

“only for you, papi,” you choke out in between your moans. he slips his digits up and down your folds a few times, gathering your wetness on his fingers before slowly, too slowly, entering you. he drowns out your moans with his lips on yours, pumping his fingers faster as his thumb comes up to rub your sensitive bud. 

“need you, papi,” you moan out, “need you inside of me,” 

“i know, mi amor, i know,” he shushes you a little bit, kissing you lightly as he continues to pump his fingers in and out, “i want to savor you,”

“do i need to tell you how long it’s been again?” you desperately moan, arching your back into him as he hits your spot. carlos moans along with you, reveling in your need for him and how easily he can get you undone. 

“no need for that, amor,” he shakes off with a laugh. pulling his fingers out of you, they meet his mouth as he tastes the sweetness of you he had missed for weeks. he lets out a guttural moan, and he begins to remove his pants. taking them off in one swift motion, his length slaps up to meet his stomach as you attempt to not drool at the picture in front of you. scrambling towards your boyfriend, you start to make a motion in order to give him the same attention he gave you, ready to be on your knees and ready for him. only for his hands to grab your waist, tossing you backwards onto the bed.

“do i need to remind you how long it’s been?” he asks you, mocking your question from earlier. you sit up on your forearms, watching as he crawls across the bed to be on top of you, meeting your lips in a kiss. you get so caught up in the kiss, carlos’ movements to enter you were lost as your brain fogged in lust. 

“are you ready, mi reina?” he quietly asks, rubbing his length in between your folds. 

“si, papi,” you seductively eye him after your answer, his eyes rolling back as he moves forward to kiss you again. as he enters inside of you, both of your moans paint the walls of your bedroom. 

“fuck, y/n-”

“aye, carlos-”

his pattern begins slow, the movements beginning to warm you up as you stretch to fit him perfectly. his lips attack your neck as your hands pull on his back, you scratching, him biting. both of you moaning in the bliss you had been missing for weeks. 

“oh, oh baby,” he breathes, movements quickening as he gains his rhythm. carlos pulls back slightly from you, moving an arm next to your head in order to hold himself up as he pounds into you harder. your back involuntarily arches, pushing your breasts to meet his chest, sweat mixing together as well as your moans. 

“mi-mi amor,” he stutters out, and you recognize immediately what he’s about to tell you, “i know it’s soon but-”

“i know, carlos, me too,” you breathe out, the warmth in your tummy heating up as you feel your aching ready to be released. 

“with me, baby, with me,” he grunts out, his pace now sloppy as he attempts to bring you towards your high with him. 

“mhm,” was all you could let out, your nails now digging further into his back, “‘m close,” 

“c’mon, mi reina,” he stutters out, his high coming quick, “now, baby,” he breathes out in haste. you both collapse into each other, a sweaty pile of moans and kisses as you begin to come down from your high. 

as you both lay there, carlos still inside you, he kisses your forehead and starts moving some of your hair away from your face. you finally kick off your heels and kiss carlos in between catching your breath. 

“you do know we need to go again, right?” you laugh out through the kisses. 

“oh we’re going all night, y/n,” carlos reassures you, kissing you again. 

“good,” you giggle, “and never again will this happen,”

“never, mi amor, never,”

-

[alexiroflife]

"phobia"

i literally can't stop writing for this mf, flufffff :(

satoru gojo x reader

Synopsis: you are an incredibly talented sorcerer, but your deadly fear of spiders tends to interfere with your daily life every now and then. it doesn't help when you happen to encounter a curse that looks just like one

to sum it up: satoru is always there for you to kill a spider when you need him to

WC: 2,764

Warning(s): arachnophobia, icky spiders

The burden of a Jujutsu Sorcerer was taxing beyond comprehension, which of course was why it paid so well.

Sorcerers were expected to give their lives each day within the battlefield, watching as their comrades and the people they were expected to protect die left and right at the hands of the morbid amalgamations of human beings’ worst possible fears, anxieties, doubts, and other nasty negative emotions.

To be a sorcerer was to sacrifice oneself, to accept death before it inevitably took its toll on those around you, and then eventually, on you yourself. This was why sorcerers were expected and trained to be strong, fierce, and with perhaps a few screws loose in their heads to allow them to plow full force into danger with no fears and no regrets. 

Sorcerers were meant to be fearless.

And in many ways, you truly were. You were a first grade sorcerer, more than capable of handling yourself in the face of adversity. You were proficient, quick on your feet, merciless when you had to be, and above all, you were confident in your abilities, which was just as important of a trait to have as a sorcerer as courageousness. 

You were a proud woman, content that you could put your skills to good use by aiding those who were weak and helpless, by saving as many lives as you could alongside your colleagues at Jujutsu Tech. 

You were a damn good sorcerer too, only, there remained a small matter that often seemed to creep up on you at the worst of times. Something you had tried desperately to overcome through years of training, therapy, private meetings with Yaga, and more. Something that had been clinging to you since the very moment you were born, and something you were still somehow unable to completely escape well into your twenty-sixth year of life. 

And that was your deathly fear of spiders.

