#it was good sex and that was it. there was no emotional weight behind it he did not really care | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

021894s · 1 month ago

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LOVE NEXT DOOR - p.sh

SUMMARY: After discovering your fiancé’s infidelity, you leave behind the life you’d built in the U.S. and return to Korea to stay with your parents. The familiar streets and faces bring a bittersweet nostalgia, but nothing compares to reuniting with Sunghoon, your childhood best friend. He’s different now—more reserved, maybe a bit colder. While he tries to bury the feelings he thought he’d left in the past, being around you stirs something in him that he can’t ignore. And as you start to find comfort in each other again, you both realize that some feelings never truly fade.

PAIRING: childhood bsf! sunghoon x f!reader

WARNINGS: smut (oral m and f receiving, unprotected sex), angst, denial, mentions of cheating

wc: 20k

You’re not sure what you expected when you walked into your apartment that day. You’d left early for a business trip—an opportunity too good to pass up, even if it meant being away from Daniel for a few days. The wedding was only a month away, and you’d been looking forward to everything finally settling into place. You’d imagined your life with him so many times: your wedding day, the honeymoon, the house you’d live in together, the family you’d build. It was all supposed to be perfect.

But as you pushed open the bedroom door, the world you’d been building shattered.

There they were, tangled in sheets that were meant for the two of you. Daniel's eyes widened in shock, but he didn't even bother scrambling for an excuse. You felt your chest tighten, each heartbeat a hammer against your ribs. For a moment, you stood frozen, every emotion rushing through you all at once—anger, betrayal, disgust, disbelief. The room, filled with their hurried whispers and excuses, began to spin, and you could hardly breathe.

You’d spent countless hours planning your future together, from the lace details on your wedding dress to the way you’d wear your hair. You had been so meticulous, imagining every little moment, every dance, every vow. Now, each of those dreams felt like a cruel joke. The engagement ring on your finger suddenly felt heavy, almost suffocating, a symbol of the love and trust that had been so easily shattered.

You weren’t supposed to be home. The thought lingers as you stand in the doorway, frozen, watching the scene unfold in front of you. Daniel, the man you were supposed to marry in a month, is tangled in your sheets with another woman. His face pales, and he stumbles over himself, trying to sit up, as if there’s any explanation that could possibly make this right.

“Y/N, I can explain,” he starts, throwing on the shirt that had been discarded on the floor. His voice is a mix of desperation and guilt.

“Explain?” you manage, though your throat feels tight, your voice barely a whisper. You feel like you’re in a daze, like this can’t possibly be real. “You’re in our bed, Daniel. The bed where we—” You choke on your words, unable to finish the sentence. Everything you’d built with him, all the dreams and plans, now feel hollow and meaningless.

He takes a step toward you, but you instinctively back away. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It was a mistake, Y/N. Please, just let me—”

“A mistake?” You let out a bitter laugh, the sound foreign even to yourself. “We’re supposed to get married in a month, Daniel. A month! I was planning our wedding while you were—” You stop, shaking your head as the reality of it all starts to sink in. “Did you ever even care about us? About me?”

“Of course I did,” he says, his voice cracking. But there’s a hollowness in his words, one that you can’t unhear now.

“Don’t,” you interrupt, holding up your hand to stop him. “Just… don’t. I trusted you. I thought you loved me.” The weight of the engagement ring on your finger feels unbearable now, as if it’s mocking you, reminding you of every lie he’s ever told. You pull it off and toss it onto the bed, where it lands with a soft thud. “Keep it. I don’t want it anymore.”

He reaches for you, his hand outstretched, but you step back. “Y/N, please, don’t go. We can fix this—”

“Fix this?” You laugh again, the sound almost hysterical. “There’s nothing left to fix, Daniel. You ruined it. You ruined us.” The finality of your words hangs in the air, and for the first time, he seems to understand that this is it. You’re done.

Without another word, you turn and walk out, leaving behind the life you’d once believed in, the future you’d painstakingly planned. And as you step outside into the fresh air, you feel a strange sense of relief mixed with the ache of betrayal.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The hotel room is cold and impersonal, nothing like the home you’d shared with him. As you sit on the edge of the bed, you feel the weight of everything crashing down on you. You’re alone, truly alone, in a way you haven’t been since you first moved to the U.S. Daniel was supposed to be your constant, the one person you could rely on in this foreign place. Now, it all feels like a lie.

You clutch a pillow to your chest, trying to hold yourself together as the realization sinks in. You gave up so much to be with him, to build a life together. You left behind friends, family, and a whole world you knew, all for someone who didn’t care enough to stay faithful. The emptiness that fills you is overwhelming, and for the first time in a long time, you feel lost.

The next day, you return to your shared apartment. The place feels different now—tainted, like a ghost of the life you thought you had. You walk through each room, collecting your things in a daze, each item a painful reminder of a future that no longer exists.

In the bedroom, you pause, glancing at the photos on the nightstand. One of them is from the day he proposed, your faces beaming with happiness that now feels so far away. You grab the picture frame and toss it into a box, the glass cracking as it hits the other items. It feels oddly satisfying.

Once you’ve packed everything, you head to work for what you know will be the last time. The office is buzzing with the usual hum of conversations and keyboard clicks, but it all feels distant, like you’re watching it from the outside.

You find your boss in his office, and he looks up as you walk in. “Y/N, I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. How was the trip?”

You force a smile, though it barely reaches your eyes. “The trip was fine, but I need to talk to you about something.”

He senses the seriousness in your tone and gestures for you to sit. “What’s going on?”

Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself. “I’m resigning. Effective immediately.”

He blinks, surprised. “Are you sure? I mean, you have such a promising future here, and—”

“I’m going back to Korea,” you say, cutting him off. “There’s… there’s nothing left for me here.” You swallow hard, fighting back the tears threatening to fall. “I need to go home.”

He nods slowly, seeming to understand that this isn’t just a spur-of-the-moment decision. “I’m sorry to hear that, Y/N. We’ll miss you around here.”

The finality of it all feels like a release, and as you walk out of the office for the last time, you feel a strange mix of sadness and relief. You’re leaving behind everything you’d built, but you’re also walking away from the pain, from the betrayal. It’s time to start over, to find yourself again. And you know exactly where you need to be.

With your suitcases in hand, you leave the apartment, the job, and the life you’d once loved, and head for the airport. This time, you’re going home—for good.

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The plane ride back to Korea feels like a dream—a hazy, surreal blur where the reality of what’s happened hasn’t quite caught up with you. You stare out the window, watching as the city below grows closer, the familiar landscape bringing a wave of bittersweet nostalgia. You’re going home, but not for the reasons you ever imagined.

You feel a wave of apprehension mixed with relief. You hadn’t planned on returning home so abruptly, with nothing but a suitcase and a broken heart, and you certainly hadn’t told anyone. You let yourself imagine how surprised your parents will be when you show up at the door unannounced. But you push the thought aside as you step into a cab, the familiar cityscape passing by in a blur.

The familiar street feels almost surreal as you pull up to your parents’ house, the one you haven’t seen in years. After everything that’s happened, this was the only place that felt like it could hold you together. As you step out of the cab and stand in front of the door, the weight of your decision settles over you.

You take a deep breath and ring the bell. you stand at the door, hesitating. You haven’t been here in so long, and everything looks just as it did before—yet somehow different. The door swings open to reveal your mother’s shocked face.

“Y/N?” she gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. “Is it really you?”

“It’s me, Mom,” you say, managing a small smile as she pulls you into a tight hug.

“Oh, honey!” She squeezes you, almost as if to make sure you’re real, then steps back, looking you over with a mixture of joy and worry. “What are you doing here? We didn’t know you were coming!”

“I know. I wanted it to be a surprise.” You look over her shoulder to see your father standing in the doorway, his expression just as bewildered.

“Well, come in, come in!” Your mother ushers you inside, closing the door behind you. Your father wraps you in a quick hug, his grip firm but gentle.

“What brings you back home so suddenly?” he asks, his voice tinged with concern. “We thought you’d be busy with wedding plans.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your expression steady. “Yeah… I just needed to get away for a bit. I missed you both.”

Your mother gives you a searching look, sensing there’s more to the story. “But your wedding is only a month away. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “Daniel and I decided to take a break. I just needed some space to think, so I thought it’d be nice to come home for a while.”

Your parents exchange glances, their worry deepening. “A break?” your father echoes. “This close to the wedding?”

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself against the wave of emotion that threatens to break through. “Yeah, it was a last-minute decision. But I promise, it’s nothing to worry about. I just… needed to clear my head.”

Your mother reaches out and takes your hand, her grip warm and reassuring. “We’re here for you, sweetheart. You know that, right?”

“I know.” You squeeze her hand, grateful for their presence. “I just needed to be here. With you.”

Your father nods, his expression softening. “Well, you’re always welcome here. For as long as you need.”

They settle into the familiar rhythm of conversation, asking about your flight and your plans, you find a small sense of comfort in their voices. But beneath it all, you can feel the questions they aren’t asking, the truths you’re not yet ready to share. For now, you let their warmth surround you, clinging to it like a lifeline in the storm you’re still navigating alone.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

As the night settles in, you find yourself standing in the doorway of your childhood bedroom, heart pounding. It feels both familiar and foreign, the walls adorned with posters of your teenage dreams and the desk still cluttered with relics of late-night study sessions. You push the door open, stepping inside and allowing the memories to wash over you.

The bed is made, just as you left it all those years ago, with the comforter patterned in pastel colors and stuffed animals peeking out from under the pillows. You take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your childhood—the faint hint of lavender air freshener mixed with the familiar aroma of old books. It’s comforting and painful all at once.

You sit on the edge of the bed, your mind drifts back to nights spent cramming for exams, the soft glow of the desk lamp illuminating pages of notes and textbooks. You remember laughing with your friends during late-night study sessions, the sound of their voices filling the air as you all shared dreams and plans for the future. Those were simpler times, before life became a tangled web of expectations and disappointments.

With each memory, a wave of nostalgia crashes over you, but the pain of your recent reality looms just beneath the surface. You can almost hear the echoes of your younger self, confident and excited about the future. Now, you feel like a shadow of that person, haunted by the weight of betrayal.

You shake your head, forcing a smile as you pull out your pajamas from your suitcase. No sense in dwelling on the past. You need to maintain the strong front you’ve put on for your parents. They deserve to see you as the daughter who’s come home, not the girl whose world has crumbled in a matter of weeks.

As you change into your pajamas, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror—your eyes tired and a hint of sadness in your smile. But you quickly brush it aside, reminding yourself that you can’t let them see how vulnerable you feel. Your parents have already expressed their concerns; you can’t burden them with the truth just yet. You don’t want to break their hearts with the reality of why you’re here.

Slipping under the covers, you take a moment to appreciate the softness of the sheets, the way they wrap around you like a warm embrace. You lie back, staring at the ceiling, and allow your thoughts to wander. You think of Daniel, of the way everything fell apart so quickly, and the ache in your chest sharpens. But you breathe through it, determined not to let the tears spill over.

Instead, you focus on the memories that fill this room, allowing yourself a brief moment of comfort before the darkness creeps back in. You can hear your mother’s soft footsteps in the hallway, her gentle voice drifting through the walls as she chats with your father. They’re worried about you, and you know it. But you refuse to let them see the cracks in your facade.

You close your eyes, the past and present collide in a whirlwind of emotion, but you push the chaos aside, seeking solace in the familiarity of your childhood sanctuary. Here, in this room, you can hold on to the illusion of safety, if only for a little while longer.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next morning, you wake up to the smell of something familiar—your mother’s cooking. For a moment, you let yourself enjoy the simplicity of it, the warmth of home wrapping around you like a blanket. You push back the covers and head downstairs, where you find her bustling around the kitchen, setting the table like she used to when you were in high school.

“Good morning,” she says brightly as she sees you, her smile wide and welcoming. “I made your favorite—jeon and kimchi jjigae. Figured you could use a nice breakfast after that long flight.”

“Thanks, Mom.” You slide into a chair at the table, the normalcy of the moment grounding you. It’s almost like the old days when everything was so simple—just you, your parents, and a quiet morning before the day truly began.

She sets a plate down in front of you, the scene feels like something out of the past. The kitchen hasn’t changed, with the same floral curtains and the light clinking of dishes filling the quiet space. It’s peaceful, almost enough to make you forget why you’re back.

You both fall into an easy conversation—talking about small things like the weather, what’s been happening in the neighborhood, and her latest gardening projects. She doesn’t press about Daniel or the wedding, and you’re thankful for the reprieve. You’re determined to keep up this front, to act like everything’s fine, at least for now.

Just as you start to relax into the conversation, the front door flies open with a loud bang, and a familiar voice cuts through the morning calm.

“Y/N!”

You look up just as Yeji storms into the kitchen, her expression a mix of excitement and disbelief.

“How could you not tell me you were coming back?” she demands, standing with her hands on her hips as she glares at you in mock offense. “I had to hear it from our mom’s call this morning! Do you know how betrayed I feel right now?”

You blink in surprise, a guilty smile tugging at your lips. “Yeji, I—”

“Unbelievable,” she cuts you off, shaking her head. “I thought we were best friends! You’re lucky I love you.”

She strides over and pulls you into a tight hug before you can finish your sentence. You laugh softly, hugging her back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t tell anyone. It was a last-minute thing.”

Yeji pulls away and gives you a playful glare. “You owe me, big time.”

Your mother, who has been watching this entire exchange with an amused smile, shakes her head. “I told her she should’ve called you first,” she teases, glancing between the two of you.

Yeji crosses her arms, looking at you expectantly. “Well, you’re here now, so spill. What’s going on? Why the sudden return?”

You feel the weight of her question hang in the air, but before you can figure out how to answer, your mom steps in.

“Let her eat first, Yeji,” she chides gently. “She just got here yesterday.”

Yeji grumbles, taking a seat next to you with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. But after breakfast, you better be ready to talk. No way you’re getting out of this.”

You smile, feeling the warmth of her friendship wrap around you, even as you dread the inevitable questions. For now, though, you focus on the food in front of you, allowing the conversation to flow around you like it used to—just another morning in the house where everything was simple.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

“Im heading to the market to get stuff I need for tonight’s dinner. I’ll be back in a little,” Your mom tells you, walking out the door and closing it behind her.

Yeji narrows her eyes, tapping her fingers on the table. “Okay, Y/N. Enough stalling. Why are you really back? This close to the wedding? What’s going on with you and Daniel?”

You feel your stomach tighten, but you keep your face neutral, cutting a piece of pancake as if her question hasn’t hit you like a punch to the gut. “I told you, I just wanted to visit. I missed everyone.”

Yeji isn’t convinced. “Y/N, don’t give me that. You didn’t even tell me you were coming back, and you’re usually texting me about every little thing. Now you show up out of nowhere, and we’re supposed to believe this is just a friendly visit?”

You meet her gaze, your heart pounding, but you force yourself to stay calm. “It is. There’s nothing else to it.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Come on. You and I both know something’s up. Was there a fight? Did Daniel do something?”

You shake your head quickly. “Yeji, really. I just needed a break. That’s all.”

Yeji stares at you for a moment longer, waiting for you to crack, but when you don’t, she throws her hands up in defeat. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But mark my words, I’ll get it out of you one way or another.”

You breathe a silent sigh of relief as she finally drops the topic. You’re not ready to talk about Daniel, or the betrayal that shattered everything. Not yet.

Yeji leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Anyway, speaking of things you haven’t told me… have you seen Sunghoon yet?”

The question takes you off guard, and you look at her, surprised. “Sunghoon?”

“Yeah,” Yeji says, eyeing you with a knowing smirk. “Your other childhood bestie? The one who’s still very much around? He lives next door, you know.”

You fidget with your fork, feeling an odd mix of emotions stir at the mention of his name. “No, I haven’t seen him yet.”

Yeji tilts her head. “Really? You’ve been here since yesterday and haven’t run into him? That’s weird. He’s practically part of your family.”

You shrug, trying to appear indifferent. “I got in late, and I’ve been busy with unpacking. It’s not that surprising.”

Yeji chuckles. “He’s going to be so mad you didn’t tell him you were coming back either. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Y/N.”

You manage a small laugh, though the thought of seeing Sunghoon after all these years sends a small flutter of anxiety through you. Things with him had always been comfortable, easy, but after so long apart, you’re not sure what to expect. And after everything that’s happened with Daniel, the idea of facing someone who knows you so well feels almost too raw.

“Well, good luck with that,” Yeji says, giving you a teasing smile. “You know how he is. He’s probably going to give you the cold shoulder for a bit.”

You force a grin, though you’re already dreading the inevitable reunion. “Yeah. I guess I’ll deal with that when it happens.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Later that afternoon, feeling a bit restless from being inside all morning, you decide to take a walk to the nearby convenience store. The air is crisp and cool, and the quiet hum of the neighborhood feels calming. It’s the kind of peace you missed during your years abroad, and for a moment, you let yourself relax, letting the familiar surroundings ease your mind.

As you approach the store, lost in thought, you nearly bump into someone coming out. You step back, about to apologize, when you realize who it is. Sunghoon.

Your heart stutters in your chest as you take in the sight of him. He looks the same, yet somehow different. Taller, more mature. His dark hair falls slightly over his eyes, and he’s dressed casually in a hoodie and jeans, holding a bag of snacks in one hand. But it’s his expression that catches you off guard—cool, almost indifferent, as his eyes meet yours.

“Sunghoon?” you say, trying to mask the awkwardness creeping into your voice. “I didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

He blinks, a brief flicker of surprise crossing his face before it quickly fades into something more guarded. “Y/N,” he says, his tone even. “I heard you were back.”

There’s no warmth in his voice, no hint of the familiarity you used to share. The coldness of his reaction makes your stomach drop, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say.

“Yeah… I came back yesterday.” You offer a small, tentative smile, hoping to ease the tension. “It was kind of a last-minute thing.”

Sunghoon nods, but his expression doesn’t change. “I figured.”

You stand there awkwardly, the weight of the unspoken tension between you heavier than you expected. This wasn’t how you thought it would go. He used to be one of your closest friends, someone you could talk to about anything. Now, it feels like you’re standing in front of a stranger.

“Have you been okay?” you ask, trying to bridge the gap between you.

“Yeah, I’ve been fine.” His answer is short, clipped, as if he’s not interested in small talk.

The coldness in his voice stings, and you can’t help but wonder if your sudden disappearance all those years ago had more of an impact on him than you realized. “It’s good to see you,” you offer, even though you’re not sure if it’s true anymore. “I’ve missed everyone.”

“Right.” He looks past you, as if already ready to leave. “Well, welcome back.”

That’s it? No questions, no catching up, just… this? You feel your chest tighten, the conversation feeling colder by the second.

“Thanks,” you manage to say, trying not to let his aloofness get to you. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

Sunghoon shrugs, his expression unreadable. “Maybe.”

With that, he steps past you, walking away without another word, leaving you standing there, feeling strangely hollow. You watch him go, the distance between you now more than just physical. It’s like there’s a wall where there used to be a connection, and you’re not sure how—or if—you’ll ever break through it again.

After your brief and awkward run-in with Sunghoon, you continue into the convenience store, your thoughts swirling. The encounter had left you unsettled—more than you wanted to admit. You’d expected maybe a little awkwardness after all these years, but not this cold, indifferent version of Sunghoon. The Sunghoon you remembered was always warm, protective, quick to tease you. Now, it felt like he couldn’t care less that you were back.

You absentmindedly browse the aisles, picking up a few snacks and bottled water, you replay the conversation in your head. Every curt response, every emotionless glance. Was he mad? Hurt? Or had he just moved on with his life so much that your return didn’t even register? You didn’t expect everything to fall back into place after so many years, but you certainly didn’t expect this.

You make your way to the counter, trying to push the thoughts away. Maybe it’s better not to overthink it. You’ve only been back for a day—things might take time to feel normal again. Or maybe you’ve just been gone too long.

The cashier rings up your items, and you pay before stepping back outside into the cool autumn air. The sky is a soft gray, and a slight breeze carries the scent of falling leaves, a reminder that some things, at least, remain the same.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

On your way back home, your mind drifts to everything that’s happened in the last few days. You’d been so focused on escaping Daniel, on putting distance between you and the life you’d built with him in the U.S., that you hadn’t really prepared yourself for how different everything might be back here.

You shake your head. This wasn’t the time to spiral. One thing at a time.

When you reach your house, you feel a bit lighter, the familiarity of home giving you a sense of stability. As you open the door and step inside, your mother is in the living room, flipping through a magazine.

“Hey, sweetie,” she greets with a smile, glancing up at you. “Did you get what you needed?”

“Yeah, just a few things,” you reply, holding up the bag. “Thought I’d take a walk.”

“Good. It’s nice to have you back home.” She pats the seat next to her on the couch, and you sit down, the warmth of the house and her presence comforting.

You try to focus on the moment, pushing aside the confusing encounter with Sunghoon for now. But it lingers in the back of your mind, like an unresolved thread, tugging at you no matter how hard you try to ignore it.

One day at a time, you remind yourself. You came back to Korea to heal. Whatever happens with Sunghoon—or anything else—will have to wait.

As you settle into the couch next to your mom, you finally let yourself relax a little. The warmth of the house, the quiet rhythm of the afternoon—it almost feels normal. But as you sit there, your mom glances at you with a casual smile, one that makes you wary.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” she says, flipping the magazine shut. “Sunghoon and his parents are coming over for dinner tonight.”

You freeze, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the couch. “What?”

“Yeah,” your mom continues, completely unaware of the tension that suddenly grips you. “I’ve been meaning to invite them over, and I thought it’d be nice to have a little family dinner now that you’re back. You know how close we are with them.”

Your mind races. You had barely survived your run-in with Sunghoon at the convenience store, and now you were supposed to sit through an entire dinner with him? After how cold and distant he’d been? The thought alone makes your stomach twist.

“Tonight?” you ask, trying to keep your voice even.

“Mm-hmm,” your mom says, already getting up to head toward the kitchen. “I’m going to start prepping soon. It’ll be fun, don’t you think? Just like old times.”

Fun wasn’t exactly the word you’d use. “Mom, I—”

Before you can come up with an excuse, she’s already busy listing out dishes. “I was thinking we’d do something simple. Maybe some bulgogi, kimchi, a few side dishes. Oh, and that japchae you love. Sunghoon always liked that, too.”

You rub your temples, feeling the weight of the situation settle on your shoulders. There was no getting out of this. Your mom had clearly put thought into this dinner, and after being away for so long, you didn’t have the heart to tell her no.

“Yeah… sounds great,” you manage to say, though your enthusiasm is clearly lacking.

“Perfect! I’ll get started now. Why don’t you help me later with the table?” she says cheerfully, disappearing into the kitchen.

You sit there, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that in just a few hours, you’ll be sitting across from Sunghoon at dinner—awkward silences, tense glances, and all. You’d thought you could avoid him for a while, at least until you figured out how to talk to him, but it seems the universe had other plans.

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Dinner time arrives faster than you’d hoped, and the pit in your stomach grows heavier with each passing minute. You spent the last hour helping your mom set the table, the familiar routine of laying out chopsticks and plates doing little to calm your nerves. Every time you hear a sound outside, your heart jumps, anticipating their arrival.

Finally, there’s a knock at the door, followed by your father’s cheerful voice as he greets Sunghoon and his parents. You force a steadying breath, bracing yourself for the inevitable as they step inside.

“Come in, come in,” your mom calls from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel as she moves to greet them.

You stay rooted by the table, trying not to let your unease show. When you glance up, your eyes meet Sunghoon’s. His face is impassive, and though his parents are all smiles, he barely acknowledges you beyond a polite nod.

“Y/N,” his mother beams, walking over to give you a warm hug. “It’s so wonderful to see you back home! You look so grown-up. How long has it been?”

You muster a smile as you hug her back. “It’s been a while, yeah. I’ve missed being here.”

Sunghoon’s dad shakes your hand with a broad smile. “You were always such a good kid. Your parents must be thrilled to have you back.”

You nod, trying to keep the conversation light as you exchange pleasantries with Sunghoon’s parents. Meanwhile, Sunghoon himself stands near the doorway, hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but at you. The coldness from earlier lingers between you, thick and uncomfortable.

Your mom ushers everyone to the dining table, her excitement palpable as she serves the food. “Let’s all sit! It’s so nice to have everyone together again.”

You find yourself seated across from Sunghoon, who remains quiet as the meal begins. His parents chat easily with your parents, exchanging updates on family matters and local gossip. You try to join in, but it’s hard to focus when you can feel Sunghoon’s presence directly in front of you, the weight of his silence pressing down.

At one point, his father glances at you, his smile genuine. “So, Y/N, how long are you planning to stay? I’m sure you’ve got a busy life back in the States, with the wedding and all.”

You freeze, the mention of the wedding making your chest tighten. You’d hoped it wouldn’t come up, but of course, it was inevitable. All eyes turn to you, and you feel Sunghoon’s gaze on you now, sharp and watchful.

“Oh… I’m not sure yet,” you answer, trying to keep your voice steady. “I haven’t really figured everything out.”

His mother looks over, curious. “Aren’t you worried about the wedding? It’s only a month away, right?”

You swallow hard, avoiding Sunghoon’s gaze, which feels like a dagger from across the table. “I… I decided to take some time off. You know, to clear my head before everything gets hectic.”

Your parents exchange glances but don’t press further, sensing that there’s more to the story than you’re letting on. Sunghoon’s mother, however, isn’t as easily deterred.

“Well, I’m sure Daniel’s missing you terribly,” she says with a laugh, clearly unaware of the tension her words cause. “You two must be so excited about the big day!”

You feel your throat tighten, your fingers gripping the edge of your plate. Before you can figure out how to respond, Sunghoon finally speaks.

“Maybe we should give Y/N a break,” he says, his tone low but unmistakably cold. “She just got back. No need to bombard her with questions about her wedding.”

Everyone goes silent for a moment, the shift in his tone catching them off guard. You glance up, surprised by his sudden defense of you, but when your eyes meet, his expression remains unreadable.

His mother blinks, a bit flustered. “Oh, of course. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to smooth over the tension. “Really. I just needed some time to think.”

Your father clears his throat, steering the conversation to a different topic, but the air remains thick with unspoken words. As dinner continues, you can’t help but glance at Sunghoon, who stays quiet for the rest of the meal, his face hard, distant.

By the time dessert rolls around, you’re exhausted from keeping up the act. You want nothing more than to escape this table, to be anywhere but here, trapped between old memories and the unresolved tension that hangs over everything like a storm cloud.

Sunghoon may have spoken up for you, but the chill in his demeanor tells you everything you need to know—he hasn’t forgiven you for leaving, and this dinner is just the beginning of whatever complicated mess lies ahead.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

After dinner, the weight of the evening presses on your chest, and you feel the overwhelming need for space—somewhere away from the questions, the tension, and the relentless memories. Your parents chat casually in the living room with Sunghoon’s parents, but their laughter feels distant, like you’re no longer part of it. Excusing yourself quietly, you slip out of the house, letting the cool night air hit your skin as you walk down the quiet, familiar streets.

You find yourself heading to the park where you, Sunghoon, and Yeji used to play as kids. The old swings, the jungle gym, even the worn-out slide—it’s all still there, untouched by time. The memories of those carefree days flood back, bittersweet in their simplicity. You push down the ache in your chest and sit on one of the swings, the creak of the chains loud in the stillness of the night.

The moon hangs low, casting a pale glow over the empty park. You let yourself swing gently, the motion soothing, but your thoughts are anything but calm. Everything is swirling—Daniel, the wedding that won’t happen, your sudden return home, and the wall Sunghoon’s built between you since the moment you saw him again.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t hear him approach until he’s already there. The soft crunch of his footsteps on the gravel pulls you from your reverie, and you glance to your side, startled to see Sunghoon standing there, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at you for a moment before settling onto the swing next to you.

For a long while, neither of you speaks. The silence stretches between you, thick and uncomfortable, but somehow familiar—like the many quiet nights you’d spent together here as kids. Back then, silence was easy. Now, it’s loaded with everything you haven’t said, everything that’s changed.

Finally, you break the quiet, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think you’d follow me.”

Sunghoon doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on the ground as he kicks at the dirt with his shoe. “I didn’t think I would either,” he admits, his voice flat. “But here I am.”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying to gauge his mood. The coldness from earlier lingers in the air between you, but there’s something else too—something softer, more hesitant, like he’s struggling with whatever’s on his mind.

The gentle creak of the swings is the only sound for a few more moments, until he finally speaks again, his tone low and distant. “You left,” he says, his words simple but heavy. “No warning. No goodbyes.”

Your stomach twists at the accusation, but you can’t deny it. “I know,” you say quietly, gripping the chains of the swing a little tighter. “I’m sorry.”

He lets out a small, bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t exactly change anything, does it?”

You wince, the sharp edge in his voice cutting deeper than you expected. “Sunghoon, I didn’t mean to just disappear. Things were… complicated.”

“Complicated?” He finally turns to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You couldn’t have called? Texted? I had to hear from my parents that you were moving to the U.S. And now, after years of nothing, you just show up out of nowhere, acting like everything’s fine?”

You bite your lip, the guilt weighing heavily on you. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I needed to get away. From everything. And then… life happened.”

Sunghoon shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “You’re always running away, Y/N. You did it back then, and now you’re doing it again. What happened with Daniel? Did he screw up, and now you’re back here hiding?”

His words strike a nerve, and you feel your chest tighten. “It’s not like that,” you say defensively, though a part of you wonders if he’s right.

“Isn’t it?” he presses, his voice sharp. “You’re back here, pretending everything’s okay when clearly, it’s not.”

You turn away, the pain and frustration bubbling up inside you. “You don’t know what I’ve been through, Sunghoon. It’s not that simple.”

For a moment, he stays silent, the tension between you thick and suffocating. Then, he sighs, the anger seeming to drain out of him. “You’re right. I don’t know. Because you never told me.”

You look over at him, and for the first time since you’ve been back, you see something in his eyes that isn’t coldness or anger—just hurt. The years you’ve spent apart, the silence between you—it’s all built up into this wall that neither of you knows how to tear down.

“I didn’t mean for it to be like this,” you whisper, the weight of the years catching up to you. “I just… I needed to figure things out. And now, I don’t know how to fix it.”

Sunghoon looks away, his expression softening, though the hurt still lingers. “Maybe it’s not about fixing things,” he says quietly. “Maybe it’s just about being honest. With me. With yourself.”

You don’t know how to respond, the truth of his words settling heavily on your chest. The silence returns, but this time it feels different—not as cold, not as distant. You both sit there, side by side, swinging gently in the cool night air, the echoes of your childhood swirling around you.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The walk back home from the park is quiet, but it’s a different kind of silence now—less charged, more reflective. Sunghoon walks beside you, his hands in his pockets, and though neither of you speaks, there’s a tentative sense of peace settling between you.

The night air feels lighter as you near your house, and you glance over at him, wondering if this fragile understanding between you will last. Just as you’re about to say something, you hear it—a voice calling your name from across the street.

“Y/N!”

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of Daniel’s voice. It’s impossible. He shouldn’t be here. Slowly, you turn, and there he is, standing under a streetlight, his face a mixture of desperation and determination.

“Y/N, wait!” he calls again, hurrying toward you, his voice strained with urgency.

You can feel your blood run cold as he approaches. Sunghoon stiffens beside you, his gaze hardening the moment he sees Daniel. You swallow, taking an instinctive step back, every muscle in your body tensing as the man you’d left behind in the U.S. closes the distance between you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you manage, your voice shaking with equal parts disbelief and anger.

Daniel’s eyes are pleading, his hands reaching out like he’s trying to reel you back in. “I came to find you. To explain everything. I messed up, Y/N, but we can fix this. You can’t just run away like this.”

Sunghoon moves slightly closer to you, his presence a shield as you stand frozen, trying to process the surreal scene unfolding in front of you. The front door to your house swings open, and your parents step out, concern etched across their faces. They must have heard the commotion from inside.

“Y/N? What’s going on out here?” your mother asks, her gaze moving between you, Daniel, and Sunghoon. Your father follows, frowning deeply as he takes in the scene.

Daniel seems to seize the moment, stepping toward you again. “I made a mistake, okay? I know I hurt you, but we can work this out. We were so close to the wedding, Y/N. Don’t throw it all away because of one mistake.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, the weight of the betrayal crashing down on you all over again. Your mother’s eyes widen as she glances between the two of you. “What… mistake?” she asks slowly, her voice tight with worry.

You don’t want to say it. You don’t want to admit it in front of your parents, in front of Sunghoon, but the truth is too heavy to keep inside any longer. You take a deep breath, your voice trembling as the words finally spill out.

“He cheated,” you say, your voice breaking slightly. “With someone else. That’s why I left.”

The air seems to freeze around you. Your mother gasps, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. Your father’s expression hardens, his eyes narrowing as he stares at Daniel. And Sunghoon… Sunghoon’s fists clench at his sides, the barely restrained anger radiating off him in waves.

“How dare you?” your father’s voice is like steel, cold and furious. “How dare you come here after what you’ve done?”

Daniel takes a step back, looking genuinely shaken by the fury directed at him. “It was a mistake,” he insists, his voice desperate. “It didn’t mean anything. I love Y/N, and we’re supposed to be getting married. I just—I want to fix things.”

Your mother, usually calm and collected, is trembling with emotion. “You think you can fix this?” she demands, her voice rising. “After what you’ve done to her? After breaking her heart like this?”

You feel Sunghoon’s hand on your arm, a silent gesture of support as everything unfolds around you. His voice is low, but every word drips with barely controlled fury. “You think you can just show up here and make everything better? She doesn’t need you anymore. Get lost.”

“Stay out of this. It’s none of your business.” Daniel tells sunghoon, his jaw clenching at the sight of him pleading for forgiveness.

Daniel looks between you and your parents, his panic growing. “Y/N, please,” he pleads. “We’ve been through so much together. You can’t just-

Your father steps forward now, his voice firm and filled with authority. “Get off my property,” he says, his eyes narrowing as he stares down Daniel. “You’ve done enough damage.”

Daniel looks panicked, his desperation clear as he looks at you one last time. “Y/N—”

“Go,” you say quietly, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your heart. “Just… go.”

Sunghoon is still fuming beside you, but he doesn’t move. He waits, fists clenched, as Daniel hesitates for a moment longer before finally turning and walking back down the street. His footsteps fade into the night, leaving behind an unbearable silence.

Your parents stand by the door, your mother’s hand on your father’s arm as they watch you carefully. Sunghoon stands stiffly beside you, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“I’m so sorry you had to find out like this,” you murmur, mostly to Sunghoon. He turns to look at you, his expression softening ever so slightly. There’s still anger in his eyes, but beneath it, you see something else—concern, hurt, maybe even guilt for not knowing sooner.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his voice low, but there’s no accusation in his tone. Just quiet frustration and sadness.

You swallow hard, the weight of everything finally hitting you. “I didn’t want anyone to know,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I couldn’t.”

Sunghoon’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he finally lets out a slow breath. He doesn’t say anything, but the tension between you begins to ease. Slowly, the weight on your chest starts to lift, even if only a little.

As the tense moment begins to settle, your parents usher everyone back inside, their expressions a mix of concern and disbelief. Sunghoon follows you quietly, his usual confident demeanor replaced by a somber silence. Inside, the atmosphere is heavy with unspoken words and lingering shock from Daniel's unexpected visit.

Your mother offers tea, her hands trembling slightly as she pours, trying to find some semblance of normalcy in the midst of the chaos. Sunghoon remains quiet, his eyes fixed on his tea as he sits opposite you at the kitchen table. The air feels charged with unresolved tension, each passing second stretching the fragile peace thinner.

“I can’t believe he had the audacity to show up here,” your father finally breaks the silence, his voice rough with suppressed anger. “After what he did to you.”

You nod silently, unable to find the words to explain or justify Daniel’s actions. The betrayal still feels fresh, the wound reopened by his sudden appearance.

Sunghoon finally speaks, his voice calm but tinged with an edge you can’t quite place. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes meet yours, searching for answers. “You could have… I could have helped.”

You swallow hard, the guilt weighing heavily on you. “I didn’t want to burden anyone,” you admit quietly. “And I didn’t want you to hate me.”

Sunghoon’s expression softens slightly, a flicker of understanding crossing his features. “I could never hate you,” he says softly, his gaze unwavering. “But I hate seeing you hurt.”

Your heart clenches at his words, a mixture of relief and sadness washing over you. “I’m sorry,” is all you manage to say, the weight of your emotions threatening to spill over.

Your mother places a gentle hand on your shoulder, offering silent comfort. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to apologize,” she says softly, her eyes filled with maternal concern. “We’re just glad you’re home now.”

The tears you’d been holding back finally spill over, and you let out a shaky breath. “I just… I needed to come back,” you admit, the truth finally surfacing. “Everything fell apart, and I didn’t know where else to go.”

Sunghoon reaches across the table, his hand hesitating for a moment before gently covering yours. His touch is warm and reassuring, grounding you in the midst of turmoil. “You’re home now,” he says quietly, his voice steady. “And we’re here for you.”

You nod gratefully, overwhelmed by the support of your family and the unexpected comfort from Sunghoon. Despite everything, a sense of relief washes over you—the first glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you can begin to heal.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The evening wears on, the tension gradually easing as conversations shift from the shock of Daniel’s visit to lighter topics. Your parents share stories of neighbors and friends, trying to lighten the mood, while Sunghoon remains by your side, a silent presence that speaks volumes.

As the night draws to a close, you find yourself standing at the front door with Sunghoon, the faint glow of streetlights casting shadows around you. He looks at you, his eyes soft with unspoken understanding.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, breaking the silence between you. “For everything.”

Sunghoon offers a small smile, his hand brushing yours briefly. “You don’t have to thank me,” he replies gently. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You take a deep breath, the weight on your shoulders a little lighter than before. “I think I’m going to be,” you admit, a tentative smile tugging at your lips.

Sunghoon’s smile widens slightly, a hint of relief in his eyes. “Good,” he says softly. “And if you ever need anything… I’m just a phone call away.. I’m also right next door.”

With a small smile, he turns to leave, and you watch him disappear into his house, a sense of gratitude filling your heart. As you close the door behind you and lean against it, you realize that while things may still be uncertain, you’re not facing them alone anymore. And for now, that’s enough.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Over the next few weeks, life began to settle into a routine, the shock of your sudden return starting to fade into the background. Each day, you found yourself easing back into the rhythm of your old life in ways you hadn’t expected. It was strange at first, being in your childhood home again, but soon it began to feel familiar—comforting, even. The late-night conversations with your mom, your dad’s predictable quips over breakfast, the peaceful quiet of your small neighborhood.

And then, there was Sunghoon.

At first, things between you remained cautious and quiet, both of you still navigating the unfamiliar territory of this new chapter in your lives. But bit by bit, as the days passed, the invisible walls that had sprung up between you began to crumble.

It started small. A casual conversation as you bumped into each other outside, a shared glance when you both found yourselves at the convenience store at the same time. Each interaction felt like a tentative step back toward something you thought was lost.

You had always been able to talk to Sunghoon so easily, and it wasn’t long before the old rhythm between you began to resurface. The awkward tension that had once hung over you melted away, replaced by the comfortable ease you’d always shared. Whether it was a quick coffee at the café you used to frequent as teenagers, or the impromptu walks around the neighborhood, it felt like the years apart had never happened. The quiet moments spent together became familiar again, and with them came a warmth you hadn’t realized you missed.

One afternoon, you were both sitting in the park where you used to spend hours as kids, watching the leaves fall as autumn began to set in. Sunghoon glanced over at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Remember when we used to race to see who could swing the highest?” he asked, his tone light but nostalgic.

You laughed, nodding as memories of your childhood flooded back. “You always won. I swear you had superpowers or something.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze shifting to the old swingset. “I wasn’t that fast. You were just slow.”

You nudged him playfully, rolling your eyes. “Says the guy who fell off the monkey bars twice trying to impress Yeji.”

Sunghoon winced dramatically, rubbing the back of his neck as if the memory still stung. “Yeah, well… not one of my finer moments.”

Moments like these became more frequent. The playful banter, the shared laughs, the easy way you slipped back into each other’s lives—it all felt natural, as if no time had passed. And with each passing day, the bond between you grew stronger, echoing the closeness you had once shared as children.

Some days, you’d find yourselves sitting on the porch steps of your house, talking until the sun dipped below the horizon. Other days, you’d meet up for late-night snacks at the convenience store, a habit that reminded you of your carefree teenage days.

But it wasn’t just about the nostalgia or the familiarity. There was something deeper now, something unspoken but present in the way he looked at you or the way his gaze lingered a little longer than before. It was subtle, but undeniable.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

One evening, as you both sat under the stars in your backyard, Sunghoon turned to you, his expression thoughtful. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

You looked at him, curious. “What is?”

He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged lightly. “How everything changes but somehow stays the same.”

You knew what he meant. The years had changed both of you, but sitting there with him, it felt like you were slipping back into the simplicity of what you had before—before life got complicated, before you’d left, before everything.

“Yeah,” you agreed softly. “But in a good way.”

He smiled at that, his gaze meeting yours for a brief, charged moment. “In a good way,” he repeated quietly.

And just like that, the past weeks had brought you closer to him again. It felt like the Sunghoon you knew—your childhood best friend—was back in your life, but with something more layered beneath the surface now. The bond you shared had always been special, but as the days passed, you began to realize it wasn’t just about the past. It was about the present, about where you were both headed next.

Little by little, it felt like old times, but it also felt like something new was beginning to bloom between you. Something you weren’t ready to name yet, but couldn’t deny.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Sunghoon had always been good at hiding his feelings. Through all the years of friendship, he kept his crush buried deep, tucked away in the corners of his heart. It was easier that way. You had always been oblivious to it, lost in your own world of school, dreams, and later, the whirlwind of your life in the U.S. But now, with you back in his life after years apart, those old, buried feelings were starting to resurface, no matter how hard he tried to keep them at bay.

He remembered high school all too well. You were both juniors, sitting together at the school library late into the evening, pretending to study but really just talking about everything and nothing. He’d watch you as you rambled on about whatever topic had captured your interest that day, completely unaware of the way his gaze would linger on your face, his heart doing that stupid fluttering thing whenever you laughed.

