#modern kitchen cabinets handles

[expresskichens]

Shop Modern Pulls for Kitchen Cabinets | Express Kitchens

Discover stylish modern pulls for kitchen cabinets at Express Kitchens. Our collection features high-quality and affordable options that enhance the aesthetic of any kitchen. Choose from a variety of designs that complement your decor while providing functional convenience. Shop now to elevate your space!

Price Range:- $4 to $49.

[dluxdekor1]

Shop Now: Modern Gate Hardware, Fancy Cabinet Handles & Cast Iron Cabinet Pulls!

When it comes to enhancing the aesthetic and functionality of your home, the small details matter. Whether you are streamlining your surface gate or revamping your cabinetry, the right tackle can make all the difference. In the moment's design world, rudiments like ultramodern gate tackle, fancy press handles, and cast iron press pulls are getting decreasingly popular for homeowners and contrivers likewise. These pieces not only serve functional purposes but also add a subcaste of fineness and style to your space. That’s why these tackle options are a must-have for your coming-home enhancement design.

Modern Gate Hardware A Stylish Entrance

Your gate is the first thing people notice when they approach your home, and ultramodern gate tackle can help produce a lasting print. satiny, durable, and designed for both security and style, ultramodern gate tackle is drafted to enhance the check appeal of any property. Whether you are looking for minimalist designs or bold, statement-making tackle, moment’s options offer a wide variety of home stretches and features. 

Crucial Benefits of Modern Gate Hardware

Durability: ultramodern gate tackle is generally made from high-quality accouterments like a pristine sword, aluminum, or brass. 

Security:  ultramodern gate tackle options come with advanced locking mechanisms, icing that your home remains secure without immolating style. Design Versatility Whether your home has a contemporary or traditional aesthetic, 

Design: ultramodern gate tackle comes in designs that round a range of styles, from satiny and minimalistic to ornate and ornamental. 

Fancy Cabinet Handles 

Elevating Interior Spaces Fancy press handles are the perfect way to add a touch of luxury and personalization to your home’s innards. These handles go further with simple functionality, offering an occasion to express your unique taste. Whether you are looking to elevate your kitchen, restroom, or living room, fancy press handles give an elegant, cultural touch. 

Why Choose Fancy Cabinet Handles? 

Design Variety From intricate designs to satiny, ultramodern homestretches, fancy press handles come in a variety of styles to suit any décor. Whether you prefer a polished chrome look, quaint brass, or indeed crystal clear handles, the options are endless. 

Customization Fancy handles allow you to truly customize your space. Choose from unique shapes, homestretches, and accouterments to match your particular style and home’s theme.

Affordable Luxury While they offer a high-end appearance, fancy press handles are frequently an affordable way to upgrade the look of your cabinetry without demanding a full addition. Cast Iron Cabinet Pulls dateless continuity For those who appreciate rustic, artificial, or quaint styles, 

Cast iron cabinet pulls 

These are an ideal choice. Known for their strength and dateless appeal, cast iron pulls are perfect for adding character to any space, whether it’s a grange kitchen or an ultramodern Garrett. 

Advantages of Cast Iron Cabinet Pulls 

Strength and continuity Cast iron is one of the most durable accouterments available, making it ideal for high-use areas like kitchens and bathrooms. 

Timeless Appeal Cast iron press pulls have a classic look that goes out of style. Their rugged, artificial finish dyads well with both traditional and contemporary innards. 

Versatile Design Whether you’re aiming for a rustic, quaint look or a more ultramodern artificial vibe, cast iron pulls fit seamlessly into a variety of design schemes. 

How to Choose the Right Hardware for Your Home 

When opting tackle, it’s essential to consider not only aesthetics but also functionality and continuity. Then are a many tips to help you choose the stylish tackle for your requirements 

Consider the Style of Your Home Is your home more contemporary, traditional, or artificial? Choose a tackle that complements your overall aesthetic to produce a cohesive look. 

Pay Attention to Finishes Whether you conclude for candescent chrome, matte black, or rustic iron, the finish of your tackle can dramatically impact the look of your space. Mixing home stretches can also add visual interest. 

Think about functionality and durability, especially for high- business areas like doors, kitchens, and bathrooms. 

Match Your hardware Across room To produce a unified look, consider matching your ultramodern gate tackle, fancy press handles, and cast iron press pulls throughout your home. 