You admitted that it was silly, that to have made it this far within the world of sorcery after having encountered more horrors than most people could imagine, a little fear of spiders was completely absurd. You knew it didn’t make any sense, that this fear of yours was beneath you, but that didn’t stop you from shrieking horribly and seeking shelter each time you saw a spider crawling along the wall of your apartment. 

You knew that you should have had more patience with yourself, for there was no way of conquering a fear if you refused to acknowledge it as valid, but come on. You were a grade 1 sorcerer for god’s sake, a professor at Jujutsu High teaching students to cast their fears aside to focus their emotions and energies into properly honing in on their techniques, yet you still couldn’t get over being squeamish any time you saw those little demons hurdling their way over the earth. 

In your mind, they were far worse than curses, a source of terror that must have been executed. 

Nevertheless, you kept your fears to yourself for the sake of your occupation and reputation. The only person who knew anything about this vulnerability of yours was your boyfriend, Satoru, and even he found it funny at times to tease you about such a small thing in a world plagued by monsters and curse-users. He had seen you slice open a curse all the way down the middle of its body with a blank face, blood spattering in all directions, but spiders were what got you. 

While he poked fun, he still harbored an understanding that beneath the hardened exterior sorcerers were forced to put up, you were all born of flesh and blood just as any other living being on this planet. 

Satoru was quick to rush to your apartment whenever you called him screaming, standing atop your bed and jumping up and down on your cushions in fear upon catching sight of one of those nasty things. He would throw your door open, catch you in your rather comical position, and hold back a fit of laughter upon seeing you.

“SATORU, SHUT UP AND JUST KILL IT! PLEASE!”

“Calm down, pretty, it’s not gonna hurt you,” he would say, a sickening smirk gracing his gorgeous features. “You’ve faced much worse things than this.”

“I don’t care!” you’d sob. “Just kill it please!”

And once he was finished picking on you, he’d hurry to your aid, approaching the bug in the corner and flicking his finger, rendering the creature dead. 

Then afterwards, he’d always hold out his arms for you to jump down into them once you determined it was safe, cooing into your ear as you threw your arms and legs around him, his hand holding your head. 

“You were so brave, baby. Good job, you got through it.”

It was humbling, to say the least, for the strongest to witness you in such a weak state, but despite Satoru’s teasing, he still took you very seriously. He didn’t diminish your strengths or your worths because of a simple fear. Hell, he had fears that he had buried deep within his gut that only you could drag out of him, and that was okay. Satoru poked fun, but he never judged his precious girl for feeling. 

After all, he enjoyed the fact that you were comfortable enough to let him see you in such a light after long days of having to be strong, just like him. He liked that he could help you with this one thing, even if it meant teleporting into your room at two in the morning on a work day. As long as he was taking care of you, he didn’t care less what you needed. When you needed him, he would be at your aid within a heartbeat. 

And in this moment, you really, really did need him.

Yaga had sent you on a quick solo mission to eradicate a few low grade curses at a nearby summer camp facility while most of the other sorcerers were busy with training or on leave for other missions. It was a quick and easy task for you, granted that your grade was much higher than those of the curses you would be exorcizing.

Only, what Yaga failed to inform you, and likely did not know or care about, was that one of these particular curses was unlike the rest. While you easily winded through the three other creatures, the very last one at the end of the corridor caught you by surprise. 

Your face was hardened as you whipped your head around, sensing the presence of the last curse within the space. Once your eyes landed on the source of the cursed energy, however, your face dropped and your eyes shrank in terror.

There before you cowered a three foot tall dark purple curse which took an arachnoid shape, with an array of beady red eyes atop its head and eight hair legs digging into the wood of the floorboards. Your heart dropped and your mouth ran dry, your body freezing in its tracks. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t do anything. Of all the first grade curses you had come across in your lifetime, this grade 3 creature would be the very first thing that stood between you and seeing the light of day.

The curse hissed, chattering its chelicerae-like mouth as its legs tapped restlessly against the floor, sending a horrid shiver up your spine. You were stronger than this, braver than this, you knew you were, but your legs had gone to jelly and your heart was pounding in your ears. Perhaps if you had been given a warning ahead of time. you would have been able to approach this threat differently, but instead, much to your shame, you took off in the opposite direction once your legs willed you to move. 

You could hear it crawling after you down the hall, screeching out nonsensical sounds as it rounded the corner to follow you. You were quick to duck into the first room you saw, slamming the door shut behind you and pressing your back against the surface. You searched the room in a panic, which you discovered to be a dorm, and ran to take cover in a closet in the corner.

You trembled, sinking down to the bottom of the platform as heavy, panicked breaths wracked your body. This was pathetic. This was humiliating. You were better than this, but god, this fear, those damned spiders would always get the best of you, despite how hard you tried to help it. 

You were trembling, squeezing your eyes shut as whimpers spilled from your quivering lips. That thing was so big, bigger than any spider you had encountered, and while you understood it was a curse, it looked far too real. 

You didn’t know what to do. You had to finish this mission, and the principal wouldn’t accept a sorry excuse about you being too afraid to exorcize a curse because it looked like a spider for an answer as to why you would come running back to the school. It sounded ridiculous! Especially for someone with your skill. 