He could still recall one particular moment as clear as day. You had been struggling with an essay, the stress getting to you, and Sunghoon had tried to help. You’d glanced up at him, frustration in your eyes, and he’d frozen. For a second, he swore his heart had stopped altogether. You were wearing his jacket that day because you’d forgotten yours at home, and he couldn’t focus on anything but how right it looked on you. How much he wanted to tell you that you could keep it forever.

But instead, he’d just shrugged, offering a teasing, “Maybe you’re overthinking it. It’s not a love letter or anything.”

You had thrown your pencil at him, rolling your eyes. “Thanks for the help, genius,” you’d muttered with a laugh, completely oblivious to the way his heart had been racing just from sitting so close to you.

And that was how it always was. You, perfectly unaware. Him, painfully aware.

Now, as he spent more time with you, it was like those feelings had never left. They’d just been waiting, buried but not forgotten, and the longer you were back, the harder it became to ignore them. He found himself watching you again, the way he had back in high school—only this time, it felt different. You were different. More grown, more guarded, but still the same girl he’d fallen for all those years ago.

The late-night walks, the quiet conversations under the stars, the way you leaned on him like you used to—all of it was stirring something in him. He tried to tell himself it was just nostalgia, that he was just getting caught up in the past, but the truth was, it was more than that.

It was the way you smiled when you caught him off guard, the way your laughter sounded like home, the way you instinctively reached for him whenever you needed comfort. It all felt too familiar, too easy, and too real.

One evening, as you both sat on the porch steps of your house, watching the sunset, Sunghoon glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You were talking about something from work, your voice soft, but he wasn’t really listening. His mind was somewhere else—stuck on the way you looked in the fading light, like the girl he’d spent all of high school silently pining over.

It hit him then, harder than he expected, that those feelings hadn’t gone anywhere. Not really. He had just buried them because he’d thought he had to. But now, sitting here with you again, laughing like you always did, he wondered if maybe those feelings never really had a chance to fade.

“Sunghoon?” you asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” He blinked, trying to focus on what you were saying.

“You okay?” You tilted your head, giving him that look you always did when you could tell something was off.

“Yeah, just spaced out,” he lied, offering a small smile.

You didn’t push, but you gave him a soft smile in return, nudging him playfully. “You’re not very good at pretending to listen.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry. I’ll do better next time.”

But as you laughed and went on with your story, Sunghoon couldn’t stop the thoughts racing through his mind. How long could he keep pretending that nothing had changed? That his heart wasn’t pulling him back to the same place it had always been?

It was different now, though. You weren’t just the girl he’d fallen for in high school. You were the woman who had been through heartbreak, who had returned home looking for something familiar, something safe. And despite everything, Sunghoon realized that he still wanted to be that for you. He wanted to be the person you turned to—not just as a friend, but maybe something more.

But the question remained, did you see him that way, or would you always just see the boy next door, your childhood best friend?

His feelings had always been intense—he knew that much. But what he didn’t expect was how overwhelming they’d become now that you were back in his life. It wasn’t just nostalgia or some fleeting crush he could brush off. No, this ran deeper, more complicated than he was willing to admit. Every time he was near you, his heart ached with the weight of everything he’d kept hidden for so long.

And that’s why he started avoiding you.

It wasn’t something he planned, but he couldn’t help it. The more time you spent together, the harder it became to act like everything was normal. Like he wasn’t on the verge of telling you exactly how he felt, of confessing that these feelings had never gone away. But how could he? You’d just come out of one of the worst situations imaginable, and Sunghoon knew you needed time to heal. The last thing he wanted was to complicate things with his feelings, especially when you were clearly not ready for it.

So he pulled back.

It started with small things—canceled plans, excuses about being busy with work, avoiding your messages for a little longer than usual. He didn’t want to lie to you, but he also couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine. Every time he saw you, he felt like he was standing on the edge of something he wasn’t ready for, and he knew you weren’t either.

Yeji noticed first.

“You’ve been acting weird,” she said one evening as they grabbed coffee together. She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at him. “What’s going on?”

Sunghoon shrugged, avoiding her gaze as he sipped his drink. “Nothing. Just busy.”

Yeji scoffed. “Busy, huh? Is that why you’ve been dodging Y/N’s calls too?”

He flinched at that, his grip tightening on his cup. Of course, Yeji would notice. She was sharp like that—always had been.

“You’re being ridiculous, you know,” she continued, crossing her arms. “She’s your best friend. She just got back after everything with Daniel, and you’re avoiding her? What’s your problem?”

Sunghoon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not avoiding her,” he mumbled, though he knew it wasn’t true.

Yeji raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Really? Because that’s what it looks like from where I’m standing.”

He stayed quiet, unsure of how to explain what was going on in his head. How could he possibly tell Yeji the truth when he hadn’t even come to terms with it himself?

“Look, I get it,” Yeji said after a moment, her voice softening. “She’s been through a lot, and maybe you think giving her space is the right thing to do. But Sunghoon, she needs you. You two have always been there for each other. What’s really going on?”

Sunghoon glanced up at her, his chest tight with the weight of what he was about to say. “It’s just… complicated.”

Yeji’s eyes widened slightly, as if realizing something. “Oh my God. You still like her, don’t you?”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and undeniable. Sunghoon didn’t answer at first, but the look on his face must’ve said enough because Yeji leaned back in her chair, her expression softening.

“You never got over her,” she said quietly.

Sunghoon sighed again, feeling like the dam he’d been holding back was starting to crack. “No,” he admitted, his voice low. “I never did.”

Yeji didn’t say anything for a long moment, just watching him with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. Finally, she leaned forward, her tone gentle but firm. “You know you’re gonna have to deal with this, right? Avoiding her isn’t going to make it go away.”

“I know,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But it’s not that simple. She’s been through so much, Yeji. She doesn’t need me coming in and messing everything up with how I feel.”

“She needs her best friend,” Yeji countered. “You’re not going to mess anything up by being there for her.”

“But it’s more than that,” Sunghoon said, his voice tight. “I don’t just want to be her best friend, Yeji. I want… more. And if I tell her that now, when she’s still dealing with everything from Daniel, what if I make things worse?”

Yeji leaned back, crossing her arms again as she considered his words. “Sunghoon,” she said after a beat, her voice gentle but serious, “you’re not going to ruin anything by being honest with her. But you’re right—she’s not ready for something like that right now. So maybe you don’t need to tell her everything just yet. But avoiding her? That’s not the answer either.”

Sunghoon frowned, knowing she was right but still feeling conflicted. “I just… I don’t want to hurt her,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Yeji said softly. “But trust me, you’re hurting her more by pulling away.”

Sunghoon looked down at his hands, feeling the weight of her words settle over him. He didn’t want to hurt you, not after everything you’d already been through. But how could he face you when he could barely manage to keep his feelings under control?

“I just need some time,” he said, almost to himself. “To figure this out.”

Yeji sighed but nodded, though her expression remained concerned. “Just don’t take too long. She’s going to notice something’s off.”

Sunghoon nodded slowly, knowing deep down that Yeji was right. But for now, he wasn’t sure what else to do. All he knew was that the feelings he had buried for so long were clawing their way back to the surface, and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t ignore them forever.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next few days felt different. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something was off with Sunghoon. He was distant—more than usual. Whenever you tried to hang out like old times, he found an excuse. Too busy with work, too tired from errands, too anything but here.

At first, you tried to ignore it. Maybe he really was busy. Maybe it was just a phase. After all, coming back had changed a lot, for everyone. But the more it happened, the more unsettled you became. You weren’t used to Sunghoon being like this, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d done something wrong.

The morning after your last attempt to make plans, you found yourself sitting at the kitchen table, picking at breakfast while your mind raced. Your mom was bustling around, wiping the counters and humming softly to herself.

“You look distracted, honey,” she said, glancing over at you. “Everything okay?”

You forced a smile, nodding. “Yeah, just thinking.”

Your mom raised an eyebrow, giving you that knowing look she always did when she didn’t quite believe you. “Does this have anything to do with why Sunghoon’s been acting so strange?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Come on, Y/N,” she said, turning to face you with a small smile. “I’ve known that boy his whole life. He’s always been so close to you, but lately, he’s been keeping his distance. Something’s bothering him, and I think it might have to do with you.”

Your heart sank at her words, and suddenly, all the little things you’d been trying to ignore came rushing to the surface. You hadn’t imagined it. Sunghoon was pulling away.

“I don’t know, Mom,” you mumbled, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “He’s been busy, I guess.”

“Maybe,” she said thoughtfully, “but busy doesn’t explain why he avoids you whenever you come over. I don’t think this is about work.”

You stared down at your plate, your chest tightening. The thought of losing Sunghoon’s presence after everything that had happened made your stomach twist. He’d always been your rock—the one person who understood you better than anyone. If he was pulling away, what did that mean?

“I’ll talk to him,” you said softly, more to yourself than to your mom.

“Good,” your mom said with a warm smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing a good conversation can’t fix.”

But as you made your way upstairs to get ready, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t going to be that simple. Sunghoon wasn’t the type to pull away without a reason, and you had a sinking suspicion that whatever was going on, it wasn’t something he’d be willing to talk about easily.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Later that afternoon, you found yourself sitting outside on the porch, staring off into the distance as you tried to make sense of it all. The crisp autumn air brushed against your skin, the quiet neighborhood almost too peaceful for the storm of emotions swirling inside you. The longer you thought about it, the more frustrated you became.

Sunghoon wasn’t just distant—he was avoiding you. And that hurt more than you were willing to admit. You’d been through so much already, and now it felt like you were losing the one person who’d always been there for you.

Determined not to let this go on any longer, you decided to confront him. You grabbed your phone, quickly typing out a message.

Hey, are you free to talk?

You stared at the screen, waiting for a reply, your heart pounding in your chest. Minutes passed, and just when you thought he might not respond, your phone buzzed.

Busy today. Maybe another time?

Your frustration flared. You knew he wasn’t that busy. This was just another excuse.

Without thinking, you typed back.

Sunghoon, what’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me for days. Did I do something wrong?

You hit send, your fingers trembling slightly. The silence that followed felt suffocating, each passing second adding to the weight in your chest.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his reply came.

No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just… dealing with some stuff. I’ll explain later.

You frowned at the vague response, feeling even more confused. What kind of “stuff” was he dealing with that he couldn’t even talk to you about it? You started typing another message but stopped, realizing that pushing him wouldn’t help. If he wasn’t ready to talk, there wasn’t much you could do.

But that didn’t make the sting of his distance any less painful.

You put your phone down, staring out at the quiet street once more. Sunghoon was hiding something—something big. And no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself it wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was connected to you.

For the rest of the day, your mind wouldn’t let it go. What could possibly make him pull away like this? You had no idea what was going on with him, but one thing was clear: you needed to get to the bottom of it. Because the longer this went on, the more it felt like you were losing him. And you couldn’t bear the thought of that, not now—not after everything you’d been through.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next few days were a blur of half-hearted attempts to distract yourself, but Sunghoon’s distance lingered at the back of your mind. Each time you saw him, whether by chance or at family gatherings, it felt like there was this invisible wall between you two, and it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

He wasn’t avoiding you entirely, but something was definitely off. The easy-going conversations you used to have were now strained. He barely looked at you, his responses shorter, and you couldn’t help but notice how he always found some reason to leave early.

It was Saturday afternoon when Yeji invited you out for coffee. She’d noticed the tension too, but unlike you, she wasn’t willing to let it slide.

“So, you and Sunghoon,” she said as soon as you sat down, not even bothering with small talk. “What’s going on?”

You blinked, surprised by her directness. “What do you mean?”

Yeji gave you a look, crossing her arms. “You know exactly what I mean, Y/N. He’s been acting weird since you got back, and don’t even try to tell me you haven’t noticed.”

You sighed, staring down at your drink. “I don’t know. I’ve tried to talk to him, but he just says he’s dealing with stuff. He won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Yeji tilted her head, her eyes narrowing in thought. “You think it’s about Daniel?” she asks you, trying to allude to something more.

The mention of his name made your chest tighten. “I don’t know. Maybe? He was weird even before he knew about Daniel.”

“Hmm.” Yeji leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “That boy’s always been complicated, but I’ve never seen him this off with you. It’s like he’s avoiding something—something big.”

You frowned, feeling even more lost. “But what? What could it be? I didn’t do anything.”

Yeji tapped her fingers on the table, her gaze thoughtful. “Maybe it’s not about something you did. Maybe it’s something he’s dealing with.”

You shook your head. “He won’t talk to me about it. He just keeps saying he’s busy, but it’s more than that. I can feel it.”

“Of course it’s more than that,” Yeji said, her voice firm. “Sunghoon’s always been a terrible liar. He’s hiding something, and my guess? It has something to do with how he feels about you.”

You blinked, staring at her in confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

Yeji sighed, giving you a soft smile. “Come on, Y/N. You really think he’s just your childhood best friend? That boy has been in love with you since high school.”

Your stomach dropped at her words. “No, he hasn’t,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “We’re just friends. He’s never—”

“He’s never told you,” Yeji finished for you, her tone gentle but serious. “But trust me, it’s been there. He’s always liked you, but he never acted on it because he didn’t want to ruin what you two had. And now, with everything you’ve been through, he’s probably even more scared of saying something.”

You stared at her, stunned into silence. The idea of Sunghoon having feelings for you—real feelings—had never crossed your mind. Sure, you’d always been close, but he’d never given you any reason to think it was more than that. Right?

Yeji sighed, reaching across the table to pat your hand. “Look, I’m not saying you have to do anything about it. But you need to talk to him. He’s avoiding you because he doesn’t know how to handle what he’s feeling. And im truly so sick of him moping around like a puppy.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. Was it true? Had Sunghoon really been hiding his feelings all this time? And if he had, what did that mean for you? You couldn’t even begin to process the possibility, not after everything that had happened with Daniel. You weren’t ready for this—couldn’t be.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, feeling overwhelmed. “I don’t even know if I’m ready to talk about it.”

Yeji gave you a sympathetic smile. “I get it. But Sunghoon is your best friend, and if you don’t at least clear the air, this is just going to keep getting worse. Whatever happens, you both deserve to be honest with each other.”

You nodded slowly, knowing deep down that she was right. Avoiding the situation wasn’t helping anyone. If Sunghoon was really struggling with his feelings, the least you could do was try to talk to him about it. But even as you told yourself that, a knot of anxiety settled in your chest.

Because if Sunghoon really had feelings for you, this was going to change everything. And after everything you’d already been through, you weren’t sure if you were ready for more change.

But one thing was clear: something had to give. You couldn’t keep pretending like everything was normal when it so clearly wasn’t.

“I’ll talk to him,” you finally said, your voice quiet but determined.

Yeji smiled, squeezing your hand. “Good. You’ll figure it out.”

But as you sat there, sipping your coffee and trying to keep your thoughts from spiraling, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get a lot more complicated.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

That night, you found yourself staring at your phone, Sunghoon’s contact pulled up, your thumb hovering over the call button. The weight of Yeji’s words hung heavy in your mind—he’s always liked you—and the longer you thought about it, the more restless you became.

What if it was true? What if Sunghoon had been hiding his feelings all this time? The idea seemed impossible, but then again, you’d never imagined him pulling away like this either.

With a frustrated sigh, you locked your phone and tossed it onto the bed, running your hands through your hair. You couldn’t just call him out of the blue. It had to be face-to-face. You had to know for sure, but the thought of confronting him sent a surge of anxiety through your chest. What would you even say?

Unable to stand the suffocating silence of your room, you grabbed your jacket and slipped out of the house, your feet carrying you in a familiar direction. The night air was cool against your skin as you headed toward the park—the same park where you, Sunghoon, and Yeji had spent countless afternoons as kids.

It was quiet when you arrived, the swing set creaking gently in the breeze. You hesitated for a moment before sitting down on one of the swings, the chains groaning under your weight as you gently kicked at the dirt beneath your feet. Memories of your childhood came flooding back—the three of you racing to the swings, fighting over who could go higher, laughing until your sides hurt.

And then, Sunghoon’s face flashed in your mind—his shy smile, his teasing words, the way he’d always looked out for you, even when you didn’t realize it. Could Yeji really be right? Had he been feeling this way for years?

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching until someone sat down on the swing next to you. You looked up, startled, only to see Sunghoon, his expression unreadable as he stared ahead.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you heavy and awkward. You weren’t sure whether to be relieved or more anxious that he’d found you here.

“I didn’t think you’d be out this late,” Sunghoon finally said, his voice quiet.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you replied, your fingers curling around the swing’s chain. “Needed some air.”

He nodded, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. “Me too.”

You wanted to ask him—needed to—but the words felt stuck in your throat. Instead, you sat there, side by side in silence, the tension between you growing thicker with each passing second.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Sunghoon, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer right away. His jaw clenched, his hands gripping the chains of his swing tightly. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost strained. “I’ve been trying to figure that out myself.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the cryptic response. “Is it me?” you asked, turning to face him fully. “Did I do something wrong?”

His eyes snapped to yours, wide and alarmed. “No, Y/N, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” you pressed, frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’ve been acting so strange ever since I came back. I don’t get it.”

Sunghoon sighed, his gaze dropping to the ground as he raked a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then explain it to me,” you said, your voice soft but pleading. “Please, Sunghoon. I don’t want to lose you.”

His expression tightened at your words, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. You could see the internal battle playing out behind his eyes, the conflict he’d been hiding so well suddenly visible. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw, vulnerable in a way you’d never heard before.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N.”

His words hung heavy in the air, and your heart clenched in your chest. “You’re not hurting me. You’re my best friend, Sunghoon. Whatever it is, we can get through it.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “That’s the problem. I don’t know if we can.”

You frowned, confusion swirling in your mind. “What do you mean?”

Sunghoon’s eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw the weight of everything he’d been holding back. His next words came out in a rush, as if he’d been holding them in for far too long.

“I’ve always liked you, Y/N. More than just a friend. Since high school, maybe even before then. But I never told you because… because I didn’t want to mess things up. And then you left, and I thought I’d gotten over it. But now that you’re back…” He trailed off, his voice catching in his throat. “It’s like all those feelings just came rushing back, and I don’t know what to do with them. I can’t act on them, not after everything you’ve been through with Daniel. It’s not fair to you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, Sunghoon’s confession hanging in the air between you like a fragile thread. You’d always thought of him as your best friend, the one constant in your life that had never changed. But now… now everything was different.

“Sunghoon…” you whispered, at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, standing up from the swing as if he couldn’t bear to stay any longer. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll—”

“No,” you said, cutting him off, standing up too. “Don’t run away. Not again.”

He looked at you, his expression torn, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability in his eyes—the fear of rejection, the fear of losing you completely. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

“Sunghoon, I… I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I never knew you felt that way.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” he said quietly. “But now… now I can’t hide it anymore.”

The silence between you was deafening, the weight of his confession settling heavily on your shoulders. You didn’t know how to respond, not after everything you’d been through. But one thing was certain: nothing between you and Sunghoon would ever be the same again.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The days that followed felt surreal. Sunghoon’s confession lingered in your mind like a persistent echo, one that you couldn’t quite shake off. Every time you replayed his words, your chest tightened, and your thoughts spiraled into confusion. You didn’t know how to feel—about him, about your past, or even about yourself. You spent so many years thinking of Sunghoon as your constant, your rock, your best friend, and now all of that felt uncertain.

Sunghoon avoided you even more than before, making sure he was never in the same place as you for too long. At first, you gave him space, understanding that things were complicated. But the distance started to gnaw at you. He’d always been the one person you could rely on, and now, when you needed him most, he was pulling away.

It was Yeji who finally brought it up, sitting across from you at the café as she studied your downcast expression.

“You look like you’ve been hit by a truck,” she said bluntly, sipping her iced coffee.

You sighed, pushing your own drink around the table without taking a sip. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” she said flatly. “And let me guess, it has something to do with Sunghoon?”

You didn’t answer right away, but the slight flicker in your eyes was enough for Yeji to know she was right. She groaned, leaning forward.

“I swear, if you two don’t figure this out, I’m going to lock you in a room until you do.”

You managed a weak smile at her joke, but it faded quickly. “It’s complicated, Yeji.”

“Everything is complicated with you two. But the longer you let this sit, the worse it’s going to get.”

“I don’t even know what to say to him,” you admitted, sinking into your seat. “He told me how he feels, but… I’m not ready for that. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

Yeji studied you carefully, her expression softening. “You’ve been through a lot with Daniel. No one expects you to be ready for something like this. But Sunghoon is… well, he’s not Daniel. You know he’d never hurt you.”

Your throat tightened at her words. “That’s what makes it worse. I don’t want to hurt him either.”

“You won’t,” Yeji said confidently. “Not if you’re honest with him. He knows what you’ve been through, and he’ll understand. But avoiding each other like this isn’t helping anyone.”

You rubbed your temples, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on you. “I don’t know, Yeji. It’s just… too much.”

She reached across the table, placing her hand on top of yours. “Take it one step at a time. Sunghoon’s not going anywhere. He just needs to know where you stand.”

You nodded, knowing deep down that she was right. The tension between you and Sunghoon had become unbearable, and if you didn’t talk to him soon, it would only get worse.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Later that evening, you found yourself standing in front of Sunghoon’s house, your heart racing. You hadn’t planned to come here, but your feet had carried you here almost on instinct. His confession had thrown everything into chaos, and you needed to clear the air, for both your sakes.

You took a deep breath before knocking on the door. The wait felt excruciatingly long, but finally, the door opened to reveal Sunghoon, his expression shifting from surprise to something more guarded.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice hesitant. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you,” you replied, trying to steady your voice. “Can we?”

He looked uncertain for a moment, but eventually, he stepped aside, letting you in. You followed him to the living room, the air between you heavy with unspoken words.

Sunghoon stood by the window, his hands stuffed into his pockets, avoiding your gaze. “What is it?”

You took a seat on the couch, feeling your pulse quicken. “About what you told me the other night…”

He tensed, his shoulders stiffening. “You don’t have to say anything. I get it.”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice firmer than you intended. “You don’t get it. You can’t just drop something like that on me and then disappear, Sunghoon. We’ve been friends for years. I deserve to know what’s going on with you.”

Sunghoon sighed, finally turning to face you. “I was trying to give you space. I didn’t want to make things harder for you after everything with Daniel.”

“I appreciate that,” you said, your voice softening. “But shutting me out isn’t helping either of us.”

There was a long pause as Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling with his own emotions. “I didn’t know what else to do, Y/N. I’ve been holding this in for so long, and now that it’s out, I don’t know how to act around you.”

“You don’t have to act any differently,” you said quietly. “But you also can’t avoid me forever.”

Sunghoon stared at you, a conflicted look in his eyes. “I just… I don’t want to make things worse. I know you’re not ready for… anything like this, and I’m not going to push you. But it’s hard, Y/N. It’s hard being around you and pretending like everything is the same when I’ve been feeling this way for so long.”

You looked down, your heart heavy with guilt. “I don’t want to lose you, Sunghoon. You’re one of the most important people in my life, and I can’t imagine things without you. But I’m not ready for more, not after everything that happened.”

“I know,” Sunghoon said softly, his expression pained. “And I’ll wait. I’ll always wait for you, Y/N. But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

The vulnerability in his voice hit you hard, and for the first time, you saw just how deep his feelings ran. He wasn’t asking for anything from you—he was just being honest, and it was tearing him apart. You took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of it all crashing down on you.

“I’m sorry, Sunghoon,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I wish things were different.”

He shook his head, stepping closer to you. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. I just… I just needed you to know.”

The silence stretched between you, both of you caught in the painful reality of the situation. Neither of you knew what the future held, but for now, all you could do was take it one step at a time.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The days passed in an uneasy quiet, the tension between you and Sunghoon lingering like an unspoken secret. He no longer avoided you as much, but the once easy-going banter you shared felt stilted, weighed down by everything unsaid. You couldn’t stop thinking about his confession. It felt like a constant reminder of how complicated everything had become. No matter how much you tried to focus on anything else, Sunghoon’s words echoed in your mind, making it impossible to pretend like things were back to normal.

One evening, as you sat in your room, you heard a knock on the door. Your mom poked her head in, smiling warmly.

“Dinner’s ready, sweetheart,” she said, her eyes soft with concern. “You okay?”

You plastered on a smile, nodding. “Yeah, just lost in thought.”

She gave you a knowing look. “You’ve been doing a lot of that lately. Is everything okay between you and Sunghoon?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Why do you ask?”

“You two have always been inseparable, but things seem… different now. You can talk to me, you know.”

You bit your lip, unsure of how much to say. You hadn’t told your parents anything about Sunghoon’s confession, and you weren’t sure you could without making things more complicated. “It’s nothing, Mom. We’re fine. Just adjusting, I guess.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. “Alright, but you know we’re here for you. If you need to talk about anything—about Sunghoon or anything else—you can always come to us.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words settle over you. She meant well, but the last thing you wanted was to burden your parents with the tangled mess of your emotions.

After dinner, you found yourself wandering outside, needing fresh air to clear your head. Without thinking, you walked down the familiar path to the park, your steps slow and deliberate. The quiet of the evening felt comforting, a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts swirling inside you. You found your way back to the swings, sitting down as you often did when you needed to think.

As you rocked gently back and forth, your mind drifted back to high school. Back to the carefree days when things between you, Sunghoon, and Yeji had been simple. The memories were vivid—late nights studying together, hanging out at the park after school, and how Sunghoon had always been there, a steady presence by your side. Back then, you’d never questioned his loyalty, never thought twice about the way he always seemed to put you first. But now, looking back, you wondered how you hadn’t noticed the way he looked at you, the quiet way his feelings had been growing all along.

You remembered one particular moment, just before you left for the U.S. Sunghoon had walked you home after a late study session, the two of you chatting about nothing in particular. It had been a chilly night, and he’d offered you his jacket without hesitation. You’d laughed, teased him for being too polite, but his expression had been serious, almost sad. At the time, you hadn’t thought much of it, chalking it up to the fact that you’d be leaving soon. But now, in hindsight, you realized it had been more than that. Sunghoon had been struggling with his feelings, even back then, and you’d been completely oblivious.

A pang of guilt hit you as you thought about how long he must’ve held everything inside, how hard it must’ve been for him to see you leave, knowing you didn’t feel the same way. And now, after everything that had happened with Daniel, Sunghoon was still there, waiting for you in the background, even though you couldn’t give him what he wanted.

“Why does everything have to be so complicated?” you muttered to yourself, staring up at the darkening sky.

Just as you were about to lose yourself in more memories, you heard footsteps approaching from behind. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Sunghoon.

“You’re here again,” he said, his voice quiet but familiar as he sat on the swing next to you.

“I needed to think,” you replied softly, your eyes still focused on the ground. “This place… it helps.”

Sunghoon nodded, his gaze drifting up toward the sky. “Yeah. It’s always been like that, hasn’t it?”

A comfortable silence fell between you, though it was laced with the tension of everything unsaid. For a moment, it felt like old times—just the two of you, sitting together in quiet understanding. But you knew things were different now, no matter how much you wanted to pretend otherwise.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice tentative. “Sunghoon… I know things have been weird lately. And I hate it.”

He didn’t respond right away, but you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. “I know.”

“I just—” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want things to be like this between us.”

Sunghoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want that either, Y/N. But I don’t know how to make it less weird. I can’t just forget what I said.”

“I’m not asking you to,” you said quickly. “But maybe we can figure this out. I need you, Sunghoon. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He looked at you, his expression conflicted. “I need you too. But that’s the problem.”

Your heart clenched at his words. You could see the struggle in his eyes—the fight between his feelings for you and his desire to protect you from more pain. It wasn’t fair to him, and you knew it. But you didn’t know how to fix it, how to make things go back to the way they were.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the guilt heavy in your chest.

Sunghoon shook his head, his voice soft but firm. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. None of this is.”

You sat there in silence, the distance between you feeling both vast and fragile. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you needed to figure out. But for now, all you could do was sit side by side, both of you trying to navigate the complicated mess of feelings that had always been there, just beneath the surface.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Weeks passed, and the uneasy tension that once lingered between you and Sunghoon gradually began to fade. Little by little, things started to feel like they were falling back into place, though not quite the same as before. The awkward silences became comfortable again, and the shared moments between you started to carry a different weight.

You found yourself paying closer attention to him in ways you never had before. The small gestures—how he’d bring you coffee without asking, or how he’d go out of his way to make sure you were comfortable—began to take on a deeper meaning. Sunghoon wasn’t just being your best friend; he was being your support, your constant, the one person who had always been there for you, even when you didn’t realize how much you needed him.

It was in those moments that your feelings began to shift. At first, you tried to brush them off, telling yourself it was just gratitude, that you were still recovering from everything with Daniel. But the more time you spent with Sunghoon, the harder it became to ignore the warmth that bloomed in your chest every time he smiled at you, or the way your heart raced whenever your hands accidentally brushed.

One evening, the two of you sat in your backyard, a quiet evening settling in around you. Sunghoon had insisted on helping your father with a project earlier, and afterward, he stayed for dinner, as he often did. Now, the two of you were sitting on the porch, the cool breeze gently rustling the leaves above you.

Sunghoon leaned back, his eyes drifting to the sky. “You’ve been quiet tonight,” he said softly, glancing at you. “Everything okay?”

You smiled at the concern in his voice, feeling that familiar warmth spread through you again. “Yeah, I’m just… thinking.”

He turned slightly to face you, raising an eyebrow. “About what?”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your feelings into words. You weren’t ready to say everything out loud yet, but you couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of gratitude and admiration you felt for him. “Just about how things have changed… and how much you’ve been there for me.”

Sunghoon’s gaze softened, and he shrugged casually, though you could see a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. “That’s what friends do, right?”

You nodded, but the word “friends” felt wrong now. There was something more between you, something that had been growing quietly in the background, and it was starting to become impossible to deny. You weren’t sure when it had happened, or maybe it had always been there, buried beneath the surface. But what you did know was that Sunghoon wasn’t just your friend anymore.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

More time passed and you found yourself seeking him out more, spending more time with him than anyone else. You began to crave his company, his quiet strength, and the way he seemed to understand you without needing to ask. And it wasn’t just the grand gestures that made your heart flutter—it was the small things. The way he always checked if you were okay, how he listened when you talked, really listened, and how he’d make sure you weren’t alone whenever you seemed down.

It was these little acts of kindness, the quiet care he showed you, that made your feelings for him grow into something undeniable.

One evening, the two of you found yourselves at the park again, sitting on the swings like you used to as kids. The sky was a deep shade of pink and orange, the sun setting in the distance. Sunghoon was talking about something—work, maybe—but you weren’t really listening. Instead, you were focused on him, on the way his hair fell into his eyes, the way his voice softened when he talked to you.

You realized, suddenly and overwhelmingly, that you cared for him in a way you hadn’t cared for anyone else. It wasn’t just that Sunghoon had been there for you, but the way he had always, quietly and without expectation, supported you, no matter what. He didn’t ask for anything in return, didn’t push you for answers or confessions. He just… cared.

And that’s when you knew. You had feelings for Sunghoon. They had been there all along, waiting for you to realize it.

Sunghoon must have noticed the look on your face because he stopped mid-sentence, turning to you with a curious expression. “What is it?”

You blinked, startled out of your thoughts. “What?”

“You’re staring at me,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You felt your cheeks heat up, quickly looking away. “I wasn’t.”

He laughed softly, but didn’t push further. Instead, he leaned back on the swing, the smile fading as a comfortable silence settled between you. You wanted to say something, to tell him what was on your mind, but the words wouldn’t come. Not yet.

For now, you were content just being here with him, the weight of your growing feelings a secret you weren’t quite ready to share. But you knew, deep down, that it wouldn’t be long before those feelings couldn’t be hidden any longer.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

It was a cozy Friday evening, and the house felt unusually quiet. Your parents and Sunghoon’s parents had decided to take a weekend trip together, leaving the two of you alone for the night. You had taken advantage of the opportunity to host a movie night, and the living room was filled with the inviting smell of popcorn and the soft glow of fairy lights strung around the room.

You settled onto the couch, a soft blanket draped over your legs, while Sunghoon reclined next to you, the space between you filled with a warm tension. The movie played in the background, but you found it hard to focus on the screen. Instead, your gaze kept drifting to him—the way the light danced in his hair, the casual way he laughed at the jokes, and the ease of his presence next to you.

As the minutes turned into hours, you felt the atmosphere shift. Each time you glanced at him, your heart raced a little more. You couldn’t ignore the way your feelings for him had transformed over the last few weeks, the moments you had shared sparking something deeper than friendship.

Finally, during a quieter moment in the movie, you turned to him, heart pounding. “Sunghoon,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. He turned his head, eyebrows raised in curiosity, his expression inviting you to continue.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should voice what had been on your mind for so long. But the warmth of his gaze, the way he was looking at you, made the decision feel inevitable. “I need to tell you something,” you began, feeling your heart race.

He tilted his head slightly, encouraging you. “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us… and how I feel about you.” Your voice trembled slightly as you spoke, but you pressed on. “When I came back to Korea, everything felt so chaotic. But you… you were there for me in a way I didn’t expect. And the more time we spend together, the more I realize that I care about you, Sunghoon. A lot.”

His eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his face. “Y/N, I—”

Before he could respond, you continued, your heart pounding in your chest. “I know I’ve been through a lot, and I don’t want to rush anything. But I can’t pretend anymore. I have feelings for you—feelings that go beyond friendship. I want to explore this… whatever this is between us.”

A moment of silence stretched between you, filled with the weight of your confession. You could see the shock in his expression slowly melting into something softer, something hopeful.

“I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” he finally said, his voice low and sincere. “I care about you too, Y/N. I’ve felt this way for a long time, but I didn’t know if you’d feel the same after everything that’s happened.”

Your heart soared at his words, relief flooding through you. “Really?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, a small smile spreading across his lips. “Really.”

In that moment, everything else faded away. You felt a magnetic pull between you, drawing you closer together. Without thinking, you leaned in, your heart racing as you closed the space between you.

Sunghoon met you halfway, his lips brushing against yours with a gentle hesitance that quickly melted into a deeper kiss. It was electric—filled with all the unspoken emotions you had both held back for so long. The world outside your living room ceased to exist, leaving only the warmth of his body and the rhythm of your hearts.

You melted into him, feeling the softness of the couch beneath you as he deepened the kiss, hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel the heat radiating between you, igniting something passionate and alive that you hadn’t anticipated.

You moaned softly into Sunghoon's mouth, the sound fueling his desire even further. Breaking the kiss for air, you stared into each other's eyes, both breathless and flushed. "Your room," Sunghoon whispered hoarsely. "Let's go to your room."

Hand in hand, you made your way to your childhood bedroom, a space that held countless memories of your friendship. The room was a sanctuary, adorned with pictures and trinkets from your shared adventures. Sunghoon closed the door behind you, sealing your private world from the outside.

You leaned against the door, heart racing as he approached her. He gently cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your soft cheeks. "I've dreamed of this moment for so long," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.Your lips met again, this time with a hunger that burned through your restraint. Sunghoon's hands roamed over your body, exploring the curves and contours of your hips and waist. His fingers played with the hem of your tshirt, as if he was silently asking permission to take it off of you. You nod, his hands wasting no time in peeking the fabric to reveal the lacy black bra you wore beneath.

Your breath caught in your throat as his fingertips traced the delicate lace, sending shivers down her spine.

With deft fingers, Sunghoon unhooked your bra, freeing your breasts. You gasp at the cold air that suddenly hits you. He gazed at them with reverence, his eyes dark with desire. Leaning down, he took one nipple into his mouth, suckling gently while his thumb teased the other. You arch your back at the sensation, moaning softly as waves of pleasure rippled through you.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N," Sunghoon whispered against you skin. "I want to make you feel so good."

Feeling a sudden burst of eagerness, your hands found their way to Sunghoon's belt, unbuckling it with trembling fingers. You undid his jeans and slid your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his hardening cock through his boxers. Sunghoon gasped, his breath hot against your neck, placing a small, wet kiss there as you began to stroke him. “S-shit baby.”

You slip your hand out, guiding Sunghoon towards your bed, you pushed him gently onto the mattress, positions now reversed. You straddled his waist, grinding your hips against his, feeling his erection press against your clothed cunt. His hands roamed over your thighs, inching upwards, exploring the soft skin beneath her shorts that had been driving him insane since the moment he stepped foot inside your house.

With a gentle tug, you lifted your hips as he removed your shorts as well as the cute black panties that matched your bra, revealing your bare pussy, glistening with desire. Sunghoon's eyes darkened further as he took in the sight, his breath coming in short gasps. "You're so wet, Y/N. want to taste you so bad."

“later, you say as you slide down his body, positioning yourself between his legs. You leaned forward, your long hair cascading over your shoulders, as you began to kiss and lick the length of his shaft. Sunghoon groaned, his hands gripping the bedsheets as you took him deep into your mouth, tongue swirling around the head of his cock. “Feels so good baby”

Sunghoon couldn't hold back any longer. He sat up, positioning you on the bed, and parted your thighs with gentle kisses. His tongue traced the outer folds of your pussy, teasing your sensitive skin. You squirmed with pleasure, hips bucking against his face as he found your clit and began to suckle it with relentless passion.

"Oh, Sunghoon!" you cried out, voice hoarse with desire. "Fuck don't stop, please!"

Sunghoon continued his relentless assault on your clit, sending you spiraling towards an intense orgasm “tastes so fucking good, all wet just for me.” Your body trembled, crying out his name as waves of pleasure washed over you. Sunghoon didn't let up, continuing to lick and suck until you were a quivering mess, your body drenched in sweat and satisfaction.

After a few moments to recover, you reached for Sunghoon, pulling him up to kiss him in a more hungry kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, and it drove you wild with desire all over again. "I want you inside me," you whispered between kisses. "Now."

Sunghoon needed no further encouragement. He positioned himself at your entrance, his cock throbbing with anticipation. With one smooth thrust, he filled you completely, eliciting a gasp from your parted lips. you moved in perfect harmony, your bodies slick with sweat as ge fucked you with raw, unbridled passion.

"Harder, baby" you pleaded, nails digging into his shoulders. "fuck me harder.” Sunghoon obliged, pounding into you with abandon, his hips slamming against yours.

The headboard banged against the wall, marking the rhythm of your frantic coupling. your cries filled the room as you rode the waves of pleasure, orgasm building to an intense crescendo.

“Fuck baby your pussys clenching so hard around my cock, im so fucking close.” You could feel his thrusts becoming sloppier, your own orgasm approaching just a quick. “gonna c-cum hoonie.” He couldn't hold back any longer. With a final, powerful thrust, he came deep inside you, his hot cum painting your walls white.

He collapsed onto the bed, bodies entwined, both breathing heavily as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through each of you. “If I would’ve known you’d fuck me that good maybe I would’ve given you a chance much earlier.” You tell him out of breath, eliciting a chuckle from him.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The soft morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a gentle glow in your room. You stirred awake, feeling warmth enveloping you. Sunghoon was nestled beside you, his arm draped protectively around your waist, holding you close. The memory of the night before flooded your mind—the kiss, the confessions, and the spark of something beautiful igniting between you.

You smiled to yourself, feeling a sense of contentment that you hadn’t experienced in a long time. But as you settled deeper into his embrace, a sudden noise from downstairs jolted you from your blissful reverie.

“Y/N, I think your parents are back,” Sunghoon murmured sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he became more alert.

Your heart raced as the reality of the situation hit you. “Oh fuck, They’re not supposed to be back yet” you whispered, panic rising in your chest.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened, and he immediately sat up, glancing around the room. “We need to hurry”

You both scrambled to untangle yourselves from the sheets, adrenaline coursing through you. As you hopped out of bed, you glanced at each other, both of you laughing nervously at the chaotic situation. There was an unspoken agreement—you needed to act casual, like nothing unusual had happened.

“Okay, you get dressed first,” you said, tossing him a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that had been strewn on the floor. “I’ll throw on something too.”

You quickly changed into a comfy hoodie and leggings, your heart still racing as you heard your parents’ voices growing louder downstairs. The last thing you wanted was for them to walk in on you two after the night you just shared.

“Are you ready?” Sunghoon asked, his hair slightly tousled as he pulled on the T-shirt. He looked adorable, and it took everything in you not to linger on how cute he was at that moment.

“Almost!” you replied, giving your reflection a quick check in the mirror before moving to the door. “Let’s go!”

You both rushed down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible, your hearts pounding in your chests. As you reached the bottom step, you could hear your parents chatting in the kitchen, their voices bright and cheerful.

“Y/N, are you home?” your mom called out just as you and Sunghoon entered the living room, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Yeah, Mom! Just hanging out!” you replied, forcing a casual tone, hoping it didn’t sound too forced.

You glanced over at Sunghoon, who was giving you a small, reassuring smile, but you could see the nervousness in his eyes. You both moved into the kitchen, where your parents were unpacking bags, completely oblivious to the whirlwind of emotions that had just taken place in your room.

“Hey, Sunghoon! you’re here,” your dad said, giving him a friendly nod. “Did you keep Y/N entertained while we were gone?”

“Of course!” Sunghoon replied, a little too quickly, his eyes darting to you for a brief moment. “We had a fun movie night.”

You nodded enthusiastically, trying to match his energy. “Yeah, just a normal hangout. Nothing out of the ordinary,” you added, unable to hide the hint of a nervous laugh.

Your mom chuckled, giving you both a knowing look. “You two have always been inseparable. I’m glad you’re spending time together.”

You felt your cheeks flush, and you shot Sunghoon a sidelong glance. He was trying hard not to smile, and it was contagious.

“Did you enjoy the trip?” you asked, hoping to shift the conversation away from the night before.

Your parents launched into stories about their travels, and as you listened, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at Sunghoon. He caught your eye, and you both exchanged a small smile that felt electric, reminding you of the connection you had just started to explore.

As breakfast was prepared, the atmosphere felt relaxed and easy, but your heart raced at the thought of your parents unknowingly interrupting something that had felt so significant. You couldn’t help but feel giddy about the night you had shared, and the prospect of what lay ahead for you and Sunghoon, even as the morning unfolded like any other day.

After breakfast, your parents retreated to the living room to relax, leaving you and Sunghoon to clean up the kitchen. The atmosphere felt light, almost like the calm before a storm as you both exchanged playful banter, your earlier connection still fresh in your minds.