Conclusion 

The right tackle can fully transfigure the look and sense of your home. By investing in high-quality pieces like modern gate hardware, fancy cabinet handles, and cast iron cabinet pulls, you’re not just upgrading your home’s functionality, you're making a style statement. Whether you’re aiming for a satiny, ultramodern look or commodity further rustic and dateless, these hardware options give the perfect mix of form and function. Protect now and find the perfect pieces to elevate your home’s design! With a range of styles, home stretches and accouterments available, you’re sure to find a tackle that matches your particular taste and complements your space impeccably. Don’t stay — upgrade your home’s tackle moment!

#moderngatehardware #fancycabinethandles #castironcabinetpulls #castirondrawerpulls

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[tinalilith1]

Black Cabinet Handles

Nowadays, many opt for black cabinet door handles as a practical and aesthetically pleasing solution. Yes, long gone are the days of the all-white kitchen.

[pokemonreanimated]

Modern Kitchen Large open concept kitchen with a drop-in sink, flat-panel cabinets, black cabinets, marble countertops, white backsplash, marble backsplash, stainless steel appliances, an island, and medium tone wood floor, brown floor, and tray ceiling.

[kitchenkosmos]

The Best Gold Kitchen Cabinet Handles

Modern Gold Kitchen Cabinet Handles

Modern gold kitchen cabinet handles are a popular choice for homeowners looking to add a touch of elegance and sophistication to their kitchen decor. These sleek and stylish handles not only serve a functional purpose but also enhance the overall aesthetics of the kitchen space. In this article, we will explore the various aspects of modern gold kitchen cabinet handles, including their design options, benefits, installation process, maintenance tips, and where to find them. Whether you’re planning a kitchen renovation or simply want to upgrade your cabinet hardware, this article will provide you with valuable insights and inspiration.

Introduction

When it comes to kitchen design, every little detail matters, including the cabinet handles. The right cabinet handles can elevate the overall aesthetic of your kitchen and add a touch of sophistication. One popular choice for homeowners looking to create a luxurious and stylish kitchen is gold kitchen cabinet handles. In this article, we will explore the various aspects of gold kitchen cabinet handles, including their importance, choosing the right handles, styles and designs, materials used, installation process, maintenance, and the benefits they offer.

The Importance of Kitchen Cabinet Handles

Kitchen cabinet handles may seem like a small component, but they play a significant role in both functionality and aesthetics. Cabinet handles provide a convenient grip for opening and closing cabinets while adding a decorative element to the overall design. Gold kitchen cabinet handles, in particular, have the power to transform an ordinary kitchen into a luxurious space. Their elegant appearance instantly catches the eye and creates a sense of opulence.

Choosing the Right Gold Kitchen Cabinet Handles

When selecting gold kitchen cabinet handles, several factors should be considered. First, determine the style and theme of your kitchen. Are you aiming for a modern, contemporary look or a more traditional and classic style? The handles should complement the overall design and blend seamlessly with the existing decor. Additionally, consider the size and shape of the handles to ensure they provide a comfortable grip and suit your personal preferences.

Styles and Designs of Gold Kitchen Cabinet Handles

Gold kitchen cabinet handles come in a wide array of styles and designs to suit different kitchen aesthetics. Some popular options include sleek and minimalistic handles, ornate and decorative handles with intricate details, and handles with unique shapes and textures. Whether you prefer a timeless and sophisticated look or a bold and statement-making design, there are gold cabinet handles available to match your preferences.

Materials Used for Gold Kitchen Cabinet Handles

Gold kitchen cabinet handles can be crafted from various materials, each offering its unique qualities and durability. Common materials used include solid brass, stainless steel with a gold finish, and zinc alloy. Solid brass handles are known for their exceptional strength and longevity, making them a popular choice among homeowners. Stainless steel handles with a gold finish provide a more affordable option without compromising on style, while zinc alloy handles offer a lightweight and cost-effective alternative.

Installation Process of Gold Kitchen Cabinet Handles

Installing gold kitchen cabinet handles is a relatively straightforward process that can be done by homeowners with basic tools and skills. Begin by determining the desired placement of the handles on your cabinets. Measure and mark the exact positions for consistency. Next, use a drill and an appropriate-sized drill bit to create holes for the handles. Once the holes are prepared, attach the handles using screws provided with the handles or suitable screws purchased separately. Ensure that the handles are securely fastened before testing their functionality.