You could hear the creature running up and down the halls erratically, its gross legs clicking against the walls. You pressed your lips together tightly, wrapping your arms around yourself. You wanted this to stop.

Hesitantly, you reached into the pocket of your uniform to shakily pull out your phone. You breathed out heavily, on the verge of a panic attack, trembling fingers dialing your boyfriend’s number with his. You lifted the phone to your ear and listened to it ring.

Then it clicked.

“Hello? Baby?” Satoru’s comforting voice spoke into the phone, a sigh of relief escaping you. “What’s up? You done with that little mission yet?”

“S-Satoru?” you whispered, voice trembling harshly. Immediately, the sorcerer on the other line knew something was off.

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” his tone dropped with urgency. “What happened? Are you okay?”

You pursed your lips again, muffling a pathetic sob that was prepared to break past your mouth. You scrunched your eyes closed, the confined space doing very little to ease your nerves. Satoru could only hear the choked whines that left you, and he was on his feet, captured with instant worry. 

“Baby, talk to me. I need to know you’re okay. Tell me what happened. Where are you?”

“T-The…” you stammered, struggling to get it out.

“Deep breaths, pretty. Breathe.”

You gulped, knocking your head back against the wood, taking a moment to release a few sharp breaths. “The camp,” you managed to whimper. 

“You’re still there?” he asked, almost incredulously. “Did something happen? Were the curses higher grades than you were told? I’m on my way right now.”

“No, i-it’s,” you shook, pressing your phone to your forehead. “It’s- a s-spider…”

There was a pause as Satoru processed what you were saying. “A spider?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

“The last curse,” you exhaled. “It’s a spider, Toru, it looks like a damn big ass spider,” you rambled. “I’m so scared, I'm sorry, please come help me.”

“Oh, baby,” he sighed. “I’m coming, don’t worry. Stay where you are, I’ll find you.”

You nodded rapidly, scrunching your face as tears pricked your eyes. “M-kay.”

You tucked your phone away and within exactly two seconds, you heard a whooshing sound from outside, followed by the screech of the curse. You heard its legs clatter along the walls once more before another tormented, animalistic cry, and then there was nothing. 

You waited silently, hugging your knees to your chest as footsteps ascended. “(Y/n)?!” you heard Satoru’s voice through the walls, and your shoulders slumped with alleviation. You heard the door to the room open and you slowly reached up to the closet door handle, creaking it open to peer outside.

There, you saw your boyfriend standing in the doorway, gaze finally landing on you beneath his blindfold. The moment he saw you, he dropped his arms, pained by the sight of you curled up in hiding out of fear. “(Y/n),” his gentle voice breathed out as he stepped further into the room, extending his arms in that same manner he always did when comforting you.

The second you saw the motion, you were breaking. The reality of your weakness came crashing down on you, and your lips wobbled as you climbed out of the closet and fell into his warm embrace. You shook against him, embarrassed, petrified. You were the partner of the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, and this was what you were. Powerless at the will of a low grade curse.

“It’s alright, baby, I’m here. Please don’t cry, pretty. It’s okay, I got you,” he murmured against your temple, pressing his soft lips to it then to the crown of your head as you buried your face in his chest. 

“Satoru,” you sniffled into him, clinging to the fabric of his black suit as he wrapped you into his warmth.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.” 

“I-Is it gone?”

“Yeah, baby. I got rid of it. It’s all gone, don’t worry,” he whispered. He hated seeing you like this. Normally when you faced spiders, the interaction was far more lighthearted. You would screech, sure, but you had always recovered fairly quickly after he had killed one. Granted, you had never encountered a spider as big as the one that you just saw, but Satoru was aching upon  witnessing how rattled you were by this thing. “You got the rest of them, baby. You did so good, you know that? My strong girl.”

He was so loving with his praise as he eased you down from your high, rubbing your hair and pressing his palm to your waist, letting you know that you were safe with him. 

“M’sorry,” you mumbled into him and he looked down, pulling away slightly to hear you better and to get a look at your face. He tilted your chin up so that you could look at him, your eyes glossy and your brows pinched.

“What are you sorry for, pretty?” he asked you genuinely, heart clenching as he smoothed his thumb over your flushed cheek. 

“Cause,” you sniffed again. “I should’ve been able to handle this. It’s so stupid. I dragged you here to get rid of something so small.”

“Hey,” he said with firm tenderness, holding your cheek so that your eyes stayed on his. “Don’t do that.”

“B-But, I should be able to-”

“Stop. I won’t listen to you beat on yourself for being afraid,” he shook his head. “You’re so strong, (Y/n). You always have been, but we all have our weaknesses and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Says you,” you muttered, guilt catching your eyes. “You’re the strongest.”

“And you know better than anyone that that’s just a title,” Satoru said earnestly. “Yes there’s truth to it, but none of that takes away from the things that keep me up at night. Just like your grade doesn’t take away your fears.”

He traced the curve of your jaw softly, lifting his free hand to remove his blindfold and tuck it into his pocket. You watched as his white hair fell over his face and his sapphire eyes washed over you, displaying his loving, concerned, understanding gaze. 

“But that doesn’t mean we’re not strong. It’s okay to be scared as long as you know I’m here to help you, and as long as I know you’re here to help me.”