Later that afternoon, you heard a familiar voice ring out from the front door. “Y/N! I’m here!” Yeji called as she burst into the house, her energy immediately filling the space.

You couldn’t help but smile, excitement bubbling up at the sight of your childhood best friend. “Yeji! You’re back!” you exclaimed, rushing to greet her with a hug.

As you pulled away, she looked at you intently, her gaze sweeping over you from head to toe. “You’re glowing, What’s going on with you?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, and you tried to play it cool. “What are you talking about?” you said, attempting to sound nonchalant, but you felt a giddy warmth spread through you.

“Oh, come on” Yeji pressed, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “You look so happy. Are you and sunghoon fianlly together?”

You felt your heart race at the thought. “It’s… complicated,” you said, a shy smile creeping onto your face as you remembered the kiss, the way he made you feel, and the warmth that had lingered long after. “We’re just figuring things out.”

“Just figuring things out?” Yeji exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief. “Y/N, you’re practically radiating happiness, That sounds like a classic ‘we’re together’ situation to me now spill bitch.”

You laughed, unable to suppress the joy bubbling inside you. “I promise, it’s nothing like that! We’re just friends hanging out—well, more than friends, but still… you know.” You were stumbling over your words, and you could feel the warmth of your blush creeping down your neck.

Yeji’s eyes widened, her expression a mix of disbelief and excitement. “Oh my god, did you fuck?” she pressed, bouncing slightly on her heels, clearly thrilled at the prospect.

You don’t say anything, except you give her a knowing look that told her everything she needs to know.

Yeji’s smile grew wider, her excitement infectious. “Fucking finally. I thought you idiots would never figure it out” She grabbed your shoulders, her eyes gleaming. “You have to tell me everything.”

Just then, Sunghoon appeared in the doorway, glancing between the two of you, a bemused smile on his face. “What’s going on in here?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe with an amused expression.

Yeji turned to him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, just catching up on the latest drama. Y/N and I were just talking about how she’s glowing and—”

You quickly interjected, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “We were just talking about… uh, my skincare routine!”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Your skincare routine, huh? Sounds fascinating.”

“Shut up,” you shot back playfully, laughter spilling out. But deep down, you felt a thrill at the thought of your feelings for him becoming more public, shared between friends.

Yeji wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, a teasing smile on her face.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. As Sunghoon joined the conversation, you felt a warmth in your heart, realizing how much you had missed this—how much you had missed him.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You and Sunghoon settled into a rhythm of secrecy and excitement. Every stolen moment felt like a thrilling adventure, each shared smile charged with an energy that left you both breathless. You spent evenings hanging out at parks, grabbing snacks at your favorite convenience store, and reliving old memories. But as your bond deepened, so did the intensity of your feelings.

You both agreed to keep things under wraps for a little while longer, wanting to navigate this new chapter without the pressure of parental expectations looming over you. But sneaking around only added to the thrill, and soon, it became second nature.

One Friday evening, you decided to go on a real date. After all, you had managed to keep things low-key, but you were ready to enjoy being together without the pressure of hiding. You picked a charming little café downtown, a spot you both loved, and as the sun began to set, the place glowed with a warm, inviting ambiance.

You shared a dessert and exchanged playful banter, the world outside fading away. Sunghoon’s laughter felt like music, and each lingering glance seemed to whisper promises of something beautiful. The night was perfect—until it was time to go home.

As you walked down the quiet street, the cool night air wrapping around you, you felt a surge of affection. You turned to Sunghoon, smiling softly, and without thinking, you pulled him into a warm embrace. It felt so right, being close to him, your heart racing at the proximity.

But just as you pulled away, a familiar voice broke the silence. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Startled, you turned to see your parents standing just a few feet away, a mix of surprise and amusement on their faces. Sunghoon’s eyes widened, and you felt your heart drop. “Uh… hey!” you stammered, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

Your mom stepped forward, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “We always knew you two would end up together,” she said, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow playfully.

Sunghoon chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, well, this is a bit unexpected.”

Your dad grinned, stepping beside your mom. “You think we wouldn’t notice the way you two look at each other? You’ve been sneaking around, haven’t you?”

You exchanged glances with Sunghoon, a mix of embarrassment and relief flooding through you. “Okay, maybe a little,” you admitted, unable to hide your smile.

“Just a little?” Yeji suddenly appeared from behind your parents, her arms crossed and an amused look on her face. “I could have told you they were dating from the way they looked at each other!”

Your heart raced, but seeing the warmth in your parents’ eyes eased your nerves. “We just wanted to take our time, you know?” you said, looking up at Sunghoon.

Your mom laughed softly. “You kids and your secrets. We were starting to wonder when you would finally tell us!”

Sunghoon relaxed, a smile spreading across his face. “Sorry for keeping it from you, but we wanted to figure things out first.”

Your dad patted Sunghoon on the back. “You’re a good kid. We’re just happy to see you both happy. Just remember to keep it respectful, alright?”

You nodded vigorously, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders. As you stood there, surrounded by family and friends, you realized how wonderful it felt to share your happiness openly.

Sunghoon looked at you, his expression softening. “Well, I guess the secret’s out,” he said, smiling broadly.

You chuckled, leaning against him, warmth spreading through you. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As you walked home together, hand in hand, you knew this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your lives—one filled with love, laughter, and the promise of many more adventures to come.

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lovscb97 · 7 days ago

Text

tags: park sunghoon x fem!reader, established relationship, size kink, strength kink, bulge kink, d/s dynamics, dom!sunghoon x sub!reader, unprotected sex (plz don’t), breeding kink, creampie, dirty talk, degradation (slut, whore), praise kink?, nicknames (baby, princess, angel, hoonie, etc), slight fluff, lowkey pwp, reader is described to be shorter than hoon and is easy to pick up/throw around, reader is also very down bad for him (aren’t we all), etc

wc: 2.67k

add. notes: hoon won the poll i put out so i present to u my first ever enha work :3 thank u very much to everyone who voted n this will def not be the last enha fic i put out so do not worry there is much to come for hyung line!!! also icon creds to @/v4mpjay :3

. . .

sunghoon doesn’t know how much longer he can take this.

it all started when he began going to the gym regularly, slowly bulking his figure up and feeling himself grow out in his clothes. what used to be his lanky frame that greeted him in the mirror gradually turned into a built man with lean muscles and sharper features, adding to what was already there initially. it wasn’t like this wasn’t what he wanted though, albeit the entire reason why he even started working out in the first place being to improve his health and build better habits for himself, but the outcome wasn’t too bad in itself. he got used to feeling stronger, more lighter on his feet or less out of breath when he climbed the stairs, and it was enjoyable to know that he could lift twice his weight and still feel good as new. in some way, things felt like they were going swell.

that is, until you came into the picture.

now, sunghoon’s always known that you’re small compared to him. even when standing side by side, his height next to yours is a little laughable, though he supposes you’re used to that considering you’ve always been shorter than most of your peers. he’s well aware of how you have to go on your tippy-toes when you guys kiss, and the soft feel of your little hands in his is something that spins in his mind constantly when your fingers lace together. it doesn’t help that you always ask him to fetch your favourite mug from the top cabinet too, his larger physique towering over yours each time he leans over from behind you. he likes to tease you about it, revelling in the way you pout cutely back at him whenever he makes fun of you jokingly despite the small smile playing at your lips, but little do you know about the twisted fantasies breaching his thoughts every moment you spend together. he wonders if you would be disgusted? would you dump him and tell all your friends about what a creepy loser he was? sunghoon can’t help but imagine the worst case scenario, and it would be easy to bury these emotions down the hatchet had it not been for the fact that he’s started to think he is going mad too.

every time sunghoon comes home from the gym, every time he enters your shared apartment, sweat dripping down his forehead and his water-bottle empty, he swears on his dead grandmother that you start checking him out. it doesn’t help that he's always been attentive either, always needlessly easy at picking up the cues of your discomfort when you're outside in a social space for too long, or being able to tell instantly when you're anything other than the happy go lucky girlfriend he usually sees you as. so, when your lingering gaze begins to trail across his arms a little too long whenever he passes your shared bedroom on his way to the shower, or when your mouth opens and closes to swallow before you're pressing your thighs together subtly each time he moves to wipe himself down each time he’s home— it all sparks something in him. it told him to finally, finally indulge in the nasty thoughts he’s kept tucked away to himself once and for all.

except he doesn’t. because at the end of the day, sunghoon is a gentleman. he pulls open the doors for you with nonchalance written all over him despite his burning ears, and he brings you back your memorised coffee order alongside a few sweet treats when he knows you’re on your period. he holds you close when you’re asleep in bed together, rubbing a gentle thumb against the skin of your cheek because he’s aware that’s what it takes for you to fall asleep, and makes sure you know he’s always going to be there for you in any time of need, even if he’s a thousand miles away. he’s never once made you doubt him, never once given you any reason to suspect he could be anything beyond the perfect, storybook written boyfriend he’s always been.

until today, at least.

it was a day like any other, a day where you wouldn’t have expected things to take the turn they took at all. you and sunghoon were tangled up in your lavender sheets with your leg thrown over his, the morning sun streaming through the beige curtains you’d picked out on your ikea date together, and no alarms were intact to disturb you as it was the weekend. that’s probably why you both found yourselves in your current situation, your mouths meeting sloppily for short kisses and your boyfriend’s cock buried to the hilt inside you, thrusting ever so gently every other second as he whispered sweet praises to you between the meshing of your lips. the only sounds heard beyond the chirping of the birds outside your window were your soft moans and his low grunts, alongside the quiet noises of your slick dragging against his dick.

“fuck, baby. you feel so good.” sunghoon mumbles, pressing gentle smooches along the skin of your chin and jaw. you reply back something unintelligible, too lost in the euphoria he’s providing you to even form a coherent answer, which only makes him chuckle. he pulls back to admire your figure underneath him, a smile spreading across his lip at the sight of you laid out oh so pretty and pliant just for him. for him. all for his use. his use and his use only. the eventual thought makes his cock twitch inside you, and sunghoon momentarily slows down his movements in fear he’ll accidentally lose control of himself and fuck you into the sheets. his loss of momentum causes you to whine out loud though, large doe eyes blinking up at him in wonder, almost as if asking what happened, which does not make your boyfriend’s job any easier.

“hoonie, faster.” you beg softly, one hand coming up to grip his shoulder as the other bundles up the duvet underneath you. “please, wan’ it so bad.” sunghoon feels like his resolve is on the brink of snapping at your words, and he quickly resumes his previous pace (albeit still slower than what you wanted but better nonetheless) with gritted teeth, trying to think of something, anything that would distract him from the realisation of how fucking small you look under him, or how soft your hand feels resting on his skin. it doesn’t help that the sounds spewing from your lips are so cute, only spurring him on further to do what he longs to.

“yeah, angel? want it faster? want hoonie to fuck you deeper?” he groans out instead, biting his lip at the sight of you nodding almost instantly to his words. your hole clenches even tighter around him as he speaks to you, and he shudders at the sensation. “shit, don’t do that, princess. might cum too quickly.” he exhales shakily, confused when you shake your head. “don’t care. cum f’me. wanna feel it, please.” you plead almost instantly without thinking, sunghoon’s eyes darkening as the request leaves your mouth. his pace comes to an immediate halt after that, and you make a noise of complaint at the loss of pleasure in your lower region, legs kicking up slightly in protest as you eye your boyfriend who’s currently trying to compose himself above you.

“don’t.. don’t say stuff like that.” sunghoon sighs, eyes closed shut as you cock your head to the side. you’re about to ask him why when he speaks up again. “i won’t be able to hold myself back if you do.” he professes darkly, opening his orbs back up to look deep into yours, his smouldering gaze making you shiver. you involuntary tighten around him at his confession, and he hisses at the feeling, head snapping to look down at you and the blush spreading across your cheeks.

“i-i don’t.. don’t want you to hold back.” you mutter whilst looking away meekly before he can even comment on your actions. you meet his stare again after a beat of silence, but there’s something dark and sinister swimming in it now, and by the time you can even process what it is, he’s suddenly sheathing himself back into your warm walls, plowing into you with a heightened pace as if this is the last time he’ll ever get to fuck you. your moans tumble out of your mouth before you can even stop them, and you swear you hear sunghoon growl at the way you keen from his movements.

“yeah? don’t want me to hold back? want me to absolutely destroy this wet cunt with my cock? ruin it for everybody else and mould it to the shape of my dick?” he grunts, a smirk spread across his face as you wildly nod at his words. “what, too fucked out to speak now, baby? where’s that confidence from before, hm?” you whimper at his condescending tone, the noise travelling straight to his core as he curses, continuing to plunge himself deep into you. the tip of his cock brushes against that spongey spot inside you, and you cry out when he angles his thrusts to hit it each time he drives inside your pussy.

“who knew you were such a slut, huh baby? tell me, how long have you wanted me to spread you open and fuck you like i hated you?” sunghoon pants, tongue lolling out to lick at the sweat gathering on your neck. “s-so long, hoonie!” you mewl in response, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he bites down on your skin. “wanted you to— hnng, wanted you to bend me over and throw me around so bad!” sunghoon laughs breathlessly at your answer.

“yeah, pretty? want me to use my big arms and toss you onto the bed? you should’ve told me sooner that you were such a whore.” you clench at the degrading name, and sunghoon almost stumbles into you at the sudden jolt of shock. “would’ve done everything you wanted me to. wanted it just as bad as you, did ya know that?” he grits out, pace unrelenting and unforgiving as he proceeds to pound into you. “you’re so fucking small, baby. makes me so goddamn hard every time i think about it. just want to, oh fuck— want to hold you down and make you take it.”

“do it! do it, hoonie, please do it! make me take it, i wan’ take it for you.” you sob, and sunghoon physically feels the last of his self restrain break in half. he’s far too fucked out now to go back to his old ways, far too gone in the dizziness of making you feel good. his only goal now is to make you cum violently around him, and he’ll stop at nothing to achieve that. “gonna do it, baby. just wait, gonna fuck you so dumb, you’ll be begging me to stop.” he pauses momentarily to grab at the plush of your thigh and tosses your leg over his shoulder, resuming his past actions in the blink of an eye as you cry out at the change. he hits deeper, more harsh this way, and you swear you can feel him battering your cervix with each thrust delivered to your abused cunt.

“fuck, look at that.” sunghoon laughs in disbelief, his eyes fixed on the slightly evident bulge of his cock thrusting in and out of you in your stomach. “taking my cock so well, princess. you gonna cum for me soon, yeah? gonna cum for hoonie and make a mess of me?” he coos at the way you’re drooling, swiping a thumb up to wipe at the spit leaking out of your mouth before sucking it off, the visual of it only making you whine even more. by now, the bed is stained with your leaking arousal, but neither of you care, especially not when he involuntarily moves his hand to press down on your stomach. his movements only cause you to double over in pleasure, and before either of you know it, you’re shaking through an orgasm, thrashing and wailing as tears stream down your face.

“shit, shit, shit! that’s so hot, oh fuck.” sunghoon moans. “you did so well, angel. did so fucking good for me, you deserve a reward, don’t you? don’t you, my baby?” he rambles, and you whine in overstimulation as his thrusts grow more frantic and misplaced when he begins chasing his own release. “get ready, princess, ‘m gonna fill you up. gonna breed you so, so good and make you take it, yeah? you’ll take it, won’t you? take it so good for me like you always do.” by this point, you’re both trembling and whining out loud, sunghoon pistoning his hips into you as he desperately fixes to cum. he can feel the pressure building up, his balls tightening with each harsh thrust he delivers inside of you, and you’re more than ready to feel him ooze out of you, encouraging words spilling from your lips.

“do it, hoonie! do it, please! make me full and fuck it back into me. i’ll take it so good, so good, please baby, please.” you’re babbling by now, too fucked out to think let alone speak, but your words seem to send sunghoon over the edge because by the time you’re even halfway through your sentence, he’s shooting ropes inside of you, painting your walls white with his seed. there’s so much of it that it almost leaks out despite his cock keeping you plugged up, and you watch his beautiful face contort in pleasure, eyebrows furrowed and eyes clenched shut as he continues filling you up.

“fuck..” sunghoon sighs out once he’s come down from his high, looking down to grip his cock and pull it out slightly only to push it back in when your cunt gushes with his release, causing him to bite his lip at the sinful sight. you whine when he moves back into you, his large arms caging your smaller frame in as he leans down to pepper salty kisses all over your face. “my good girl.” he whispers, slightly collapsing on top of you to catch his breath. his weight on you feels comforting, almost natural as you wrap your tired arms around his back tightly, pressing your bodies together even more than they already are to feel closer and connected to him.

“i didn’t know you were into that.” sunghoon speaks up after a moment of silence, causing you to open your eyes and look at him. he moves so he’s laying on his side, cock still keeping you plugged up despite the awkward position. “into what?” he deadpans at your reaction, and you giggle. “c’mon, babe. you can’t seriously look like that and expect me to not be feral for you.” you smile, and sunghoon huffs out a laugh, spooning an arm around you as he pulls your body closer to his warm one. “still, who knew my girl was so freaky?” you swat at him, and his chest rumbles with laughter, the sound sending an odd pool of warmth flowing through your chest. you both lay there in silence after that, basking in each other’s presence and enjoying the serenity and afterglow which comes from what was quite literally the best sex of your lives.

“i love you.” you hear sunghoon mumble suddenly, his voice drowsy as he yawns cutely, a large grin spreading on your face at the simple three words which leave him. you reach out for his hand, lacing your small fingers in it before bringing it up to your mouth and pressing a kiss to the back. “love you more, hoonie.” you sigh out in satisfaction, eyes slipping shut slowly as sleep welcomes your tired senses.

you gradually drift off, thoughts filled with sweet dreams of your boyfriend and his precious laughter.

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

#✰ sunny's oneshots!#park sunghoon #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enha smut #sunghoon

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peachysunrize · 4 months ago

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Insolent wench ⥃ Prince Regent!Aemond

Summary: when he finds the master of whispers’ daughter in the council room in the dead of the night playing with the marble ball he gave to Aegon earlier, the dragon in him is ready to burn or succumb to her.

Pairing: prince regent!Aemond Targaryen x Larys Strong’s daughter reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Dark content -> manipulation & blackmail! Dark!reader even a bit of dubcon, virginity loss, virgin!reader, degrading, rough sex, spanking, pussy slapping, breeding, fingering, porn with little plot, ehem using the ball as a toy, Larys’ daughter has zero description, English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 3.07k+

A/n: thank you @namelesslosers for giving me this dynamic idea & thank you @sylasthegrim for beta reading this for me🥹 Happy rough fucking with Aemond everyone🤭 Reblogs & comments are most appreciated!💕 also I was too lazy to make an aesthetic moodboard for my fic lol

He lurks in the corridors of the Keep that lead to the Small Council room. It has become his little secret, a routine he has always longed to have, and now, after months of yearning, he finally has it.

The halls are silent, and the sound of every step he takes echoes within the walls. Aemond walks with Blackfyre attached to his hip, the heavy weight of the Valyrian steel makes him smirk. Truly, he has never felt an emotion so deeply rooted inside him that makes the hair on his nape rouse, but now being the regent and the protector of the realm does it for him.

He stops for a moment when he finds the door to the council’s room ajar, the flickering of the candlelight visible from outside. He has never encountered anyone at such an hour, everyone has to be abed, except for the guards who are the ones that aren’t found anywhere near this room.

He takes a cautious step towards the door, hearing the sound of a low humming coming from inside. He reaches for Aegon’s dagger, fingers wrapping around the hilt as he pushes the door open slowly, his good eye skimming the room only to find someone’s back to him, leaning over the table and playing with his marble ball.

“A fine night, is it not, my Prince Regent?” you ask him, your back still to him as you fidget with the ball on the table, walking towards the King’s chair with a sway in your hips.

“What is your business here, Lady Strong?” he asks, letting go of the dagger before he locks his hands behind his back, walking towards his previous seat at the end of the marble desk.

He watches you closely, his good eye following your every move as you sit down on his chair at the head of the table, rolling the ball between your fingers as you look up from the ball to him slowly.

“I am disheartened by your words to my father,” you say, leaning back on the chair while your thumb rubs over the smooth surface of the marble ball in your hand, “he has served the King and your grace faithfully.”

Aemond doesn’t move from his spot, staring solely at your fingers as they rub and caress what belongs to him. He listens carefully, though he is not sure what good it might come out of conversing with a lady like you at such an hour.

“Your father sought power when he already had more than he deserved,” he replies, taking prolonged steps towards you, stopping at Tyland Lannister’s empty chair, “my council is no place for cunning rats like him.”

You chuckle, leaning your head on the back of the chair with a smirk tugging on the corner of your mouth, and it irritates Aemond to no end to see you finding such immense joy in tormenting him—even though you have not really started yet.

You were always such a strange lady to him; so much like your father in the sense that you stopped at nothing to obtain what you wanted".He has heard tales of your rebellious nature in the court, always listening and bothering the royals with your remarks, but they have failed to tell him about your blinding beauty.

“I thought you were ruling in your brother’s stead while he recovers, my prince,” you say, pushing the ball until it starts rolling towards where Aemond stands, “allegedly, this is his council, not yours.”

“Yet your father assumed he’d be my Hand, not my brother’s,” he moves the ball on the table as he walks towards Orwyle’s seat, his gaze never leaving yours, “it does make me wonder how hungry both he and you are for the attention of the royals, my lady.”

“Oh, you have mistaken my motives, your grace,” you stand up, stepping on the opposite side of him, matching his pace as he rounds the table with confidence until he’s standing behind the King’s chair, “I am not here to seek power or the attention of the royals, no. I am here to tell you that sometimes you need to think before you utter some words; ugly rats like my father as you said, tend to thrive on them, best is to learn how to say those words without causing a problem.”

“Mind your tongue, little girl,” Aemond spits out the words, closing his fingers around the ball tightly before he strides towards you purposefully with a tinge of fury in his steps.

“Not little, my prince,” you match his tone, standing where you are until he is right in front of you, the purple of his eye now fully gone as darkness seeps through his iris, “certainly older than you. I reckon you like older women, given your rendezvous to the brothel and all.”

His hand comes up to grip your jaw, squishing your cheeks harshly as he looms over you, his face inches away from yours as his nostrils flare in anger.

“Watch yourself, insolent wench. You are in no position to drag my name in the dirt. Your father tried, and look where he is now—called a Toad by me, dismissed as my Hand and ready to fetch Otto Hightower like a dog,” he says through gritted teeth, his nails digging into your face as he leans closer, his hot breath hitting your lips.

“Your name is already filthy by your own hands. You and Larys Strong have more in common than you think; both kinslayers—“ he cuts you off by spinning you away from him, pushing you down on the table roughly by his large palm on your back.

“Filthy whores like you should be executed in the muddy streets of Flea Bottom and their heads parading around the city on a spike,” he presses himself against your back, his crotch rubbing against your skirt, “Lucky for you, I know how to treat girls like you.”

“I assumed His Grace took no pleasure in taking whores,” you laugh with a jab in your tone at him, “I would love to see how you treat them though. Your brother is the one with tales of his masterful bedding, not you.”

“Tormenting me at the hour of the wolf has severe consequences which I will deliver to you accordingly, Strong,” he groans against your ear, reaching for his dagger to tear through the fabric of your dress, the remaining layers falling on the floor with ease. “Punishment or not, you will learn you shall never wake the dragon for you will burn and the only thing that will remain is your ashes.”

Your small clothes join your ruined dress on the floor, leaving you bare and dripping to the Prince Regent’s eye, devouring the sight of your flesh like a man starved.

The moan that slips from your lips when you feel something cold against your heated cunt is shameless, just like the sound a whore in the Street of Silk would make.

Aemond starts rubbing your buzzing pearl with the marble ball between his fingers, his breathless laugh against the shell of your ear only makes the feeling of the coldness against your most vulnerable part much stronger.

“You were playing with my property, now I shall use it to make you a property of mine as well,” he whispers, his teeth sinking in the flesh of your neck as he moves the ball faster, your juices flowing down on the cold stone in his hand.

You realize you have awakened the beast within him as he quickens his movements, one hand pinning you to the table and the other rubbing the bundle of nerves furiously, tightening the knot in your core. You fist your hands, nails digging into your palm as your breathing turns into panting.

“It is in your blood it seems, to enjoy having the attention of someone who can easily snap your neck in half,” he mumbles more to himself than you, pleased with how shaky you have become, “you see, insolent wenches like you should be put in their place. How fortunate you are to be under my care.”

As soon as you feel your breaking point, he takes away the ball from your cunt, making you whine and arch your back in protest. He chuckles darkly, bringing the ball to your lips before he orders you to suck and clean the ball off your juices.

“My Prince—“

“Go on, you tart, show your prince how much of a power-hungry slut you are, maybe I will reconsider naming your father as my Hand.”

You comply, licking your nectar off the cold marble, humming at the taste. Aemond knows these games, at least he knew them with the little education he had in the brothels, but you? You are a different kind of lady, a master in disguise. It irritates and arouses him to no end.

Aemond lets go of the stone, bringing his palm down on your arsecheek roughly, making you yelp in surprise. He repeats his action, slapping your backside one more on the same spot he did a few seconds ago.

You whine in pain and unbelievable pleasure as the sting of his hand spreads through your flesh, a deep primal desire rushing to your aching pussy. He looks down to find you wetter than before, and the sight makes him almost lose his self-restraint, almost.

You wrap your hand around the ball tightly, crying out when you feel the impact of another spank not on your bottom but on your cunt. The pain mixes with an undeniably overwhelming pleasure that has you biting your lip, not wishing to give him the satisfaction. He senses it anyway and hears the muffled scream as he lands another slap on your swollen folds with a sinister smile.

“I wonder if your father knows of your whereabouts, his daughter ready to be turned into his future king’s whore,” he brings two of his fingers to his mouth, covering them with his spit before he reaches down to play with your pussy, no patience left in him as he thrusts his fingers inside you, groaning at the feel of your warmth.

You do not have the chance to tell him about your maidenhead, and with how fast he is moving his fingers, you can no longer think of it as an issue — your plans are falling into the right path.

Your mind has turned into a mush with how luscious his fingers feel inside you, not a foreign feeling but his fingers are much longer and thicker than you and reach deeper inside you, having you moaning and clawing the table.

“It only takes a few fingers to have your mouth shut, Lady Strong. I wonder what you’d do when I have my cock deep in your cunt,” he leans down to lick at your cheek, his fingers moving faster as he presses his bulge to your thigh. This time, he doesn’t pull away and keeps his pace up, curving his digits to hit your sweet spot rapidly, bringing you closer to your high.

“My prince, please—“

“That’s it, Strong, give it to me,” he groans out the words, resting his forehead on the side of your face. He hums as soon as you start shaking and tightening around his fingers, gushing your wetness on him.

He doesn’t kiss you, no, he just licks over your lips as you moan and part them in pure delight, seeing stars as your peak rocks your body forward.

“Fuck it, I need to be buried inside you, seeing for myself how the real blood of Strongs feels like,” he says, biting your cheek as he pulls his fingers out, wiping them on the red handprint on your bottom before reaching for his doublet, unbuttoning it and pulling his linen undershirt out of his leather pants. His fingers unlace his trousers quickly, pushing them and his breeches down enough for his cock to spring free.

He aligns his leaking tip with your soaked entrance, filling you to the hilt with one swift snap of his slim hips. Aemond groans, your wet pulsating walls enveloping his length in a delicious way that not even Sylvie has made him feel.

His hands make a home on your hips as soon as he starts thrusting his cock at a fast bruising pace, not letting you adjust to how his girth stretches your walls more than you thought you’d expect. Your maidenhead is now gone, you can feel his tip licking at the head of your womb, nudging it with each snap of his hips to yours.

Aemond cannot take his eye off of the way his cock disappears inside you, coated with your essence and wetness as he fucks you with abandon, his brain foggy with a desire he has only felt while burning his brother and killing his nephew—you are special in his eye, you awaken the dragon within him, insolent wench as he so likes to call you.

Your hands grow clammy, and the ball falls from your grasp with Aemond’s rough hammering, rolling on the table until it falls on the floor, making a loud uncomfortable noise that matches your unladylike moans and gasps in pleasure.

“You can’t even hold a fucking ball in your hands, Strong. Is your father as weak as you? Will he succumb to me the way you have with just a cock inside your tight pretty cunt?”

It is you who has succumbed to me, you think to yourself as coherent as your thoughts can get without the feeling of him overwhelming your senses. You nod mindlessly, thinking of how he has fallen into your trap so easily.

He comes hard, his hip bones pushing your plush thighs to the rough edges of the council’s table, filling you to the brim with his royal seed. Aemond’s head is thrown back, groaning at your name as his cock twitches inside you, the final ropes of his warm cum painting your walls.

“What have you done?” you ask shakily, faking terror as you try to push him away from you,

“what— how could you, my prince?”

“What?” he asks dumbfounded, pulling his now softened cock out of you, looking at you with his mind now sharper than before, “what are you saying, my lady?”

“Which lord will now take me as his bride? I am—may the Seven help me— I am tainted! I-I cannot find a husband, m-my maidenhead!”

“You…” Aemond’s voice falters, “you were… you were still a maiden?”

“I was! How crude you have to be to sully my name like a- like the whores you visit? I cannot believe you—“

“Wait!” he tries to reach for you, his lips parted in sheer surprise and terror as you push away from him, nearly dropping on his knees, “My Lady, we should have a word—“

“No!” You fix your dress as best as you could, shaking your head as you run away from him, opening the doors without even looking at him, leaving him shocked and confused with his soft dick out, looking like a deer caught by the hunters.

With so little sleep, Aemond walks through the same hallways he took last night, waltzing inside the small council with a pulsating heart. His eye finds Larys alone in the room, humming as he plays with the marble ball you — his daughter — were playing with last night.

“My Prince Regent,” Lord Larys stands up and bows, “what a lovely day, do you not think so?”

“Lovely morrow indeed,” Aemond says, sitting at the head of the table, glaring at Larys who rolls his marble ball from side to side, “state your mind or leave me.”

“My daughter, Your Grace,” Larys sighs, a ghost of a smirk finding its way onto his face, “she was… in a not-so-pleasant state for her status when she sought me out.”

“What of her?” Aemond tries to remain unbothered, but he knows there is a scheme going on that his intelligence could not pick up on last night.

“She said you forced yourself upon her,” Larys drops the ball on the floor as he locks his hand on the table, his eyes meeting Aemond’s, glaring at him with newfound confidence, “that no Lord will take her now, that you have tainted and impured my daughter!”

“I assure you, my good Lord, that is a lie. Your daughter was the one who made me do it—“ he tries to reason with him, but Larys has none of it.

“So you admit that you yielded to your desires and took my daughter’s innocence! How wild, how disgusting! To know I wished to be in your council—“

“‘Mind your tongue, Lord Larys. I do not care if you are to leave the Keep, but you will not talk to me as if I’m lesser than I was before!” Aemond’s voice booms through the room, slamming his fist on the table as he stands up.

“You are a lesser man, Prince Aemond. A man who gave into his desires and used his power over a helpless noble woman…”

“What is it you wish for me to do? I have not forced myself upon your daughter, she partook in the act willingly if not more enthusiastically than me.” Aemond’s breathing changes and his knuckles turn white as he tries to stop himself from doing something he would surely regret.

“She was crying in my arms last night—“

“Name it and it is yours!” Aemond yells at him, walking to grab Larys by his collar, “You want me to name you my Hand? I will. But in return, you shall keep your mouth shut.”

“You are in no position to tell me what to do, my prince,” Larys calms down a bit, knowing the plan he and you have made has been done perfectly, “you will make me your Hand, and you will marry my daughter in a fortnight.”

“Not acceptable! We will lose Baratheons’ support!” Aemond shoves Larys back on his seat before he starts pacing, “You are my Hand from now on, and I will arrange a good match for your daughter.”

“No, she will be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, or I will taint your reputation the way you have done to my daughter.”

Rest assured, Larys Strong’s only child married the former Prince Regent and now the King in a fortnight with a lavish feast thrown for her.

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond smut #aemond x you #prince regent aemond #rue:smut #rue:darkcontent #aemond x dark!reader #hotd x you #hotd smut

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oldmenthusiast · 21 days ago

Text

18+ content mdni

bookshop owner!joel miller x fem plus size reader

warnings: smut, age gap, tension, reader is in her 20s and joel in his 50s, semi public sex, reader wears glasses, not proofread

it takes many job interviews for joel to hire someone until he finds you. you're not the first young thing to apply for the job, not the most qualified either but joel likes how modest you are.

he also likes the way you avoid his gaze if he stares too long, or how you keep pushing your glasses every time they slide down your nose.

those aren't the only things he notices about you because he's become very observant due to his age; it definitely doesn't have to do with some strange infatuation over you, no.

when your hands firmly pull your sundress down if it's too windy, when you smack your own forehead if you mix up the order of the books before switching them again. joel notices that too but it doesn't necessarily mean anything.

“I’ve taken care of the online orders, mister miller.” you inform him as sweet as ever and joel’s crooked smile appears on instinct.

“thank you, sweetheart. you know how people my age are with those machines.”

you're kind enough to shake your head at his response.

“I think you're doing great,sir.” you tell him and it warms his cold heart to the core.

“go home, sugar. I'll close up soon.” he mutters with the same half smile and watches you go but not without wishing him a good day.

during peak season, the bookshop gets naturally busy but to the point where joel and you have to stay overtime.

he doesn't ask it of you but you insist.

“I can't let you do all that by yourself.” you mutter with a faint pout that he wants to kiss away.

“can’t pay you for overtime,sugar—”

“just let me do this for you,sir.” you cut him off and joel doesn't argue further.

that's how his following nights go. you sit together in the back of the store, tons of books and papers surrounding you as you work. you assist him with every single thing he needs and even if you lack knowledge in some parts, you learn it for him.

peak season ends, the bookshop is quiet and your shift ends but you somehow still sit at the back of the store instead of going home. joel sits across you while holding a bottle of beer in his hand.

“a girl your age should go out with friends and have fun, not rot in here with me.” joel tells you with a hint of amusement in his tone.

even if he's right, you do not agree.

“I like it here, it's peaceful..” you explain and as usual your gaze doesn't linger on his. you look away when joel doesn't and it makes the man smile.

“I like it too.” he mutters after a while and tips his head back to down the rest of his beer.

there's hidden intent behind his reply, or maybe just the feeling of wanting to say something more, but joel keeps quiet. whether you notice it or no, you don't say.

joel doesn't pride himself to be the best boss but at least he's a good enough one. that's what he tells himself when your most recent ex partner marches in his bookshop to cause a scene but joel sends him back with a bruised eye and some vulgar words.

it's probably the first time someone has stood up for you like that but it's more special because it comes from joel.

whether it's out of gratitude or suppressed emotions, joel thanks whatever high power has led him to the back of the store again with his body slumped on his chair and you straddling his lap.

“mister miller.” you moan as you sink down his cock, taking him inch by inch until you're fuller than ever.

his calloused hands wrap around your plush thighs and fondle the skin greedily, loving how it spills between his fingers. whatever you're not proud of, joel touches it like it's a treasure.

“I’m a man, not a boy.” he growls when you hesitate to move on him, afraid of crushing him beneath your weight. “fuck yourself on my cock, baby. come on.” one of his hands slaps your ass possessively and his words alone are good enough to give you the confidence that you lack.

once you start moving, it's over for him.

his thighs flex beneath your weight and his cock twitches within you as you ride him, taking him in so perfect.

“so good. my sweet girl. my favourite girl.” he whispers against your cheek and you melt while swaying your hips faster.

his hands clutch harder at your thighs as you bounce on his cock, buzzing with heat and need for more.

the sound of skin slapping, as well as the wet noises that emit with each slide of joel’s hardened cock inside your folds makes everything better. “so wet. you're coating my cock with it, sugar.” he says through gritted teeth as his fingers dig harder into the skin of your ass.

he slaps it once, then twice.

“mister miller!” you cry out when a particularly hard thrust is delivered straight into your sweet spot.

joel buries his face into your neck and grunts as your walls tighten around his cock, claiming his every inch. “so sensitive. bet your boyfriend didn't know how to fuck like this.” and he's probably right by the way your pussy drools and squeezes around him, sucking him in for more.

his lips find your neck and he marks it unapologetically, biting and sucking on whatever skin his mouth can reach.

when he pulls away and presses his back against the creaking chair he's graced by a sight better than any other.

joel watches you ride him, stares as your tits bounce before his face and your crooked glasses struggle to exist because of the force of his thrusts below you.

he definitely can't last long after that and he uses his strength to shove you on the table and tower over you. only then does he realize the pathetic state of your sundress, butchered up around your waist like it's a belt. he slides his cock inside you again and you whimper softly.

“knew you were made for me ever since you walked through that door.” joel growls while fondling your breasts with both hands, his mouth merely occupied with the tender skin on them.

your hands reach for him, gripping the back of his shirt as he fucks you. you're not used to being given things, only to give them yourself. and this much pleasure is overwhelming but it's good because it's joel giving it.

a particular shift of his hips helps him to slide deeper and the sensation causes you both to moan in unison.

“I won’t last, sweet girl.” he croaks between the space of your breasts while sucking one of your nipples into his mouth.

you can say the same as the stimulation brings you closer to the edge and your eyes can barely stay open at some point.

his hips follow a fast and intrusive pace, and every time joel’s hips collide against the back of your thighs it makes your skin jiggle. you feel embarrassed but not for long as joel drags his lips against yours.

“the prettiest girl. there's nothing better than you, sweetheart.” joel whispers and you kiss him before he does.

your mouths melt so perfectly, your noses brushing intimately, and if joel could bring you any closer he would.

“there.” you beg against his lips when the tip of his cock hits that perfect spot within you.

“here?” he asks teasingly and makes his thrusts purposely rougher. your legs shake around him and he does it again. and again. and again.

the bookshop is filled with your cries and begging. “i’m coming— I can't—” you mumble incoherently but joel gets it as he speeds it up.

you watch his hand disappear between your bodies and you don't question it until you feel that excellent brush of fingers against your clit, accompanied by his savage thrusts into your weeping pussy.

“joel.” his informal name falls off your lips so well and he has to remind himself to breath when you say it as you come around his cock with a cry.

it takes everything in him to not spill everything within you right there.

“where? where, baby?” he asks as he grounds his hips and hopes you'll get it.

“I'm on the pill.” you so graciously tell him while squeezing your thighs around his waist and joel nearly says thank you because of what a desperate bastard he is.

it only takes a few more thrusts for him to let go and come inside you, his hands abandoning your breasts to pull you down by your hips.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel every drop pour into you and fill you up. it briefly shocks you that he's still coming — he's still filling you up with his seed and groaning against you.

“there’s so much.” you mutter breathlessly as he nuzzles his face against yours. joel simply hums and uses one of his hands to caress the bare side of your hip, keeping you relaxed.

“we’re not opening tomorrow.” he tells you in his usual tone of authority.

“it’s thursday.” you tell him.

“good day to go out and eat,yeah?” joel pulls back enough to look at you and he stares at you knowingly. his words bring a smile to your lips, one that he wants to treasure forever.

you nod then, giving him your acceptance.

“yeah. it is a good day to eat out.” his hand moves from your hip to fix your crooked glasses with a fond expression. the glint in his eyes speaks louder than any sentence.

“maybe you should keep your calendar empty for this month. or year.” his words amuse you but you're aware that it's far from a joke — he isn't asking. your eyes regard him as gently as always and you smile that way just for him. “yes mister miller.”

he was glad to have hired you.

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x plus size reader #joel miller x plus size reader #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal x y/n

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multimilfs · 20 days ago

Text

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader x Rio Vidal: The Prize

Summary: Agatha has been fighting to reclaim her prize from Rio for a long time.

AO3

Included: dark themes, lesbian drama & yearning, near-death experiences, smut; biting, orgasm denial, praise kink, degradation, s&m, blood, fingering, cunnilingus, use of pet names, begging

Words: 9.7k

Tag List: @multifandomfix @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @escapetodreamworld @white--lillies @imtrashinflames

1750

Glowing hands press over the seeping wound, magic swirling around them, diving inside. There’s no satisfaction of watching the flesh knit itself back together. Instead, your magic drifts right back out like smoke.

Oh Goddess.

“Do take your time.” Agatha snaps, voice strained, “I have absolutely no plans.”

Five types of poison are immune to tangible magic. You know antidotes for three. Staring hard at the wound, you look for the blackened edges consistent with Nightrot, finding the flesh as red and irritated as to be expected. Is it swelling or screaming that goes with Alewife’s Revenge? A glance up at her face finds it normal. Her lips are pursed.

Your hands shake, one hovering over the open wound in her middle, the other clutching your head. Remembering has never mattered more so why is your mind empty? Pieces of information slip through your fingers like sand. Dozens of cadavers, hundreds of hours of study; useless.

Unable to rely on your memory, you scramble across the floor for the dagger that’d flown from the wall. The little light coming from the boarded windows prompts the metal to glint. The edge of the blade is sticky with blood, beneath it a metallic sheen that can only be a witches poison. You hold it up to the slant of light to see the color.

“Are you out of your mind? Heal me!”

You drop the dagger the second the poison glints purple. You slap your hand over your mouth, panic beginning to course through your veins; the body’s own special brand of poison.

How are you going to tell her?

“I’m trying!” You snap, voice breaking.

It’s a cruel joke that the poison should be so well matched to the witch bearing its effects. You stare at the edge as it rocks from being dropped, your stomach turning when the color doesn’t change. If only you could be wrong this once.

Were you a lesser witch, you’d curl in a little ball and quail under the weight of your failures. The idea is seductive. Yet, you turn to Agatha where she lies, pale and sweating on the floorboards. The pallor of her skin makes you whimper.

“Agatha,” You start, your voice holding just enough, “it’s Saura’s Dread.”

Things click into place behind her eyes despite the glazed-over look to them. She fights to find a way out of this, but you know well that the reality cannot be avoided.

“Give it to me. You’re wrong.”

“I know poisons better than most.” You hand the dagger over anyway.

“That’s not saying much.”

The comment stings, but you let it slide off you. You cannot give into petty squabbles now. With so little time to find a solution, you have to focus.