Maintaining and Cleaning Gold Kitchen Cabinet Handles

To keep your gold kitchen cabinet handles looking their best, regular maintenance and cleaning are essential. Avoid using abrasive cleaners or harsh chemicals that may damage the gold finish. Instead, use a soft cloth dampened with mild soapy water to gently wipe away any dirt or smudges. Dry the handles thoroughly to prevent water spots or tarnishing. Additionally, it is advisable to periodically apply a thin layer of clear lacquer or wax to protect the gold finish and enhance its longevity.

Benefits of Gold Kitchen Cabinet Handles

Gold kitchen cabinet handles offers several benefits beyond their aesthetic appeal. Firstly, they create a luxurious ambiance and elevate the overall visual appeal of your kitchen. The warm tones of gold can complement various color schemes and add a touch of elegance. Secondly, gold handles are often associated with durability and quality, ensuring that your cabinets remain functional and sturdy for years to come. Lastly, gold kitchen cabinet handles can significantly increase the resale value of your home, attracting potential buyers with their timeless and luxurious charm.

Caution

Gold kitchen cabinet handles require caution and careful consideration during the selection and installation process. By taking the time to choose handles that align with your kitchen style, investing in high-quality materials, and following proper installation guidelines, you can ensure a successful and visually appealing outcome. Additionally, practicing regular maintenance and cleaning routines will help preserve the shine and longevity of your gold cabinet handles. Remember to handle them with care and avoid using abrasive cleaners or rough materials that could potentially damage the finish. By exercising caution throughout the entire process, you can enjoy the elegance and style that gold kitchen cabinet handles bring to your kitchen space.

Conclusion

Incorporating gold kitchen cabinet handles into your kitchen design is a surefire way to add elegance and style. These handles not only provide functional benefits but also enhance the overall aesthetic appeal of your kitchen. With a wide range of styles, designs, and materials available, you can find gold kitchen cabinet handles that perfectly complement your personal taste and existing decor. By investing in these luxurious accents, you can create a kitchen that exudes sophistication and timeless beauty.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

1. Are gold kitchen cabinet handles suitable for all kitchen styles?

Yes, gold kitchen cabinet handles can be incorporated into various kitchen styles, including modern, contemporary, and traditional designs.

2. Can I install gold kitchen cabinet handles on my existing cabinets?

Absolutely! Gold kitchen cabinet handles can be easily installed on existing cabinets to give them a fresh and luxurious look.

3. How do I clean and maintain gold kitchen cabinet handles?

Clean gold kitchen cabinet handles with a soft cloth dampened with mild soapy water, avoiding abrasive cleaners. Periodically apply clear lacquer or wax for added protection.

4. Are gold kitchen cabinet handles more expensive than other handle options?

While gold kitchen cabinet handles can be pricier than some alternatives, there are various options available to suit different budgets.

5. Can the gold kitchen cabinet handle tarnish over time?

With proper care and maintenance, gold kitchen cabinet handles can maintain their lustrous appearance for a long time without tarnishing.

6. Can I mix gold kitchen cabinet handles with other finishes?

Yes, it is possible to mix gold kitchen cabinet handles with other finishes for a unique and eclectic look. However, ensure that the different finishes complement each other and maintain a cohesive design aesthetic.

7. Are gold kitchen cabinet handles prone to scratching or fading?

Gold kitchen cabinet handles, especially those made from high-quality materials like solid brass, are resistant to scratching and fading. However, it is important to handle them with care and avoid using abrasive materials during cleaning.

8. Can I customize the size of the gold kitchen cabinet handles?

Some manufacturers offer customization options, allowing you to choose the size of your gold kitchen cabinet handles. Check with the supplier or retailer to see if they provide this service.

9. Are gold kitchen cabinet handles suitable for high-moisture areas like the bathroom?

Gold kitchen cabinet handles are primarily designed for use in kitchens. In high-moisture areas like bathrooms, it is recommended to choose handles specifically designed for bathroom use, as they are more resistant to humidity and moisture damage.

10. Can I replace my existing handles with gold kitchen cabinet handles without replacing the entire cabinet?

Yes, gold kitchen cabinet handles can be easily installed as replacements for existing handles without the need to replace the entire cabinet. Ensure that the new handles match the hole spacing of your current handles for a seamless installation.