You could feel a lump building in your throat as he gazed at you and he curled his brows, jutting out his bottom lip slightly. 

“Don’t look at me like that, princess, you’ll make me cry,” he said, catching your face in both of his large palms as your hands moved to delicately hold his wrists. “C’mere, baby,” he whispered, drawing your forehead to his lips. The sorcerer then kissed the bridge of your nose and the edge of your brow before letting you fall back into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso as he held you close.

You melted into him and closed your eyes. “Love you, Satoru,” you murmured into him.

He kissed your head again, resting his cheek atop you. “I love you, too, (Y/n). Let’s get you home and all cleaned up, yeah?”

You nodded against him, thankful to the universe that the man you loved made being vulnerable feel like a gentle, welcoming, consuming form of unconditional love. 

But, fuck, did you hate spiders.

[aealzx]

(This one is pretty long info dumping. Warning: mention of mild gore)

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Prologue

Previous Next

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With the state of the one named Danny, the safehouse Barbara directed the group to was one that was a little more well stocked than the others. It was only because of Jazz that they were able to reach it, being the one to accept all of them being blindfolded after Jason had suggested they could hold each other’s hands the whole time and let the rest of his team put the blindfolds on. It made walking a little awkward with Jazz firmly hanging onto her unconscious brother’s hand, but it was an annoyance Jason was willing to accept for the comfort it gave them. It was only when they were in a room without windows that they took the blindfolds off, and pulled chairs over for the kids to sit on.

“Don’t touch me,” Sam hissed when Cass took her arm to start cleaning a cut she had, snatching her limb back and glaring.

“If it gets infected and you get sick then you’ll have one more of your team in need of care. That seems detrimental to your state of affairs,” Damian commented after catching sight of Cass’ sad expression.

“Robin,” Tim hissed, not wanting to stress this group of teenagers out more than they already were.

“He’s not wrong,” Jason interjected, keeping a hold of Danny not only because there was only one table open that he’d directed Stephanie to set Danielle on, but also because he knew the others would behave better with their seriously injured friend in obvious custody. “You guys should take care of yourselves too, otherwise no one will be left to look out for him.”

It was effective. Sam flinched before lowering her head and hunching her shoulders like a scolded puppy, then offered her arm back to Cass.

“Dude,” Tucker protested weakly, but didn’t say anything else and aso looked to Tim to accept his own check up. He had to wait for Tim to stop facepalming first though, a heaved sign from him before he decided not to further comment on his two brothers’ unnecessarily blunt comments.

“Are you feeling a little better sweetie? Sorry we roughed you up so much, but you were quite the fighter and it was hard to deal with you,” Stephanie decided to also ignore her brothers, resting Danielle on the table while Dick was clearing the other.

At first Danielle was about to be snarky about whose fault it was that she wasn’t feeling okay, but Stephanie’s expert inclusion about her fighting ability effectively changed her thought process. “Heheeh. And don’t you forget it,” Danielle chimed with a proud giggle. “I’m feeling much better now. Thanks for carrying me all the way.”

“No problem! Thanks for listening to your sister and not fighting us again,” Stephanie returned. “Jazz said you’re different from the others. Do you need anything? It doesn’t look like you’re injured anymore.”

“I heal fast, so I’m okay. But do you have any food? We haven’t really gotten much lately,” Danielle asked shamelessly. She didn’t need any bandaids or antiseptic like the others, but fights had still taken a lot of energy on top of being short supply of food for the past few months. If they were willing to finally give her a good meal then she was going to take advantage of it.

“Sure thing,” Stephanie giggled, appreciating the honesty. “I’ll be right back,” she bid, leaving Danielle on the table and heading to another room where they kept food supplies.

Letting Stephanie pass by them, Jason shifted towards the remaining table where Dick was finishing clearing the surface of spare parts and supplies. “Get two blankets, he’s cold as ice,” Jason directed Dick, the concern in his voice being the only hit to his hidden expression.

“...Still breathing?” Dick asked after obediently pulling a thick blanket from a nearby cupboard and spreading it on the table first. They were both keeping their voices on the quieter side, letting Stephanie and Tim take care of keeping the other three occupied. Jazz was the only one staying near them, having not let go of Danny’s hand just yet.

“Yeah, it’s weak though,” Jason confirmed, carefully setting Danny down and helping Dick spread the second blanket over him. “How long has he been like this?”

That question was directed to Jazz, who pursed her lips both in reluctance to answer and to fight back more tears. “Since we got here. He collapsed and hasn’t woken up since,” she admitted, almost a whisper.

“What?” Dick smothered his outburst so the others didn’t notice, but couldn’t keep it quiet completely. “He’s been comatose for months without life support?”

Jazz flinched and shrank back slightly at the outburst, but Jason rested a hand on her shoulder to keep her from fleeing. They needed her to talk if they wanted to be able to help them. “He’s not a regular human, remember?” he reminded Dick, speaking up to try and help Jazz feel a little less interrogated.