She stares hard at the blade as if willing it to change.

“Brew the antidote.”

“I can’t.” You whisper.

There’s a flicker of something in her gaze that looks suspiciously like rage. Your own internal fire leaps to meet it; of all the emotions to look upon you with—rage? As if this is your fault? You’re not the one that dragged her into this old cabin, intent on sifting through the contents.

It’s not your fault. You know that as the truth. Yet, shame floods you.

“You’re a healer.” Agatha spits, “What good are you if you don’t know the antidote?”

“Someone didn’t let me stay with my coven long enough to learn it!”

“The next time someone tries to keep you from me, I’ll let them.”

The fire in your chest ebbs. An old argument at an inconvenient time. There will be no rough makeup sex following this argument, no unspoken apologies in Agatha’s kisses. All the time, all the bodies; they cannot be for nothing. They mean too much.

Fleetingly, you feel pity for your old coven. In their minds they had attempted to do the right thing. Keeping you from Agatha must have seemed reasonable. But you remember how many bodies they made, how pleased it made Her.

Saura’s Dread takes its victim within six hours. This, you know confidently. The demise is slow and painful, a poison intended for torture. You can’t stand to see Agatha in this kind of pain. You’re not ready for her to be just another body.

“I’m calling Her.” You say.

“No.” Agatha counters, “She’ll never let me live it down.”

“You won’t live down anything if you’re dead, Agatha.”

“I won’t die.”

She’s an idiot.

Magic flowing into your fingertips, you trace familiar symbols on the floor. They glow bright and then dim as they wait. Around your neck sits an old, jagged bone, tied by a thread; you use the end of said bone to split your palm and drip blood over the symbols.

Agatha’s mouth is moving, but you don’t listen. You mutter the incantation in latin under your breath. The words—old and comforting—curl your tongue in ways that you’ve only known between two pairs of legs. You end the incantation with the key that gets you around the waiting list; Her name, Her true name.

There’s a blinding flash of light and a puff of fog, but the symbols contain it. You catch the glint of white teeth.

“You rang?”

Rio smiles, clad in darkness and bone and that same beauty that always stops you in your tracks. Upon seeing her, you breathe easier.

“We need your help.”

“You wouldn’t have called so formally if it was quality time you wanted.” Amusement dances in her eyes.

She eyes the symbols on the floor. They no longer glow, but still they contain her. She scuffs a foot along them.

You smudge the symbols and the containment drops. Stepping over the magic as it sinks down into the earth, she catches you by the waist and devours you; lips and teeth and tongue dominating your own, leaving you helpless to do anything but give in. And you’re all too willing to do so.

When she pulls back, you’re breathless. Somewhere in the fray your lip has begun to bleed. Rio soothes her tongue over the wound and you feel it close.

“Hand.”

You offer the demanded appendage, palm up. She places a kiss in the center and licks the blood from her lips.

Rio turns her head to where Agatha has dragged herself to sit against the wall. The rise and fall of her chest is slow, but there. She glares at the two of you. You flush while Rio grins.

“Hi, sweetheart. You look like shit.” Rio says, delighted.

“A side effect.” Agatha grits out, “The same can’t be said for you.”

Rio tilts her head back and laughs. It’s deep and rich and fills you with thoughts that are not appropriate for this situation. The hand on your waist squeezes as if she knows. Then, she releases you.

She crosses to crouch before Agatha, devious smile shifting to something softer. One of her hands works through a lock of Agatha’s hair, brushing it out of her face.

“What did you get yourself into?”

Agatha’s eyes drop to Rio’s lips, but she stays silent.

“Saura’s Dread.” You choke out, shame winding itself tight inside you, “I don’t—I can’t brew the antidote.”

You should have done more to push off Agatha’s agenda; just so you would have finished your research. A few extra days wouldn’t have hurt. They would’ve infuriated Agatha—and Rio by extension—but then you would know the solution instead of watching her slowly wither away.

Rio doesn’t look away from Agatha, but you know the soothing tone is for you, “It’s okay.”

Something passes between the two that you miss. One moment, Rio holds Agatha’s face in her hand, while Agatha—hesitantly—leans into the contact. The next Rio is standing between the two of you, toying with her knife, all business.

You feel a chill pass through you at the unfamiliar territory; staring into Rio’s eyes and finding the affection buried away. It stings more than knowing how you’ve failed.

“You’re asking me for life in a bottle.” Rio says, grinning, “What do I get in return?”

Short of knowing that Rio would fix it should you ask, you find yourself shamefully bereft of anything with value. You search the space for anything to bargain with. Agatha’s eyes should be looking at you with knowing, but her gaze doesn’t leave Rio.

When Agatha tilts her head and grins, turning on the bedroom eyes, you pause.

“What you’ve wanted for years.” Agatha says, “Brew me a little potion and you can have her all to yourself.”

Rio’s brows shoot sky high. You tilt your head, then freeze. It’s you. Agatha’s bargaining you.

There should be a sweetness in knowing you’re the only thing of value she has to offer, yet the taste is sour on your tongue. The words feel like a punishment, a reprimand—and not the kind you’ve begged at her feet for. That awful part of you would rather Agatha die than ever willingly give you up and Rio eyes you as if she knows it. Does it please her to know how they’ve twisted you?

One mistake, you think bitterly, and Agatha throws in the towel. Despite all the near-death experiences you’ve endured at her side. Despite the years you’ve spent together. You never expected a punishment of this proportion.

You bite your tongue. At your sides, your fists clench and unclench. They glow with the anger you can’t keep hidden.

Pride rears its unhelpful head and you speak before you can stop to think, “My life for Agatha’s.”

Rio’s full attention is on you, then. Her eyes are bright.

You speak directly to her, “I’m bound to you and The Road until such time as Agatha traverses it to collect me.”

Had you not been so focused on Rio, you would have noticed Agatha flinch at your suggestion. Her wide, glassy eyes stare at you. You do not give her the satisfaction of your attention. If she is going to be cruel, so can you.

Your terms are a challenge; and Agatha doesn’t turn down a challenge.

Her devious, wicked mask clicks back into place. Rio’s expression is pensive. Despite the poison working through her system, Agatha almost looks as powerful as her best day.

“You’d let me steal her away, O Death?” Agatha teases.

The comment is salt in your open wound. You glare, wishing more than anything that you could wrap your hands around her pretty neck and squeeze. You want her not only to beg—but to apologize.

But Rio’s eyes haven’t left you for a second.

“Alright, sweetheart.” Rio says, “Your life, bound to mine, until Agatha comes to get you.”

In it you understand the desire you both share; to have Agatha, one way or another. You wonder if the desire for possession is your own or something you’ve learned from her.

From her pocket comes a small glass vial. She tosses it to Agatha, who only barely catches it. She cradles it like something precious.

“Drink up.” Rio orders.

Then Rio is there, arm around your waist, holding all your pieces together. You lean into her comfort as color returns to Agatha’s cheeks.

“Te veo.”

1754

“She waits for you.”

Agatha whips around, purple crackling at her fingertips. At the edge of the clearing, Rio leans her weight against a gnarled tree, eyeing the withered husks of once-witches in the grass with interest. She looks almost predatory.

“Does she?”

Rio nods, eyes shifting to Agatha, “Like a puppy. It’s almost pathetic.”

It is pathetic, is what she should say. Time and affection have curbed her tongue on this small thing at least. On you. Agatha’s smile is knowing.

Rio has pulled her punches toward you since the beginning. Agatha’s never minded. It’s almost sweet watching the oldest force in the multiverse tiptoe around a witch barely into her second century. Is it that craving for ancient knowledge in your veins that renders Rio down, or is it simply your pretty face?

Does it matter?

“I don’t have what I need yet.” Agatha rolls her eyes, “Witches these days don’t have the power they used to.”

“Or maybe you’re leveling the population before they have time to strengthen.” Rio raises a brow.

Agatha thinks, deliberately dramatic, then shrugs, “No, that’s not it.”

With a shake of her head, Rio steps out from the treeline, and closes the distance across the clearing. Agatha watches every step with dark eyes. The stench of death and magic sends a chill down Rio’s spine; there’s nothing more delicious than a life snuffed out.

The wind slows in the trees as if sensing her. Birds silence their sweet tunes. There is frantic rustling in the trees somewhere as creatures do all they can to get away.

Yet Agatha stands, waiting, and allows Death to pull her into her embrace.

One of Rio’s great loves is watching skin split so she can lap up the blood at her own pace. Yet, when her hands settle on Agatha’s hips, they’re gentle. She doesn’t open wounds with her teeth. Rather, she moves her lips over Agatha’s until she can’t breathe. Agatha is wary when she pulls back.

Rio shrugs, “A message from her.”

“I see. Forgiven me, has she?” A slow, taunting grin, “Anything from you?”

“Have you earned it?”

“These bodies didn’t make themselves.”

A tilt of her head, as if considering, “Maybe you’ve earned something small, then.”

And they meet in a clash of lips and teeth. Rio’s hands are everywhere, leaving behind deep claw marks that make Agatha moan into her mouth. Agatha’s own nails pierce through cloth and skin at her hips but draw no blood. She tries to push Rio backward toward one of the trees, she just needs a little leverage and Rio’s thigh to—

Rio pulls back. She grins something wicked at the flash of Agatha’s purple.

“Something small.”

Agatha makes a face, batting her lashes. Rio doesn’t give in.

“You’re awful.”

“You love it.” Rio says, then her face takes on something more serious, “Don’t keep her waiting, Agatha.”

Then she’s gone as if she was never there; the only evidence being the bleeding marks on her skin. Agatha stares at where she stood for a long time before moving on.

1801

The Road changes, you’ve seen, as the covens come along. Small cottages, ancient ruins—the most interesting was an old system of catacombs, though it lacked the remains you’d been intent on studying.

Your favorite, though, is the bower, absent of any illusions or spells.

Beneath a canopy of purple leaves upon a seat of grass, you watch the events unfold from afar. An old curved trunk sits at your back keeping you upright. The animals—lost familiars, mostly—wander up to you here, nibbling at fallen leaves and taking up residence in your lap.

From outside it could be mistaken for a simple tree. Yet, beneath it, the world is at your fingertips. The position of your place presents the underside of millions of glowing leaves to your view; lives, Rio said, witch and non-witch alike.

You find the one you love best among the foliage. You trace your finger down the purple veins, hoping she feels you, thinks of you, misses you. The veins seem to glow a little brighter at your touch.

Rio doesn’t enjoy you toying with them; worried a wrong move on your part will take a life too soon, upsetting the greater balance she’s beholden to. But she taught you how to handle Agatha’s. Trace, never prod. Caress, but never pluck.

A black cat settles in your lap and you sit straighter.

Soothing a hand down her back, she purrs. Her little body presses against your stomach and basks in your warmth.

“You really are too predictable.” Rio says.

She stands a few feet away, clad in dirt and muck, yet still beautiful. Always beautiful.

“I like it here. It’s comforting.”

“You like being close to Agatha.” She corrects.

The leaf in question glows brighter as if sensing the mention. You trace a finger along the edge, willing all your love into it.

“This is all I have of her.” You admit.

Something like softness creeps into Rio’s face. As soon as it appears, it recedes. She joins you under the canopy. The cat in your lap startles and leaps from your lap, darting back into the underbrush.

You had never thought to secure some token of Agatha’s, then. Now, with nothing of her’s to hold close, you settle for her life-line, begging it to tell you her whereabouts and if she’s safe; it is always silent. Rio is, too. She doesn’t mention much when you ask, though you know she knows the actions of every life tied to her.

The Road is a wonderful home. Rio is an attentive partner. But you ache, still, for the other set of hands you knew; those who were predictable in their firmness, balancing the sudden changes of Rio’s own.

“You’re crying.” Rio says.

Her face is dark, but fury lingers around the edges. Something like worry flutters in and out of her eyes. You have nothing to say, so you only nod.

Then you’re in her lap. Rio’s bunching up your dress to your waist, canines embedded in your neck. Her nails dig into your hips and the blood warms you. You whimper.

Lips kiss down your neck while a hand hovers between your legs. You bear down, desperate for any friction to dull the ache. And she gives it to you. Her hand is exactly where you want it, fingers rubbing and pressing, and you grind your hips hard, harder until you’re right there.

And then her hand is gone.

You whine. Your hips move of their own volition, searching for that pressure to send you right over the edge. Rio’s lips catch your own in a bruising kiss and you whimper into her mouth.

Needy, desperate, you can almost hear her say.

But when she pulls away and digs her nails in harder, she whispers, “Cry for me, sweetheart.”

She alternates between giving you what you crave and rescinding it for hours. You whimper, moan, and beg. She laughs and repeats herself—cry for me. You lose count of how many almost-orgasms tighten your body just to go unfulfilled. You do cry. You sob and she’s there, tongue licking up your tears and knuckle deep inside you, thumbing over your clit until you have what you want.

You’re not sure how long you lay there, after, crying against her.

1833

Rio’s arm is warm where you’re wrapped around it. She leads you through the winding stone streets, around grand buildings with stained-glass windows. Some of the scenes depicted in the glass are beautiful, simple; but the majority are Catholic in nature, dripping with sadness and guilt. You shake your head.

Passersby nod or tilt their hats, but don’t seem to see you. Their eyes go especially glassy when they look at Rio.

Whereas you’re clad in a dress of rich layered fabric, Rio has opted for more masculine attire. The low heels of her dress shoes click upon the stone. The unwrinkled fabric of her suit smells of smoke.

Your heels don’t quite agree with the stone. After the fifth time of a near-twisted ankle, you huff, “Could I not have worn flat shoes?”

“The heels compliment your legs.”

“You can’t even see them.”

“Yet.” She winks.

You roll your eyes, ignoring the heat suffusing your cheeks. Another nod to a passing couple and Rio makes a sharp turn. You’re led into a damp, dim alleyway.

The ground is made from rough slabs of uneven stone. You curse when your heel slips and only Rio’s strength keeps you standing. Water slides down the walls on either side, thick moss growing in the cracks. You reach out to feel it only for your hand to come away red.

If not for Rio pulling you along, you’d have screamed. Blood cascades down the walls. From it grow dark, twisted plants you’ve studied beside The Road. Beneath the plants and out of them come bones; most have yellowed with age, but there is the occasional bright-white specimen.

Surprise aside, you lean toward the bones with interest. Still, Rio presses on.

The alleyway is growing slimmer by the second. Should it continue to do so, you’ll be forced to walk behind Rio, and the thought makes you tense.

Rio squeezes your hand, “Relax, sweetheart.”

“I’d relax more if I knew what we were doing here.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Before you’re forced to walk single-file, you come to the end. Rio traces a counter-sigil upon the stone. With a shudder, a door is revealed. Above the silver knocker, embedded in the door, sits an unblinking eyeball. The blue pierces you.

Rio pulls and slams the knocker. The eyeball falls from the door and hits the ground with a sickening pop. You nearly shriek while Rio makes noises of delight.

“Ooh,” She chuckles, “we’re not the first to arrive.”

You try not to think about what the eye must look like now, “Can I go home?”

“Why so squeamish all of a sudden? You handle the cadavers I bring you just fine.”

“That’s different. That’s research.”

“Who says this isn’t, sweetheart?”

The door opens soundlessly. Inside, the scene is much the same; another dark, slim space, though notably absent of plants and body parts. The owner of this place must be allergic to candles, the lighting situation is just pathetic.

Rio waits. When you make no move to walk inside, she sighs, nudging you with a hand on your lower back, “Ladies first.”

You’re not sure if being first or last is the worst. If anything is to jump from the walls now, you’ll take the brunt of it; you’re reminded of that day with Agatha all those years ago. Rio’s warmth at your back offers the strength you need to continue. Though, you do cling to her hand the whole way.

The hallway empties into a full room. Dark shelves match the height of the walls, on them jars full of ingredients. There are tables boasting dozens of drawers, though none sit open. Glasses and tools and cauldrons line the tabletops. In the center of it all are two figures; well, one figure and one corpse.

You can’t catch your breath. She’s as beautiful as the day you lost her.

“Agatha.” You whisper.

Agatha turns and smirks. She doesn’t look nearly as surprised to see you as you do her. Upon seeing you, her expression softens, eyes full of affection and longing. It hardens a bit when she glances behind you.

“You ruined the surprise.” Rio says, arms crossed, though one motions to the corpse, “We needed her.”

“What could you possibly need with a poison witch?”

“Our darling healer wanted to study with her.”

Something like regret turns Agatha’s face when she regards you. With a wave, she produces a thick book full of yellowing pages. You tilt your head when she offers it to you.

“Her life’s work. I’m sure there’s more here somewhere.” Agatha shrugs.

You take it and hold it to your chest reverently. All this time you thought Rio was putting you off about finding a competent poison witch and yet here you are, standing in her apothecary. She lies dead on the floor but you couldn’t care less when the real gift stands before you.

You long for her. You ache to feel the gentle caress of her hands on your face, the threat of her nails on your scalp.

A look at Rio tells you she isn’t entirely pleased with the turn of events. Yet when she sees your excitement some of her ire dissipates. The yearning in your eyes must be plain, since she gives you a single nod.

Book of poisons tossed onto the tabletop, you throw yourself into Agatha’s arms. She’s as steady as you remember. Her hand grips your chin and forces your lips to hers. Her hands are predictably firm wherever they land. She grips you as if afraid you’ll slip away. But her kiss, oh gods her kiss; soft lips and taunting, sharp tongue. The length of her body pressed against your own and so warm.

There are hands in your hair and this is all you’ve wanted—all you’ve craved for years. Why, then, do you feel the urge to cry? To rip the heart from your chest and banish it to where it won’t hurt?

Agatha is warm and steady. You bury your face in her neck and her in yours. Your hands shake with the force of clinging to her.

The feeling is bliss. Yet, it isn’t complete.

You glance over Agatha’s shoulder to Rio. She stands in the doorway, watching the scene with dark-eyed interest; but there’s a weariness in the set of her shoulders.

“Beloved.” You call, holding one of your hands out to her.

Rio raises a brow. Her eyes don’t stray from your outstretched hand.

“This is your gift, sweetheart.”

“And it’s incomplete without you.”

Her eyes stray to Agatha, who has taken to watching her, too. This time, Agatha’s eyes don’t harden. They maintain that soft look you melt for.

Agatha extends her own hand alongside yours.

“Come on.” Agatha urges, soft.

You watch the resolve break moments before she wedges her way into your embrace. Her fingers lace through yours, but her face is pressed into Agatha’s neck. She pushes and nuzzles like she wants to become part of her. It reminds you of the cat that visits the bower—Ebony—but you don’t dare say so.

Agatha’s hands leave you to caress Rio’s face. A thumb rubs along her cheekbone. You press yourself against Rio’s back, unable to glimpse her face but sure of the longing in her expression.

In a perfect world, there would be no separation between the three of you. No clothes, no emotional barriers, not even flesh to keep your hearts from mingling into one. You settle for Rio’s hand in your own and Agatha’s blue eyes locked on you.

You lean over Rio’s shoulder and kiss Agatha, your free hand fumbling with getting into the former’s pants. She chuckles darkly in your ear. It ignites a spark in your chest; a dangerous longing for this to remain, to be always. You try to push it away and focus on how Rio moans in your ear instead.

1869

“Will you walk with me?”

Rio nods, smiles grandly, “Of course.”

You laugh. She holds out her arm, ever the picture of a gentleman, but you lace your fingers through hers instead.

As a rare treat, you lead. You pull her along the road. The leaves change beneath your feet, from silver and black to the hues of autumn and then to pure green. The Road opens its arms into a clearing bathed in the color. Only the stone building in the center stands apart.

Upon your approach, flowers grow in the flattened grass where you step; honeysuckle and heliotrope, baby’s breath and red chrysanthemum. Rio glances over her shoulder as the blooms spring forth.

Ivy grows up the walls of the building. You brush a gentle hand over the leaves.

Crumbling, worn headstones en masse wait behind the building.

Rio tilts her head, “What is this?”

The door is unlocked. You knew it would be. The Road cannot keep you from this place.

Inside is warm and hazy. Papers with elegant scrawl cover every surface, books half-open litter any free spaces. Shelves line the walls, jars bearing various specimens. Plush couches overflow with deep, red cushions, begging you to sit and stay. A fire cracks in the fireplace.

Rio turns this way and that. She wanders around the room, flipping through books. A fingernail taps against a jar full of eyes. An errant paper is plucked from where it sits haphazardly atop the mantle. She stops.

You know the paper the second she comes into contact with it; can remember the way you wax poetic about how beautiful she is, how safe you feel in her arms. She picks another, then another, so on, and you know every word the second she touches them; the way she unwinds in Agatha’s arms, her face twisted in perfect fury, the lightless turn of her eyes when she teeters on the edge of wickedness.

She looks at you, vulnerable and unsure, “What is this?”

“My heart.”

“That… then why is all of this here?”

Her hand shakes the papers for emphasis. You resist the urge to laugh, lest she think you’re making light of her. Death can be cruel, but you try not to be.

You step close. Gently, the papers are extracted and returned to their places. Rio stares and hardly breathes as you take your face in her hands.

“You pulled away after that night.” You whisper, finger tracing her cupids-bow, “Do you think I touch you only because it is convenient?”

Rio’s lip curls. Fists bunch at her side, crackling with green light. You feel the rumble of her anger working through her chest. She tries to pull from your hold, but you don’t let her.

“Do you think I kiss you and pretend it’s her?”

Rio snarls, “I will kill you if you don’t stop talking.”

You smile. The threat is a real one, but you don’t fear it; the outcome is remaining by her side. With one hand you reach and pull one of her fists between you. You unravel it, trying not to flinch against the bursts of power over her skin. You press the palm of her hand over where your heart resides inside your chest.

The snarl fades just so. Fury still lingers in her eyes. You press your hand over hers and will her to see, to know.

“Look at the walls.” You order.

Upon the walls, plain and dark, shimmering scrawl appears. Agatha Harkness, it reads in shaky lettering; like a name carved into a tree. One signature turns into ten and ten into countless. Purple and shimmering is Agatha’s brand upon you. Rio yanks and reaches for the dagger she keeps handy.

Rio’s true name appears in shimmering green letters, then. Same as Agatha’s, there are countless signatures. They conjoin and overlap until the walls of your heart look like nothing more than a child’s colorful scribbles.

She stares at the walls in disbelief. The knife in her hand clatters to the ground.

“I’ve carved your names upon my heart so I’ll never forget who it belongs to.” You whisper.

“Sweetheart…”

You bend and collect her blade, pressing it into her hand, “Now do it yourself.”

Her hand wraps around the handle reflexively. Rio’s hand doesn’t leave the spot over your heart, feeling the steady, truthful beat.

“It’ll hurt you.” Rio says. She doesn’t bother hiding the desire in her voice.

You urge, “Make me hurt.”

Each artful stroke of her blade is slow. You whimper, but grip her wrist and push the blade deeper into your flesh. She scoffs when tears flood your eyes. The tears run down your cheeks while you smile, filled with bliss and ache in equal measure.

It’s a gift to love so deeply it wounds you. You never want her to stop; who, aside from your shared scar, holds such power? Who else in the world could touch your heart truly enough to carve into it?

There’s delight in her every movement. She consumes the pain of millions and yet, none of it is of her own making. She can only relish in what others have done; torture for a being who remains eternally intimate with the greatest methods of drawing out agony. Death has no free will but that you offer her—and she takes what none else would give, ravenously.

Is it enough?

Not forever, something tells you, you think it might be her, but for now.

1925

“You called?” Rio asks.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re avoiding me.”

Agatha leans against the wall beside a small window. The pane has been slid upward, letting in the sounds of the city below, releasing the smoke of Agatha’s cigarette into the air outside.

The cigarette is clutched in gloved hands. Her expression is amused as she draws in and releases the smoke, watching it form the shapes she wills. Though it has no effect on such a witch, Rio admires the object’s capability of bringing Agatha infinitesimally closer to her.

“We’ve been busy.”

“Busy or not, I’d say twelve bodies earns me a visit. And with the bulk of good booze I just removed from the market, I’d say I’ve earned a little more.”

An obvious lure with paltry bait, still Rio bites, “What do you have in mind?”

“Let me see her.”

She should. You’ve come to accept Agatha’s absence in your life, but she sees how much time you spend in the bower, and how you flinch when her name comes up. Rio hadn’t expected the frequency of Agatha’s name on the lips of covens walking the road to be so overwhelming, but it always drives you right into her arms; that she will relish.

But Death is not giving. She takes. Taking is, in fact, her favorite hobby. Twelve bodies is not enough to make up for the haunted look in your eyes. She wants more—will have it. Agatha has to earn you.

“I’ll need a little more from you.” Rio drawls.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to kill that many witches here with the nightlife?” Agatha throws her hands up. Ash flies from the forgotten cigarette.

The sounds of Chicago seem to grow louder, as if to aid her point. Rio grins. She crosses the small space and takes the cigarette, snuffing it out on the back of Agatha’s hand. The action prompts a quiet moan.

“It shouldn’t be a problem. What I want, you have an abundance of.” Rio’s smile widens as she manipulates Agatha’s hand, removing the glove, pushing and prodding until purple flashes along the flesh.

A cooling breeze sneaks in the window and rustles the fringe along Agatha’s dress. It’s a beautiful thing, short and decadent. Rio knows you’ve enjoyed the few sightings of the period fashion you’ve glimpsed, but like her, you’d enjoy this specific dress in a pile on the floor.

Agatha’s eyes stare at where Rio’s flesh meets her own. Her eyes are contemplative, calculating. She hesitates. And that is her fatal mistake.

Rio throws her across the room with a shove. Agatha’s side hits one of the walls and she falls, face-first, onto the mattress she’s been sleeping on. The springs shriek at the sudden weight. Agatha snarls, throwing out a blast of purple that slams into Rio’s chest. Rio moans something filthy.

There’s a brief struggle where Rio does her best to keep Agatha pinned; to the bed, to the wall, wherever there’s a surface. Yet Agatha is slippery. Her magic whisks her right out of the hold Rio puts her in and wherever Agatha wills it; which currently, is behind the other witch so Agatha can kick the back of her knees. Rio kneels not of her own volition.

She braces to stand, only to find the blade of her own dagger at her throat.

Rio’s gaze has lost any warmth. Her affection is buried deep, beneath layers and layers of earth she craves to bury Agatha in right this second, “You’re breaking her heart.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, you like seeing her cry.”

“When I’m the one responsible.”

Agatha rolls her eyes. She maintains a carefully ambivalent expression. Rio knows better; knows, under all that forced emotion, that Agatha’s heart is waging against her head, warring over her selfish desire to keep every bit of power.

Then, something shifts. Rio feels it. Agatha has made her choice and it isn’t you. And it ignites a rage in her chest unlike anything she’s felt in centuries.

She snatches the dagger back from Agatha’s grasp and only just barely resists the urge to bury it in her chest. If she has to drag Agatha back to you kicking and screaming, she will. You would like that, wouldn’t you?

“I’ll kill you.” Rio vows, and means it. Agatha can’t run away from the two of you if her soul is Rio’s to keep.

Agatha’s eyes flash with fear. Then, she grins around it, “If you can catch me.”

Latin words roll off Agatha’s tongue faster than Rio can comprehend. She recognizes the words and what they mean, where they’ve come from. Rio reaches out with her magic for the Darkhold too late; it, and Agatha, have completely vanished from her awareness.

When she returns to The Road and finds you pacing before the bower, she stops short.

“Did you—is she dead?” You ask, worrying your lip. Though your eyes dart every which way, looking for whatever manifestation of Agatha you believe she’s brought you.

“Sweetheart…”

1937

“Do you think if I cut you open you would heal too fast for me to do any research?”

Rio tilts her head, considering. She’s sprawled out on the plush couch inside the physical manifestation of your heart, toying with her knife, having a staring contest with the unblinking jar of eyes while you jot down thoughts into notebook number… well, she’s lost count.

“Probably.” She answers, “I’m also not sure I have organs.”

You pause, “How is that even possible?”

“Magic, sweetheart.”

Leaning back, your mind begins to race; given how old she is, it would only make sense that the organs the body came with are gone, rotted away—but would the flesh not go with it? You massage your temples. Life magic is no easier to understand than Death magic.

There’s only one way to test your hypothesis. You stand from your place at the table and cross to her, straddling her hips where she lay on the couch.

“I want to see.” You say, holding out a hand.

Rio hands over her dagger and sinks further into the couch, as if that is possible. She grins up at you with no shortage of delight. You do your best to tamp down on your own grin.

The flesh beneath your hands is warm and smells of damp earth where you peel away her shirt. Her eyes darken with every inch of flesh revealed to you. Firm and unafraid, you press the tip of the dagger down against her sternum. The action earns you an exaggerated moan.

You rip the dagger away, glaring, “Behave.”

“Or what?” Rio taunts, tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek.

“Or I stop letting you watch my dissections.”

She tenses, “You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I, beloved?”

“Get on with it.”

You lean down and steal a quick kiss. It melts away the darling little pout on her lips.

When you press the dagger back down, the flesh bends, but doesn’t open. You tilt your head and press harder. Rio watches, unphased. There is absolutely no give to her flesh. It gets to a point where you’re pressing your entire body weight behind the dagger, but Rio only laughs, squirming as if the action tickles.

You whine and sigh. The dagger is dropped unceremoniously onto her chest while you lean an elbow against the back of the couch, sinking somewhat into the cushion.

“If you want live specimens, we can collect some.” She soothes.

The idea isn’t intolerable, but you shake your head.

“They scream too much.”

“Anesthetic exists, sweetheart.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

You look away, tracing the walls and their offerings with your eyes. Upon them hang paintings of your own making; scenes of life, death, love, fear—mostly fear.

The human condition fascinates you, always has. Of the emotions to study, fear is the hardest; it is always fleeting in your wake; your face is too kind, too trustworthy, wiping away any sense of the unease you seek to study. You stare at your paintings and feel only distaste, knowing they’re not quite right.

You can’t claim to have always had such taste. No, a cultivation for the finer flavors of life and death takes time. You can pinpoint where the itch started, however; that day in your childhood village when a dying soul reached out to you—scarcely were you a day older than four—and found no assistance.

How beautiful it was; grisly, messy, but beautiful. You did not flinch away. Rather, you found yourself drawn in, eager to see more. And being of a coven of healers, your desire was fulfilled. Death was yours before you knew her name.

Looking down at her, she stares back, unashamed to be caught. The heart in your chest—which has felt so stagnant in recent years—warms toward something almost pure.

Rio will one day claim your soul. This, you know, and accept; your soul belonged to her the second you watched that woman die. You fear the when. What becomes of you when she claims your soul? What if you have yet to conduct all the research you desire? There is so much still to learn and you know she’ll abandon it for the chance to keep you.

You love her, but you’ll never forgive her the knowledge you’ll one day lose. The warmth in your chest doesn’t ebb.

Her top is still splayed open from your attempt at dissection. A healthy amount of flesh is bared to your eyes. You trace one finger from her neck to the center of her chest and tap, just above where a heart should be.

“When you come for me,” You say, “I want to hold your heart in my hand.”

“You already do.” She utters.

“Will you let me study it, then, when I’m but a soul?”

“You can study whatever you wish as long as it leads to me.”

1989

Agatha dwells on mistakes, often. She just doesn’t allow them to distract from her purpose. She is ruthless, to her very core.

She spends an embarrassing amount of time trying to open the damned door to The Road. One coven after another, all failures. There is an obscene beauty in claiming a reward for what would otherwise be failure on her part.

Time passes, enemies made, promises broken. She shrugs them all off. Yet she can’t shake the feeling of your hands in her hair, on her face. The lingering whisper of your kisses haunts her. The Darkhold whispers to her, oftentimes in language she shouldn’t comprehend, and it offers her the solution, should she just be patient;

The Scarlet Witch

2026

The power that floats before you is biting and all too familiar.

It fights against your hold, twisting and writhing like a wild animal, desperate to return to its mistress. But you’re stronger for now. The Scarlet Witch threw this power into the ether in her attempt at playing Death, and now it is yours to hold until Agatha comes for it.

Anger rubs against the heart in your chest like a cat. You lean into it, feeling your own power respond to subdue that which isn’t yours.

Rio watches beside you. She runs her fingers through the purple electricity contained in your palms, laughing when it fights her. Lips press against your temple.

“Not long now.” She assures you.

You feel longing and fury in equal measure.

“I want her soul, Rio.” You whisper.

A small chuckle, low beside your ear. It sends shivers down your spine. Her hand grasps your chin and turns you to face her, her lips meeting your own. The kiss is soft. You melt into it.

She pulls back, tone careful, “You didn’t walk The Road, sweetheart.”

You have not earned what The Road promises to grant.

2026

Agatha doesn’t expect the end of The Road to look like Agnes’ Westview home, nor does she expect to see Rio perched on the roof, leaning back, as if waiting. But every step closer to the front yard makes her more furious.

She is owed her prize.

Upon her first step in Agnes’ yard, the front door opens, and she is blasted with something so strong that it knocks her back to The Road, on her back. She groans. Yet, she feels more alive than she has in centuries. Her body shudders with its missing piece; her power curling up in her veins, pleased to be home.

She sits up, wincing at the ache in her bones that continues despite the gift she’s received. Leaves stick to the back of her arms, little pieces having crunched beneath her weight and adhered to her skin. She does her best to brush them away while getting to her feet.

Rio remains on the roof, grinning.

There, on the porch of Agnes’ house, is you. All the glory of you.

Agatha’s heart leaps in her chest despite the scowl on your face. To her, you haven’t aged a day; still the young, fresh-faced witch following at her heels, dizzy on knowledge and the thrumming power inside. Time has not erased the love she has—so great it threatens to bring her to her knees.

“Dearest…” Agatha murmurs, taking a half-step forward.

“You have your prize.” You sneer.

Your heart aches, begging you to go to her; hasn’t it been centuries? But your pride holds you back. She left you here while she gallivanted around the world getting what she wanted.

There’s a brief flash of hurt on Agatha’s face, before it morphs into a wicked grin. Her posture changes, too, to something more proud, as she slinks across the yard toward the porch. You resist the urge to take a step back.

“No, I don’t.” She drawls, “Are you going to be a good pet and come home willingly, or do I have to put you on a leash?”

Something inside you burns for her. You ache for her touch, for her to force you to do what she wants. It creeps through the cracks of your pride and turns it into something else. You stick out your chin. Agatha snickers.

Magic pulses in your palms, pulling various items from around you to throw—not fast enough. Agatha has you kneeling with your hands bound in a blink.

“That’s not very nice, dear. And after all I’ve done to get here.”

You regain some of your fight, snarling, “You left me here.”

Agatha hums.

“Into the deal you stumbled your way into. I’m not the one who tied herself to The Road in a fit of pride.”

“You were leaving me regardless. If I was going to be handed off, I was going to do it on my own terms.”

“Did I specify a length of time in my proposal? Was there any explicit mention of how long She could have you before I came back?” Agatha asks, mean-spirited joy in her eyes upon watching the realization dawn in your own. All that time you spent agonizing… when you had shackled yourself, “Years lost because you wanted to be a self-righteous brat.”

There’s a lilt to her voice that clues you in to everything you’d once seen instinctually; Agatha has been in just as much anguish as you have, left to walk the world alone. You see the pain in her eyes. Just like then, you try to get to her now, eager to fix it, to wipe it away.

The binding around your arms keeps you stationary. You whine and pull against it.

“Agatha,” You whine, “I’m sorry.”

“You will be.” She says. Then she turns to your left, finger poised and accusing, “And you—you kept her away from me.”

Rio shrugs, smiling, “I couldn’t just make it easy on you.”

Agatha waves a hand and Rio is kneeling on the porch at your side, similarly bound. Yet where you look pained, she is delighted.

“I’m sorry.” You repeat, “I didn’t mean to be bad.”

“That doesn’t change that you were.”

A cloud of purple smoke announces your arrival to the inner bedroom of Agnes’ house. It doesn’t look like what you’ve seen from Rio, though. Where Agnes had been bland and cookie-cutter, this is rich fabrics and deep wood. It is Agatha through and through.

You and Rio kneel side-by-side at the foot of the bed, where Agatha perches. Her beautiful blue eyes don’t miss the slightest movement you make. She’s clad in a dark robe with snakes and flowers that has Rio leaning forward in interest.

Agatha’s eyes lock on you, “You’re going to apologize. Properly.”

“I’m sorry—”

“With your tongue.”

Leaning back on her forearms, Agatha spreads her legs, and you feel the desire in your body rush through you. It’s so strong you feel your head begin to pound. She’s pink and dripping and all you want is to do a good job for her.

Yet, ever the brat, you lean forward and start with kissing her inner thighs. With every press of your lips to the delicate flesh you murmur an apology. She sighs.

A hand weaves into your hair and yanks you back. Her eyes are dark. Her face is set in a punishing expression but you see the yearning in her that matches your own. She yanks again, lighter, and you moan.

“What did I say?” She asks, before directing you where she wants you.

Witches don’t subscribe to the idea of what a human would call heaven, but upon tasting her, you think you could get behind it. She’s warm and sweet. You flatten your tongue and drag it along her slit just to collect a better taste of her. Agatha’s hand presses you in harder as she moans.

Without the use of your fingers, you have to use your tongue well. You stiffen it as much as you’re able when you delve inside her and hope it is even slightly close enough to satisfy. The pathetic sounds reaching your ears—breathy moans, sweet whimpers—tell you that you’re doing fine.

“Good girl.” Agatha breathes out.

You clench around nothing. You’re sure that you’ve ruined your undergarments thoroughly from how wet you are.

Eager for more praise, you direct your attention to that small, fleshy bundle of nerves begging for your attention. You swirl your tongue around her clit and her hips stutter, before they grind against your face with a renewed sense of purpose. You smile.

“Yes—there, more—” Agatha stutters.

You were born to do as she commands. All you want is to make her happy. Following her directions is as easy as breathing.

The tip of your tongue alternates between circling her clit and flicking it. Every flick earns you a high-pitched oh! and a firm grinding of her hips. Her thighs are tightening around your head, but she’s putting up a good fight. Her legs quiver.

“There—there—I’m going to—” Is all the warning you’re given before Agatha shrieks and comes while rutting against your mouth. You lap up every drop of her wetness you can get with glee. You did this, you brought her this pleasure; the knowledge sends a happy jolt through you.

Agatha’s grip on your hair releases and you lean back, taking in big lungfuls of air. She stares down at you with a thoroughly fucked-out expression that makes you preen.

Then she leans over and pulls your lips to hers. She moans against the taste of herself on your lips, tongue collecting the flavor from your lips. You throw every ounce of love you possess into the kiss—willing her to understand the longing you felt, the thousands of hours you spent watching her lifeline just to make sure she was safe.

“Good girl.” Agatha murmurs, pressing little kisses all over your face, “My good girl.”

“All yours.” You agree.

She laughs, low and smooth, “That’s not quite the truth, is it?”

The two of you turn to regard Rio in unison. She remains in the position Agatha left her in, kneeling and bound. You admire her restraint at not breaking the bindings. Though you guess Agatha wouldn’t take kindly to that.

Rio’s eyes are black with desire. They dart between the two of you. She takes in the wetness on your face, licking her lips. You can feel her eagerness for a taste.

She’s writhing a bit in her restraints, pressing her thighs together and wiggling, looking for any source of friction she can find. Agatha tuts and she stops. If it were up to you, your face would be between her thighs, ears enjoying every sound she makes. But it isn’t up to you.

Agatha scoots back up the bed until she’s sitting against the headboard. That’s when you feel the restraints on you fall away. She beckons the two of you with a finger and you both follow the command, eager.

“Come here.” Agatha urges you specifically, patting her bare thigh.

You obey and straddle the appendage, shuddering against the feeling against your throbbing clit. There’s a split second where you think of just grinding down and taking what you want. But you don’t—you have to be good.

Words pass between Agatha and Rio during your silent struggle. When you look, she’s lying along the length of the bed, legs bunched up and spread wide next to you.

“What am I going to do with you both?” Agatha muses.

“Fuck us?” Rio drawls.

“You, my good girl,” Agatha says, ignoring Rio as she soothes a hand through your hair, “are going to use me until you come. And my bad girl isn’t going to come until I tell her she can.”

You shudder, whimpering, while Rio whines next to you. Agatha kisses your forehead while dealing a slap to Rio that makes her groan.

A hand settles onto your hip and begins to guide you through the motions of grinding against her. The friction is difficult to attain with how wet you are, but you do what you can, crying out everytime the pressure is just enough to make your toes curl. It won’t take long for you to finish.

Your face is buried in Agatha’s neck, where you press loving little kisses to the flesh. As a result you cannot see Rio. But you hear her; every movement of Agatha’s deft fingers through her wetness, every growl and keen of desire, every slap of Agatha’s hand when she gets a bit too eager. She won’t last long either, from what you can tell.

The image of Rio and Agatha in your mind is enough to push you toward that delightful little taste of death. Your hands tighten over Agatha’s shoulders.

“Agatha, can I—please?” You plead.

“So obedient, asking for permission even when you don’t need to.” Agatha praises, “Go on, darling.”

With her hand guiding you and her voice in your ear, you come so hard you see stars behind your eyes. You’re not sure what sound leaves your lips, only that your throat aches afterward.

You tune back in to hear a brutal slap of flesh on flesh. Rio snarls.

“Beg.” Agatha’s voice commands in your ear, though you know it isn’t for you.

Rio stays stubbornly silent.

The sounds of Agatha toying with her come to an abrupt halt. You don’t have the strength to lift your face from your refuge, but you can imagine that stubborn, yet pleading look in Rio’s face; wanting so deeply but not willing to give up what is required.

“If you don’t want to behave, she can have your pleasure instead.”

“No! I’ll—” You hear Rio grit her teeth, “Please, Agatha. Please let me come.”

Agatha laughs.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She coos.

Seconds—or maybe minutes—before Rio wails. There’s something primordial and animalistic wrapped inside it, almost like a growl. It makes you shudder. Then all that's left in the room is the sound of breathing.

You spent so long aching for something just like this. It’s beautiful, though you know it can’t stay; all three of you are far too ambitious to live a domestic existence, but it’s nice for now. You missed them. The heart in your chest feels complete again, filling to the brim with affection.