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Pantry Kitchen New York Example of a mid-sized trendy u-shaped light wood floor, brown floor and vaulted ceiling kitchen pantry design with a farmhouse sink, recessed-panel cabinets, white cabinets, marble countertops, multicolored backsplash, ceramic backsplash, stainless steel appliances, no island and white countertops

[veganmisanthrope]

Enclosed Kitchen

[theonottsbxtch]

YO. hear me out logan sargeant smau where reader is alex albon’s sibling and after logan gets axed from williams (😭😭😭😭😭😭) they actually start talking

COOKIE | LS2

an: gahhh i love logan so much and i can't believe i haven't written the teammate's sister dynamic with him yet, but now i have and i hope you enjoy our favourite american x

fc: random brunette's off pinterest

williamsracing

liked by alex_albon, logansargeant, mclaren and 985,382 others

we'd like to thank logan sargeant for all the time he's spent as a driver for williams racing, we wish for the best in his career as he moves on.

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userone: this was handled badly

usertwo: im going to miss you logan

userthree: james vowles worst tp of the century

userfour: bunch of clowns

alex_albon: will miss you lo x

userfive: finally williams did one good thing

usersix: poor logan

ynalbon: will miss your smile around the paddock lo x

userseven: williams sucks

imessage between yn and logan

alex's apartment monza race week

The faint sounds of bustling activity were drifting through the apartment as you stood in the kitchen, sunlight streaming in through the large window. Alex’s sleek, modern space was a comforting mix of his racing memorabilia and the warmth of home. Pulling your phone from your pocket and glancing at the news alert once more. Logan had just been sacked and very quickly replaced. A heavy sigh escaped your lips; you knew how much this meant to him, how closely tied his identity was to the sport.

As you leaned against the countertop, you glanced down at Stan, one of your brother’s man cats, casting expectant eyes in your direction. He nudged your leg with his nose, as if sensing your mood. You crouched down, scratching behind his ears absentmindedly, your mind swirling with thoughts of Alex and the fact that he was getting ready to race in Monza with a new teammate. The team dynamics had shifted, and you couldn’t help but you could feel how the changes had affected Alex.

The idea strikes you suddenly—Logan lived across the hall, he hadn’t moved out yet. You remembered how he always seemed to light up the room, his laugh infectious even in the darkest of moments. You decided that a small gesture might help lift his spirits. Maybe a little treat would remind him that he wasn’t alone in all of this.

You set to work, gathering ingredients from the kitchen. Flour, sugar, and eggs scattered across the countertop as you rummaged through the cabinets. Stan watched you curiously, jumping up onto the counter and tilting his head as you started mixing the batter for chocolate chip cookies. The scent of melting butter and sugar filled the air, sweet and comforting, reminding you of simpler times when you spent all your time out of school baking for your brother in between his competitions.

You popped a spoonful of the thick, glossy batter into your mouth, savouring the taste of nostalgia. With each stir, your thoughts drifted back to the late-night conversations you had with Logan after the races when everyone was setting down, the way he would joke about the pressures of the track, the bond that formed between the three of you by some weird miracle.

As you shaped the dough into perfect little balls and placed them on the baking tray, the oven preheating with a soft hum. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Logan’s expression when he tasted them. You knew he had a sweet tooth, often indulging in baked goods after a long day of training.

While the cookies baked, the kitchen filled with a warm, inviting aroma. You sat on the counter, swinging your legs next to Stan. You thought about Logan again, about the pressure he must be feeling, and how a small act of kindness might brighten his day, if only for a moment.

The timer dinged, and you hopped down, excitement bubbling within you. You carefully pull the tray from the oven, the golden-brown cookies looking perfect and slightly gooey in the centre. As you let them cool down, you grabbed a small tin and placed the cookies inside, sealing them with a lid.

Stan watched as you grabbed the keys, tilting his head again as if asking where you’re going. “Stay here, buddy. I’ll be back soon, and make sure the rest of the cats don’t do anything silly” you said, giving him a quick scratch behind the ears. You glanced in the mirror, smoothing your hair before stepping out into the hallway.

You walked the few steps to Logan’s apartment, knocking softly, the sound echoing against the walls. Moments later, you heard the shuffle of feet and the door swung open, revealing Logan, looking slightly surprised but smiling at the sight of you.

“Hey! What brings you here?” he asked, his voice coloured by his shock.

You held up the tin with a grin. “Thought you could use some cookies after. First race since you know.”

His expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and appreciation crossing his face. “You made these for me?” he asked, reaching for the tin, the warmth of his smile easing the tension in your chest.