Jazz didn’t offer any further information, just pulled her gaze back to look up at Dick, lip wavering despite her trying to keep a defiant expression. She wasn’t looking for pity, but she wasn’t good enough at pretending to be a tough girl that Dick didn’t notice her distress. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to... I know you were doing your best,” he apologized, pulling back a little as well.

“Dr. Thompkins has reached you guys. Penny-one opted to call her after hearing Danny's initial condition,” Barbara’s report came over all of their comms, able to keep tabs on everyone through secure video feeds of the inside and outside of the safehouse. And as each of her team members got DNA samples from their captive rescuees she was also starting an identity analysis for each of them in the background.

“Robin?”

That was all Dick had to say, calling to the youngest who was leaning against the frame of the only door. Damian simply raised his hand in a brief acknowledging wave before he left to let Leslie inside. As he left Stephanie returned a moment after, a plate of warmed up frozen burritos in her hands and a bag of bottled water over her shoulder. The bag caught Jason’s eye, and he moved over momentarily to grab one of the bottles and bring it to Jazz.

“Our medical contact has arrived. We’ll have her look at your brother first. Just make sure you stay hydrated,” he commented, handing her the bottle and letting her open it so she could see it was still sealed and therefore wasn’t contaminated. If that was even a concern that crossed her mind. It was starting to quickly seem like these kids weren’t criminals at all, and many of them were starting to have a hard time treating them as such.

“...Thanks,” Jazz responded, taking a moment to be willing to let go of Danny to open the bottle. It was much needed, and she ended up drinking half of it before lowering it again.

Jason watched her for a moment, noting how tense she was and her reluctance to speak with them. He couldn’t blame her for being secretive, having no idea what had driven them to where they had been. But he couldn’t help notice it was strange they were all still distrusting of the group they were with. Didn’t they know Batman’s group of birds were a trustworthy lot? Were they still hiding something illegal? Or maybe… they simply didn’t recognize them. Where were these kids from? “Before the Doctor gets here, I just want to strongly recommend that you don’t keep anything from her, alright? I know it’s scary to reveal things about your brother to a stranger, but the more she knows the better she can help. Got it?”

Jazz looked up at him at the half request half demand, eyes trying to see him beyond the mask as she considered his words. She hadn’t thought about that yet, being so used to keeping everything about what Danny was a secret from everyone. But what Jason said made sense, and she wasn’t going to risk Danny not getting better just to stay paranoid. Two months was a long time for them to have tried to figure things out for themselves, only to have every attempt fail. But if there was one thing they’d all learned in the past months, it seemed ghosts were practically nonexistent in Gotham. So perhaps there was much less risk than back home. “...Okay,” Jazz agreed, giving a small nod.

“This way Doctor. The young meta is over there,” Damian was quick to return, refraining from entering the room for a moment in favor of allowing Leslie to get by, but still gesturing his open palm towards the group of four to the right side of the room from the entrance.

“Thank you, Robin,” Leslie responded, stepping into the room and heading over to them. She didn’t sound too happy to be there. But considering the circumstances it was hard to be joyful about it. She did end up pausing when she laid eyes on Danny though, momentarily taken aback. “If I didn’t know any better I’d be questioning your ability to tell when someone was still alive,” she commented, looking at Dick and Jason for a moment before setting her medical case on the edge of the table with a small sigh. “Let’s take a look. What kind of injury is under the wrappings, dear?”

Her voice had softened, being able to recognize each of the kids who were there from the rundown Barbara had given her on the way there. As she gathered her tools Jazz watched her, hesitantly nudging herself to respond honestly. “...Burns,” she said quietly, willing herself to move as she saw Leslie pull out some scissors to cut the bandages with. “From here to here,” Jazz added, rising from the stool to gesture the entirety of Danny’s left side of his torso, and onto his shoulder somewhat.

“Thank you, dear,” Leslie hummed, slipping the scissors under the bandages on the opposite side to make sure she didn’t aggravate any of the injuries. It only took a moment to cut through the stolen wrappings, and then she was very gingerly peeling them away.

Jazz still felt nauseous whenever she saw the blaster inflicted burns marring a good portion of her little brother’s body, and was glad she was already sitting. Leslie didn’t seem too phased though, simply humming once the wounds were revealed even as Dick and Jason made tense noises. “Hmm. Those are definitely third degree,” Leslie commented, slowly cutting away the rest of the bandages around Danny’s shoulder. But then she noticed something unusual that caused her to look closer. The tissue that wasn’t destroyed appeared irritated, as if exposed to an allergen or poison. “What caused them?” she asked, looking closely.

“...A shot from a Blood blossom blaster,” Jazz almost whispered, clenching her hand as the memory of her brother screaming when the red tinted blast had caught him in the side made her feel even more sick. She wasn’t sure if that was worse than seeing him stand up afterwards with a gaping hole in his side dripping green blood. At least in his ghost form there hadn’t been much to see in terms of insides. But after having expended all his energy to take out the GIW’s machines he hadn’t had any left to heal, and the injuries had carried over his human half.

“Wait, you said third degree?” Sam suddenly spoke up, the whole room having stopped conversations when Leslie had come in. “You can’t see his ribs anymore?” she continued, standing up and intending to check for herself before Cass stepped in her way.