Tears seep from your eyes and you pull back before Agatha can question it, though you do feel her stiffen. You press kisses to her neck, her sternum, the inside of her wrist; then you grab Rio’s hand and press kisses to every pad of her fingers.

With every kiss, you murmur I love you.

2027

“If you don’t sedate him at least a little bit, his heart is going to give out.”

Rio’s sudden voice next to you isn’t surprising. You’ve grown used to her coming and going—Death waits for no one, after all. Her lips press to your cheek and you accept the affection.

“She did sedate him. Three times.” Agatha’s voice calls from the next room.

“Oh, I see.”

Rio leans over to examine the man on your table with no shortage of interest. He stares back, eyes impossibly wide. His heart rate picks up.

“What is he?” She asks.

“Not sure. Rapid regeneration, odd capabilities. Mutant, maybe?”

“He’s certainly not a witch.” Agatha’s leaning against the doorway now, arms folded over her chest, “Though it is taking a fair amount of magic to keep him subdued.”

“He’s no match for you, naturally.” You compliment.

Both Agatha and Rio grin at that. The former comes up behind you, hands settling on your hips. Her lips press against your neck. Then, she leans over and steals a kiss from Rio, who is all too eager to meet her halfway.

You smile. The heart in your chest threatens to burst—not unlike the specimen in front of you.

“Well, aren’t you sweet today.” Agatha comments.

“Aiming for a reward?” Rio asks.

Rio kisses her way up the flash of skin available to her eyes, making you sigh, leaning back into Agatha’s hands. Then Agatha’s lips fasten to the other side of your neck. Your head falls back and you laugh. Then you moan.

The experiment on your table is forgotten as you’re dragged into the next room and bent into all sorts of shapes you couldn’t even imagine on your own. Oh, well; if he dies before the six hour mark, you can always just find another one. The same cannot be said of the witches bracketing you. And oh, how beautiful that is.

#agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal x reader #agathario #agathario x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness #rio vidal #agatha harkness x reader x rio vidal #agatha all along x reader #agatha all along fanfiction #wlw #wlw fanfiction #oct2024 #multimilfswritings

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nyrasvoid · 3 months ago

Text

A Knight’s Prize pt.3

Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

Summary: the princess Velaryon marries Gwayne Hightower and their wedding night is filled with passion and lust.

Warnings: smut, it’s all really fluffy but there is some teasing, also a little bit of teasing in public, morning sex, riding, and idk if there’s anything else 🤸🏽‍♂️

A/N: just two horny mfs on their wedding day 🎀🧸 btw I had so much trouble looking up how weddings were in westeros under the faith of the seven cs some ppl said they exchanged rings and others that they didn’t, so I just went with the cloak exchange cs it’s what we see in GOT

- Word count: ≈1.9k words

Part 1 Part 2

The tension in the Red Keep was noticeable.

The moment you stepped into your mother's chambers, you could feel the weight of their gazes on you.

"Mother, Uncle," you greeted them, knowing that this conversation was inevitable.

Rhaenyra stepped forward, her expression softening as she reached out to touch your arm. "My daughter," she began, her voice filled with worry, "we need to talk about Ser Gwayne."

"I know what you're going to say," you replied quietly, "but my mind is made up."

Daemon scoffed from his place by the window, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Made up? You've barely known him a fortnight, and you're ready to throw yourself to the Hightowers?"

Rhaenyra shot him a warning glance before turning her attention back to you. "It's not just about Ser Gwayne" she said gently. "It's about his family, their ambitions. Otto Hightower has never hidden his desire to see his blood on the throne, and now he's using you to accomplish his plans."

You stiffened at her words, "I overheard them, Mother. I know what they're planning. But I also know that Ser Gwayne is not like them. He's different."

Daemon's laughter was filled with sarcasm. "Different? They're all the same, playing their little games for power. And you-" he paused, stepping closer to you, "— you're the prize they're all reaching for. Do you want to be a pawn in their game, niece?"

"No, Uncle. But I refuse to be a pawn in anyone's game; not theirs, not even yours."

Rhaenyra sighed, her hand dropping from your arm. "We only want what's best for you," she said softly. "You're a dragon, my daughter. You deserve to be with someone who sees you as my than just a tool for power." she said softly

"And he does," you insisted, meeting her gaze. "Ser Gwayne is sincere. He will be a good husband, and I will make this marriage my own. I won't let them control me. We both want this to be more than a political arrangement.”

Daemon shook his head "You're making a mistake," he warned. "But it's your life to ruin."

"If this is truly what you want..." he continued.

"It is," you replied firmly.

Your mother sighed deeply, her shoulders sagging in defeat. "Then we won't stand in your way," she said quietly. "But know this, my daughter if you ever need us, we will be here. Always."

You nodded, “I know you are, you will still be my family, my blood.”

The evening of your wedding was a storm of emotions. The grand hall was filled with the lords and ladies of the realm.

At the entrance of the sept, you stood in your wedding gown, the gown itself was a delicate shade of white, adorned with gold embroidery.

Over this, you wore a blue cloak, the color of House Velaryon, a symbol of your heritage and the life you were leaving behind.

Since your father, Laenor, couldn’t walk you down the aisle, your uncle did it.

Daemon Targaryen, stood beside you, his gaze steady, filled with pride as he lead you towards the altar.

The guests rise to their feet as you approach. At the end of the aisle, Ser Gwayne awaits, his eyes locked on you. His dark green cloak, the colors of House Hightower, rests over his shoulders, symbolizing the new life you will be joining.

As you reach the altar, the septon, steps forward. The ceremony begins with a prayer, invoking the blessings of the Seven.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger,” the septon says, calling upon the Seven to witness this union. “We gather in your sight to bless this marriage, that it may be strong and enduring.”

You and Gwayne face each other, the moment arrived for you to recite your vows.

Gwayne begins, “I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

At the same time, you respond, “I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

The septon then instructs “You may now kiss the bride”.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” Gwayne leans in, his gaze never leaving yours. His lips meet yours in a tender kiss.

The guests rise as you both turn to face them, their applause ringing through the sept.

When the ceremony was over, the feast began. The hall was filled with the sound of laughter and music.

Gwayne leaned in, his voice low. "You are radiant tonight, Princess," he murmured, his hand resting on yours.

He looks at you, his voice soft as he asks, “Would you honor me with a dance, my lovely wife?”

This time, you don’t hesitate. “Of course I will, my dear lord husband,” you reply, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor.

But just as you begin to relax, flowing to the rythm of the music, you hear a familiar voice.

“Such a lovely couple,” says Lord Otto Hightower. “It warms my heart to see you both so happy.”

You tense as you hold Gwayne tighter, as if he would run away if you didn’t.

“Thank you, Father,” he replies, his voice calm. “We are indeed fortunate to have found each other.”

Lord Otto smiles, “Indeed,” he says, his gaze lingering on you. “I trust that you will both make our house proud.”

After your dance with Gwayne, you return to your seat beside your husband. The hall is alive with the sounds of joy, but your attention is solely on the man next to you.

You lean closer, your voice a soft murmur. “You danced so well tonight, Gwayne. I almost forgot why I was avoiding you the other day.”

“Ah, so you admit to avoiding me? And here I thought you were just eager to dance with Ser Loras.” Gwayne said with a false indignation.

You smirk, your hand brushing against his thigh under the table. “Perhaps I was just trying to make you jealous.”

His gaze drops to where your hand lingers. “Is that so? And did it work?”

You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper teasingly, “I do not know. You tell me,” he looked back at you and smirked.

You continued “but I think you have more to offer than just jealousy. And now I can’t help but wonder what other talents you might be hiding.”

“Is that so? Perhaps you’d like to explore those talents further?” Gwayne whispered in your ear teasingly.

You leaned in, “Mayhaps I do.”

His eyes filled with desire at your words, and he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Shall we retire, my lady wife?" he asked.

You nodded, as he stood, offering you his hand.

Together, you left the grand hall, the eyes of the court following your every move as you made your way to your chambers

The moment the door to your chambers closed behind you, the atmosphere changed.

The formalities of the court were left outside, replaced by a fierce carnal desire for each other.

Gwayne turned to you, his eyes burning with a desire that mirrored your own.

"Princess," he began, "you've bewitched me. I've thought of nothing but this moment since I first laid eyes on you."

Your heart raced at his words, "And I you, Gwayne," you whispered, stepping closer to him. "I've wanted you from the very start."

He reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek. "You are the most beautiful woman l've ever seen," he breathed, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "And now you're mine."

You closed the distance between you, your lips crashing together in a kiss that was both desperate and sweet. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as his boner pressed against your crotch.

"Say it again," you murmured against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Tell me l'm yours.” You started kissing him down his jaw all the way to his neck.

"You're mine," he murmured, his voice filled with possessiveness. "All mine."

He obliged, pulling away just long enough to strip off his clothes, revealing his lean body.

You reached out, your hands trembling as they helped Gwayne take off his clothes. "Gods, Gwayne," you whispered, "You're magnificent."

His hands moved to your gown, untying the laces with a "Let me see you," he begged, his voice filled with desire. "I need to see you."

You stepped back, letting the gown fall to the floor, leaving you bare before him. The look in his eyes was one of pure adoration, as if he were looking at a goddess.

"Perfection," he breathed, stepping closer and pulling you against him. "You're perfect."

You gasped as his hands roamed over your bare chest, exploring every inch of your skin.

"Gwayne," you moaned, your head falling back as he kissed his way down your neck. "I need you, now."

He didn't hesitate, lifting you into his arms and carrying you to the bed, laying you down gently as if you were made of glass. "I've waited so long for this," he whispered. "But now that I have you, I want to savor every moment."

You reached out, your fingers wrapping around his wrist as you pulled his hand down between your legs. "Please," you begged, "Don't make me wait any longer."

He positioned himself over you, his body pressing against yours, as he rubbed your clit. “I'll give you everything," he promised. "Everything you want, everything you need.”

When he finally entered you, it was like everything else around you disappeared, leaving only the two of you in the heat of the moment.

The feeling of him inside you, filling you completely, was overwhelming, and you cried out his name, your nails digging into his back as you clung to him.

"Gods," he groaned, as he began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful. "You feel like heaven, my love."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you as he sped his thrusts.

"Gwayne," you moaned, your voice filled with need. "You're everything. You're all I've ever wanted.”

His pace quickened at your words, his breath against your ear as he whispered, "And you're mine. My love, my life, my everything."

Every touch, every kiss, was a promise, a declaration of love that needed no words.

"Tell me you're mine," his voice filled with desperation.

"I'm yours," you moaned, your body arching against his as you reached your climax. "Always yours."

When you finally came, it was like an explosion, it felt way better than when you did it yourself. He followed soon after, his seed filling you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the only sound in the room were your gasps for air. He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms and holding you close as if he never wanted to let you go.

“You’re mine” he whispered one last time.

“And you’re mine” you replied, as you curled up on his chest.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the politics of the realm, not the disapproval of your family, not the future that awaited you.

All that mattered was the man beside you.

The first first ray of light came through your chamber’s window. You turned beneath the silky sheets, the warmth of Gwayne’s body pressing against you, his arm resting over your waist.

The memories of the night before remained in your mind. How he had made you his, worshipped you, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

You turned slightly, feeling his jaw against your cheek, as he pressed a kiss to your neck.

“Good morning, my lady.” he said against the crook of your neck, while his eyes were still closed.

A smile played on your lips as you turned around to face him. “Good morning, husband” you replied, your voice teasing.

Gwayne’s eyes, bright with mischief, roamed over your face before settling on your lips. “I’m not sure if I told you enough last night how beautiful you are,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the line of your lips.

“You told me plenty,” you said, though your heart skipped a beat as his hand slipped lower, brushing over of your hip.

“Not enough,” he insisted, “I think I need to remind you.”

Before you could respond, Gwayne rolled you onto your back, hanging over you. His lips found yours in a kiss that started slow, deepening as you arched into him.

“I think you’re just looking for an excuse to delay our departure,” you teased between kisses.

“Can you blame me?” he asked, “Leaving this bed is the last thing I want to do right now.”

Without breaking the kiss, you pushed against his chest, gesturing him to lie back. His eyes widened in surprise, but a smirk appeard on his lips. “Taking control, are we?” he murmured.

“Someone has to,” you replied, positioning yourself on top of his hips. The feeling of him, hard and ready beneath you, made you wet. You took a moment to savor the sight of him, laid out beneath you, before leaning down to kiss him as he made his way inside you.

Gwayne groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you began to move, slow at first.

His eyes locked onto yours. “You’re incredible,” he breathed. “Gods, you’re perfect.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the praise, your movements quickening. Every touch, every word from him only elevated your desire, pushing you closer and closer to your climax. You rode him like your life depended on it, your bodies moving in perfect sync, the room filled with your moans and gasps.

“Gwayne,” you gasped, as you felt yourself close to your climax.

He captured your lips in a desperate, hungry kiss. “Come for me,” he murmured against your mouth. “Let me feel you.”

His words pushed you over the edge, your body collapsing on top is his. Gwayne didn’t last long before he joined you in your climax.

For a long moment, you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, eventually, you rolled off him, collapsing onto the bed right next to him.

“I could get used to waking up like this,” he said, with a soft smile.

You smiled back, reaching out to cup his cheek. “So could I,” you replied softly.

Gwayne seemed to sense your change in mood, his brow furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

You sighed, “I don’t want to leave. Or rather, I don’t want to say goodbye to my family.”

He nodded “It’s never easy, but you know they’ll be alright. And we’ll return soon enough.”

“I know,” you whispered, though the thought of leaving your mother and brothers behind still hurt you. “It’s just…we’ve always been together. And now…”

Gwayne leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re not losing them,” he murmured. “You’re just starting a new life. And I promise you, we’ll come back as often as we can.”

You nodded, “You’re right,” you said, forcing a small smile. “I’ll just miss them.”

“And they’ll miss you,” Gwayne replied, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “But they’re proud of you, and they know you’re where you need to be.”

With a sigh, you pushed yourself up, slipping out of bed and reaching for the clothes that had been laid out for you. Gwayne watched you for a moment before following, the two of you dressing in silence.

As you tied the laces on your gown, you glanced over at him. “Ready?” he asked, extending a hand to you.

You took his hand, squeezing it gently. “As I’ll ever be.”

Together, you left the chamber, to say your goodbyes. You and Gwayne make your way to the courtyard. You embrace your mother and brothers, your voice trembling as you promise to write often and visit as much as you can.

Gwayne takes your hand gently, guiding you towards the carriage. With one last look back, you wave towards your family and you set off for Oldtown, hoping to live a good life filled with love.

PS: Im pretty sure this will be the last part, maybeeeee I will write another one with a time jump where they have children or something with the dance and choosing sides but idk.

#gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne fanfic #gwayne x you #gwayne hightower fanfic #ser gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne x reader #gwayne imagine #gwayne hightower #hotd x reader #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd season 2 #fanfiction

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pin-k-ink · 2 months ago

Text

HOME ⋆✦⋆ kuroo tetsurou

synopsis ➸ you knew nothing good would come from answering a late-night call from your ex’s number. but now that he’s drunk and helpless, you’re stuck with him. and you’re well aware of how this will end—you never could resist him

tags ➸ exes-to-lovers, mentions of alcohol consumption, drunk and clingy kuroo, teeny tiny bit of angst, hurt/comfort (kinda), dry humping, groping, biting, nipple play, teasing, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, squirting, begging, kitchen sex

wc ➸ 9.1k

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" you growled, snatching your phone away from your ear to glower at the caller ID blinking incessantly.

The string of familiar numbers stared back at you mockingly against the too-bright screen, igniting a complicated tangle of emotions you'd fought to bury deep over the past year or so. That particular contact had been set to automatically bypass Do Not Disturb mode - a relic from simpler times before everything unraveled between you.

Before you'd reluctantly walked away from the love of your life for reasons that still stung with poignant ache.

With a weary sigh, you swiped to answer and tried steeling your voice into something approaching calm neutrality.

"Kuroo?" Your voice still caught slightly on the syllables of his name despite your best efforts. "It's the middle of the damn night, do you have any idea wha—"

"HEEEEYYYYYY!!! There she is! The light of my life, keeper of my—!"

Your brows furrowed as a raucous chorus of unfamiliar voices erupted in the background - tipsy laughter and joking catcalls that swiftly extinguished any flare of long-harbored hurt. Apprehension slithered up your spine as you registered the telltale slur to the once-familiar rasp on the other end.

"...Tetsurou?" you ventured again, unable to disguise the sudden edge of concern creeping into your tone. "Are you...where even are you right now?"

More scuffling and garbled background noise - the distinct cacophony of an evening in full revelry you'd become accustomed to long ago during varsity parties and volleyball socials. A crisp, unfamiliar baritone cut through the whirl of boisterous chatter then, clearer than the rest.

"Apologies for disturbing you so late, [Y/N]-san! It's Akiba from Kuroo's work team here." The perky voice paused to exchange a few muffled words amidst more inebriated hooting before returning ruefully. "We, ah...well we seem to have gotten our friend into a bit of a...state tonight."

You frowned, fingers reflexively tightening around the phone case as a particular rowdy whoop clearly carried Kuroo's timbre. A pit of unease opened in your gut as worst-case scenarios swirled unbidden. Despite the bitter fallout at the end, old habits died hard when it came to his wellbeing.

"What exactly happened?" you demanded, already pushing up from the couch to search for shoes and coat. "Don't sugarcoat it - is Tetsurou somewhere unsafe or in trouble?"

An awkward pause stretched from the other end, punctuated by more muted murmuring until Akiba cleared his throat carefully: "He...might have overindulged a bit in tonight's celebration and become a tad uncooperative about calling for a ride home, shall we say?"

The understatement settled like a lead weight somewhere behind your ribs even before you tuned back into the commotion filtering through. But it was Kuroo's sudden drunken declaration that swiftly blanketed you in resigned dread:

"Jus' call m’girlfriend, she'll swoop in an' rescue me again! 'Smyyyy...precious kitten...beautiful, preeecioussss..."

His slurred affection collided squarely with the messy reality of your current estranged relationship status without reservation. Of course, Kuroo had always been a relentlessly sappy, clingy drunk whenever you were around as his girlfriend to keep him anchored. And clearly, some long-buried part of him still instinctively grasped for you to be that tether despite the distance between you now.

You drew in a shuddering breath against the memories threatening to well up and sting behind your eyes. There really wasn't a choice here, was there? Not when it came to Kuroo's potential safety hanging in limbo like this for one sentimental instant.

"Yeah, okay...I hear you," you managed finally. "Just tell me where you assholes are and I'll come pick up the mess, okay?"

Akiba listed off a familiar bar address, hurriedly agreeing as you grabbed keys and coat to head out into the night. And as you descended the front steps into the brisk spring air, you steeled yourself against the maelstrom of tangled emotions bubbling just beneath the surface at the prospect of seeing your ex-boyfriend again in such unpredictable circumstances.

The rowdy dive bar loomed into view at last, dim neon signage flickering as the cab pulled up to the curb. You cast a steeling glance towards the entrance, squaring your shoulders in preparation before handing over the fare with a murmured thanks.

Despite having braced yourself the entire journey over, nothing could've quite fortified you for the sight awaiting within those grungy walls.

The instant you stepped through the doors, a chorus of raucous whoops and hollers erupted from the far corner booth. Your eyes immediately zeroed in on the source - a familiar form draped over the leather bench, shirt rumpled and hair artfully disheveled in a way that stabbed through your chest with acute yearning.

Kuroo Tetsurou.

His chin lolled forward, supported by a firm grip on his broad shoulders as he swayed precariously. Even from across the room, you could make out the bleary, lidded gaze roving sightlessly until his tawny eyes finally landed squarely on you.

A beat passed, the raucous background noise fading away entirely. Then Kuroo inhaled sharply through his nose, back straightening fractionally as you two locked stares through the smokey dimness.

"...Kitten?" he rasped out, the old pet name escaping without a shred of uncertainty or pretense.

His friends followed his dumbstruck gaze, muttering in surprise. But you remained transfixed, rooted to the spot as a dozen conflicting emotions ricocheted through your thoughts in rapid succession. Because despite the gulf of time, space, and irrevocably changed circumstances now separating you both...Kuroo was still drinking you in like a man stumbling upon an oasis after months adrift.

Like he'd only just realized you existed again after so long missing from the orbit of his singular focus.

He began to struggle against the firm hands clamped on his shoulders then, long legs splaying under the table clumsily in a clear bid to rise and approach. But before he could topple into the surrounding din completely, you spurred yourself forward once more - moving on autopilot towards his wayward form even as reason warred with instinct.

"Tetsu," you called out once within earshot, stomach clenching at the unwitting endearment rolling from your tongue so easily. "Let's just get you home and sobered up, alright?"

His disheveled head whipped up at the sound of your voice, features etched in mournful longing and boyish hopefulness in equal measure that left you reeling slightly. Then Kuroo shook off his friend's restraining grip with a sloppy roll of his powerful shoulders, surging upright to sway dangerously.

"But 'myyyy home," he rasped out almost petulantly, prowling a few steps into your personal space with that same prowling intensity from back when you'd shared quarters together. "My home's wherever you are, precious girl..."

His trembling fingertips ghosted over your cheek in a shockingly intimate caress for a man nearly insensate with inebriation moments ago. They trailed, featherlight, along your jaw and down the delicate column of your throat until your entire body hummed with white-hot tingles of restless, half-forgotten longing uncorked all over again so suddenly.

"Stars couldn't shine half as bright as you," Kuroo murmured, breath hot and tinged with whiskey against the shell of your ear as he boxed you in against one solid forearm braced along the peeling wallpaper. "M'heart's been a black hole swallowing allll the light since you left it, kitten...just cold and empty."

A shuddering inhale punched itself from your lungs as his nose nudged along your hairline, nuzzling unabashedly and utterly oblivious to the raucous hollers of his colleagues nearby. Kuroo's free hand settled heavy and possessive on your hip, bunching the fabric there as you instinctively surrendered beneath the delirious weight of his presence so intimately close once more.

"Please come home finally, precious," he rasped in a broken sigh...teetering on the edge of lucidity yet remaining unwavering in his raw ache for you to soothe some deep-seated wound even you'd never discovered the extent of during your time together until now. "I miss...so, so much..."

The crack in Kuroo's voice threatened to completely undo you from the inside out, body tensing in aborted retreat until you regained enough oxygen to think clearly once more. With gentle yet firm motions, you pried his wandering palms away and guided him back from your shared orbit of wistful temptation for just an instant.

"You're drunk out of your mind," you scolded, well aware of how hoarse and wrecked your own voice sounded now. "And I'm not your home anymore, Tetsu...we both know that."

One dark brow pinched fractionally at the reminder, lips parting around a sharp inhale. Before he could voice the tortured protest welling up behind that intense amber regard, though, you motioned for Akiba and the others watching on in stunned silence.

"Let's just get out of here," you sighed, already giving up the battle before it truly began. "I'll let him sleep at my place until he's fit to function like a big boy again. Then maybe we can actually talk properly when he's present for once..."

Exchanging subtle nods with the young men, you scooped up Kuroo's arm and slung it over your shoulders without needing to be told. The familiar, smokey cedar wood and old spice aroma swamped your senses fully, igniting a flurry of delirious intimacy in its wake like some Pavlovian response hardwired straight into your cerebellum.

Of course his solid weight pinning you close felt as natural as breathing after all this time...just like the hungry yet adoring look glowing in his dazed stare as Kuroo leaned in to nuzzle sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down your cheek towards the thundering pulse in your throat.

"Gonna take such good care of me, kitten," he mumbled in that too-raspy cadence you'd memorized beneath the sheets so many steamy nights spent unraveling together. "'Smy good girl...always have the- the magic touch to put me back t'gether."

You swallowed thickly, grateful for the steadying hands of Akiba and a few others helping guide your stumbling entourage back out into the bracing midnight breeze before you surrendered entirely to the delirious, tactile torment of Kuroo's undivided debauchery laid bare once more like this. Despite the consequences already stretching out before you both in the form of that inevitable reckoning soon...you were already helpless to deny or escape from finally reuniting in the thrall of his gravitational pull a while longer.

So as you ushered your sloshing mess of an ex-boyfriend into a waiting cab, you couldn't help but steal a glance down at the contact listing for your number - helpfully still saved to his phone under that beloved nickname you could never seem to scrub from your wounded soul no matter how hard you tried:

My Precious Kitten 🖤

The cab ride back to your apartment passed in a delirious, heated blur of Kuroo's wandering hands and increasingly bold murmurs against your flushed skin. No sooner had you bundled his languid bulk into the backseat beside you before those long fingers were smoothing up your thighs and ghosting over the exposed column of your throat.

"Pretty kitten," he rasped gutturally, amber eyes glazed yet burning straight through you with naked yearning. "Lemme touch...need to relearn what heaven feels like after so long..."

You caught his straying palms just as they began roaming over your breasts, nipples pebbling traitorously underneath your shirt. Kuroo whined low in his throat, pawing against your restraining grip with intoxicated insistence until you leveled him with a stern look.

"Easy there, big guy," you managed in a tone far steadier than you felt. "Let's just get you settled somewhere more private before you try seducing me, yeah?"

The blunt teasing helped ground you both fractionally. Kuroo huffed out a thick chuckle smeared in tipsy amusement, allowing you to corral his restless limbs close once more. He turned to nuzzle his nose into your hair then, inhaling deeply with a shuddering exhale that caressed your nape in delicious wisps.

"Was always only ever yours to seduce, though," he confessed in a gravelly murmur tinged with mournfulness. "Miss your touch most of all, kitten..."

You swallowed hard against the sudden emotion clogging your throat, forcing yourself to remain as aloof and unaffected as possible. Just a little longer and you could bundle Kuroo off to sleep and collect yourself properly before allowing the tidal wave of still-lingering sentiment to crest in relative privacy.

Sure enough, the familiar facade of your apartment complex quickly hoved into view outside the grimy cab window. You nudged Kuroo gently until he roused enough to blink owlishly at the unfolding surroundings, momentary comprehension flickering behind that hazy stare.

"Wait...s'this your place?" he rasped in a rare moment of lucidity. "'Sgonna be real easy for me to mix signals and cross lines if y'bring me to bed again, baby..."

Rather than mount either indignant protest or bemused flirtation, you simply levelled him with a weighted look before shrugging gamely.

"Well unless you've got any better options handy, this is what you're stuck with right now," you declared mildly. "So let's just get you settled somewhere soft so tomorrow's hangover won't be quite so unbearable, hmm?"

His tongue darted out to wet full lips you definitely didn't track with laser focus, shoulders rolling beneath the rumpled button-down in that boneless shrug of idle surrender you recalled so intimately from happier times. Without further preamble, Kuroo roused himself enough to shuffle from the cab without excessive guidance, muscular forearm slung over your shoulder while you supported his swaying weight against your side.

From there, navigating the dingy entrance and dimly lit stairwells passed in another heated blur of scorching looks and whispered flirtations that made your skin prickle with slowly escalating temptation the closer your shared destination loomed. Somehow, you managed to guide your stumbling entourage down the hallway and swipe your apartment door open without too much struggle. But the feeble illusion of control vanished the second Kuroo's unsteady gait carried you both across the threshold with graceless momentum.

Your footing faltered, chest impacting the nearest wall with a low grunt of effort as Kuroo's arms encircled you from behind in a viselike brace. His chin hooked over your shoulder, the scruffy rasp against your nape sending fresh shivers slithering down your limbs until you trembled despite the radiating heat of his body pressed flush against your own.

"Easy...easy there, baby doll," he purred in a familiar rumble that punched straight through any lingering self-possession you'd been clinging to pathetically. "S'okay...lemme jus' hold you 'gain, hm? Been way too long..."

You inhaled a shuddery breath in time with the molten glide of Kuroo's wandering palms along your sides - exploring the dips and flares with a shameless sense of ownership that bordered on delirium in its intensity. He sighed gustily against your neck, each tremor of his chest seeming to reverberate all the way through your own ribcage until your heart galloped completely out of sync.

"You came when I called," Tetsu murmured in something resembling awe, lips brushing the shell of your ear in a searing brand that made you squirm helplessly. "Never shoulda gave up hope...not when y'feel so goddamn perfect in m'arms again, dollface."

His slurred endearments and the scorching heat of his hands mapping over every lush curve robbed you of any outward composure completely. A punched moan slipped free without restraint as he rolled his hips with aching leisure, allowing you to feel every rigid inch of his cock straining against the taut fabric below. Kuroo groaned low in his chest in response, nuzzling closer until your cheek slanted against his and you drowned in the earthy, intoxicating notes of his cologne still clinging to sweat-slick skin.

"Used to dream about this, y'know?" he rumbled out brokenly, dragging scalding kisses over the thundering pulse at your throat between panted confessions. "About findin' m'way back t'you some way...fallin' into bed together just like this an' never wantin' t'stop feelin' you everywhere again..."

Your head fell back against the solid weight of his shoulder in something akin to rapturous surrender as his hands and mouth roamed restlessly. Deep down, every syllable dripping from that low, raspy timbre you adored resonated with your very core - igniting long-buried embers to crackling life once more despite your staunchest denials.

Because you'd spent countless, endless nights chasing the very same fantasy, hadn't you? Indulging in the hazy, forbidden imaginings of Kuroo blazing back into your world like a black hole's gravitic allure - inescapable and irresistible as the cosmic forces driving his rapturous, ardent worship of your body yet again.

He seemed to sense the exact moment you teetered over the edge into resigned capitulation entirely. Kuroo stilled for a charged beat, the tension coiled in his looming frame transmitting straight through your merged forms in electric vibrations until every nerve ending pulsed in time with your rabbiting pulse.

"Yeah...that's m'good girl," he crooned against the fevered hollow of your nape in a silken rasp that robbed what little breath remained in your lungs completely. "Been waitin' so fuckin' patiently for me all this time, I bet. No need t'fight it anymore, kitten...I got you now."

With a low, ravaged sound rumbling from his chest, Kuroo twisted his hips in a practiced grind that had your knees buckling shamefully. One mammoth palm anchored around your shoulders, pinning you upright through the shockwaves as inch after delirious inch of his scorching erection rutted against the soft give of your ass in unhurried possession.

You cried out shamelessly at the torturous friction, hands flying up to clutch the arm banded across your abdomen in a desperate, futile anchor. But still Tetsu didn't relent - continuing his merciless rhythm as he sealed every searing inch to your form with leonine mastery, raining whiskey-soaked praises and growled endearments against your skin in a delirious mantra of sin.

"Such a perfect lil' fuck toy, takin' m'cock so pretty for me like y'were made for it," he rasped hotly at one point, making you quiver. "Can already feel those sweet walls squeezin' down like a greedy vice...yearnin' t'get stuffed up an' bred full of my babies again, ain't that right baby?"

You whimpered helplessly against the onslaught, hips unconsciously pivoting into each grinding roll as he mercilessly chased your unraveling higher with every crude vulgarity spilling free from his swollen lips and scorching exhales. Long-denied flashes of muscle memory stirred to vivid life - of nights blurring into mornings spent wrapped in Kuroo's powerful embrace as he took his fill and gave back in equal measure; of being stretched impossibly around his throbbing cock; of the addictive, dizzying rush of his cum painting your innermost depths white and dripping out messy and hot rivulets.

It was only once you'd finally managed to deposit Kuroo's bulk onto the plush embrace of your living room sofa that things quickly veered out of controlled territory altogether.

Because no sooner had you straightened up fully with the intent of retrieving some water and painkillers for what promised to be a brutal hangover come sunrise...only to find yourself promptly hauled back down into the sinuous sprawl of Kuroo's trembling form over yours with crushing urgency.

You gasped aloud as his powerful thighs caged your hips between them, vision swimming briefly until your senses managed to recalibrate around Kuroo bracketing your prone sprawl with utterly relentless possession. He loomed over you panting harshly, eyes finally focusing with piercing, unhurried intent that robbed you of oxygen entirely.

"Please..." he rasped with raw earnestness laced through each syllable, calloused palm settling over the thundering cadence of your pulse in a searing caress. "Pretty girl, I need you...I can't—I can't keep going like this without you anymore..."

Kuroo pitched forward then, hot and trembling as he nuzzled and sought out every slick expanse of your throat with unbridled ardor. Each open-mouthed suckle and rasping noise he painted onto your fevered skin sent another cresting surge of electric heat saturating straight through to your pussy like the sweetest poison drip-fed directly into your veins.

The only tether to reason you still desperately clung to through the rising fog of delirious lust crashed over you with each molten glide of Kuroo mapping every curve and hollow with a devotion that teetered beyond the obsessive into something profoundly more all-consuming altogether. Raw, boundless need burned behind every caress and filthy endearment he showered over your unraveling form - yearning so utterly visceral that you couldn't tear yourself free of its anchoring depths even as your own restraint frayed.

"I can't..." Kuroo rasped again in a voice wrecked with equal parts ruin and rapture intermingled. "Can't breathe without you in my lungs, baby...fuck, need you like oxygen or I'll—"

Whatever apocalyptic promise hung trembling behind his gaze went mercifully unvoiced. Because with one final shuddering inhale, you summoned the last fragments of your slipping resistance and twisted free from the delirious tangle of Kuroo's limbs before he could swallow you whole again.

The resulting whine that punched free from his chest sounded utterly shattering - eyes gone blown wide and anguished as he watched you hastily retreat towards the bedroom on shaking legs. You paused only long enough at the threshold to pin him with one last weighted look that hopefully conveyed a semblance of the tempest still roiling beneath your own defenses in the face of his unbound hunger.

"Get some sleep, Tetsurou," you managed with gentle steel laced behind each weighted syllable. "We...we can talk properly in the morning."

He opened his mouth to protest, clearly. But you had already turned and fled through the doorway entirely before granting his fraying self-restraint the chance to tempt capitulation once more tonight. Because as the bedroom door closed behind you with an ominous thud of finality...part of you already sensed this latest reunion would merely serve to finally unmake you both with blinding, rapturous certainty in ways neither of you had yet recovered from their last disastrous conclusion.

The sizzle of bacon grease popping in the pan punctuated the uneasy silence permeating your kitchen like a stifling fog. You kept your back turned towards the entryway, feigning focus on tending the eggs with studious concentration despite your rattled nerves.

Last night's heated confrontation replayed through your mind in lurid flashes, stoking embers of yearning and consternation alike. Because as much as rational thought might attempt to overwrite the visceral reality of having Kuroo's scorching adoration and unrestrained ache poured over you so reverently...your body betrayed deeper truths.

Ones where you desperately craved being laid utterly bare before him without defenses or hesitation once more.

The telltale shuffle of approaching footsteps across creaky hardwood sent your pulse skyrocketing anew. You braced yourself, drawing in a fortifying inhale and squaring your stance instinctively.

When you finally turned to face your guest, however, all the hasty pep talks fled your temporarily vacated lungs entirely.

Kuroo stood in tousled disarray just beyond the kitchen's threshold - collared shirt hanging open to reveal a broad swath of defined musculature you couldn't tear your gaze away from instantly. His dark locks stuck up at wild angles, countenance still bearing the rumpled vestiges of last night's heated imbibing and intimate tussle sprawled across the sofa.

Yet it was the open longing etched across his striking features that undid you most of all in that suspended heartbeat. The same rapturous adoration shone bright and undiminished behind each fractured inhale shared between your suspended forms once more.

"Hey pretty girl," he rasped out in that smoke-roughened timber that caressed over every inch of your overstimulated nerves exquisitely. "Missed being the first thing my eyes landed on every morning."

Your throat clicked with an audible swallow as Kuroo prowled further into the tiny kitchen space, relentless in his approach. Despite hours of anticipated reprieve between that delirious reunion and the cruel light of sobriety now bathing him fully...the slow burn of his molten need remained banked and simmering bright within those arresting tawny irises.

"Don't," you managed roughly in what you hoped was a tone of forbidding steel despite the tremor fracturing its foundations. "Just...stay right there, Tetsurou."

Kuroo's steady advance only faltered briefly at the command before resuming its measured pace anew. It was only when he drew within a few scant feet that you whirled away again, bracing both palms against the tiny kitchenette counter as if it could somehow serve as an impenetrable barricade.

"Pretty sure breakfast's about done by now," he commented idly - utterly unphased by your clear retreat and hostility. "Mind if I steal a—?"

"Get cleaned up already if you're actually intent on sticking around," you interrupted with more venom than intended, forcibly resuming your tasks to distract from the delicious masculine proximity now swamping your senses so thoroughly once more. "And once you're done gussying up that hungover mug of yours...I think it's high time you got the hell out of my place too while you're at it."

A tense silence followed your gritted demand - charged and pregnant with unspoken currents thrumming between your rigid frames with dizzying friction. Finally, after inhaling a weighted breath of his own, Kuroo spoke up once more in a low, tempered pitch that sliced through your defenses like a hot knife cleaving soft butter.

"You know I can't leave without us finishing this first, kitten..."

He was closer now - close enough for the wafting cedar wood and crisp spice of his cologne to swamp your heightened senses completely, robbing you of any lingering faculty for retreat entirely. You sensed Kuroo moving, circling around your flank with that same purposeful yet indolent prowl you'd witnessed stalk so many opponents down to utter devastation right before claiming rapturous victory over the years.

"I get that you're pissed...and hurt," he continued, rich cadence bleeding into your stuttering focus now. "Hell, maybe you even hate my guts a lil' still over how things crashed between us back then."

You flinched against another scorching glide of his presence alongside your left hip, blunted fingernails digging into the laminate counter until your knuckles went white as paper. Any second now Kuroo would come into your periphery properly...and then all remaining delusions about composure or propriety would officially fracture beyond repair completely.

"But looking around this place again so fresh..." Kuroo husked from somewhere over your shoulder, radiating magnetic want and bittersweet yearning in equal seismic waves. "All our old routines and reminders everywhere I look, baby...not much has really moved on despite those brave faces you put on, has it?"

You flinched again - utterly undone by his perceptive summation as those calloused fingertips came into view over your trembling fists. There Kuroo traced the outline of a vibrant yet faded kitchen towel emblazoned with a whimsical cartoon cat motif - one of his silly yet doting gifts from happier days.

Further over sat your favourite ceramic mug decorated with a cheeky slogan you'd laughed over countless mornings curled up against his bare chest enjoying the quiet tranquility before rushing off to classes or jobs. On the fridge hung a lurid assortment of old takeout menus, inside jokes scrawled beside favored recommendations in your half-forgotten couple shorthand.

"I still see the home we made together everywhere I look, precious girl," Kuroo confessed in a broken rasp tinged with wistful sincerity and bone-deep fatigue alike. "And I know you can't have forgotten what we we shared here either...no matter how badly you've tried moving past our trainwreck eventually."

Time seemed to fracture and blur around you as he spoke, memories and tantalizing glimpses of a life you'd both meticulously nurtured together over years of triumph and hardship seeping through the fragile cracks of your armor against his smoldering attentions once more.

It was true. No matter how resolutely you'd vowed to press onward from the messy conclusion you'd arrived at - some stubborn, sentimental part of your soul simply refused to lay down arms against the life you'd shared with this beautiful, maddening soul of a man completely.

Every tiny touchstone or embedded routine kept in defiance of your mutual separation served as a lighthouse beacon calling you both home despite the tempestuous waves still swallowing your wrecked ships in darkness.

Kuroo took a measured step forward, closing what little distance remained separating your pinned forms until you could feel the blistering heat radiating off his solid frame in delicious waves. Instinctively, you tensed - muscles coiled to resist or perhaps even lash out against the achingly familiar onslaught of temptation swamping your senses once more.

But just as you teetered on the brink of that momentary defiance...Kuroo continued slowly, inexorably crowding your personal space without restraint. You squeezed your eyes shut as his broad chest brushed against your shoulder blades, torn between surrendering and fleeing before that magnetic aura of dark rapture and ruinous lust could fully ensnare you within its dizzying, euphoric spirals yet again.

"Don't..." you managed to bite out weakly, barely above a trembling whisper. "Tetsu, please...you need to just go before we—"

"Before we what, baby?" Kuroo rumbled from just behind your ear, smokey cadence dripping scorching sin over your thrumming pulse points. "Before you finally give in and let yourself have a taste of what you've been so desperately craving since I walked back into your world, hm?"

You whimpered despite every last fraying thread of self-composure willing otherwise. Because Kuroo spoke nothing but blistering truth laced through each gruff vowel ghosting over the prickling hairs along your nape. Already, you could feel yourself wavering - rigid defenses steadily liquefying beneath the relentless onslaught of his virile presence and unbound desire laid achingly bare.

"Hush now..." Kuroo groaned when you managed a pitiful whine of protest, calloused knuckles skating up the undersides of your forearms until goosebumps erupted in their scorching wake. "I've got you, kitten...always did, even after we completely lost the plot for a while there."

He nuzzled his face into your mussed tresses then, inhaling deeply like a man starved for air before trailing open-mouthed kisses behind your ear and down the racing column of your throat. You trembled around a ragged inhale, eyelids fluttering as every nerve ending burst to searing life beneath his scorching brands of worship once more.

"There's my sweet girl..." Kuroo husked in rapturous delight, tongue darting out to taste the thundering pulse leaping desperately against your overheated skin. "Always so responsive, like your body just can't wait to invite me back in after raising those prickly defenses to drive us both crazy..."

You shuddered against him bodily, head lolling back in helpless surrender at the first electrifying graze of his stubbled jawline scoring a delicious path to better access the vulnerable dip of your clavicles. He growled low in pure masculine satisfaction at your visceral response, one large palm settling squarely over your abdomen in a molten possession that had your back arching wantonly against the solid wall of his bulk behind you.

"There she is..." Kuroo rumbled with evident approval, tongue swirling over the juncture of your neck and shoulder in searing figure-eights that undid you completely. "My sweet, gorgeous girl finally...so desperate for her man to take the lead again after stumbling around lost for too damn long..."

Low in your belly, a coiling ache began throbbing to life in tandem with each unhurried swipe of his searing mouth mapping every inch of you he could reach properly again. You rolled your hips back mindlessly, seeking friction against the rapidly hardening length already straining against the worn denim of his slacks as a low, needy moan punched free.