Logan grinned, his eyes lighting up even more as he popped open the tin. “These look amazing! I was just about to start a movie. Want to join?” You could tell he was figuring a way to ask.

For a moment, you considered it, the thought of settling into a cosy couch with him, laughter echoing as you watch a film together. But then you remembered the little furballs waiting for you in Alex’s apartment, their mischievous antics demanding your attention.

“I’d love to, but… I really should stay here with Stan and the rest of the cats,” you replied, feeling a twinge of disappointment yourself as you watched the initial spark in Logan’s expression flicker. His shoulders slumped slightly, and you could see the hint of disappointment in his eyes.

“But...” you hesitated, feeling a burst of warmth rise in your chest. “You could always come over.”

His expression shifted from disappointment to surprise, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“No, it’s fine! It’ll be fun, Alex doesn’t get back for another four days,” you insisted, trying to sound more enthusiastic. You stepped back, giving him room to think it over.

“Alright, then!” he said, his voice brightening again. “Let me just grab my keys.”

As he disappeared inside his apartment, you took a moment to collect your thoughts. Your heart raced a little at the idea of him coming over, the casual invitation feeling more significant than you had intended. 

Logan reappeared a moment later, a hoodie thrown on over his t-shirt, and you couldn’t help but notice how comfortable he looked, a sudden urge to hug him washing over you. “After you,” he said, falling into step behind you as you headed down the hallway.

As you walked back to Alex’s apartment, the air buzzed with unspoken energy. You pushed the door open and stepped inside, the familiar scents of cookies enveloping you. Stan greeted you with an enthusiastic brush of his body against your legs, bounding over to Logan, who bent down to give him a quick scratch behind the ears.

“Looks like you’re already popular,” you teased, watching as Stan practically flops onto his back, craving attention.

“I have a way with cats,” he replied with a grin, straightening up and looking around. “So, what’s on the movie menu?”

“Cars? Mine and Alex’s favourite. You can pick—unless you want to help me wrangle the cats first,” you laughed, walking over to the living room where a large, comfy sofa waited. You felt the soft cushions call to you as you settled in, motioning for him to join you.

He took a seat beside you, and you couldn’t help but notice how easily you fell into conversation, the nerves dissipating as you laughed and joked around. Pulling the tin of cookies onto your lap, you offered him one. Logan took a generous bite, his eyes widening in delight.

“Wow, these are incredible! You’ve outdone yourself,” he said, and you couldn’t help but beam at the compliment.

“Thank you! They’re a family recipe, so you know they come with some serious baking credentials,” you said, a playful glint in your eye.

As you scrolled through the movie options, the atmosphere felt easy and relaxed. For the first time since Alex left you before Monza you didn’t feel to lonely.

The opening credits rolled, and for a moment, you sat in comfortable silence, the warmth of the cookies and Logan’s presence wrapping around you like a cosy blanket. You glanced sideways at him, catching him grinning at the screen, and your heart swelled a little more.

You were glad you made those cookies now.

ynalbon

liked by alex_albon, logansargeant, georgerussel63 and 34,5827 others

baking and night in >>

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userone: she is so pretty

usertwo: KATCHOW

userthree: i need her to bake me something stat

logansargeant: best cookies known to mankind

userfour: wait-

userfive: oh..?

alex_albon: now wait a god damn minute

usersix: my fav ever

userseven: someone needs to study the albon family genes

alex_albon has posted a story

alex’s apartment singapore race week

The hallway felt familiar under your feet now, the subtle creak of the floorboards as you crossed from Alex’s door to Logan’s. It had become a kind of routine, these quiet visits to each other’s apartments while you were housesitting. Sometimes it was to share a plate of freshly baked cookies or just to unwind after a long day. You’d fallen into an easy rhythm with him, a shared understanding that neither of you had to say much to enjoy the other’s company.

As you knocked softly on his door, you didn’t expect anything unusual. But when the door opened, the first thing you noticed was the packed bag by the entryway. Your smile faltered just a little, your eyes flicking from the luggage to Logan, who stood in front of you, rubbing the back of his neck. There was a slight tension in the air, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual. He stepped aside to let you in, but the bags remained in your peripheral vision, a silent question hanging between you.

“Hey,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light. “Going somewhere?”