“Don’t interfere. You’ll get in the way,” Cass directed, holding her hands out to block Sam’s path and ignoring the glare directed at her.

Tucker made a gagging noise at the question, covering his mouth for a moment. “Dude, could you not remind me of that?”

So Sam wasn’t just being dramatic? Dick and his team ended up looking at Jazz when they heard her draw a breath of realization, turning from Sam back to check for herself. “Oh-... Oh thank goodness. You’re right,” she breathed, sagging to her knees and letting out a sob of relief. “We were right. He is still healing.”

It was a strange thing to hear, but for the first time since they’d caught them Sam actually gained a small smile. Danielle also ended up giving a short giggle too, kicking her legs once. “Told you,” she commented.

It was admittedly a very confusing conversation, but Dick had to just remind himself once again that Danny wasn’t completely human. Following Cass’ lead, Dick gently helped pull Jazz back to the stool she’d been on. “Let’s keep out of the Doctor’s way,” he suggested. 

“Can you guys explain a little more though?” Tim spoke up now, trying to piece together everything that had been hinted at. Apparently Danny had actually had fourth degree burns, but they had healed despite him not having proper medical care other than clean dressings, and having been asleep for months. “I’m having a difficult time understanding how he’s not…. in worse condition,” he added, catching himself from being too blunt like his siblings had been before.

“You mean how he’s not dead?” This time it was Danielle that was strangely blunt with a calmness that made the others think she didn’t fully understand what she was saying. “That’s easy. He and I are both halfas. It’s harder to kill someone who’s already half dead.”

Tim’s brow twitched, and Jason didn’t miss the few glances taken at him. He doubted they were the same as him, considering he unfortunately couldn’t phase through solid objects or fly like they had seen Danielle do many times already.

“Halfas?” Stephanie repeated, pulling her gaze from Jason and looking back to Danielle.

“It’s short for half human half ghost,” Sam answered, as though it was an obvious connection to make.

“Yup. See,” Danielle confirmed, pushing off the table midmorph and floating in the air instead of landing on the floor as her now stark white hair wisped gently in a soft wind unfelt by anyone else. It didn’t look like much of a change other than she had different hair and eye colors now. But it definitely felt different. That eerie skin crawling sensation that people usually associated with ghosts that almost never actually existed.

‘...Huh, I guess it’s kind of like Captain Marvel, but with their ghost half as the other side,’ Tim thought after a moment of consideration after watching Danielle. “And being halfas give you guys accelerated healing, but… Danny’s is… hindered?” he asked next, clarifying that they were on the same page.

The nod from Danielle turned into a grimace, and she floated back to sit on the table once more. “Something like that. We have to have enough energy for it to work, and he used up a lot. This place kinda sucks too. There’s no natural portals to the Ghost Zone, and no ecto hot spots that we can gather energy from either.”

“The closest supplement we could find that we thought would work was the Lazarus water. But after getting a hold of some we decided we shouldn’t risk using it,” Jazz added, feeling the despair starting to sink into her shoulders again.

“Yeah, that stuff is freaky bad. I only took a little bit and it was horrible,” Danielle agreed, shuddering and wrapping her arms around her knees.

The others weren’t sure how to answer that fully, most of them being lost in thought about the unfamiliar data they’d been given. Eventually Jason shifted with a short comment. “We’re not too fond of the stuff either,” he huffed, then switched his gaze back to Leslie.  “Have you finished looking him over?”

While they had been discussing half ghosts Leslie had continued her exam and treatment of Danny, having cleansed the obvious injuries, rebandaged them with Dick’s help, and added a simple saline IV, oxygen mask, and heart monitor. When Jason addressed her she was making notes about her results. “Mm. Aside from the burns it looks like he’s been exposed to an allergen or toxin as well,” she began, turning to face them.

“That’s the blood blossoms. They’re poison to ghosts,” Jazz supplied quickly, then looked apologetic for interrupting.

Leslie didn’t seem to mind though, just nodding and continuing her report. “There’s also the expected signs of malnutrition. If the human half still needs regular human nutrients then Vitamin IV therapy would be of benefit. The strange part is it looks like all of his bodily functions are significantly slowed, similar to that of cryogenic stasis. That could explain why he’s still alive after so long.”

“That also explains why he feels like an ice cube,” Jason noted, “Could you tell what’s causing it?”

“It seems to be self generated. I imagine this ‘meta’ potentially has ice related abilities,” Leslie answered. None of the teens said anything, but their tight lipped reactions and expressions of sudden understanding were enough to confirm Leslie’s guess.

“Do you have the details of the Vitamin IV needed? We can get that brought here,” Dick requested, moving closer to Leslie to look over her shoulder at the notes she’d taken. Leslie just shifted the tablet slightly, letting Dick get a good look since it seemed he was trying to formulate the next steps of action.

“Alright, it looks like everyone is stable for now. We’ll keep two people here at a time to keep an eye on everyone, and make sure people get fed and taken care of. Unfortunately none of you are allowed near any of our technology still, so we can see about bringing you some books or something to keep from being bored,” Dick started to plan out, giving a sympathetic shake of his head when Sam and Tucker groaned about not being let near technology. Jazz felt like it was fair enough, she wouldn't trust them either and at least they were going to make sure they had food and water. Plus they seemed to be pretty serious about taking care of Danny. Even after learning about the unique difficulties in his condition they hadn’t abandoned them yet. “The rest of us will work on getting the rest of what Danny needs, that we know of so far. Something to neutralize the blood blossom residue, IV vitamins, and ectoplasm. Does anyone else have any unique needs?”