"You don't have to say a word, baby..." Kuroo snarled with possession lacing every word, stubble rasping deliciously against your bared throat. "Know you better than anyone in this world...the way your pretty lil' cunt gets so fucking soaked just from me pinning you with this hungry look, yeah?"

Your vision whited out momentarily at the filthy endearment, body going utterly liquid against the brutal intensity now pinning you in sublime rapture. Because Kuroo was right - always had the uncanny knack for reading your every non-verbal cue and unspoken need like a savant. Just like he seemed to understand you were already a hairsbreadth from shattering apart into blind surrender without reservation once again now...

So when Kuroo growled out another guttural noise of relentless possession, turned you around and seized your jaw firmly to angle your slack mouth towards his waiting hunger...the only response that tore free was a broken, keening whimper of joyous capitulation at last.

He swallowed down the sound greedily, tongue sweeping between your parted lips in a searing glide of satin and sin that punched the air from your trembling lungs entirely. Each slick swipe of his probing velvet strokes branded you anew - searing unspoken promises of ruinous devotion deep within your marrow as you arched and whined mindlessly into the glorious collapse.

Because this was always your undoing in the end - slipping fully into Tetsurou's unraveling thrall against your feeble will and giving him every scrap of your surrender to claim and mould as he saw rapturous fit. Your hands roamed his rippling musculature with frantic greed, desperately seeking every hard ridge and flexing hollow as if mapping the sacred geography of his form by touch alone could fully unearth your eternal salvation there.

Only when Kuroo finally tore away from your swollen mouth on a sawing inhale did your scattered focus manage to drag its way back into sluggish coherence. He stared down at you utterly wrecked and ravaged already in his ruinous embrace - raw adoration and transcendent hunger searing through his intense tawny gaze that robbed you of breath anew in an instant.

"So perfect..." Kuroo rasped out in a tone laced with rapturous wonder and naked reverence both. "My sweet girl...my beautiful kitten...letting me touch her like this again, after the stupid shit I've put her through lately..."

He cradled your slack jaw with earth-scorching tenderness, leaning in until your laboured breaths intermingled deliriously between trembling lips. You could only gaze up at him dazedly, already utterly undone in the best way yet once more by the soul-sundering truths radiating from every blazing syllable dripping from his wicked mouth.

"Still the only home that's ever mattered, kitten," Kuroo confessed hoarsely, tilting your faces together until your noses brushed in an intimate nuzzle that made your eyes flutter shut rapturously. "No matter how many times I lose my way..."

With a trembling inhale, Kuroo sealed his confession with a soft, lingering kiss that set every nerve ending alight with delirious heat and aching need anew. He cradled the back of your skull tenderly, guiding you into the perfect angle to savour the slow, intoxicating glide of his velvet mouth over yours until you could no longer tell where his essence ended and your own began.

Only when the last scraps of rationality threatened to flee your addled brain entirely did you break the seal with a shuddering gasp. Kuroo's lips curved against yours in a satisfied smirk, nipping at your swollen lower lip in playful chastisement before pulling away entirely.

You whimpered, chasing his addictive warmth on instinct - utterly bereft without his consuming heat pressed fully against you once more. But as his grip slid from the base of your skull to clasp around the delicate column of your throat in a steely brand of possession, that familiar rush of dark rapture and intoxicating submission swept back in an instant.

"Let me take care of my pretty kitten, hm?" Kuroo husked against your parted lips, thumb stroking down the rapid flutter of your pulse beating wildly against his restraining grasp. "Need to spoil my good girl after making such a mess of her these last few weeks..."

"Tetsu..." you whimpered, hips rolling in mindless abandon now as he traced the pad of his thumb over your pouting mouth teasingly. "Fuck, just...please..."

A low chuckle reverberated against your over-sensitive flesh, his other hand gliding down the planes of your shuddering abdomen with tantalizing indolence. The calloused pads of his fingers stroked a lazy, circuitous path across every quivering plane and dip before finally dipping between your spread thighs.

The first tentative graze of his dexterous digits against your soaked panties had you jerking helplessly against the iron bands of his restraining hold. You keened aloud, nails biting into the taut bulges of his biceps as Kuroo traced a featherlight path down the soaked slit, pausing to circle your engorged clit agonizingly slowly.

"Look at my pretty girl..." Kuroo groaned low in his throat, tawny eyes blazing with ravenous intent as he watched your lashes flutter and hips grind desperately against his teasing strokes. "Already soaked straight through this lil' thing for me...just aching for me to tear them off and bury myself in this tight cunt, aren't you?"

You sobbed openly at his taunting words, head lolling back helplessly. Because even as his fingers dipped beneath the clinging fabric to tease your dripping core properly, he never applied the slightest pressure or friction where you needed it most. Instead, Kuroo drew his soaked digits out to circle your neglected bundle of nerves in lazy circles, relishing the way you bucked and mewled mindlessly for more.

"Please," you finally broke and begged, unable to endure the slow-building torment any longer. "Tetsurou...baby, I can't...fuck, need you so badly, love...please..."

That seemed to finally undo the last threads of Kuroo's own tenuous composure, because in the next moment, he had you pinned against the kitchen counter once more. He captured your open, pleading mouth in another ravenous kiss, tongue spearing past your gasping lips in time with two thick fingers plunging into your clenching walls without mercy.

You cried out against his devouring mouth, hips canting to welcome the exquisite stretch as he immediately sought outyour most sensitive spot with devastating precision. His thumb worked feverish circles over your swollen clit, each merciless thrust and scissor of his wicked digits coiling the building pleasure tighter and tighter deep within.

Kuroo tore his mouth away from yours, panting harshly as he continued pistoning those talented fingers into your drenched core with unrelenting rhythm. The molten tawny pools of his darkened gaze roved over your disheveled, wanton form, taking in every blissful grimace and desperate whine you gave with evident male satisfaction.

"Always so responsive," Kuroo praised with a growl, grinding the heel of his palm against your clit as he worked a third finger into your greedy core. "So fucking sexy like this...can't believe I was dumb enough to leave you hanging these last few months, baby..."

You whimpered, eyelids fluttering as those sinfully long fingers continued pistoning in and out of your soaked depths, stretching and filling you to perfection. Kuroo chuckled darkly, curling his fingertips up against your spasming walls in a come-hither gesture that had you crying out hoarsely as sparks ignited along every nerve ending.

"But don't worry, kitten..." Kuroo leaned in until his lips were grazing your flushed earlobe, nipping at the sensitive flesh as you keened helplessly against him. "I'm gonna fuck all those nasty memories of those lonely nights right outta your tight cunt tonight, baby...promise."

Your entire body shuddered, a choked sob breaking free as Kuroo's scorching words and skilled touch sent you spiralling towards the edge of release without mercy. The delicious coil of pressure wound impossibly tighter as he worked those thick digits in and out of you, relentless and perfect, while his thumb continued circling and teasing your pulsing clit without pause.

"Come for me, kitten..." Kuroo urged hoarsely, tongue flicking over your earlobe before his teeth bit down possessively. "Want to feel your pretty cunt gushing all over my fingers, baby...gonna watch my pretty girl make a mess of herself just from this..."

And then, without warning, he curled his fingers up against that bundle of nerves tucked deep inside, thumb circling your engorged clit and drawing you closer and closer to that precipice. The dam finally burst, shattering the last restraints holding you captive beneath the weight of his intoxicating rapture.

You were keenly aware of the obscenely strong gush of fluids coating Kuroo's knuckles as he continued thrusting his fingers in and out of your throbbing core, the slick sounds of your juices echoing loudly through the kitchen. His groans of masculine approval and praise washed over you like a soothing balm, lulling you back down from the high with every tender stroke and husked syllable.

Kuroo eased his digits from your spent body gently, leaning in to nuzzle and kiss at your slack jaw as the aftershocks continued wracking your trembling form. Your limbs were a deadweight at your sides, muscles still twitching and shuddering around the delicious burn of your release as you floated through the haze.

"So good for me, kitten," Kuroo husked against your temple, gathering you into his solid frame tenderly. "So goddamn perfect, baby...I can't believe I've gone without this sweet cunt around my cock for months, huh..."

You shuddered, instinctively wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders as he hitched you up to sit on the countertop. Kuroo stepped between the V of your spread thighs, calloused palms stroking up and down your exposed flesh soothingly as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

"Missed you so fucking much," Kuroo admitted quietly, breath fanning over the sensitive juncture of your shoulder. "Not just like this, baby...missed everything about you, all the time. It's been killing me, kitten..."

You hummed softly, pressing a featherlight kiss to the crown of his mussed raven locks before leaning your cheek atop the silky strands. The last lingering threads of resentment and bitter disappointment faded away in the warm cocoon of his embrace, leaving behind the familiar sense of comfort and ease you'd only ever felt in his arms.

"Me too, Tetsurou..." you admitted on a sigh, stroking your hands down his broad back soothingly. "I missed you too, baby...but we're here now, right? That's all that matters."

Kuroo shuddered against you, pulling back just far enough to gaze down at your upturned face with burning intensity. In his smouldering tawny gaze, you saw the same unspoken promises and eternal devotion that had been laid bare in your soul for far longer than you cared to admit.

And then, Kuroo was surging forward and claiming your lips in a kiss so fierce, you could almost swear you could feel your bruised heart beating a tattoo in his own chest once more. His hands tangled in your hair, tugging on the messy strands just the way you liked to tip your face back for better access.

You moaned openly, arching into his scorching form and giving him anything and everything he demanded in the wake of that all-consuming kiss. Your own hands clutched at his shoulders, kneading and stroking the firm contours as if you could somehow drag him closer, deeper, and fuse him to your very being completely.

Kuroo growled low in his throat, wrenching himself away from the kiss just far enough to mutter a single command. "Lift your hips up for me, baby...gotta get this cute ass naked for me, okay?"

You whimpered, nodding dumbly as he reached for the waistband of your dampened underwear and tugged it down your shaking thighs. Kuroo peeled the garment off completely, tossing it aside before sliding his palms up the length of your calves.

When his calloused grip reached the crease of your thighs, he yanked you towards the edge of the counter, prompting a surprised squeal to slip free as your balance shifted precariously. Kuroo only laughed, the sound boyish and carefree as he wrapped one arm around your waist and dragged his stubbled jaw against your collarbones in a playful rasp.

"Don't worry, baby...gotcha," Kuroo assured, the heat of his breath fanning over the exposed swell of your breasts. "Gonna take such good care of you, kitten...gonna fuck you nice and slow, the way my good girl deserves, yeah?"

You keened aloud, fingers carding through the messy strands at the nape of his neck as Kuroo began mouthing his way down the valley of your breasts. He traced the curve of each mound reverently with his wicked tongue, laving and suckling until you were a trembling, moaning wreck beneath his worshipful attentions.

When Kuroo's lips closed around the sensitive bud, you cried out, arching into the hot, wet cavern as he suckled greedily. His teeth grazed the hardened peak with the barest edge of pain, and you hissed, grinding down against the growing bulge pressing insistently against your aching core.

Kuroo groaned, releasing the swollen nipple with a wet pop and leaning his forehead against the valley between your breasts. His breaths came in harsh pants, the muscles in his back rippling and flexing beneath your questing fingertips as you clung to his broad shoulders for dear life.

"Fuck," he swore on a ragged exhale, nuzzling the sweat-dampened skin as his hands slid down the dip of your waist and over the curve of your ass. "You're driving me fucking crazy, kitten...keep trying to go slow, be all gentle and sweet like you deserve...but all I can think about is slamming this cute ass down on my cock and fucking you until you scream my name loud enough for the neighbours to hear, baby..."

The filthy confession punched the air from your lungs entirely, and you were suddenly acutely aware of how much you needed that too. Needed the hard, relentless stretch of his girth bottoming out inside your quivering walls until the only thing you could remember was his name.

"Yes," you begged brokenly, tugging his raven locks hard enough to tilt his head back and seal your plea with a filthy kiss. "Please, Tetsu...just want to feel you, baby. Need it so bad..."

Kuroo swore again, biting at your swollen lower lip and sucking it into his mouth as his hands kneaded the flesh of your ass with bruising force. He pulled away just far enough to rest his forehead against yours, sharing a shuddering breath as his hand fumbled blindly at the button and zipper of his jeans.

"Fuck, hold on," he muttered, tearing away entirely.

You blinked hazily, watching as Kuroo shucked his jeans and boxers down his lean hips and off his legs entirely. His swollen length bobbed heavily between his legs, flushed a dark crimson and already leaking copiously at the swollen tip.

He palmed the thick base with one hand, giving himself a few long, hard strokes from root to tip and swiping his thumb through the pearlescent bead welling at the slit. Your tongue darted out to moisten your suddenly dry lips, entranced by the sight of him pleasuring himself before you.

It was an achingly familiar and yet strangely erotic scene, and the thought that you were both still so eager and needy after all this time was equal parts humbling and exhilarating.

Kuroo groaned, tawny eyes blazing as he took in your dazed expression and parted lips with obvious male pride. He stroked his free hand up the planes of your inner thigh, teasing his thumb through your soaked folds and tracing the glistening path back to your swollen clit.

Your breath caught, fingers scrabbling against the smooth countertop for purchase as he rubbed lazy circles against the hypersensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips jerked helplessly, torn between chasing the addictive friction of his dexterous touch and the growing emptiness between your trembling thighs.

"Tetsurou," you whimpered, eyes fluttering as he teased your sensitive flesh with expert precision. "Tetsu, please..."

Kuroo chuckled, stepping between your thighs and hitching you closer to the edge of the counter in a single, fluid motion. He gripped the base of his cock, nudging the flared tip against your dripping core and dragging the velvety length through the gathered slickness.

You moaned, canting your hips forward instinctively as one hand reached for his shoulder while the other clung to the edge of the counter. But just as the swollen tip breached your quivering walls, he retreated once more.

"Tetsurou," you hissed, glaring up at the smug bastard.

Kuroo's lips twitched, eyes glimmering with unbridled mischief as he repeated the slow, torturous drag of his cockhead against your slit. His other hand snaked up the length of your torso, teasing the soft underside of your breast before plucking at the swollen nipple once more.

"What's the matter, baby?" he taunted, tweaking the sensitive peak with a little more force this time. "I thought my kitten liked it when I played with her, hm? Or does my greedy girl just want my cock instead?"

You scowled, the flush on your cheeks deepening at his shameless words. But even as your mind scrambled for some clever retort, his deft fingers continued toying with the tight bud. The sudden surge of pleasure left your thoughts scattered, and all you could do was keen in a desperate bid for more.

"Hmm? Does she?" Kuroo prompted, slipping the chubby tip into the searing wet heat of your cunt just far enough for your greedy walls to clench around the intrusion. "C'mon, baby...use those pretty words for me and ask nicely..."

"Fuck, please!" you finally sobbed, nails digging into his shoulder blades. "Please, Tetsu, want you so fucking badly...please, baby, need your cock, need you to fill me up...please..."

Your rambling pleas seemed to satisfy him at last, and with a guttural groan, Kuroo finally slid home with a single, powerful thrust. Your back arched, a silent scream parting your lips as his cock split you open without mercy.

It burned, stretched you impossibly wide, but the sensation was exactly what you'd needed. You felt the exquisite ache all the way to your bones, every nerve ending lighting up in response to the deliciously familiar fullness.

Kuroo's breath was hot and unsteady against the sweat-dampened skin of your neck, his broad shoulders quaking beneath the white-knuckled grip of your fingers. The taut lines of his body were coiled tight, and you knew he was hanging on by a thread.

"F-fuck, kitten," he panted against your neck, nose skimming along the curve of your jaw. "Always feel like the first fucking time with you...so fucking tight and wet, baby...god, you're perfect..."

You keened softly, rolling your hips down onto his cock to urge him on. Kuroo took the hint, slowly dragging his cock out until the flared tip was just barely kissing your clenching entrance. And then, without warning, he slammed back home, the punishing snap of his hips rocking your entire body forward and punching a breathless cry from your lungs.

Kuroo didn't give you a moment to recover, setting a steady rhythm that soon had your vision blurring around the edges. His hips pistoned forward, spearing his cock deep into your fluttering walls with every thrust. The obscene sounds of skin slapping skin echoed throughout the kitchen, joined by the filthy squelch of his cock pumping in and out of your dripping cunt.

You were lost to the sensations, reduced to a moaning, writhing mess as his swollen cock continued pounding into you with ruthless force. There was no space between your bodies, no way for you to move or grind down against the delicious friction except for the unrelenting pace of his thrusts.

"Such a good girl," Kuroo praised against your temple, the words slightly slurred as he chased his own release. "Taking my cock so well, baby...such a good, pretty kitten...love the way your sweet pussy feels around my cock, kitten..."

A ragged moan tore from your throat, head falling back against the cool wall as your walls began to spasm around his shaft. The telltale pressure coiled tighter, the delicious drag of his cock along the sensitive walls of your cunt building the pleasure to dizzying heights.

Kuroo seemed to sense your impending release, one arm hooking beneath your knee to hike your leg higher as his thrusts picked up speed. The angle allowed him to delve deeper, and your jaw went slack as a strangled moan was punched from your chest.

"Come on, baby," Kuroo urged, voice hoarse and strained. "That's it, kitten...let go for me, sweetheart...wanna feel that cute cunt squeezing the fuck outta my cock, yeah?"

You sobbed, fingers scrambling against the firm lines of his back as the tension finally snapped, sending you tumbling over the edge. Your body seized, a silent scream parting your lips as he continued pounding into your quivering cunt without mercy.

Dimly, you registered the guttural groan of his own release and the searing heat of his release flooding your fluttering walls. You whimpered, clinging to him with what little strength you had left as the aftershocks of your climax continued to wash over you.

Kuroo held you close, stroking one hand down the curve of your spine soothingly and dropping featherlight kisses along the side of your face. He murmured quiet praises against your flushed skin, lips skimming the shell of your ear and down the curve of your jaw.

Slowly, your senses returned, and the hazy euphoria ebbed away enough for the aches in your body to register. The tender flesh between your thighs throbbed, muscles twitching and shuddering around the spent intrusion buried within your sensitive core.

Kuroo pressed one final lingering kiss to the corner of your lips, nuzzling the damp strands of hair plastered to your temple as he gently lowered your leg back to the countertop. You sighed softly, relishing the comforting weight of his body as he pressed closer.

"Still with me, kitten?" Kuroo prompted, breath warm against your cheek.

You nodded dumbly, forcing your heavy eyelids open to meet his heated gaze. Kuroo chuckled softly, leaning in to brush his lips against yours in a fleeting caress before carefully easing his softened cock from your spent core.

A weak whine slipped free at the loss, but you bit down on your lip to silence the embarrassing sound as Kuroo helped you down from the countertop. Your legs felt like jelly, and you swayed precariously for a moment before he scooped you into his strong arms and carried you across the kitchen.

"So," he started casually, carrying you into the bathroom and kicking the door shut behind him. "Does this mean I’m your boyfriend again, kitten?"

You snorted, wrapping your arms around his neck as he set you down beside the bathtub. "What, you didn't get that memo when I was literally begging you to put a baby in me, Tetsurou?" you retorted, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Well, no," he admitted with a wry grin. "I was a little too focused on the whole 'putting a baby in you' part of that deal to really focus on the semantics."

You rolled your eyes, tugging on his arm to join you in the tub. He laughed, climbing in behind you and tugging you into his chest. "Okay, fine, you big idiot. Guess I’m stuck with you."

Kuroo smirked, leaning forward to capture your lips in a deep, languid kiss. "I think I can live with that, kitten."

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greengoblinswifey · 19 days ago

Text

Torn— Drew Starkey x Nicholas Chavez x Actress!Reader

summary— you find yourself torn between your boyfriend drew starkey and your costar nicholas chavez. what starts as a weird dynamic with you feeling guilty turns into passion at a party, leading to a moment where all three of you come together.

warnings— explicit content. threesome, unprotected sex, anal and vaginal sex, double penetration, double creampie, oral, fingering, face fucking, polygamy, praise kink, fluff.

You had been with Drew Starkey for a while now, and your relationship had always been solid. He was steady, reliable, and made you feel secure. But everything changed when you started filming a new movie with Nicholas Chavez. From the moment you met him, there was an undeniable attraction, a magnetic pull that left you thinking about him more than you ever anticipated. It wasn’t just his good looks, there was something about his energy that pulled you in, leaving you feeling conflicted. You didn’t want to hurt Drew, but the connection with Nicholas was impossible to ignore.

As filming progressed, the chemistry between you and Nicholas became more intense. On-screen, your characters shared moments that felt a little too real, and off-screen, you found yourself getting lost in conversations with him. Drew noticed the shift. Instead of being jealous, though, he seemed curious, as if he could sense the spark between you and Nicholas, and, strangely, wasn’t bothered by it which went unnoticed by you. You were scared to bring up your feelings for Nicholas, afraid of what Drew might think, afraid of losing him. So, you stayed silent, trapped in a web of emotions.

Then, at a huge movie premiere party for the movie you filmed with Nicholas, everything came to a head. You had had a few drinks, and the atmosphere was buzzing with excitement. Drew and Nicholas both gravitated toward you throughout the night, their eyes never straying far. You felt the tension rising as they slowly closed in. Before you knew it, they had you cornered, Nicholas standing in front of you, his intense gaze holding yours, while Drew was behind you, his body pressing against yours and grinding, radiating heat.

“You okay?” Drew murmured in your ear, his voice low, but you could hear the underlying heat in it. His hands trailed over your hips, making your breath catch.

Before you could respond, Nicholas leaned in, his lips just inches from yours, his fingers lightly brushing your arm. “You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you?”

Your pulse raced. The teasing note in his voice, combined with the way Drew’s body pressed against yours, had you feeling trapped in the best way possible.

“I- I don’t know what you mean,” you managed to whisper, though the way you trembled gave you away.

Nicholas smirked. “Don’t play dumb, you know exactly what I mean.”

Drew’s grip on your waist tightened. “You can be honest, you know,” he added, his voice almost a growl. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Your mind was spinning. The music, the heat of their bodies, the weight of their attention, it was overwhelming. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you admitted, glancing between the two of them. “I didn’t want to hurt either of you.”

Drew chuckled softly. “Who said I’m hurt?” His lips grazed your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Maybe I’ve been thinking about this too.”

Nicholas’ fingers lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’ve been stuck between us for a while, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice soft but commanding. “It’s okay, you don’t have to choose.”

Drunk on both alcohol and the intensity of the moment, you, Drew, and Nicholas ended up in your mansion together. The air was thick with unspoken desire, and everything felt like it had been leading to this moment.

Nicholas was the first to act, pulling you into a heated kiss while Drew watched, his eyes dark with hunger. “God, I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered against your lips, his hands roaming over your body. Drew’s eyes flickered between you and Nicholas, revealing that the connection you felt wasn’t just your imagination, it was real for all three of you.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you breathed, your heart pounding as their hands explored your body.

Drew pressed a kiss to your neck, his voice raspy. “You feel so good,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “You have no idea how much we’ve both been wanting this.”

Nicholas smirked as his hands slipped under your dress, his touch sending electricity through your veins. “I think she knows now.” As their hands roamed over your body, you knew there was no going back.

“I want you,” Nicholas whispered against your skin as Drew's lips trailed down your collarbone. “Both of us do.”

Drew’s hands tightened on your waist as he kissed a path down your shoulder. “You’re ours,” he growled, and the intensity of their words sent your body into overdrive. He shoved you on the bed, his roughness matching with the tension in the air and he did something unexpected. Drew’s hands cupped Nicholas’ cheeks and their lips met in a passionate kiss filled with need that left you throbbing. You never expected this from either of them and it had you wanting more.

“I’ve waited so long to do that,” Drew said, pulling away.

They stared longingly at each other before turning their attention back to you. “Tonight’s about all of us baby, we’re gonna make you feel so good,” Nicholas smirked.

He removed your dress and your lacy undergarments, leaving you bare as Drew kissed you all over, eventually settling on your neck and finding that sweet spot that made you squirm.

“Beautiful isn’t she?” Drew asked, catching Nicholas taking in your naked figure.

“So fucking beautiful, she’s a masterpiece,” he replied.

They removed each other’s clothes, their eyes never leaving each other and you wondered when the dam would break between them. After, their attention was back on you with Nicholas spreading your legs on the bed and Drew hovering over your face, his cock hard and leaking with pre cum.

“I’m gonna make you feel good and you’re gonna make him feel good, is that a good deal baby?” Nicholas inquired. You nodded desperately, the dynamic between you leaving you aching.

Your mouth fell open and Drew took the opportunity to slide his cock inside as Nicholas’ tongue ravaged your pussy. You could barely focus on the cock fucking your mouth as Nicholas sucked and flicked your clit with his tongue, sending shivers all throughout your body. His tongue focused on your clit as he slipped a finger in your sopping cunt, curling it and immediately finding your g spot. You moaned around Drew’s cock, swirling your tongue and taking him as deep in your throat as you could without gagging.

“Fuck,” Drew moaned, “you fucking like that pretty girl? You like having another man’s mouth on your pussy and my big cock in your mouth?”

You tried answering, forgetting he was practically in your throat and he let out a chuckle, thrusting his hips at a steady pace. “Don’t talk with food in your mouth baby.”

Your legs began to shake as you could feel your orgasm approaching. Nicholas slipped a second finger and he engulfed his mouth on your clit, you felt like you were about to explode at any moment.

“I can feel how close you are baby, cum for me, cum for us,” Nicholas demanded, a dark glint in his eye as you looked down. Hearing the demand that you were to cum for the two men that you were insanely attracted to sent you over the edge, you moaned around Drew’s cock and his cum immediately spurted down your throat as your orgasm washed over you all over Nicholas’ mouth. Their moans filled the room before yours finally subsided as Nicholas’ tongue left your pussy.

“Wanna taste our girl?” he asked Drew. He nodded and with a smirk, Nicholas pulled him in, their lips connecting in a sloppy kiss and their tongues fighting for dominance. The scene before you was so erotic, all that was in your head was to have them do that as they were deep inside your holes. You needed them both.

“That’s so fucking hot,” you panted. Your pussy wet from the ordeal, “and now I need you both inside me, we can take it slow and romantic another time, I just want you both to fill me up.”

Nicholas’ cock was rock hard hearing your plea. Though he wanted to cum in your mouth, doing it inside you for the first time seemed more fitting and Drew agreed.

“You can get her pussy tonight, it’s yours now too, isn’t that right baby?” Drew asked, looking at you, his hands slowly pumping his thick cock.

“Yes sir,” you giggled, his words making you swoon.

Drew positioned himself under you, your body weight lying on top of him as his cock was pressed against your puckered hole. Nicholas stood in front of you slapping his heavy cock on your clit making you moan his name. He spat on Drew’s cock to lubricate it so he could enter your ass easier though this was not your first rodeo with Drew. He had a few kinks, something that Nicholas would soon discover.

They both positioned themselves at your entrances, you were about to be penetrated by two greek gods—at the same time.

“You ready baby?” Drew asked.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Nicholas followed up after.

“Shut up and fuck me, both of you,” you begged and your answer was enough.

Simultaneously, their cocks slowly penetrated you, the feeling of being full getting closer and closer.

“Fuck,” you all moaned in unison, the feeling was heaven. You were heaven.

“This ass is so fucking tight,” Drew moaned, steadily rutting into you.

“So is her pussy, fucking wet too,” Nicholas said, his hands moving to fondle your breasts.

The pressure of being filled on both ends left you breathless, every inch of your body trembling from the overwhelming intensity. Nicholas was deep in your wet pussy, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he rocked against you, his movements powerful and unrelenting. Under you, Drew’s deep thrusts sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, each one pushing you closer to the brink.

“You’re taking us so well,” Nicholas murmured, his voice thick with desire as his lips brushed against your ear.

Drew groaned from behind you, his hand trailing up your back as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your neck. “Feels too good, doesn’t it? We’re not gonna stop until you can’t take anymore.”

You could feel both of them stretching you, their rhythm perfectly in sync, making you feel impossibly full. Every time Drew pushed in deeper from behind, Nicholas would thrust forward, their bodies meeting yours in perfect harmony. Your breath hitched with every movement, a moan escaping your lips as the sensation built.

“God, I can feel you squeezing us both,” Nicholas grunted, his hand sliding up your side, gripping you harder. “You like being ours, don’t you?”

Your fingers dug into Nicholas’s back as you tried to ground yourself, overwhelmed by the feeling of being completely surrounded, their bodies pressing into yours, both of them taking you at once. The fullness was almost too much, but in the best way, sending wave after wave of pleasure through you.

Drew’s voice rumbled behind you, low and full of need. “Just let go, baby. We’ve got you.”

Immediately, you convulsed underneath them, a primal moan in response to their filthy words and having their cocks buried deep inside you, you felt like you were on top of the world, having your vision blur and stars filling your head as the feeling of ecstasy overtook you.

After everything built up to a crescendo, your body trembled from the overwhelming sensations that swept through you. Your heart was still racing, breath shallow, as you lay back on Drew, feeling utterly spent. The warmth of Drew and Nicholas surrounding you only heightened the lingering aftershocks that pulsed through your limbs.

You felt so full, emotionally, physically, and mentally—like the weight of everything that had been brewing between the three of you had finally crashed over, leaving nothing but satisfaction in its wake. Your body ached in the best way, as though you’d been completely claimed by them, both in the way they touched you and the way they looked at you.

As they both reached their peak, it felt like the tension that had once existed between Drew and Nicholas dissolved completely, replaced with a sense of unity neither of them had anticipated. There was no longer a struggle over who you belonged to, it was a quiet, unspoken understanding that you were theirs, together, and they could share you in ways that felt right for all of you.

The warmth of their release spread inside your pussy and your ass, leaving you feeling impossibly full, every inch of you claimed in the most intimate way. Drew’s hand intertwined with Nicholas’ as they both caught their breath, chests rising.

The soft, lingering kisses that Nicholas pressed against your shoulder, combined with the feel of Drew’s fingers gently stroking your side, made you melt even further into the moment. It wasn’t just the physical release, it was the unspoken bond that had formed between the three of you, deeper than anything you’d experienced before.

Drew leaned in to kiss Nicholas, the once unexpected passion now flowing naturally between them. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, your hand instinctively running down Nicholas' back, feeling the warmth of his skin as their lips met in a deep, lingering kiss. The heat of their connection sent a shiver through you, making the afterglow even more intoxicating.

Nicholas broke the kiss, breathless, turning to meet your gaze, his eyes softening. “I never knew it could be like this,” he whispered, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. Drew followed, brushing a hand along your cheek as he nodded in agreement.

“We're all together now,” Drew murmured, his voice a quiet promise, before the three of you shifted, curling up together. The warmth of their bodies pressed against yours as they cuddled you between them, the moment filled with intimacy, not just passion.

Nicholas gently rubbed your shoulder as Drew wiped a cool cloth over your skin, cleaning you up with surprising tenderness. “You’re perfect,” Nicholas whispered against your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You could feel the weight of their attention, not just on your body but on the connection you all shared.

When they finished cleaning you, they turned to each other. Drew smirked, grabbing the cloth and running it teasingly over Nicholas’ chest. “Your turn,” he grinned, the air between them still charged but with a sweetness that hadn’t been there before.

Nicholas laughed, leaning into Drew’s touch. "Alright, alright,” he playfully relented, allowing Drew to clean him up before returning the favor.

Afterward, they both wrapped their arms around you again, the three of you sinking into the bed, completely content. You felt the lingering warmth of their presence, not just in your body but in the calm, comfortable silence that followed.

“We’re not letting you go,” Drew whispered, his hand stroking your hair gently.

Nicholas pressed another soft kiss to your neck, “Not now, not ever.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a contented sigh as your mind swam in the aftermath, your body feeling weightless and warm, cocooned in their presence. Full, cherished, completely theirs—and nothing else mattered.

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valkyriexo · 1 month ago

Text

HEART OF HATE | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; bf chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Angst, Smut

ᑉ³warnings; SMUT MDNI,Jealousy, dirty talk, swearing, P in V, unprotected sex , fingering,arguments, mentions of hate. manipulative chan. veryyyyy toxic chan. use of 'slut', 'good girl' , hair pulling, gagging, Smut. SMUTTT minors do NOT interact This chan is not a very good person read at your own risk!

ᑉ³Authors Note; Part or kinktober collab with @dandelions-143 Kinktober masterlist

The air crackles with tension as you and Chan face off, hearts racing and voices tight with anger. You can’t believe this is where your relationship has led, but here you are, standing in the middle of the bedroom, emotions on a razor’s edge.

"Why didn’t you tell me you were hanging out with her?" you snap, your voice shaking with rage. The words taste bitter on your tongue, every syllable laced with the resentment that’s been building for weeks. "I had to hear it from someone else—again. "

Chan’s face tightens, but you don't let up, the fury burning through you too strong to stop. "I trusted you. I trusted you, and you’re sneaking around with her of all people? I can’t even trust what you’re doing when I’m not around! How many times are you going to sneak around with her behind my back?"

“You’re blowing this out of proportion—”

"No, I’m not," you cut him off, stepping closer, your voice growing louder. "I’m not stupid, Chan. This isn’t the first time! You’ve been sneaking around with her, and you expect me to believe it’s just innocent?”

His eyes narrow, jaw tightening defensively. “Because she's just a friend. Why can’t you get that through your head?"

“A friend?” you scoff bitterly, your laugh sharp and cold. “If she’s just a friend, why hide it? Why let me find out from someone else, like I’m the outsider in my own relationship?” Your voice wavers, caught between the anger and the hurt threatening to choke you. "Do you even hear yourself? How am I supposed to believe anything you say?"

"I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react like this!” He replies bitterly.

Your heart pounds as disbelief courses through you, the fury bubbling up again. "You’re hanging out with her behind my back, keeping it a secret, and you think I’m overreacting?"

The hurt laces through your words, but the anger is stronger. "If it’s so innocent, why lie? Why not just tell me? Do you think I wouldn’t notice? That I wouldn’t care that you’re sneaking off with her when you know I don’t trust her?"

Chan’s expression hardens. “She’s just my friend. You’re reading into this way too much.”

"Then why are you keeping it from me?" you fire back, eyes narrowing. "Friends don’t have to sneak around, Chan. You’re hiding it because you know it’s wrong. You knew how I’d feel, and you did it anyway."

Your voice cracks, the betrayal cutting deep. "What am I supposed to think? That you just happened to forget to mention her every time you sneak off to see her?"

The room is thick with silence as you stare him down, the weight of everything he hasn’t said, everything he’s been hiding, hanging heavy between you. Chan’s eyes flicker with guilt, but his jaw tightens, and his hands ball into fists at his sides. “It’s not like that—” he starts, but you cut him off, your voice raw and trembling.

“Not like what?!” you snap, your heart pounding so hard it’s all you can hear. “You always have some excuse, don’t you? ‘It’s not like that.’ ‘You’re overreacting.’ But I’m done with your lies!”

“I’m tired of being the last one to know,” you continue, voice rising. “Do you even care about how this feels? Do you even care about us?”

He takes a step back, running a hand through his hair, but it only fuels your fury.

He scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Wow, look at you, making yourself the victim. It’s pathetic.”

The word stings, sharp and biting, like a slap across the face. Your chest tightens as you glare at him, trying to swallow the hurt, but it only fuels the fire burning inside you.

"Pathetic? Are you kidding me?" You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to keep some semblance of composure, but your voice shakes with the effort. "This isn’t about playing the victim, Chan. You keep dismissing my feelings like they’re nothing, like I don’t even matter."

“I can’t just stop hanging out with people because you have issues with them!” Chan snaps, his voice sharp, eyes blazing with frustration. “What, do you want me to check in with you every single time I see someone? I’m not your prisoner!”

Your anger flares, the heat of his words igniting something deeper in you. You can’t believe he’s twisting it like this.

“This isn’t about control or keeping tabs on you! It’s about being respectful of our relationship, of me!”

“You’re so self-absorbed! I can’t believe you’re trying to manipulate me into choosing between you and my friends!” Chan shouts, his voice rising to a near scream, the sharp edge of his anger cutting through the air.

I’m not trying to control you, Chan! I’m trying to communicate! I’m trying to get you to understand how this makes me feel, and you need to stop acting like I’m the problem here!”

His face twists, and when he speaks again, his words are venomous, each syllable laced with contempt. “Maybe if you weren’t so insecure, this wouldn’t even be an issue! It's exhausting, you know that? Always whining about how I should act, how I should feel, what I should do!”

Your heart pounds in your chest, a raw, painful ache spreading through you as his words sink in. "Whining?" you echo, disbelief coloring your tone. "Is that what this is to you? I’m whining because I want to feel respected in our relationship?"

“All i'm saying is that if you can’t handle me having friends, then maybe you’re the one who needs to figure out what you want! I’m not going to tiptoe around your insecurities!” He glares at you, his frustration reaching a boiling point. “You’re impossible! I can’t keep catering to your ridiculous expectations!”

The words hang in the air, and for a split second, you hesitate, the weight of the situation crashing over you. But the anger is too strong, the pain too raw.

“Maybe we should just break up then!” you shout, the words searing through the room, a final, burning accusation. They slip out before you can stop them, and the moment they do, everything falls silent. You don’t even pause to consider the implications, the anger in your chest too all-consuming to hold back.

His expression hardens, but there’s a flicker of pain that flashes across his face, quickly masked by anger. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, the words caught in his throat. The silence feels like a weight pressing down on you both.

"Fuck you! FUCK YOU CHAN. I’m tired of fighting for someone who doesn’t even care about my feelings!" You push forward, fueled by the heat of the moment. “Take all your things and go! I never want to see you again!”

His eyes widen, disbelief etched across his features. “You’re kicking me out of our house? Where am I supposed to go in the middle of the night?”

Your anger flares again, and you shoot back, “Go to her! Since you’re sneaking around with her anyway, I’m sure she’d love to have you!”

The accusation stings, and he glares at you, his voice rising. “This isn’t about her! You’re the one who’s making this a bigger deal than it is!”

“Then what is it about, Chan? You don’t care about me, and you don’t care how this feels! It’s all about you and your precious friends!”

“Stop trying to paint me as the villain,” he scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It's not her fault youu dont trust me!"

“I’m the one who’s been honest with you!” you scream, the words spilling out in a desperate rush. “You’re the one sneaking around and lying! I hate this! I hate you! I hate everything about how you treat me, how you act like I’m the problem! I hate you for doing this to us!”

Chan’s eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks taken aback, as if your words have struck him harder than any physical blow could. The heat of your anger hangs in the air, but now there’s something else—fear. Fear that he might lose you for good.

“Wait, stop,” he says, his voice suddenly quieter, almost pleading. “You don’t really mean that, do you? You can’t hate me!”

“GET OUT!” you scream, the words tearing from your throat like a wild animal escaping a cage. The intensity of your emotions threatens to consume you, leaving no room for mercy or second chances. “Get out! Just go!”

But before you can turn away, Chan strides forward, determination etched into his features. He grabs your arms, holding you in place as he looks deep into your eyes, desperation flooding his voice. “Look at me,” he demands, his gaze piercing through the fog of anger and hurt. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want me anymore, and I’ll go.”

The world around you seems to blur, his grip grounding you even as your heart races. You want to scream, to push him away, but something in the intensity of his gaze keeps you rooted in place.

“Chan…” is all you manage to say.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you hate me, and I’ll leave. I'll leave you alone and I won't bother you anymore,” he repeats, his expression a mix of desperation and fear, as if he’s bracing himself for the worst.

You open your mouth, but the words are lodged in your throat, heavy and suffocating. “I-I...."

The truth is, despite everything that’s happened, you don’t truly hate him. You hate what he’s done, how he’s made you feel, but your heart still aches for him.

"I-... Chan please." You beg, hoping he would let up on his grip.

“Please, just tell me,” he pleads, his voice softer now, as if he can sense your struggle. He gets closer, his lips now centimeters away from your ear. You can feel his breath, warm and shaky.

“I...I....I can’t,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words hang heavy between you both.

“Then what do you want?" he says quietly into your ear, his voice growling almost, a mix of desperation and determination. You can feel his warmth radiating against your skin, and he places a soft kiss on your ear, sending shivers down your spine. It’s a gentle gesture, yet it carries an undercurrent of desperation.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs again, his voice low and laced with urgency, lips brushing against your skin. With each word, his kisses trail down to your jaw, lingering there, tempting you to forget the hurt and the betrayal.

You can feel your resolve wavering. His proximity, the warmth of his body, the way he’s looking at you with such intensity makes your heart race for reasons you don’t want to acknowledge.

“Chan… this isn’t fair,” you breathe, trying to push him away, but he’s relentless, his kisses growing more insistent.

“Not fair?” he whispers against your skin, his lips moving closer to your mouth. “What’s not fair is you pushing me away when you know how I feel. You know I need you. I don’t want to lose you.”

You murmur, trying to regain control, but your voice carries no words as his lips hover just above yours, his breath mingling with yours.

Then, with a sudden rush of warmth, he kisses you—softly at first, a gentle brush that ignites the embers of longing within you. It’s a kiss filled with desperation.

The warmth of his mouth against yours sends shivers down your spine, drawing you in even as your mind screams to remember the hurt, the betrayal. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer, his touch igniting every nerve ending, making it harder to think.

“Chan…” you whisper against his lips, torn between the passion of the moment and the ache of your heart. But he deepens the kiss, his lips moving against yours with an urgency that steals your breath, coaxing you to surrender.

His tongue finds its way past your lips, his taste filling your mouth, sending sparks of pleasure through your veins. He kisses you with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt.

You should push him away, tell him no, but the heat of his kiss melts away the last remnants of your resistance, and before you know it, you find yourself giving in, your body responding to his touch, your desire matching his. He pulls off his shirt, his eyes still burning as he presses his lips against yours once again.

You can feel the hardness of his body against yours, the heat of his desire, and the promise of more, and sooner or later both your clothes were on the floor.

He pushed you back, your back thuding against the bed.

His kisses trail down to your neck, and you tilt your head back, lost in the sensations. His hands caress your body, sending waves of pleasure through you, as his lips explore every inch of exposed skin.

The ache inside you grows stronger, demanding to be sated, and you give in to it, letting the passion take over.

He pulls back, just for a moment, just long enough to look at you with such raw need that it takes your breath away. Then, he moves forward, his body covering yours, and your eyes close as you savor the feeling of his weight on top of you.