Logan glanced at the bags, then back at you, his lips pressing together for a moment. “Yeah… I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m heading to America for a few weeks. Got an offer to test for Indy.” His voice was calm, but you caught a hint of something else underneath—maybe uncertainty or excitement.

Your stomach dropped just a little at the news. It shouldn’t surprise you—racing had always been his world, his dream—but it still hit harder than you had expected. “America?” You repeated the word softly, trying to wrap your mind around the distance.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, his hands shoved in his pockets. “It’s not set in stone, but they want me to test, see if I’m a good fit.”

“That’s… amazing, Lo,” you said, a genuine smile tugging at your lips despite the sudden knot in your chest. You’d always known he was destined for more, something bigger than these quiet evenings in a shared hallway.

“Thanks,” he replied, his own smile faint but appreciative. He watched you closely, as if gauging your reaction.

You stepped further into the room, glancing once more at the bag, before turning back to him. “I’ll miss you,” you admitted, the words coming out before you could think to soften them. It was the truth, plain and simple, though you hadn’t realised how much his presence had come to mean to you until now.

Logan looked at you for a long moment, something softening in his expression. “I’ll miss you too,” he said quietly. His words were steady, but there was an unmistakable sincerity behind them, as if they meant more than he’s letting on.

The air between you felt heavier now, filled with the things neither of you were saying. The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—just the weight of the realisation that something had shifted.

You laughed softly, trying to break the tension. “Guess I’ll have to bake my cookies for Stan instead.”

Logan chuckled, though there was still a warmth in his eyes that made your heart ache just a little. “Yeah, I’ll bet he won’t mind. But I’ll miss them… and you.” He said it again, the words lingering in the space between you.

You both stood there, neither quite knowing what to say next. The easy back-and-forth you’d grown so used to had shifted into something more meaningful, something deeper. And as much as you were happy for him—excited for the possibilities ahead—there was a small part of you that wished you could keep these moments just a little longer.

“When do you leave?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“Tomorrow morning,” he replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

Tomorrow. It felt so soon, so sudden, but you nodded, offering him another small smile. “Well, I hope it’s everything you want it to be.”

He stepped closer then, just a little, as if drawn to you. “Thanks,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You nodded again, but the reality of it felt different, like something precious slipping through your fingers. And yet, there was no bitterness, only a quiet acceptance that this was the path he’d always been on.

You gave Logan one last smile before turning back toward the door. “I'm going to head back to the cats.”

As much as you hated the thought of him leaving, there was nothing more to say. His world was racing, and you knew how important this opportunity was for him. Stan and the rest of the cats would be wondering where you are by now, and you began to tell yourself it was better not to linger.

Your hand was on the door handle when you heard his voice, quiet but insistent.

“Wait.”

You stopped, heart skipping a beat, and turned back toward him. He was standing in the middle of the room, his brows slightly furrowed, as if debating something with himself. His eyes met yours, searching for a moment, and then he took a step toward you.

“Don’t go yet,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Something shifted in the air between you, the tension tightening around the words you hadn’t spoken. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, he closed the space between you. His hand reaching out, brushing against your arm, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver up your spine.

“Lo…” you started, your voice catching in your throat, but the look in his eyes made your heart race. There was no need for words now. You’d shared so many moments, so many small, unspoken things, and suddenly it all felt like it had been leading to this.

He leaned in, and everything else fell away—the packed bags, the uncertainty, the days apart that lay ahead. His lips met yours gently at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But then something deeper took over, the kiss becoming more sure, more real.

You sank into it, your hands instinctively finding his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie as if to hold on to him, to this moment. His hand cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing softly along your cheek, anchoring you to him in a way that felt both overwhelming and perfect.

The kiss deepened, the world narrowing to just the two of you. It was everything you didn’t realise you’d been waiting for—his closeness, the feel of him, the quiet intensity in the way he pulled you toward him as if he was afraid to let go.

When you finally parted, you were both breathless, standing there in the stillness of his apartment. Your forehead resting against his, the shared warmth between you a quiet comfort. Neither of you spoke right away, but the weight of what just happened lingered in the air, filling the silence with unspoken promises.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Logan finally said, his voice rough, almost a confession. He still hadn’t let go of you, his hand sliding from your cheek to your shoulder, as if grounding himself in the moment.

You let out a shaky laugh, your own hands still resting against his chest. “I’m glad you did.”

He smiled then, that soft, crooked smile that had always made your heart skip a beat. “I really am going to miss you.”