At that point Sam raised her hand, letting Dick gesture to her before speaking up. “Vegetarian,” she said simply.

“Not a problem. I’ll make sure everyone in charge of food knows.” Dick nodded, noticing how Damian very subtly gained a smile about that. “Do any of you have a picture, or description of the blood blossom plants? It doesn’t sound like anything I’m familiar with.”

“The only ones we’ve seen look like rosebuds, red with black leaves and stems,” Sam spoke again, seeming to be more favorable to them now. The same care for Danny that was winning Jazz over was winning the rest of the team as well.

“Got it,” Dick nodded, gaining a pleased smile when Leslie also passed over a sample of the blood blossom affected tissue that she had taken from Danny before covering the wounds again. A tiny sample encased in glass, but it should be more than enough for them to figure out how to neutralize the remainder of the toxin without hurting the lad further. “Orphan, Spoiler, are you okay with taking the first shift?”

“Sure thing,” Stephanie agreed, giving a thumbs up along with Cass.

“I’ll stick around too for now,” Jason added, for no other reason that he felt like he should stay there for a while. At least until they knew for sure who these Phantom kids were.

Dick seemed surprised, but didn’t argue. “Fine. Keep in touch, we’ll let you know as soon as we find anything,” he nodded, motioning for those who weren’t staying to head out. He knew Leslie would stay to double check their work on the other kids, so it ended up being just him, Tim, and Damian filtering out the door.

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I actually had this one all typed out before I even started the prologue one. So I just had to draw something today to get it all up.

Drawing this I looked up canon heights for the first time and found out that Danny is a tiny lil nugget, and that's adorable X'D

I also complained to Na about "having to draw Jason's stupid helmet instead of his pretty face" and she gave me the suggestion of having his face on the side.

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Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @zeestarfishalien, @bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai

[moonstruckme]

I love your roomate!james. I was wondering if you could do one where shy!reader is sick and she doesn’t tell james bc she’s used to taking care of herself but he’s adamant about taking care of her. 🥺🖤

Thank you lovely!

cw: implied nausea and vomiting

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

James worries he’s scared you off. 

He thought you’d been having a good time the other night, hanging out with his friends and then teasing each other while he battled you for cleanup duties after. He’d certainly had a good time. Watching you smile more readily as you got comfortable, feeling your soft form tucked up against his on the couch, it had made his whole body feel light and fizzy, but now James wonders if the easy, familiar energy of the night had made him too bold. There had been a moment, just before you’d gone to bed, where you’d seemed to stumble, defaulting back to the awkward, self-conscious way of speaking you’d had before you got to know each other. 

James might not have thought anything of it—you still get shy sometimes, he can never figure out what causes it—except you’ve been very obviously avoiding him ever since. That next day, you went to work and then disappeared into your room straight after you got home. He told himself he was being paranoid. But yesterday, you seemingly had the day off, and every time you needed to emerge from your room James heard you dash down the stairs and back up as if your bedroom was the only safe zone in the apartment. 

He hears you doing it again now, the soft click of your door unlatching before quiet footsteps start down the stairs. If Sirius were here, they’d probably make a game out of timing you, but James estimates it’s less than a minute before you start back up again. He wishes he could tell you not to hurry yourself; he has no intent of cornering you in your own home, even if he does want to patch things up. 

Then something falls on the stairs with a loud thud, followed by a sharp gasp just outside James’ room, and all thoughts of giving you your space are quickly abandoned. It was a valiant effort. 

“Shit,” he says as soon as he opens the door. He crouches beside you, taking your elbow in his hand, cushioning it from the cruel edge of the step, “Did you hurt yourself?” 

You must have had a mean fall. You’re completely crumpled on the stairs, one of your legs curled under you and one outstretched behind you as though it’s slipped back. Both of your elbows are braced underneath your body, keeping your face from smacking into the corner of the stair. James is willing to bet that big sound he’d heard was your knee hitting the step below you as you tripped. 

“Fuck,” you whine, pulling an entire loaf of bread from beneath your other elbow. The middle has been completely crushed, smashed between your forearm and the edge of a step. You look genuinely distraught about it. 

“Did you hurt your knee?” James frets, fighting the urge to haul you up off the stairs so he can look you over properly. He does take your other elbow in hand, using a firm grip to encourage rather than haul. You get more or less upright. 

“I’m okay.” You sound a bit odd, though he supposes you could be winded by the fall. “Thanks, sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” James can’t help it if a bit of teasing makes its way into his voice. This is something the two of you always do, you overapologizing and him making fun of you for it. “It seems like if anyone ought to be apologizing, it should be the stairs.” 

Your mouth tips up slightly. “Solid point,” you concede. 