He kisses you again, and this time, there's no holding back. His hands trail down, moving lower, his fingers gently rubbing your clit. You let out a gasp, your body responding with pleasure.

Chan could sense your desire and quickly moved to satisfy it. He gently spread your legs, his fingers sliding into your wet pussy. You let out a soft moan, your body arching towards him as he began to finger you.

"Oh, God," you moaned, his fingers expertly bringing you closer to the edge. You could feel the pleasure building inside you, his touch igniting every nerve ending, taking you higher and higher.

He kept his pace steady, his fingers moving in and out of you, the pleasure intensifying with every move.

"Yes, yes," you moaned, your body quivering, your climax nearing.

With one last thrust of his fingers, you came, your body shuddering with pleasure. Your moans fill the room, your release a release from the pent up emotions, from the pain and the hurt.

Chan barely gave you time to react when he flipped you over on all fours. He pressed his hands on your lower back and pulled your hair closer to him until his lips were right near your ear.

"You're mine, and don't you forget it." he whispers, his breath hot and heavy. You looked at his eyes reflected in the mirror that stood facing the bed.They were filled with lust, darkened with desire, locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

You felt the tip of his cock brush against your entrance, and you bit your lip, anticipation building inside you. But instead of putting it in, he began to tease you, moving it in slow circles around your clit.

"Chan.. please.." you moaned.

"Please, what?" he replied sternly.

"I need you."

"Yeah? Beg for it," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "Beg for my cock, you little slut."

You glare at him. You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “No,” you say defiantly.

He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Beg,” he repeats, his fingers tracing patterns on your thigh. You shiver, hating that your body betrays you like this. You want to push him away, to tell him to fuck off, but you can’t. You’re too caught up in the moment, in the way he’s looking at you, like he wants to devour you. He leans back, his eyes still locked on yours.

“Fine,” he says, his voice dripping with disappointment. “If you won’t beg, then I won’t give you what you want.” You watch as he releases your hair, causing you to fall foward a bit.

"Wait..p-please," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Please, fuck me."

"Sorry, come again?" he says.

You clench your fists, hating that you're begging him, but you're so fucking horny. You need his cock inside you, filling you up, making you scream with pleasure. "Please, Chan, I'm begging you. Please, fuck me."

He shakes his head and grabs you again, resuming your previous position, his cock brushing against your clit again, making you gasp. "No, not yet. You need to beg some more."

You whimper, your body trembling. "Please, Chan, I'll do anything. Just fuck me already."

He chuckles, his fingers tracing your nipples, making them harden. "Anything, huh?"

He continues to tease you, his cock brushing against your clit, his fingers playing with your nipples. You're begging him, pleading with him to fuck you, but he's not listening. He's enjoying this too much, and you hate him for it.

But at the same time, you love it. You love the way he's making you feel, the way he's making your body respond to his touch.

"Please, Chan, I can't take it anymore," you gasp, your body trembling with need. "Please, fuck me."

He finally relents, his cock sliding inside you.

He started thrusting, each stroke hitting you deeper and deeper, the pleasure bordering on pain. You could see your reflection in the mirror, your face contorting in pleasure, slowly getting more...

and more ...

and more utterly fucked out.

You watched as your body arched and quivered, and the sight sent another wave of pleasure through you, intensifying the sensations. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips tighter. "You're fucking mine, understand?"

You couldn't respond, the pleasure overtaking you, rendering you unable to form words. His thrusts became faster, harder, his cock reaching places you didn't even know existed.

You moaned out, shutting your eyes as you were unable to hold back, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

"Look at yourself, baby." he growls, his hand tightening in your hair. When Chan saw no reaction from you, he spoke again.

“Be a good girl and keep eye contact with me.” He said, lifting your chin up so you could meet the dirty image plastered in the mirror once again. You opened your eyes and your reflection looked back at you, cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes hazy with lust.

You looked debauched, completely at his mercy, and you loved it. Fuck, you tightened even more with that realization.

Chan grunted, picking up the pace, fucking you harder and deeper, your cunt clenching more and more around him.

"You hate me? Are you sure? Your body tells me a different story." He said as his hips slamming into you, and you could feel the pressure building again, the pleasure intensifying.

He grunted, his movements growing erratic, and you knew he was close. "Say it," he growled, his voice laced with desire. "Say you hate me"

"I- I- I ha-ha," you breathed, your body quivering, the pleasure nearing its peak.

"Say it." he commanded, his thrusts hitting you even harder.

"I-I h-hate you," you moaned, the words tumbling from your lips. He began to pound you even harder.

"Again!"

"I- I hate you. Oh, God, I hate you so much," you cried, the words spilling from your lips, your body teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

" Fucking slut. You can't resist me even if you say you hate me. Can't resist my dick inside you, can you?"

Your body shook with pleasure, and then you were coming again, the orgasm tearing through you, your cries filling the room.

And then, just as you thought it was over, his hand grabbed your hair, pulling your head back, and he pushed his cock into your mouth.

You gagged, the sudden intrusion nearly overwhelming, but the pleasure was too much, and soon, you found yourself giving in, the feeling of his cock filling your mouth, the taste of his precum sending shivers of pleasure through you. "Tell me you hate me now, huh"

You moaned, the words muffled by his cock, the pleasure coursing through your veins, the heat and the taste and the feel of him too much to resist.

And then, he was coming, his cock pulsing in your mouth, his cum filling you, the taste of it salty and sweet and everything you needed.

You swallowed, his cum dripping down your chin, the taste of it lingering on your tongue. You felt exhausted, drained, yet somehow satisfied, the pain and the hurt replaced by something else.

And as he pulled out, the last traces of his release spilling onto your lips, you knew that despite everything, despite the betrayal and the lies, there was still something between you, something stronger than the pain and the anger.

"Chan-"

He cut you off with a kiss, his lips crashing against yours, his tongue probing into your mouth. You kissed him back, your body responding to his touch, the pain and the hurt giving way to desire once again.

As your lips moved together, the intensity began to shift. It softened, the anger fading as something deeper, something raw and vulnerable, took its place. When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other as the room fell into a quiet, charged silence.

"I’m sorry," you whispered first, the words trembling on your lips. "I didn’t mean what I said. I don’t hate you, Chan… I could never hate you. I was just—" You paused, your voice thick with emotion, your chest aching. "I was so hurt, Chan.."

Chan’s hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that were starting to fall. “No, don’t be sorry,” he murmured, his own voice breaking slightly. “I deserved that. I didn’t tell you about her because… because I didn’t want to deal with what I knew it would do to us. I was selfish.”

Chan sighed, his eyes softening as he looked at you, the weight of his own regret heavy in the air. “I know you didn’t mean it. But I also know I gave you every reason to feel that way. I should’ve been honest. I should’ve trusted you with the truth instead of making you feel like you had to find out on your own.”

You bit your lip, the words still caught in your throat, but you forced them out. "I felt so betrayed, Chan. But it wasn’t just because of her. It was because you didn’t trust me enough to handle the truth."

His face twisted with regret, and he nodded slowly. “You’re right. I didn’t trust you, and I’m so sorry for that. I thought I was protecting you, protecting us, but I only ended up hurting you more.”

You could see the remorse in his eyes, and it broke your heart to know that both of you had let things get this far. You reached up, your hand resting against his cheek as you searched his gaze. “I don’t want to fight like this. I don’t want to hurt each other.”

Chan leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment as he sighed deeply. “Neither do I. I don’t want to lose you because of my mistakes.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest, and you leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his. “I don’t want to lose you either,” you whispered. “But we can’t keep hiding things from each other. If we’re going to move forward… we have to be honest.”

“I know,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I promise, no more secrets. I’ll be better. I’ll be the person you deserve.”

You nodded, the heaviness in the room starting to lift, replaced by something more fragile, but real. “I’ll be better too,” you whispered, your voice full of sincerity. "I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean them."

Chan’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, his lips brushing gently against your forehead in a silent apology. “I love you,” he whispered against your skin, the words raw and filled with everything he hadn’t been able to say before.

"I love you too," you breathed, your heart full of both pain and hope.

In that moment, you both knew that there was still a lot to work through, but there was also a chance—a chance to heal, to rebuild. And despite everything, you wanted to try.

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persicipen · 1 month ago

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to measure love ノ dr. ratio

ৎ୭ — · · 0.8k ノ gn reader — back scratching . dumbification . overstimulation ノ just indulging in some spice with subtly dom mr. ratio ノ well… uhm… i would not write it if not for a friend on here throwing at me the *concept* ahaha…

The first time you scratched his back during sex, Veritas grumbled with annoyance and took your wrists into his hand for the remainder of your close encounter. It was all an accident, of course! It’s not like you would do that on purpose — knowing too well he would not be pleased.

There wasn’t much you could do against the pleasure you had not expected to receive, rendering you helpless and a little stupid, to say it the easiest way. Being fucked so good was simply too overwhelming for you to control your body.

What you didn’t know yet is that Veritas was not yet familiar with this sensation, either. A bit wary. Questioning the reason (or lack thereof) behind it. The second time it happened, the curiosity took over, and he let you continue.

Whatever you two learnt back then caused you two to indulge from time to time to be just a tad rougher. Or, should you specify, him being rougher with you. It’s nothing going outside the set boundaries, none of that sort. His thrusts just staying within you for a moment longer, pressing there harder. Focusing way too much on foreplay, where you’re almost spent before he’s out of his pants, and excusing himself with the need to research your reactions until he has them memorised.

Turns out he finds it interesting to see your body contradict whatever your lips are saying.

You whimper between shallow breaths that it’s too much and that you cannot take it anymore, yet he notes how you do not stop your hips from meeting him halfway.

Veritas thinks of you quite highly, actually, given your everyday approach to problems. Otherwise you two would not end up in the same bed — too many times to count, although you believe he is keeping track of that number, too. You’re not one to lose your composure easily. So it’s endearing to him how you can’t even get a hold of your own limbs when he’s long inches deep inside of you, as if his weight on top of you and his cock snugly fitting between your legs were a switch to your behaviour.

All that attractive intelligence turned into a frown between your eyebrows when you try so hard not to come before you get to reciprocate at least a portion of the satisfaction he’s already granted you.

He presses into you with just the right amount of force and precision, pushing out sounds from your throat. Those little squeals excite him immensely, mellowing down the usual sharp edge of his demeanour. Enough for him to kiss the sweat off your temple and bury his face in the crook of your neck, hips never stopping the motion.

With blistering hot breath on your clavicle, he chants the biological academic nonsense that you would listen to otherwise if you weren't past the point of recognising nothing but the deep hue of his voice. Veritas chuckles when you don't respond — when all you do is keep raking your fingers up and down his back, sorry that you cannot uphold the conversation. His intellectual companionship is always appreciated, even if at this particular moment in time you're unable to make anything out of it.

Amongst the debauched blabbering whispered into kisses and intermittent praises how much you enjoy being with him, you’re clawing at his shoulder blades.

To keep him close, the entire mass of sinew and soft flesh pressing you to the bed, but also because you’re a mush, again, and this is the only way to let your emotions out of your spasming body.

There is a fine line between enjoying the feeling of his spine being scratched in a frenzy and disliking it too much to experience pleasure. The line is sometimes blurry, many factors at play, but that’s never an issue for him. This man revels in challenges.

It stings when you pick on his skin with your nails. Veritas is aware of that. Except that he thinks of that as a testimony to what he can do to you. With you.

Assigning him a visible ornament of the knowledge is easy, although symbolic — this is precisely why he wears the golden laurel band with exactly eight of its leaves, each for his doctorates. To measure how good he is with love, the physical one at least, with how strong you grab onto him, gives him a boost of pride.

You’re his pride, the state you’re currently in, at the brink of release and dew gathering under your lashes. Because he loves giving you what’s best. He loves you.

Some time later, after you two are done and resting, you catch him looking at his scratched back in the mirror. He’s eyeing the reddened lines with a pensive face. Perhaps thinking if he would like to have some more adorning his skin or if it’s enough.

You do not wish to know that. Not right now.

₊ ˙ ⊹ . AUTHOR’S NOTE — little win that i managed to write it all for gender netural readers despite making it very very self-indulgent, yippee! now, please excuse me, i need to scream into the void because it was NOT on my bingo card today <3

#—writing.#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail smut #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr smut #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #dr ratio smut

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adelheidvonschicksal · 5 months ago

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⋆｡°✩ DARLING, DON'T BE AFRAID

Summary: Despite living with Xavier for the past few weeks, you still haven't taken the plunge to see if all this time together make you anything more than roommates especially when he disappears again in the middle of the night. Determined, you decide to question him on where his feelings lie. You just never thought a simple kiss on the cheek was the only push needed.

Pairing: Xavier x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: Roommates AU, Vanilla Smut (A lot of it. Like 7k words of smut), Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Emotional Sex

Word Count: 12,000~

Note: Sequel to Do Roommates Sleep Together. This part can be read as a standalone. So not necessary to read part one but it adds more context.

AO3 Link

You make a final decisive pull of the trigger. A loud pang resonates in the air and smoke spirals off the barrel. The Wanderer disappears in a wisp of debris and dust that is quickly caught in the wind.

Xavier stands a few feet in front of you. His sword twirls with one final arc of light illuminating behind the sharpened tip before it dematerializes in his hand. You’re oblivious to the way his eyes search and find you on instinct as you run eager fingertips on the warm barrel of your pistol.

“Mission completed. We should report back.”

You raise your head to meet his gaze while your gloved fingers remain faithfully on your weapon. The adrenaline from a successful mission is still surging through you.

“I want to test out my guns some more.”

His eyes soften at your response, but the weight of his gaze is still heavy as he walks towards you and places his hand on your head.

“There will be more Wanderers tomorrow,” he murmurs. His thumb gently brushes your forehead before his hand swoops back over your hair. Though your hands were still itching for another battle, your mind was weak to the calmness of his tone, like the slow tumble of waves on the shore, as he coaxes your head back to look at him more directly. “Let’s go home.”

This time you do not protest. Even if you did, what could you possibly say?

Your aggression relaxes along with your shoulders, allowing you to give in to his request with a quick holstering of your twin guns.

You return to headquarters and give your mission report to Jenna – pausing only to poke fun when she mentions how much Xavier’s reporting time has improved since the two of you became partners – then you start on the way home with the sun kissing at your back.

Laughter fills the air on the streets. Immediately, you feel warm inside. It was only thanks to the work you do every day that citizens could enjoy this peaceful dusk without fear of monsters scrambling to destroy the city like so many years ago.

It’s rewarding to know you hold some small part in the safety of the city after almost dying in the catastrophe as a child. You breathed it in fully, letting joy fill your lungs as you savor the calm moment. The emotion is only highlighted by the fact that when you look to your side, you can see Xavier there, putting weight to the empty space left in the wake of your family’s death.

Walking home together in the past was a random occurrence, happening whenever your busy schedules after missions aligned. As freshly cemented roommates, it was almost a given you’d walk home together now. Not just to the apartment complex, but to an actual shared home.

This path you go along every day has become special in that time. It’s full of promises, the kind you could only wish for on snowy New Year's evenings as you tied red ribbons to the shrine gate and prayed for good things to happen in your life. Not a lot of those wishes came true but Xavier did.

In that way, you were a fortunate person.

It was only your guess if he felt the same. You want to ask him. Unlike when you’re fighting Wanderers, you’re not brave when it comes to Xavier - a part of you prefers to leave things between you unsaid. It’s safer that way as you can keep living in a beautiful world of your own illusions.

Therefore, you’re unable to help yourself. Pinching the sleeve of his uniform, you tug on it gently to gain his attention; Xavier looks at you with glossy glazed eyes. He’s always so sluggish after missions. His steps slow and methodical, like a robot, as he barely manages to straighten his spine and raise his head.

“Chin up, Xavier. We’re almost there.”

“I’m exhausted,” he says.

You don’t need to hear him say it to understand. You think you’ve become good at reading his body language by now. Donning a sympathetic smile, you shift your hand, aiming for a lower target, and entwine your fingers with his under the guise of leading him faster.

“My next solution is carrying you by the way.”

A smile cracks on his face, impossibly light as his gaze drifts to the hold you have on his hand. “I don’t think you could carry me.”

“You dare doubt me?” Truth be told, he was right. He was tall and muscular and much thicker under that uniform than he looked. He would probably crush you under his weight if you tried to lift him. Despite how improper it was to think, you wouldn’t mind if he wanted to place his weight on top of you in another way. You tick up the corner of your lips into a surprisingly innocent smile opposite of the images in your imagination as you flash your bicep to him. “I’m very strong.”

“I think it would make more sense if I carried you.”

“I can walk.”

“I don’t see why that matters,” he says with a yawn, and you smile.

“Are you sure you won’t drop me?”

“If it’s a choice between falling asleep and dropping you then I’ll definitely stay awake. Otherwise, you might end up carrying me after all,” he says. Xavier always manages to be unfailingly charming. Given the mystery of his past and the way he carries himself, you often question exactly what kind of upbringing he had. You almost ask but your interrogation doesn’t have the chance to plant seeds when he stops in front of you and kneels.

You thought he was joking when he said he’d carry you home but that doesn’t stop you from wrapping your arms over his broad shoulders and letting him scoop your legs up around his solid waistline.

His clasp on the back of your thighs makes you shiver. You feel like a touch-starved virgin that the simple strength of his hands over the thickness of your pants incited such a reaction out of you, so you bury your burning face against the back of his neck.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

Xavier must feel your hair against his neck, and you use the fact he can’t see your face to your advantage as you nod against his nape.

“Just hungry.”

For his part, Xavier doesn’t question your sudden hunger. Instead, he asks what you’re in the mood for and starts to list the restaurants that you pass on the way to the apartment complex.

You lay your cheek against him, watching the many buildings pass you by until you point out one you don’t recognize, flashing with many signs about a grand opening.

“How about that one?” you ask.

Xavier chuckles, continuing on in his steps past the building in question. “It’s not that great.”

“How do you know?”

“I tried them out.”

You squeeze into his shoulders, pushing off of them in a childlike manner and an even more dramatic gasp. “Without me?”

“I was going to bring you something back, but they weren’t very tasty. I like your cooking a lot more.”

You know he can’t see you, but you puff out your cheeks anyway. You wrap your arms tightly around him again, willing your heart not to skip when his back tenses as your chest compresses against him.

“Are you asking me to cook dinner for you? I’m quite exhausted after all that running around,” you tell him sarcastically.

He accidentally makes you regret your teasing when he agrees with a compassionate offer, “I’ll cook for you today.”

Hearing the word cook from his mouth makes your stomach sour. If there’s one thing after all these months you learned, it’s that Xavier is a…creative cook to put it gently. Or rather, he has zero cooking ability if it involves electricity. You didn’t mind. The two of you make it work with you doing most of the cooking and him cleaning up after, at your own behest, because if he had his way, he’d be in the kitchen much more often.

“On second thought, I’ll cook.”

“You still don’t trust me,” he says with a sigh. Guilt tingles through you. However, your continued survival outweighs the guilt that the memory of his puppy eyes can draw out of you. “I’ll handle the cold stuff, and I’ll leave the meat to you.”

“Deal,” you say, nuzzling your head against his neck.

When you get home, the night pans out like it always does. The two of you take turns in the shower with dinner being cooked shortly after, and the human garbage disposal known as your roommate leaves very little work for you to do once all is said and done.

You decide to start on the last of chores for today while Xavier washes the dishes. It’s routine to check the plants before going to bed as the many potted flowers were like your own children after you spent so many hours tending to them, finding the perfect ratio of nutrients and water to keep them thriving.

It is also routine to hunt down the birds so lovingly named Fatso and Alarm Clock by the sleepy man of the house to give them some of the seeds and nuts you regularly brought home from the store. You told Xavier that happy birds would stop eating his strawberries when in reality you liked to spoil them.

So, you spread out the seeds on the ground for them, leaving them there for later.

“If you feed them, they’ll never leave.”

You can’t help the laugh that leaves you. As much as he complains about the birds, you think, if his constant curiosity about the birds’ day-to-day lives was anything to go by, that he’d miss the two fluffy creatures if they were to ever find new nesting grounds. You turn back to the balcony door with a cheeky grin. “I have experience with things that don’t leave after you feed them. You enjoyed dinner a little too much.”

It’s hard to see in the fading light but Xavier blushes and brings a shy grip to the back of his neck. “Last I checked you moved in with me.”

That silences you. There’s no denying his observation, and you fail to notice him getting closer until he reaches his hand out to help you up. You willingly reach out, hand sinking into his touch as he lifts you to your feet.

The coolness of your palms touching slowly births a lingering warmth. The soft squeeze around your hand makes it hard to let him go but eventually you must. Otherwise, you might say things that are better kept to yourself as you walk back into the house and close the sliding door behind you.

With a pounding heart, you retire to your room early.

This room is a little different from the master room at your old apartment. The wall color is a little different brighter and it’s smaller. Luckily, you made the space work pretty easily by migrating half your plushie collection into Xavier’s room, checking like a dutiful mother to make sure he was treating them right and placing them with love should they roll off his dresser. Sighing, you change into slightly more comfortable clothes, choosing a random pair of soft shorts and a tank top to wear before climbing into bed. It’s ten when you finally let your eyes slip shut, and it's around eleven you feel someone touching you.

Your eyelids are surprisingly heavy; you can barely pry them open enough to see the wisp of grey-brown hair shadowing medium-blue eyes. You don’t protest as you feel his fingertips brush along your waist or when his knee digs into the mattress, sinking you towards his weight.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he wants. You raise your arm enough to let your fingertips greet the curve of his chin in silent acceptance. Slowly, you drop your hand and squeeze his bicep. Like a good little soldier, he follows the order to fall into the bed with you.

The most comfortable position is to slot your arm on top of his as he hugs your waist, props his leg on top of yours, and spoons your back. There’s absolutely zero space between your lower halves; and if he notices how you, with a small amount of shame, subtly shift and push yourself back on him a little more, he doesn’t say as he lolls his head against the curve of your neck while his incredibly light exhaling on your skin comforts you after a long day.

With a flutter of your eyelids, you slowly slip back into sleep with the happiness that comes with being roommates with your crush.

It’s times like these that make you think maybe he loves you. It’s also times like these that make you forget that despite all of the endearing things about him and despite how much you care about him, you don’t truly know a lot about him.

Xavier has always been a man with a lot of secrets. You’ve known this since you first met him asleep in the forest. It’s true that you once accepted the fact you’d never learn all his secrets but that was before whatever this abnormal relationship that the two of you found yourself in.

Even after living together for more than two months now, you still had no idea where he would go when he would sneak off in the middle of the night. You didn’t question where he goes anymore, you found that he wouldn’t give you a straight answer to save his life. You merely stayed up until you heard the sound of the door opening or the warped echo of air being sucked into a vacuum, indicating he teleported inside.

So, when you wake up at two in the morning, finding yourself alone and the side of the bed where he laid mere hours ago already cold, you’re not surprised.

Getting out of bed, you slip on your slippers and drag your feet to the balcony. It’s a familiar situation when you collapse into the swing chair, with nothing but the cold and the chirping of the birds to keep you company until he undoubtedly returns with his body hosting a family of fresh wounds.

It’s incredibly frustrating because you love him and seeing him hurt, without you having been there to prevent it, drives you crazy. You wonder why he won’t tell you, and your heart sinks, as quickly as a stone cast in a lake, with the idea that maybe you were the only one thinking that your relationship meant more than it did. Because even after all this time, you still aren’t close to him in the way you want.

Clenching your fists, you shove your eyes against them. It was all so infuriating when he ran off to fight Wanderers or whoever and left you all alone to overthink and worry about him like some helpless house plant. It was enough to make you want to cry as the strange foreboding sense of losing him begins to echo inside of you, making you nauseous. There’s only one way to get rid of this feeling. Taking in a deep breath, you settle to give him a piece of your mind about sneaking off so much and also to bite the bullet to confess your feelings.

It was only a matter of waiting for him to actually return home and to get your heightened nerves to stop firing in every direction in the meantime.

By the time you heard the door to the apartment creaking open, you’d nearly fallen asleep in the wicker swing chair. You swallow down the bitter taste of fear, ignoring the tumultuous waves it makes when it hits your stomach. You’d never get anywhere if you didn’t face him.

Carefully, you hop up from your seat and make slow strides into the apartment. It’s still dark in the house; you hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights earlier. Yet Xavier carries a lightness around him, mostly imagined by yourself, that makes him easy to spot in the darkness.

For a moment, things seem normal as he takes a few stiff steps forward. Suddenly, he falls forward, the white of his uniform nearly a blur with how fast he collapses onto the sofa, but it is nothing compared to the speed at which you rush to his side.

You call his name, press two fingers to his throat, and let your eyes slip closed with a desperate concentration as you search for his pulse behind the blaring red of his collar.

It’s a gradual pace, averaging twenty beats a minute and slowly rising. For anyone else, you’d immediately rush them to the hospital. For Xavier, that number is a relief.

You hold your hand to your pounding heart, practicing deep measured inhales to calm it. It appears he fell asleep as soon as he entered the room, with only enough awareness to kick off his shoes at the door.

It looks like your lecture will have to be postponed for another day.

You’re thankful for all the training you had to take to become a hunter because it takes an enormous amount of effort to throw one of his arms over your shoulders and drag him to his bedroom. You make a mental note to never let him question your ability to carry him again as you sit him on the bed and shuffle off his uniform jacket, leaving him only in his pants.

In a tender motion, you gently cup his face and examine him. Dirt cakes his face; and when you brush it away, there’s a small cut on his cheek. It hits you again just how reckless and secretive he can be, echoing with a bitter thought that he didn’t bring you again. The only bright spot is the little cut is his only injury this time.

Laying him on his back, you leave for only a moment to get a warm washcloth and an adhesive from the bathroom. It’s a blue band-aid with a cartoonish pink bunny on it, something a kid would love and has probably been collecting dust in the drawer longer than you’ve been alive.

It takes all the seriousness out of your body when you return, clean his face off, and place the colorful bandage on his cheek. It’s hard to believe this narcoleptic pretty boy was the strongest member of the Hunters Association.

“I didn’t think when we moved in together I was going to become a babysitter,” you commented with a little huff and poke of his cheek. “You’re terrible at taking care of yourself. Can’t cook. Can’t stay awake. Can’t tell someone when you’re going out. I bet you didn’t even lock the door when you came in. …What if a Wanderer floated in after you and trampled all the flowers, or did you just not want to leave any for me tomorrow?”

You know your complaints are falling on deaf ears as he cuddles up to his pillow without a care in the world. But if you didn’t complain, you’d get depressed instead. Dropping to your knees, you sit on the floor and prop your elbow on the bed to get a better look at him.

He looks so peaceful.

There’s no tension, no crease to his expression. It’d be easy to mistake him for a normal young man if it weren’t for the strong humming of his Evol tickling at the wall of your resonance.

“I’ll let you sleep, but you’re getting it in the morning! I expect answers. Otherwise, I won’t cook breakfast for you,” you attempt to sound threatening in your words with every poke to his cheek a not-so-silent promise to follow through. “I’ll take my missions with the new recruit all the ladies at work gossip about. And the next time I get a snack shipment, I’m letting Jeremiah have first pick!”

With one last prod to his face and no reaction otherwise, you stop your demands and sit back on your legs.

Bit by bit, you feel your energy dissolving. It’s no use. It’s all empty threats. You’ll probably not cook for a few days, eat in front of him too, at least until he gives you those puppy eyes, and you’ll fold just like origami paper. You’ll still save him the snack you know he likes even if you allow Jeremiah first pick of the rest. And you’d never be interested in the new recruit or anyone else.

Xavier can be distant and formal. For others, his hyper-independence was evident. Taking on missions alone and avoiding group settings is just the way Xavier’s personality works. He’s reliable and gets along with everyone at a surface level and he’s known to go out of his way to help others without seeking validation for it so it never ruffled any feathers when he goes off on his own or rejects an invitation to drink with the others after work.

They didn’t see. They didn’t see how easy it was to care about him. They appreciate him but they weren’t aware of how intensely and passionately he could feel when he unfurls that independent nature. How he always quietly adjusts his dominant foot to point your direction whenever a Wanderer appears. How his voice drops and his touch becomes the smallest bit more graceful and careful when he sees you upset. How sweetly he looks when he sleeps.

It makes your resolve crumble and your heart squeeze, something only he can do without even being awake to know it.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you mumble to him.

As you lean closer, you easily ignore the stirring in your gut that tells you to stop.

The bandage is a little rough against your lips as you seize the chance to kiss him. It’s a short and small thing, much more delicate than your prodding from earlier because you want to indulge the romantic in you. You want him to somehow sense the feelings cultivated in your heart over the past few months though impossible when he’s asleep.

You don’t let it last long. Instead, the desperate urge to feel his heat against you spurs you to rest your forehead against his cheek. It’s warm and soft, and the faint scent of pine trees of the no-hunt zone fills your nose. You savor being this close to him, allowing yourself to indulge in it until the heat on your skin starts to match his, and you finally let him have peace for the night.

With no need to remain in his room, you stand and pivot towards the door, wondering how you’ll manage to grasp any form of sleep tonight. However, you don’t make it two steps before there’s a tug at your arm.

You yelp as you’re pulled towards the bed while the shock has you stumbling forward into it. The hand leaving your arm in favor of grasping around your wrist stops you from falling completely but your knees have already buckled. You’re left nearly a head under him when he finally swings his legs over the side of the bed and shifts into a full sitting position. This position is oddly familiar. When you uncertainly force your eyes up to meet his face, this vulnerable angle becomes unmistakable.

His voice is husked and rasped from sleep, sending a chill up your spine when paired with the swirling shadows darkening his blue eyes under his hooded lids and dark lashes. That’s the look of a predator, of the association’s strongest hunter, and you face the inkling realization that you’re the prey.

Nervously, you begin to divert your eyes. He takes a page out of your own playbook and reaches under your chin to guide your sight back to him as you fight not to whimper at the pressure of his thumb pushing down as if he wants to part your lips. It isn’t until now that you notice how close you are to his lap and how another few inches would drop you to your knees.

“Why worry about Wanderers following me home when you’re so much scarier.”

“What do you mean?”

Memory has never been your friend. This though is the first time you’ve forgotten how to breathe when his fingers completely close around your wrist. His hold is firm, preventing you from wringing your way out of his grasp, but it doesn’t hurt.

He might as well take that grasp and use it to squeeze your heart instead when he brings your hand to his face. You’re unsure what he’s planning; the awkwardness of the situation makes your fingers straighten and twitch away as he holds your hand closer to his face. Sensing your trepidation, he closes the last of the distance instead by tilting his head into your hand with the same affection as always as he lets your fingertip brush against the silly little bunny bandage.

The familiarity of the motion puts your heart a little more at ease but not enough to bring your breathing back to you as he mumbles, “I don’t remember giving you permission to kiss me.”

Your lips part with a silent puff while your brows push forward, highlighting the confusion in your mind onto your face. He takes advantage of the moment to nuzzle your hand. It’s a notion you can’t appreciate as his words finally sink into your mind and reform into a horrifying conclusion.

“…You were awake the whole time.”

He chuckles so easily at the dry peep that echoes from you, the rivet of that warm sound collects in your palm and makes your face scalding hot. You didn’t face a burning heat like this even when fighting one of those flame dragons. All the while, Xavier was laughing at you…

“Not the whole time.”

With your head catching up, you find enough of yourself again to actually glare at him and smack his shoulder. “That’s not the point!”

With another display of strength, he locks your other wrist, pulls you up, and then snatches you into him. Luckily, you’re able to flatten your palms against his chest to brace yourself. His heart as well as his face is unnervingly calm compared to your own organ that’s currently orchestrating its escape from your chest, battering your ribcage even harder as you unconsciously stretch your fingers over his naked skin.

You don’t like this. This bullying, which you only describe as such because you can’t think of a word more fitting for the way he’s treating you, is too one-sided.

“It was on the cheek,” you argue with a steeled voice. You fake the confidence to stare him back down, choosing to trade your determination to confess to him tonight in exchange for preserving your pride. “It was friendly.”

To your satisfaction, your declaration of war makes him the one to pause this time. His eyes widen and there’s a quiver in those waves of blue that he hides by glancing down and away.

“…Is that what it was?”

You nod. “I wasn’t…going to do anything else.”

Xavier smiles, shaking his head, and there’s a new determination in his eyes that causes your teeth to clench down on the inside of your cheek as he leans closer.

“In that case, is it okay to return the favor?”

He doesn’t give you the time to answer. He’s already closing the distance, his dark lashes already fluttering, and his lips already puckering to kiss you as you’re squeezed flushed against him, only your palms stopping your chest from colliding with his.

“Wait!”

Hearing your disapproval, he pauses, but that cheeky grin still doesn’t dissipate.

“What's wrong?” he asks with a sigh. You’re sure it’s not a true question. “Am I not allowed to give you a friendly kiss as well.”

The implications make your stomach twist while your thighs squeeze together pathetically with the sudden throbbing of arousal that spikes through you as you tumble further and further into this rabbit’s trap.

“I—that’s!”

“So, you were misbehaving,” he concludes from your sheepishness. “I guess that means I need to punish you instead.” He breaks his hold around one of your wrists to ghost his fingertips along your cheek and down your neck until all you can do in response is breathe out a moan, much to his surprise given by the rise of his eyebrows and the slight dust of pink on his bewildered face. “…I didn’t think you were that sensitive there.”

Your mind swims with the traitorous thought of wanting to show him where you’re more sensitive dancing in your mind before you can sweep it away. When his fingers dance along your neck again, you whimper and hold in another moan.

“Don’t hold back on my account. You know my most sensitive spot after all, as hunting partners, it only makes sense for me to know yours, right?”

You can hardly think of a response to that. It’s true. You know his biggest weaknesses and as you come to terms with the situation you run your thumb over the plump inside of your thigh hesitantly. It takes you almost an entire minute to decide on what you want to say, and you don’t notice his hold on your wrist weakening.

“My weakness—”

Suddenly, your arm drops back to your side.

“I’m kidding,” Xavier states; the small smile he normally wears comes back to his face as you look up at him with wide eyes. “I was only curious as to what your reaction would be.”

The tension in the air wanes and buries itself in your heart. The embarrassment clings to every cell living in you, unshakeable as you try to keep a brave face. “You’re cruel.”

“Am I? You were the one touching me, all the while promising to run off with some rookie,” he reminds you.

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t—you’re so frustrating,” you scream at him, and this is the first time he appears to take you seriously all night.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, with less teasing and more concern. He wraps an arm around your waist. His legs slot between yours, leaving your knees to collide with the plush of the bed as he hugs you tighter and tighter until you’re nearly seated in his lap. “Don’t be mad. I only thought—”

“Xavier?”

“Did you really mean it then?” he redirects. He snakes his other arm around your waist, this time when he holds you it feels…weak, and his pursed lips and narrowed eyes hold back a troubled emotion. “That it was in a friendly way?”

Your breath hitches at the swirl of his thumbs nervously circling the small of your waist. Nervously, he waits for an answer you long lost in the rapids of the constantly changing tides of the last few minutes.

“If you meant it…if you truly wanted to kiss me,” he pauses, trying to find his voice. The one to tell you that you’re all he thinks about. “Then you should have woken me up.” His face holds a serene glow that completely enraptures you as he looks up at you. “I wouldn’t have rejected you,” he swore.

He loved you so much it ached. Moving in together should have been enough to prove it. He guesses not; because when he thinks you want him back, you’re so hesitant to accept. Even now, you’re unable to respond.

This cycle has become painful, even for someone as patient as himself, the wait when you’re this close to him is agonizing. So, he decides now to be the one to end this circle the two of you found yourself in with one decisive motion.

He tests the waters, not knowing if he’ll swim or drown, but he has confidence in his ability to read your personality and actions as he cups the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss.

Your mind empties immediately, your body on autopilot when it registers the warm, silky skin of his lips on yours. Closing your eyes, you willingly tumble and fall into the taste of him, chasing after it when he breaks away.

“There. We’re even,” he says, but to you, that’s far from the truth. You’re far from even after all the heartache and sleepless nights he’s been putting you through, after all the push and pull that left you aching and wanting both in your heart and between your thighs.

The self-satisfied smile on his face quickly fades as you grope his shoulders, digging your nails in like you’re afraid he’ll escape. Your knees press to the top of the bed as you plant yourself more onto his lap. He braces his hands on your hips to catch you as you run your hand into his hair and crane his head back, so he has to look you in the eye.

His ears pinken at your sudden brazenness, but it doesn’t reflect in his voice as he smiles at you. “Are you trying to get more?”

“Am I being too greedy?” you ask. He chuckles at the jut of your lips and the pleading eyes before you press another demanding kiss to the corner of his lips.

Xavier moans from his throat as he latches onto your jaw to redirect your kisses to his lips. Kissing him is nearly maddening, the twitch of his muscular thighs under your ass making your mind hazy. With one hard squeeze at your hips, he catches up to the zealousness of your kisses.

His tongue pokes and prods at your mouth. However, he doesn’t need much permission to keep going as you open your mouth wider. His mind skips and lags at just how quickly your mouth overtakes the slick appendage. It leaves him more than a little out of breath and flustered with the rate your mouths keep parting and meeting, tongues desperately searching and licking the inside your mouths as if this is the first meal you’ve had in weeks.

You’re hungry to memorize each other despite having all the time in the world now to do just that. When the two of you finally indulged enough and earned enough satisfaction, you’re able to calm down and readjust the pace.

“I think we’re both greedy,” he jokes about the both of you before sliding his tongue back into your mouth. This time he’s slower as he presses down on your tongue, causing your teeth to lightly graze over the top of his.

There are too many sensations going on for you to keep up. The way your breasts hug his hard chest has you feeling sensitive while the heat seeping from his tongue stroking in your mouth has your stomach bundled in tight knots that won’t know release until he’s inside of you.

Dreams were nothing compared to this. Nights filled with nothing but inappropriate thoughts of him turn into nightmares at the slim chance of having to face them again should this go wrong.

Impatiently, his fingers curve into the hump of your ass to anchor you and encourage you to grind on his lap, or rather grind against the hard tent brazenly making its presence known with each hurried roll of your hips.

You whine from the separation of your sexes when he begins to lift you up, but your complaints quickly die in your throat. They’re replaced by a squeal as he flips you and your back bounces on the mattress.

Xavier climbs over you, his face flushed, breath ragged, and overall, he’s just absolutely beautiful to you. Reaching up, you cup his cheek and play with the ends of his hair, unable to recall the last time you’ve felt this high.

“Xavier,” you whisper breathlessly as you swoop his bangs back to see more of his handsome face and save it to memory. “What are we?”

Xavier tilts his head, furrowing his brow at your question, and there’s a second where a ray of doubt breaks through the clouds of lust in his irises. “We’re…whatever you want to be.”

“I want to be with you,” you say. Those words tumble out more effortlessly than you ever thought.

Xavier overlaps your hand with his, holding on tight as if to prove a point. “You are with me.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” he corrects. Then, he dazzles you as he always does, “I want you to tell me so there’s no mistake, and you can’t take it back later.”

You inwardly become embarrassed when it crosses your mind that this is the first time you’ve ever confessed to him without multiple drinks in your system. It’s too late to turn back now that you’ve crossed the Milky Way and landed on the other side.

But why would you when you’re so close?

“I want to be with you always. Whenever and wherever you are. Whether that’s having fun together or fighting. I-I love you, and—”

“And I love you,” he answers. You’re not sure if you’re jealous or relieved that he can say those three words without hesitation.

“I don’t want anything to be between us. I don’t want any more secrets or hidden things. I’m tired of this. I just want to be real, more than partners or roommates or whatever other title that isn’t boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Okay,” Xavier agrees as easily as he agreed to be roommates with you in the first place.

“Okay?”

“I want that too,” he agrees as he repositions himself on top of you and his lips curve into a small smirk, “girlfriend.”

You’re accustomed to the finicky organ known as your heart tightening with pain when you’re overwhelmed; this time when it skips a beat, it’s welcomed. Smiling, you gaze up at him as he releases a slow, strained breath. It’s validating to know he’s been just as nervous as you.

Everything suddenly becomes full force again when his knees move to either side of your legs while he pins your hands above your head in one tight fist. His teeth nip at your earlobe, and his free hand gropes at your breast, fingers outstretching to fully take it in his grasp. Wet kisses burn on your throat, each one firing off a rapid signal to arch your back.

“Slow down,” you whine before cutting it off with a moan as he hits a particular delicate spot. The discovery spurs him on, like a pet with a new toy, and he bites your nape once again causing your hips to jerk. With a burning desire building in your stomach at every touch, you pitifully hug your thighs together to try to ease it. “I didn’t get a chance to absorb all that,” you tell him, mostly to get some time to catch up. It backfires wonderfully as he grips onto the bottom of your tank top.

“I have a better way to help you understand.”

The sheets shift with his movement, your lower half dipping towards him as if he holds his own gravitational field. He settles between your legs and strokes against you with one slow, languid rock. It instantly makes you throb. It’s painful how hard you clench over absolutely nothing, panties gathering the lust that’s dripping from you.

You simultaneously hate and love him for causing this need that’s bubbling inside you.

Large hands press your shirt further up your torso. “Arms up,” he demands softly, which you have no problem obeying, and he quickly lifts your shirt over your head.

He lowers his hands to hold at your waist, and they fall still on you as he takes in your naked skin. You’re not privy to his thoughts. The silence of the room feels defean-ing now that your needy gasps of air aren’t filling it.

He pauses, eyes taking you in as you raise your eyebrows at his hesitancy. Xavier smiles, mumbling out, “Just thinking where to start.”

Xavier smiles at you so tenderly. Everything about him is incredibly soft on first appearance. He has big blue puppy eyes, he prefers white, cozy clothes, and his voice is just as gentle as his appearance. Everything about him is soft except for his hands.

Those are hardy and battle-honed, worn with calluses built up with every swing of the sword he’s taken since he was a child, enough of them to slay thousands of Wanderers over the years.

They drag.

Oh, they drag so dangerously slow over your skin, dipping into the pudge of your stomach and highlighting a small circle in the warm, buzzing glow of his Evol. The rays shine gold over your flesh, shimmering brightly in the dark of the room.