Your chest tightens at the words, but this time, there was a new kind of warmth behind them. It was no longer just a casual statement—it was filled with meaning, with everything that passed between you in that kiss.

“I’ll miss you too,” you whispered, your voice soft as you leaned into him again, the closeness between you now something tangible and real.

For a moment, neither of you moved, standing there in the middle of his apartment, lost in this bubble you’d created. But then you heard the faint sound of probably Stan scratching at the door across the hall, and it brought you back to reality, reminding you of the world outside.

“I should go,” you said reluctantly, your forehead still pressed against his, though now you were reluctant to pull away.

Logan nodded, his thumb brushing your skin one last time before he stepped back. “I know.”

You moved toward the door, this time with a weight in your chest that felt different—full of things you still wanted to say, but that could wait for another time. You glanced back at him one last time, his eyes following you, filled with the same mixture of emotions you felt.

“Good luck,” you said softly, your hand lingering on the doorknob. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he replied, and the sincerity in his voice tugged at your heart.

ynalbon

liked by alex_albon, logansargeant, lilymhe and 32,382 others

missing my cookie (also looky says hi)

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userone: NO SHES IN A RELATIONSHIP KILL ME NOW AND MAKE IT QUICK

usertwo: there goes my chance

userthree: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON’T LET IT BE SOME MEDICORE BORING MAN PLEASE GOD PLEASE

userfour: we lost her ☹️☹️

alex_albon: i think you have something to tell me

lilymhe: i think you have something to tell US

ynalbon: oh wont you look at that, looky has started cooking dinner, need to go help out!

userfive: now who the heck is cookie

usersix: i think i know what’s happening 🤭🤭

logansargeant: that’s one grumpy ass cat

alex_albon: watch how you talk to my kid

ynalbon: yeah watch how you talk to my nephew

alex_albon: i thought you needed to go help looky cook?

ynalbon: 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️💨

userseven: FUCK I THOUGHT SHE WAS FOR THE GIRLIES NOO

alex's apartment autumn break

Walking into your Alex’s apartment, you were greeted by the familiar scent of coffee and the quiet hum of an afternoon sports program playing in the background. Stan padded over to you, meowing as you bent down to give him a quick scratch behind the ears.

“I’m just grabbing my jacket,” you called out, heading toward the living room where Alex was sprawled on the couch, watching something about Premier League Football.

He glanced up from his phone, half-focused on the screen and half on you. “Sure, no rush.”

You pulled open the closet door and rummaged around for the jacket you left here the other night, the one you’d forgotten in the rush to go pick up said brother from the airport because “he was too tired to drive home”. As you tugged it off the hanger, Alex’s voice cut through the silence, casually.

“I’m heading to America next week to support Logan during his testing,” he said, almost offhandedly. “Thought I’d ask if you wanted to come with me.”

Your movements stilled for a moment as his words sank in. You tried to act nonchalant, but your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Logan—memories of your last night with him flooding back in an instant. That kiss. The way he’d held you like he didn’t want to let go. The late night facetime calls and watch parties held.

You pulled your jacket out of the wardrobe and closed the door slowly, turning to face Alex. “Why would I want to go?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual, maybe a little too casual.

He didn’t even look up from his phone, but you could see the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Come on, I’m not stupid,” he said, finally glancing up at you, eyebrow raised.

Your stomach flipped, and you quickly dropped your gaze, hoping your face didn’t betray the warmth creeping up your cheeks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He rolled his eyes, sitting up a little straighter on the couch. “You really think I haven’t noticed? The way you and Logan have been on those little secret calls? The way you light up when his name comes up?” He leaned back, folding his arms across his chest, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable he was making you. “I’m your brother. It’s kind of my job to notice.”

You bit your lip, feeling caught and not quite sure how to deflect. “We’re just… friends,” you mumbled, though even you didn’t sound convinced.

He raised his eyebrows, clearly not buying it. “Right. Just friends who happen to pop into each other’s apartments all the time. And who bake each other baked goods. And who look at each other like…” He trailed off, smirking again, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“Okay, okay, stop,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands for a moment, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to break through. When you peeked up at him, he was still watching you with that knowing look.

“So?” he asked, clearly waiting for you to admit what he already knew.

You sighed, dropping your hands. “Fine. Yes. I’ll go with you.”

Alex grinned, triumphant. “I knew it.”