The load in James’ chest lightens at your willingness to fall back into a casual repartee. He rubs the point of your elbow distractedly. “Wanna tell me why you’re taking an entire loaf of bread to your room?” he asks, grinning. “Do you have a secret stash of sandwich-making supplies in there?”

He feels goosebumps erupt on the side of your arm, and he does his best to soothe those, too. It must be too cold in here for you. “No,” you say quietly.

“Mm. I thought we were past this, angel. Come downstairs, I’ve still got leftover pasta in the fridge.”  

He starts to lead you down, but before he’s made it two steps you say, “No, thank you.” 

“Oh, come off it.” James shoots you another easy grin, hoping to loosen you up. “Don’t be a martyr. I’m all for carbs, but bread by itself will hardly sustain you.” 

“I don’t have much choice.” You shrug, and your shoulders stay up higher than they had been. You seem embarrassed. He waits, intrigued. “It’s sort of the only thing I can keep down at the moment.” 

It takes a blink for James to understand. “Are you not feeling well?” 

“Not very.” Your voice is softer than soft, swallowed up by the nerves James thought he’d earned an exemption from but nonetheless can’t hold against you in this state. 

He can see it, now. The way you’re holding yourself, like you could curl up on the floor at any given moment. Your face is shiny and your eyes slightly unfocused, glazed. 

He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” It comes out more caring than he’d ever meant for it to, but James is too worried about you to dwell much upon that. You bat his hand away weakly, but he just moves them both to your cheeks, feeling himself frown. “You’re burning up, love. Why didn’t you say?” 

“Not much to say.” You move away from his touch, backing towards your room. James pursues you, hand hovering near your elbow because you really do look like you could pass out. "It's a stomach bug. It'll pass."

“I could have been helping you if I knew. I just thought you were avoiding me,” he admits. You look so sorry he’s quick to smooth things over with a smile. “Do you need me to get you anything from the store?”

“I already went.” You slump onto your bed before seeming to realize he’s still behind you, your brows coming down. “I’ve got everything I need, but thanks.” 

“You went to the store like this?” James is aghast. “You should be resting! How high is your fever?” 

“Dunno.” You seem to give up uncharacteristically quickly on getting him to leave, sighing and sinking back against a propped-up pillow. “I don’t have a thermometer.” 

“You don’t?” He’s more frazzled by the second, every way in which you’re not being properly taken care of piling onto the last. It seems a miracle you’re still alive. 

You look suspicious. “Do you?” 

Shit. He grins sheepishly. “No...” 

But that doesn’t change the fact that you should, for some reason. People like James are allowed to coast through the world unprepared because responsible ones like you always have the things they need. 

He feels your face again. This time, you let him. Your breath fans warm over his wrist, those fever-glazed eyes drooping slightly. 

“Your hand is cold,” you say through a sigh. 

“I think you’re just hot,” James mutters, but that doesn’t stop him from stroking his thumb over your cheek, just once. Your lashes flutter closed, and his heart does an impressive flip in his chest. 

“Have you had paracetamol?” he asks you. 

You hum. James sweeps his thumb over your cheek again, hoping to rouse you, but it only seems to worsen your drowsiness. Your head actually lolls into his touch. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Mhm, yeah,” you say without opening your eyes. “You need to stop doing that, m’gonna fall asleep.” 

“You should be sleeping,” he says softly. It’s impossible to keep the fondness from his voice. “I’m gonna get you a cold flannel, okay?” 

Your eyelids crack open. “I don’t need you to take care of me,” you say, voice nearly slurring with sleepiness. “I’ve always done fine, by myself.” 

“You never neglect to remind me.” James slips his hand from beneath your face, going to the bathroom between your bedrooms. “I don’t mind helping, though. You don’t always have to do everything on your own, what are roommates for?” 

You make a quiet, breathy sound he suspects might be a laugh. “None of my other roommates were ever as nice to me as you are. I think you’re taking things beyond the requirements of the job.” 

James thinks so, too. But still. Regardless of the complicated feelings he’s starting to have for you, you’ve always deserved to be treated with care. 

“You mean to tell me,” he says, wringing out the flannel and going back to your room, “that if you were this poorly, none of your previous roommates would have offered to help?” 

Your eyes are open more fully now. You watch him as he lays the flannel on your forehead, smoothing away a couple of baby hairs before they can get trapped underneath, with an odd expression on your face. 

“I handle my own problems,” you say softly. 

James’ thumb is still stroking the baby hairs at your temple. He can’t get it to stop. 

“Maybe your problems could be my problems, too,” he says. The lightness of his tone is automatic, but it serves as no representation of the great and weighty feeling in his chest. He realizes his breathing has synced to yours. Quiet inhales and exhales in your quiet apartment. 

Your eyes slip closed again. “Why?” you murmur. 

James doesn’t have an answer for that. Not one he’s ready to think about. The lines of your face smooth out as you relax. More evidence of frowns than smiles, but he likes to think he’s made progress on the little creases fanning out from the corners of your eyes since he’s moved in. He feels a pang of triumph any time they make an appearance, little rays of sunshine on a wholly lovely face. 

Because he’s your roommate. Because whether you’re ready to admit it or not, he’s your friend. Because he cares about you. 

In the end, James doesn’t have to come up with an answer. You’re already asleep.