“Here,” he states before hunting down another spot on your torso. A beauty mark, like a beacon, earns the sharp eyes of a hunter. He zones in on the vulnerable location, creating a golden target. “Maybe here.”

You squirm with every mapped spot he creates. “Xavier.”

The residue of his power leaves your skin humming; you’re overly aware of each spot he highlights with his power. You like to think your senses would still be heightened regardless of this little game. After all, you’ve been wanting him to touch you forever.

Every night next to him felt like torture, being unable to touch him more than a hug when all you could feel on your back was his hard chest, his arm tight around your waist, and the outline of his cock against your ass as he sighed in your ear.

It runs through your head that he must have put more thought into touching you than you assumed as he continues to stripe lines over the top of your thighs right under your night shorts, making your breath heavy in your throat. You’re no longer sure if he’s marking you to tease you, to track what parts of your body he’s claimed for himself, or to simply make you laugh from the humming of his Evol tickling you like fuzzy static on an old tv screen. Even as he smiles at your shallow giggles, there’s no denying the aura of possession radiating from him that makes you antsy when he finally presses his finger to your sternum.

“Let’s start here,” he says followed by a soft hum as he tattoos a line straight between your breasts, leaving you highlighted in slowly fading graffiti.

“About time you decided,” you say with an playfully exaggerated roll of your eyes. He cocks his head at you with a sly smile.

“I can’t help if I want to touch all of you,” he murmurs. Any response you had ready dies when he licks the encircled zone of your shoulder then swiftly to the notch of your throat, drawing a moan out of you that you didn’t think you were capable of until you met him.

Tilting your head, you allow him more room to work as he kisses your chest. His warm tongue slips through the line he marked, his nose dragging against you as he litters your engorged skin with kisses.

“More,” you beg. Who was he to keep you waiting any longer?

He slips a fingerpad over the tip of your nipple, gently pressing down and then rolling it. It does nothing to satiate you. Satisfaction keeps escaping your grasp, the goalpost of what’s enough moving further out of reach with every pinch and pull of your pebbling nipples. Chasing it makes you brash, and you give a hard push to the back of his head.

Just as you want, he spoils you. He bites and nips the supple skin, drawing out soft pleas from your angelic lips. When he finally graces you with the slick, velvety lap of his tongue on your pert nipple, you mewl and arch. His lips are a little rough after being out all night, his hunger for you more palpable than ever as he gropes harder and sucks at your wet skin.

Your aching pussy throbs with every brush of his clothed cock. Your patience drains more and more as you crave something to fill you. It isn’t until he switches sides and gently nips and suckles around your other teat that you realize he’s been fingerprinting you with his Evol, the polka dots slowly fade away each time he adjusts his hand to knead your breast.

“You’re still being cruel,” you manage between moans.

“I think I’m being very fair,” he reasons, recapturing your lips to silence your complaints, and it works as your mind keeps repeating when his tongue makes a temporary reservation back in the confines of your mouth.

When he parts with you again, he cements it with a soft kiss then another. He keeps peppering them on you so fast that you almost miss the way his tongue darts over your bottom lip before his teeth bite down.

Xavier sighs between his kisses, each one adding more pressure, turning from loving, adoration-filled into needy, heavy smooches.

“Wanted.”

Another kiss that leaves you whimpering.

“To.”

He fondles your chest again, alternating between rolling and pinching your sensitive, puffed nipple then grasping your bare tits in his hands, molding and kneading them.

“With you.”

With your thighs closing at his waist, you curve your back and meet the sloppy buck of his hips. There’s a rush of excitement leaking from you when his kisses trail back over your breasts, hitting the tiny ring of bite marks he seared on you before tracing across the targets of light decorating your belly.

“So bad.”

Skin on fire, legs spread wide to accommodate his chest as he sinks lower to press wet kisses to your stomach, you call out to him. “Xavier, baby,” you whisper and brush his hair to get his attention. And does he give it to you when his eyes flick up to look at you from under the grey tuffs of his hair.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight.

You bring your finger to your lips, not only to pry them open so you can speak but also because you need to bite on it. Otherwise, the surge of lust in you at the sight of his head so close to your cunt and the back of your thighs resting on his broad shoulders would cause you to cum right there.

“My most sensitive spot…is my legs…”

It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, and he quirks his eyebrows up at you with false concern. He lowers his head to kiss your stomach again, this time noticeably closer to your mound. “Are you sure you want to tell me that in this situation? It isn’t wise for the prey to put themselves at a disadvantage.”

“I said no secrets,” you remind him, curling a finger to beckon him back up. Inwardly, you curse that he decides to bring your legs with him by keeping them propped up on his shoulders. Somehow, you manage to ignore his obvious teasing and poke at the cutesy adhesive still stuck on his face. “If you were listening, you should know you’re still in trouble for sneaking off so much without telling me.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” he tells you, a layer of remorse riding his explanation. “I wasn’t expecting to go anywhere.”

Amused, you shake your head at how boyish he sounds as he defends himself while he pulls off that wide and pleading look to bolster his cause. Even with your amusement, you’re not willing to let him off just yet. Sternly, you tap his cheek again.

“That’s not going to work this time.”

Pouting, Xavier holds onto your hand, stopping your playful jabs. “Please give me a chance to lighten my sentence, Miss Hunter, it was unintentional,” he negotiates with a kiss on your palm. The sincerity in his request eases your heart enough to allow him a little wiggle room, or perhaps it’s the slick trailing more between your folds.

“You only got until morning to make a case for yourself.”

“I’ll make you forget by then.” He snatches up your ankle towards his face, a much more pleasant position than your last, as your muscles were starting to ache from having your knees pushed to your face.

He caresses your ankle, pressing an airy kiss. The little bump of his nose against the ball of your ankle tickles, making a giggle cascade from your lips as you slide lower with the pull of your leg.

“Silly,” he mumbles before shuffling off your shorts. Your underwear comes off with more of a fight, the stickiness soaked into it causing the dainty fabric to cling lewdly to your skin and outline to the shape of your cunt.

You don’t often hear Xavier curse but that’s what happens along with his tongue rolling over his upper lip when he catches the image. He reaches out and his fingers twitch, threatening to curve against the spreading stain in your panties but he resists and hooks his fingers into the waistband. He takes his sweet time watching the doused material peeling from you with thin strands of cum sticking to it.

It takes him more effort than he’d like to admit to resist diving straight in. Instead, he keeps it slow, sensual, as much for his sake as yours as he skims his lips up your calf.

He does the same with your center, carefully pressing two fingers against you as he holds your leg up on his shoulder. His mouth stays on your inner thigh, but his eyes are entirely locked on his fingers and the way they effortlessly collect your cum and slip between your lips with barely a push. You can feel his breath shudder out against you before he forces it down with a bite of your thigh but that does nothing to hide the way his entire body tenses when his fingers slip from your clit all the way to your clenching hole.

It does nothing good for your ego or your sanity to think how normally calm and collected Xavier is losing his composure just by touching you. How he’s so obviously turned on when you haven’t nearly returned as much as he’s been giving you.

He presses his hands at the crook of your thighs, pushing your legs further apart, and quenches himself between your legs. His name leaves you in one low drawn-out sigh. Sure, you were baiting him when you told him your weakness, but you weren’t expecting him to abuse the knowledge so readily.

He held your legs blood cuttingly tight to keep you from squirming away from his wriggling tongue, and by the moan that reverberates from his chest and the strong jerk against the mattress when your juices hit his tongue, you think he would only be satisfied if you crushed his head between your straining thighs. When he suckles your clit; when his voice, muffled, hits your pussy; when his biceps tighten around your legs as if encouraging you to do so, and when his eyes meet yours with a silent demand, you know that’s exactly what he wants.

At the plunging of his fingers in you, you break down, catch his head in a vice-like grip, and push him into you. Your heart flutters and the remaining butterflies in your stomach migrate away at the growl he lets out. Your walls happily clench around those thick fingers, your dripping hole making it easy and smooth work to pump in and out of you. You’re not sure when he decides he would rather feel your muscle tightening around his tongue instead, but you can only respond with the tilt of your head back into the sheets and the stroke of your heel on his bare back when it happens.

The only thing better is his palm grinding down on your clit, alternating between slow rotations and rough sporadic grinding that has your toes curling and your eyes glossing with the buildup of tears.

“You’re too loud,” he comments yet he doesn’t stop, in fact, he presses down harder, making you whine. “You’re going to wake the neighbors.”

“Since when have you cared what the neighbors think?” you barely manage to whimper out.

“I’m not worried about them. I just don’t want anyone else to hear what only I should,” he remarks, lapping up the juices spilling down your legs.

His confession is a surprise to you. You never took him to be so possessive. But if that possessiveness is what kept his tongue swirling on your swollen clit and an intense moan escaping your lips then you didn’t mind.

However…

His fingers weren’t enough anymore.

Choosing to surprise him, you decide to turn the tables on him. You jerk your legs, catching him off guard but not enough to tip him over. He looks at you with concern. It doesn’t stop you from trying again with extra force this time until you can weaken his grasp and force him down on his back.

Having the world’s strongest hunter under you was only something you could dream of—first as a rival and now as a lover. The adrenaline has you tunnel-visioned as you straddle his stomach, your soaked cunt making a waterboard out of his abs, which Xavier has also picked up on if the dusky pink on his cheeks is anything to go by.

You grab his hands, gripping tight to regain his attention. Xavier looks taken back especially when your fingers interlock his and pin them back. Whether he’s shocked or curious you don’t know, and you also don’t ask to borrow his power.

“You’ve been having too much fun,” you tell him as you check to make sure your finger is sufficiently coated with light. “For my turn, I’ll attack here and here,” you whisper, marking off his chest and drawing a line across his neck.

There’s a hint of worry finally when he sees you’re aiming for his weak spot. “If you’re trying to teach me the best spot to kill Wanderers, I already know.”

“More like the best spots to defeat a Xavier,” you remark, flattening your palm over his heart, finding your own thumping when you verify that you finally managed to raise his heart rate to the levels of a normal human.

“You’re pretty forward today.” Xavier reaches out to hold your hips and cocks his head at you with an inquisitive glance. “Are you always this easy to excite or is it because of me?”

You feel your face heat at his question. As if he didn’t already know the answer. No one else could make you like this. Needy. Shy. Aroused. Flustered. Confused. Infatuated and in love more than you’ve ever been.

Your eyes soften. “And if I said it was you?”

“Then, you can use me all you want,” he confesses and gently coaxes you back to sit on his hard cock. You smoothly slide your hands to his shoulders, rotating loving strokes into his fair skin before you stop to free his cock from his pants.

It springs readily into your palm, so responsive. You reward him by letting him have a little taste of you. He tries to hide the hitch of his breath as if he could hide any reaction from you right now. It’s so hard to get him to react to anything, and your brain won’t let you miss a single moment as you sit back onto his lap and grind.

His cock slides between your lips, so big that you can feel it stroking you fully, his swollen, dribbling head making you whimper whenever it bumps your clit.

“You, you’re so—” he begins, his eyes flitting from the gentle shake of your tits to his cock glistening between your folds, but he loses his voice to a low whimper when you increase your pace. It’s not on purpose but you can’t help yourself; you’re aching for him just as much as he is for you. “Hah, please...”

His cock is leaking onto him with each sleek thrust, a little pool of precum glistening on his belly as your hips buck. It makes your stomach twist and your insides twitch to see him so excited for you.

“Not yet,” you tell him, brushing fingers across the length of his throat. His mouth parts with a croak that plasters a crooked smile on your face.

His eyebrows knit, and he frowns as you decide to tease him a little by slowing your strokes while your nails continue to follow the thick vein protruding from his neck as he desperately holds down his whines.

“And you call me the cruel one.”

He was gorgeous under you. Beautifully flushed and sheened with sweat. His lips were so close to quivering each time his swollen head was swallowed back under your heat. It’s strange how his pitiful expression actually excites you, leaving you wetter and funneling this cycle of him repeatedly scrunching his face before relaxing it with a moan.

“Please,” he asks again, this time more politely, pleadingly, and downright cutely. He knows what he’s doing because you decide to take pity on him when he gazes at you. “Please let me have you?”

It takes only a second for you to reposition yourself and hover over him. There’s a split hesitation when it registers that you’re actually going to have sex with him and how large he actually is with his cock standing tall and the tip kissing at your entrance. You press downward anyway.

The stretch is both painful and pleasurable, straining your nerves as you lower. The wince on your face is accompanied by a hiss on your lips. However, Xavier is there again to catch you.

“Let’s take our time,” he instructs.

You nod, slowly thrusting halfway onto him. Each rise and fall of your hips coating him with your cream little by little makes it a bit easier to sheath him each bounce.

“Good girl,” he whispers soothingly. Face constricting, he bites down on his lip to hold in a weak groan. It’s not your fault that the praise made your walls flutter and tighten.

When you finally suck him in completely, your eyes roll.

“There you go,” he continues. He slides his hand into one of yours, encouraging you to hold onto it as you slowly and pointedly follow the curve of his cock, “Just like that,” he rasps out. As you take him in fully, your pussy reaching his lap and pushing against his balls, you find it hard to concentrate on the exact words leaving him.

You take a minute to sit with him fully sheathed inside of you, allowing your stretched core to get more accustomed to his cock and also for the high of joining with him to cool off. Otherwise, you’d lose control.

You feel so full. It’s a wonderful sensation, and the pleasure increases tenfold when you lift your hips then have him stretch you again.

Rubbing your fingertips into the back of his palm, you lift and slam back onto him again, causing a ragged groan from you both that ricochets off the walls of the room. It isn’t until now that you recognize how bad you’ve been needing this.

Needed him.

You’re still nowhere near understanding why this need is inside of you. Anyone can give you pleasure, and he’s not the first, but nothing quite matched the warmth overtaking you when his cock pistons and rubs against your nerves as you ride him.

The thought that Xavier was right about fate being written in the stars barely breaks through the thick fog of arousal clouding your brain. The heat spurs you to bounce harder to meet his jerking thrusts.

He sighs under you; the pressure on his lower half increases while your eyesight blurs and your head angles back. You’ll both be each other’s undoing at this rate, he thinks, as he watches the beads of sweat accumulating in little shiny droplets on your forehead and on your bouncing chest in a light sheen.

Chasing that desire to see you undone, he pulls you to a halt, burying himself deep inside of you, before pressing his hand to your mound, brushing past the patch of damp hair to zone in on your sticky, swollen clit.

The instant whine of his name makes him dizzy. Centuries have gone by, and he’s never heard you say his name with such wanton desperation nor seen you grind onto him, stirring his cock in you as if your sanity depended on it.

His certainly depended on you. Always has especially in the many decades he thought he’d never see you again. That need is even clearer from how sensitive yet eager his cock is to you squeezing around it as you shudder on top of him while keeping an unbearably tight hold on his hand. Your movements come to a near stop except for the occasional rut to prolong the rush of your orgasm.

The sight of you breaking down on top of him threatens to make his eyes roll back as he squeezes onto your legs for grounding. Your strangled gasp followed by your muscles relaxing tells him that you’re coming down.

“I take it you’ve finished,” Xavier says with a smirk, and you only have half the mind to swat at his chest like a lazy cat. Your legs burn, your chest unable to fill with enough oxygen to catch your breath. You think you’ll skip the gym tomorrow but Xavier has other plans.

“I’m not finished,” he reminds you.

You look down at Xavier; you’d been so busy finding your own pleasure, you didn’t realize he hadn’t cum yet. You feel a lingering guilt but he swiftly takes the situation into his own hands.

You’re still too sensitive to fight back as he slides his cock out of you with a wet pop. It takes two swift movements for him to lift you off of him and roll you onto your stomach.

Your chest feels restricted, tight to the mattress as he presses on top of you, his grey-brown hair rubbing your shoulder as he cuddles your back. It’s an affectionate notion, distracting from the pressure in your lower half as he slides off the last of his clothes and thrusts his cock back inside of you.

You thought you were filled to the brim the first time, yet this angle was different. It felt much tighter, and the slightest shift of his hips had you muffling moans into your arms.

“I want to hear you,” he sweetly requests, yanking on your hips to raise your ass higher and pull you further away from the muffling effects of the bed. Your fracturing mewls mix into his grunts, both sounds washing out the sloppy, wet paps of his cock pounding into you.

His hand swoops down your bending back in one long soothing stroke before his head collapses onto you. His grunts are loud, tumbling right into your ear along with the slapping sound of his hips meeting your ass. Your legs feel like jelly, and the rest of your body becomes weightless as your mind only focuses on his cock recklessly burning its way through you.

Xavier’s breath rolls against your back along with his forehead as he buries you under his weight; his grip on your thighs tightens to an unbearable degree, leaving you to wonder if you’ll have marks in the morning.

You don’t really care if he does when he moans your name and heat fills you, spreading with each sporadic thrust until he finally bottoms out inside you one last time and holds until he completely empties.

Taking his time to enjoy the sensation, he waits before pulling out of you, making you whimper with the sudden void. Shakily, you collapse back into the sheets and flip onto your back with a sigh. His eyes are still half-lidded as he watches you; he chews briefly on his bottom lip, reminding you of the look in his eyes earlier.

“Xavier,” you question but he silences you with a kiss, which you tiredly return. His fingertips slide down from your knee to your thigh, and he teases your opening, the mixture of cum making it easy for him to stroke your still spasming pussy.

Xavier sighs against your lips before moving his kisses to the swoop of your neck. “You’re so beautiful and all mine.”

Your mouth parts with a dry moan as he slides thick fingers over your clit. It starts to ache from his touch but it’s hard to deny him, even as he tortures you with his methodic and precise rotations over the bead.

His name is on your mouth, each syllable heavy on your tongue. You leave garbled gasps in his mouth as he makes out with you while your hand draws down his chest, attempting to make a mental map of every twitching muscle and healed wound on the way down.

Your heart jumps with the twitch of his cock when you wrap your hand around it. There’s going to be no trouble getting him to rebound, you think. He’s already thickening again with the warm strokes of your hand and tracing of your fingers over the slowly beating vein lining the underside of his shaft.

Xavier doesn’t even let you finish exciting him before he rolls back on top of you and settles his head between your breasts. Between all the cum in between your legs and his half-hard cock, it isn’t as mind-numbing to have him inside you. What is different is to feel him twitching and growing inside you with his renewed thrusts.

You’re hiccupping by the time he pushes your legs back and starts to hit deep inside of you, leaving the corner of your eyes tearing. You’re overwhelmed with everything. The uncharacteristic amount of energy he possesses as his hips snap into you. How each powerful rock leaves tingles aftershock-ing inside you, ruining your chances to recover before he does it again. The heavy scent of sex mixed with pine overwhelms your nose. His sweaty chest blocks out any light in the room, sealing any notion that you can be distracted by anything other than him as he pushes up your knee towards your chest.

You’re quickly working up to your second orgasm; the painful cramping in your foot tells you it’ll be bigger than the last. You’re right. When you come undone again, it’s with a shrill sob. You’re too out of it to even register when he finishes until he starts kissing your neck again.

He’s still inside you, you realize once your mind finally lands back on earth. His cock is resting in the heat inside you, waiting for him to work the two of you back up again. You know that’s the goal when his thumb gently brushes over one of your nipples again. Your sore insides constrict and strain. You don’t think you could survive a third round.

“Xavier, please, no more.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice dry and husky in your ear as he kisses under it.

“Too much,” you tell him, pushing on his chest to make some space between the two of you.

“I didn’t catch that,” he coos defiantly. When he notices that you’re being serious, he obediently pulls out of you. His kisses become smoother as he pecks your lips. “What’s wrong? Is it aching?”

You nod then puff your cheeks in frustration when you see the amusement on his face.

“It’s not funny!” you say, holding onto that angry, childish pout until his smile turns sympathetic.

“You’re right,” he agrees and shifts off you. Quickly, he locates his briefs on the corner of the bed. He steps out of bed and pulls them on. To your surprise, he leaves you, alone and cold.

“Where are you going?”

Xavier disappears without answering you and only the sound of running water gives you any sort of hint of where he might’ve gone. When he returns, it’s with a rag dangled in his hand.

“A boyfriend should help clean his girlfriend up after times like this,” he explains and leans over you; he presses the wet cloth between your legs; the rag is incredibly soothing on your bloated skin. It’s a blessing to your sore muscles as he starts to massage and clean you. “It feels better already, doesn’t it?”

“I guess,” you answer pitifully, grumbling a bit because the look on his face still seems like he’s teasing about your neediness.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s my fault you’re a little sore.” He’s definitely taunting you, but you don’t have the energy to fight about it. “All done,” he remarks, tossing the rag to a forgotten section of the dresser. He carefully climbs back on top of you, waiting for the moment your hand finds his bicep to guide him down next to you.

It isn’t the first time he’s been this affectionate, and it won’t be the last time. However, this time feels more special than any time you’ve slept together, and not just because you can feel the stickiness of his sex-clad skin against your naked body. Well, that’s part of the reason.

“Something on your mind?”

“Nothing. I’m really happy,” you explain.

“If it really makes you that happy, maybe we should do it more often,” he offers, and you pinch his unwounded cheek to punish him. Jumping back, he knocks your hand away and caresses his wounded face. “I’ll need another bandage if you keep doing that,” he complains weakly.

“You only have yourself to blame!”

Xavier sighs. “You’re always right,” he concedes, more so that he can cuddle you without fighting rather than actually agreeing with you, you fear.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Are you really doubting your boyfriend?” he asks. Heartbeat skipped, you clamp your mouth shut as he unfolds the blankets over the two of you.

It’s finally settling back into your mind that the two of you are a couple now. “I’m still…not used to it yet with you being that.”

“You will get used to it the longer we’re together. The same as I will.” Xavier sighs, happily so. “Although, we might run into the same problem again.”

You blink at him. “Why?”

Thoughtful, Xavier hums then explains, “First comes love then comes marriage as they say.”

He catches you off-guard once more. As always, Xavier is forever forging on ahead with little regard for convention. “Aren’t you thinking too far ahead?”

“Maybe,” he agrees but there’s no drop in his confidence as he smiles at you and draws his hand over your hairline. “But I loved you since we met.”

“Xavier, please,” you beg, finding your favorite place to hide your flustered face in the crook of his elbow.

He can’t help but laugh at you as he curls his arm around you. “Especially that,” he confesses and places one more kiss on the top of your head before inviting you to go to sleep.

You do, falling asleep against his chest less than thirty minutes later. For him, sleep is elusive for once as he mulls over the day’s events.

The word girlfriend on his tongue is sweet. The idea itself burns wonderfully in his chest, but it isn’t enough. He knows he still needs to wait a bit longer, take his time, your bashful response to his prodding was enough to tell him that it isn’t time yet. It’s hard not to rush when this is the closest he’s ever been to the one thing he truly wants.

Xavier guesses he’ll still have to rely on his dreams for a little while longer. It’s okay, he tells himself, it’ll work out this time. He’ll find a place to settle with you and have a quiet life, a place where he can see stars.

And this lifetime, when he asks you to marry him, he hopes you’ll say yes.

#xavier x reader #xavier smut #love and deepspace x reader #lnd smut #xavier love and deepspace #lads x reader #lads smut #notsfw #adelssmut

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goddessofvalyria · 3 months ago

Text

THE SWEET TASTE OF BLOOD | Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: Aemond Targaryen was a vampire and he always dreamed for centuries of her, a princess from a fallen kingdom destined to be his. One day, that dream became true.

TW: 18+, MINORS DNI, SMUT, She/Her pronouns, oral (f receiving), fingering, sexual tension, sex, blood, blood sucking, biting, blood play. A little bit of Dark Aemond. This one shot is inspired/has the vibes of "Bram Stocker's Dracula".

English is not my first language, be kind <3

This is my Masterlist

Words: 4230

The wind howled through the twisted branches of the dead trees, a mournful sound that echoed through the desolate, mist-laden landscape of the Foreign lands. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale, ghostly light over the land. The castle loomed in the distance, its towering spires piercing the darkness like the fangs of a monstrous beast. It was an ominous sight, a place that had long been abandoned by the living but was far from empty.

The Lost Princess stumbled through the dense fog, her feet dragging over the uneven ground. She was weak, her clothes torn and dirty from weeks of wandering through the wilderness. Her kingdom had fallen, her people scattered, and she had been left with nothing but her dreams—dreams that had led her here, to this cursed place. Dreams of a castle, a dark prince, and a destiny she could not escape. She had thought they were mere fantasies, the desperate imaginings of a lost soul. But now, as she stood at the foot of the castle gates, she knew the truth. This was where she was meant to be.

“Who… who lives here?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind.

Suddenly, the great iron gates creaked open, as if summoned by her words. She took a hesitant step forward, drawn by an unseen force, a compulsion she could not resist. Her heart pounded in her chest, a frantic rhythm that matched the wild pulse of the storm around her. She knew she should turn back, that no good could come from entering such a place. But something—a whisper in the wind, a shadow in the corner of her eye—compelled her forward.

Inside, the castle was as she had seen in her dreams: vast, dark, and foreboding, with high ceilings and walls lined with ancient tapestries. The air was cold, the silence almost suffocating. She moved through the hallways, her footsteps echoing off the stone floors, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

And then she saw him.

He stood at the far end of the great hall, bathed in the dim light of a dozen flickering candles. He was tall, with silver hair that fell to his shoulders and a sapphire glinting in place of his left eye. His skin was pale, almost luminescent in the candlelight, and his lips curved into a slow, knowing smile as he watched her approach.

"Prince Aemond Targaryen" he whispered, recognizing her from his dreams. The name sent a shiver down her spine, a strange mix of fear and familiarity. She should have been afraid, and yet…

"Welcome, my princess" Aemond's voice was smooth, a dark velvet that seemed to caress her very soul. "I have been waiting for you."

His words were both a greeting and a confession. She could feel the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his desire. It was as if he had been waiting for her, not just for days or months, but for centuries.

"You… you know me?" she stammered, her mind reeling.

"I have seen you in my dreams, just as you have seen me, I know" he replied, stepping closer. "You are the one I have been searching for, the one I have longed for. You are mine."

The princess felt a rush of emotions—fear, confusion, anger. "I am no one's" she protested, taking a step back. "I am my own."

Aemond's smile widened, revealing the tips of his fangs. "You say that now, but soon you will understand. You are mine, as I am yours. We are bound by fate, by a destiny that cannot be denied."

She turned to flee, panic surging through her veins, but the doors slammed shut behind her with a force that rattled the walls. She was trapped.

"Let me go!" she cried, her voice breaking with fear. "Please, let me go!"

Aemond was upon her in an instant, his movements faster than her eyes could follow. He caught her by the arm, his grip firm but not painful. "You cannot leave" he said softly, his breath warm against her skin. "Not now. Not ever."

Tears streamed down her face as she struggled against him, but he held her fast. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

"Because I need you and you need me" he whispered, his voice almost desperate. "Because I cannot be alone anymore. You are the only one who can understand my pain, my suffering. You are the only one who can save me from this eternal darkness."

She looked up into his eyes—his one remaining eye a vivid violet, the sapphire a cold, unfeeling blue. For a moment, she saw the truth in his words, the loneliness, the despair that lay beneath his cruel exterior. And in that moment, she felt a strange, inexplicable connection to him, a pull she could not resist.

"I… I don't understand" she murmured, her voice trembling.

"You will" he promised, his lips brushing against her temple. "In time, you will" and then he locked her in her new chambers.

"Let me go!" she screamed knocking the door, but he never came back. "Let me go, fucking bastard!" after hours spent to screams, she knew that she needed to surrender. Those dreams were too vivid, too realistic and she never have talked to anyone. After the fallen of her kingdom she was the only one survivor and she left in the night or she will be dead from her enemies, those rebels who let the war begins.

It was her dreams that had led her there.

Two moons passed soon, and the princess lay in her chambers, feverish and weak. Her skin was pale, her breathing shallow and labored. She had grown ill from the cold and damp, and she had not fed since she had arrived, or rather, she had refused. Aemond watched over her, his expression unreadable every night, entering her chambers. He had promised himself that he would not harm her, that he would not give in to the darkness that consumed him. But now, as he watched her suffer, he knew he had no choice.

If he did not bite her, she would die.

Aemond Targaryen sat in the dim light of the chamber, watching the Lost Princess as she lay feverish on the bed. Her skin was pale, a sickly sheen of sweat covering her body, and her breaths came in short, labored gasps. The fever had taken hold days ago, and nothing he did could break it. Her suffering was like a dagger to his heart, twisting deeper with every pained breath she took.

“I cannot let you die” he whispered, his voice breaking under the weight of his emotions. “I cannot lose you.”

The princess trembled, her body wracked with fever. She turned her head away from him, her eyes wet with tears. “Stay away from me!” she pleaded, her voice weak but filled with a resolve that surprised even her. A single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek, a silent testament to her fear and despair. “I would rather die like my family than live like this.”

Aemond flinched at her words. He could feel the sting of her rejection, the pain of her fear. She still did not understand—could not understand—the depth of his love for her, the madness that gripped his soul for centuries, compelling him to do whatever it took to keep her by his side. His obsession, his love, his need—it was all-consuming, and he could not bear the thought of losing her.

"You do not mean that" he said, his voice low and urgent, trying to reach her through the fog of her fever. "You do not understand what you are saying. You are confused, and the fever… it is making you delirious."

She closed her eyes, as if trying to shut him out, her breath coming in quick, shallow pants. “I would rather die” she repeated, her voice a mere whisper. “I would rather die than become a monster.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, anger and fear warring within him. “You speak of death as if it is a choice,” he hissed, his control slipping. “But I will not allow it. I cannot allow it. I need you, and I will not lose you—not to fever, not to anything.”

The princess turned her head, her eyes blazing with a feverish intensity. “It is not your choice!” she spat, her voice trembling. “You cannot decide my fate. I would rather die with honor, as my family did, than live as one of the damned.”

His face darkened at her words, a shadow passing over his features. “Your family is gone” he said coldly, his voice like ice. “They cannot help you now. But I can. I can save you.”

“Save me?” she cried, a desperate, bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Save me by damning me? By turning me into a creature like you?”

Aemond’s patience snapped. He moved swiftly, his hand reaching out to press her down against the bed, his strength easily overpowering her weakened form. “I do this for you” he said, his voice shaking with emotion. “For us. You do not understand now, but you will. In time, you will see.”

She struggled beneath him, weak and feverish, but defiant. “No,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Please, Aemond… don’t do this. I beg you, let me go.”

His expression softened for a brief moment, a flicker of pain in his eye. “I am sorry” he murmured, leaning closer, his lips brushing against her throat. He could feel the weak flutter of her pulse beneath his touch, a fragile, fading thing. “Forgive me” he whispered, his voice barely a breath.

Then he bit her.

She screamed, a sharp, agonized cry in the moment his fangs pierced her skin, he felt a rush of warmth, of life, of power. Her blood filled his mouth, hot and sweet, and he drank deeply, savoring the taste, the connection, the bond that formed between them. He could feel her life mingling with his, their souls entwining, becoming one.

The princess gasped, her eyes flying open as the pain of his bite gave way to something else—something deeper, something primal. She could feel him inside her, his thoughts, his emotions, his desires. She could feel his love, his obsession, his desperation. And she realized, with a sudden, startling clarity, that she had always known him. That she had always been his.

As he pulled away, her body went limp, her eyes closing as the fever broke, her breathing evening out. Aemond cradled her in his arms, his heart pounding with a strange mix of relief and fear. He had done it. He had saved her. But at what cost?

"You are mine" he whispered, his lips brushing against her forehead. "Forever."

And deep within her, the princess felt a stirring, a dark hunger that mirrored his own. She was his, now and always. Bound to him by blood, by fate, by a love that would last for eternity.

The castle doors swung shut behind them, sealing them inside, together, forever.

Outside, the storm raged on, the wind howling like a chorus of lost souls, mourning the fate of the princess who had wandered into the darkness… and never returned.

The black castle in the Foreignlands had grown colder since the night Aemond Targaryen had bitten his Princess. Shadows moved like living creatures along the walls, and the ancient stones seemed to hum with a dark energy. The castle was a place out of time, a twisted realm where day never fully broke and night reigned eternal.

The princess wandered the halls, her steps light and cautious, the silk of her gown trailing on the cold stone floors. Her body was different now—stronger, faster. Her senses were sharper; she could hear the faintest whisper of wind, see every detail of the darkness, smell every scent that wafted through the air. But more than anything, she could feel a new, gnawing hunger that clawed at her insides—a hunger she didn't understand and was afraid to satisfy.

Aemond watched her from the shadows, his single violet eye following her every move, his sapphire eye cold and unfeeling. He knew the transformation had been difficult for her. He could feel her fear, her confusion, and her anger. She had not yet embraced what she had become. She did not yet understand the power that flowed through her veins.

"You must feed, my love" Aemond whispered one night, stepping from the darkness to stand beside her. "You cannot resist it forever."

The princess turned to face him, her eyes wide with a mixture of longing and fear. "I don't want this" she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I never asked for this."

Aemond reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "No, but it is what you are now. It is what we are. You are mine, and I am yours. We are bound together, forever."

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I don't know how to live like this" she confessed. "I don't know how to be… this."

Aemond's expression softened, a rare flicker of tenderness crossing his features. "Then let me teach you" he said gently. "Let me show you how to embrace what you are, how to wield the power within you."

One night later. . .

Aemond sensed the stranger before she did—a faint heartbeat in the distance, a whiff of human scent. Someone had dared to enter his domain, his castle. His lips curled into a predatory smile.

"Tonight, my love" he whispered to the princess, who stood beside him, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Tonight, you will learn what it means to be one of us."

Together, they moved through the shadows, silent and swift. The princess could feel the energy coursing through her, the thrill of the hunt awakening something deep inside her. She glanced at Aemond, his face a mask of calm, predatory intent, and felt a strange sense of comfort in his presence. He had promised to teach her, and she trusted him, even in this.

The stranger—a lone traveler who had lost his way—wandered through the darkened halls, his torch flickering in the gloom. He was muttering to himself, his eyes darting nervously from side to side. The princess could hear his heartbeat, fast and erratic, like a frightened animal. She could smell the fear on him, a scent that made her mouth water, her fangs itch.

"Go to him" Aemond murmured in her ear, his voice a seductive whisper. "Feel his fear. Taste it. Let it guide you."

She hesitated, fear and hunger warring within her. "I… I don't know if I can."

Aemond's hand was on her shoulder, firm and reassuring. "You can" he insisted. "You must. There is no other way. Trust yourself. Trust me."

She looked at him. "Do it" he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "Claim what is yours."

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, moving closer to the stranger. The man turned at the sound of her approach, his eyes widening in surprise and fear as he saw her. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, she was upon him, her new strength and speed carrying her across the room in an instant.

She could feel his warmth against her, the frantic beat of his heart beneath her fingers. She hesitated, her fangs poised over his neck, and for a moment, she thought she might pull away. But then she felt Aemond behind her, his presence a dark, comforting shadow, and she knew she could not turn back.

With a surge of determination, she sank her fangs into the man's neck, a rush of warmth flooding her mouth. The taste of his blood was intoxicating, a dark, rich elixir that filled her with a powerful, primal energy. She drank deeply, feeling the stranger's life force flow into her, feeling his heartbeat slow and then stop altogether.

The man whimpered, his eyes squeezing shut, but before he could utter a word, she sank her fangs into his neck. The moment his blood touched her lips, she felt a rush of warmth, a surge of energy that flowed through her veins like fire. The taste was intoxicating, a dark, rich elixir that filled her with a heady sense of power and pleasure.

Aemond watched her, his expression one of dark satisfaction. “Yes” he murmured, his voice thick with approval. “Yes, that’s it. Drink, my love. Drink deeply.”

She did as he commanded, drinking deeply, feeling the man’s life force flowing into her, mingling with her own. She could feel his heart slowing, his body growing weaker, and it filled her with a dark, thrilling pleasure. She felt Aemond move behind her, his hands on her shoulders, his lips brushing against her ear.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered, his voice a low, seductive growl. “Do you feel the power, the life flowing into you?”

She nodded, unable to speak, her senses overwhelmed by the rush of blood, the heady mix of fear and pleasure. She could feel Aemond’s hunger too, his own desire mingling with hers, and it drove her on, urged her to drink more, to take more.

Aemond lowered his head to the man’s other side, his own fangs sinking into his flesh, drinking deeply. Together, they drained him, their bodies pressed close, their breaths mingling in the cold, dark air. The man’s life faded between them, his struggles growing weaker until, finally, he went still.

When it was over, they pulled away, their lips stained with blood, their eyes glowing with a fierce, predatory light. The princess felt a surge of exhilaration, a thrill of power and satisfaction that she had never known before. She turned to Aemond, her chest heaving, her body trembling with the aftershocks of their shared feeding.

Aemond looked at her, his face flushed, his lips curved into a dark, satisfied smile. “You see?” he said, his voice a low purr. “This is what we are. This is what we can be together.”

She stared at him, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps, her body alive with sensation. “I… I understand now,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I feel it… I feel everything, Aemond”

He reached out, pulling her close, his hands sliding over her blood-slick skin. “Good” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers, tasting the blood still lingering there. “You are very good girl, princess.”

They kissed, the taste of blood mingling on their tongues, their bodies pressing together in a fierce, primal embrace. The princess could feel the heat of him, the hunger, the desire, and she responded in kind, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.

They moved together, a slow, seductive dance, their bodies slick with blood, their hearts pounding in unison. Aemond pushed her back against the cold stone wall, his lips trailing down her neck, his hands roaming over her body. She arched against him, a low moan escaping her lips, her body alive with need.

He kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding over hers, tasting the remnants of their shared feast. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, feeling the hard press of his body against hers, the heat of his skin, the intensity of his desire.

“Do you see now?” he whispered against her lips, his voice a low, seductive growl. “Do you see what we are, what we can be?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her eyes half-closed, her body trembling with need. “Yes, I see.”

He smiled, a dark, wicked smile that sent a shiver down her spine. “Then let us become one,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “In blood and in body.”

Without another word, he swept her into his arms, carrying her to a stone altar in the center of the room. He laid her down upon it, his hands roaming over her body, his lips trailing kisses along her neck, her collarbone, her breasts covered. She moaned, her body arching beneath him, her skin alive with sensation.

He moved over her, his body pressing against hers, his breath hot against her skin. She could feel his hunger, his desire, his need, and it mirrored her own. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, urging him on.

"I need you" she whispered, Aemond began to undress her, he brought his hands to the laces of her dress starting to undo it, he brought his hands to her bodice, then to her slip undressing her frantically. Her body was beautiful, divine, a temple to be loved and honored. Her skin was white and smooth like that of any noble, perfumed and fucking inviting.

Their kiss was fierce, primal, driven by a hunger that went beyond mere physical desire.

Aemond whispered her name and then pressed his mouth against hers again, stripped of his clothes, naked above her he looked like a devil: the strongest, most beautiful and dangerous. He was like that, an enigma. He had the body of a warrior, toned abs and a strong and soft chest that she wanted to kiss. His arms were long and veiny just like his hands. Under the soft moonlight that entered the castle windows, the vampire prince looked at his princess, caressed her blood-stained face and went down with his blood-stained hands on her body, both dirty and covered in the scarlet red liquid.

"Mine for eternity" he hissed leaning down, kissing her where her heart was. Her blood-stained skin was fucking hot, the feeling of his lips wrapped around her breasts drove her crazy, she arched her back when he wrapped his lips around her nipple and she ran her hands through his silver hair. Aemond felt her melt under his touch, he slowly moved down with kisses and opened her legs.

"Aemond…" she whispered feeling the blood running down her body, dirty as well as Aemond's. "My beautiful damned princess, my… bride." he gently opened her legs, placed a kiss on her wet cunt.

"Oh!" a moan escaped her lips when she felt Aemond's mouth press against her pussy. She began to move her hips against his face, her legs tightly wrapped around his head, shaking, arching as she moaned his name that echoed through the dark walls of the castle. All she felt was his mouth and fingers making her feel pleasure.

Aemond curled his fingers inside her, his tongue licked her clit and felt her come, she cummed over his lips. "Aemond…oh!" she trembled so much. Her prince rose from her body, took his long, hard, wet, precum-tipped manhood in his hand and rubbed himself against her.

"I've never done this before" she whispered feeling small against the rock beneath her. "I'll be gentle" Aemond whispered licking his lips, their bodies claiming each other. "And with that I take you as my bride" with a sharp thrust he began to move slowly inside her. "And I take you as my husband" she whispered feeling the invasion between her thighs.

"Wet, tight, ready just for me" he whispered unable to hold back his little moans His hips suddenly slammed harder against hers.

They moved together in perfect harmony, their bodies slick with sweat and blood, their cries echoing through the darkened halls. She could feel the power building within her, a dark, consuming force that threatened to overwhelm her. But Aemond was there, guiding her, grounding her, his touch both tender and demanding.

"Do you feel it?" he whispered, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Do you feel the power, the strength, the life flowing through you?"

"Yes," she gasped, her nails digging into his back, drawing blood. "Yes, I feel it."

He fucked her against the stone altar, his cock tearing her open with every thrust, her moans echoing off the stone walls of the castle. She moaned, a mess, letting herself be used. Lost in pleasure, lost in those kisses that tasted like sin.

Aemond kissed her, drawing a moan from her, making her submit to him and his thrusts. Hell, he was drunk on her, on his bride, on the woman he had waited for centuries and who he could now love and who was his.

He groaned, his body shuddering against hers as he reached his climax, his fangs sinking into her neck, drinking deeply. She cried out, her own release following moments later, her body convulsing beneath him, her vision going white with pleasure.

When it was over, they lay together, their bodies intertwined, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Aemond held her close, his lips brushing against her forehead, her cheek, her lips. "You are mine" he whispered, his voice soft, almost tender. "Now and forever, wife."

She nodded, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, her body still tingling with the aftershocks of their lovemaking. "And you are mine" she whispered back, her voice barely audible. "Forever, husband."

The castle was silent once more, the shadows creeping back into their corners, the air thick with the scent of blood and sweat. Outside, the storm had passed, the wind dying down to a soft, mournful whisper.

They lay together in the darkness, their bodies entwined, their souls bound by blood and by love, forever.

This was the sweet taste of blood.

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