You grabbed a pillow from the couch and tossed it at him, but he just laughed, catching it effortlessly. “Don’t make a big deal out of it,” you warned, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. It'd been at least a week since Logan left for America, and even though you’d kept yourself busy, you’d missed him more than you care to admit. The idea of seeing him again, of surprising him there, made your heart race in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I won’t,” Alex said, though the twinkle in his eye suggested he wasn’t not entirely telling the truth. He stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “It’ll be fun. Besides, I’m sure Logan will be glad to see you.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool, but inside you were already imagining what it would be like to see Logan again. “Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, heading toward the door. “Let me know when we’re leaving.”

As you turned the handle, Alex called out after you, voice teasing. “Don’t forget to pack something cute!”

You threw him a glare over your shoulder, but the door was already swinging shut behind you, and you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself as you headed back to your place, thoughts of Logan filling your mind.

By Friday you were in the hot American Sun. The hum of engines and the low chatter of mechanics surrounded you as you step onto the pit lane at the American track, the late afternoon sun casting a golden hue over everything. The sound and energy of the place were both exciting and overwhelming, but all you could think about was finding him.

Alex walked a few steps ahead, already scanning the area for new faces, but your eyes darted around, searching for Logan. The journey here had been long, full of anticipation, and now that you were so close, your heartbeat a little faster, eager for the moment you’d been waiting for.

And then, you spotted him.

Logan was standing near one of the garages, his back to you at first, talking to a few team members. He was wearing his racing suit, the top half unzipped and hanging around his waist, revealing a fitted t-shirt beneath. You froze for a second, just taking him in, that familiar rush of emotions surging through you.

He must have felt your gaze because suddenly he turned around, his eyes sweeping across the pit lane—until they landed on you. His face lit up instantly, and before you could even think, your feet were moving.

You broke into a run, dodging past a few crew members and weaving between equipment, Alex forgotten behind you. Logan’s grin widened as he stepped forward, bracing himself as you closed the distance. When you reached him, you threw your arms around his neck, and in one swift, effortless motion, he caught you, lifting you off the ground.

You laughed, the sound light and free, as he spun you around, the world momentarily disappearing in the rush of joy and adrenaline. His hands were firm on your waist, holding you close, and when he finally set you back on your feet, neither of you could stop smiling.

Before you could say a word, he pulled you in, his lips found yours in a kiss that was both urgent and tender. It was a kiss that made the long days apart disappear, one that said everything you’d both been holding onto since he left. The noise of the track faded into the background, leaving just the two of you, lost in the moment.

But then, from somewhere behind you, you heard a not-so-subtle clearing of the throat.

You pulled back from Logan, cheeks flushed, and glanced over your shoulder to see Alex standing there, arms crossed, eyebrow raised in a way that was both amused and exasperated. Logan looked over too, blinking like he’d just come back to reality.

“Sorry,” Logan muttered, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, his usual confidence slipping for just a second.

Alex shook his head but walked forward with a grin. “Nah, man, you’re good,” he said, clapping Logan on the shoulder in a way that was more approving than anything else. “Just… maybe keep the PDA down when I’m around, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were grinning too, feeling the warmth of Logan’s arm still around you. “I’ll try to keep him under control,” you said, shooting your brother a teasing look.

“Good luck with that,” your brother muttered, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Anyway, I’ll leave you two for a bit. Want to see what this Indy Racing is all about.” He waved lazily and headed off toward the paddock, giving you and Logan some space.

As he disappeared into the crowd, Logan turned back to you, his grin returning, though there was a slight blush colouring his cheeks. “So… surprise?”

You laughed, standing on your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Yeah, I’d say you’re surprised.”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, pulling you closer, his voice softer now that the moment had quieted down. “It’s been… weird without you.”

“I missed you too,” you admitted, resting your head against his chest for a moment, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear comforting. “And besides, I couldn’t let you have all the fun over here without me.”

He chuckled, his arms tightening around you. “I’m about to test, but maybe you could go sit in the tent over there with the other girlfriends?”

You glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “The other girlfriends?”

Logan smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t play coy, you were mine the minute you kissed me back in my apartment.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Damn maybe I shouldn’t have kissed you back then.”

He smirked, that familiar glint in his eye. “Don’t be stupid now. Come on cookie, let’s go over to the tent, I want to introduce my cool and sexy girlfriend.”

logansargeant

liked by alex_albon, ynalbon, lilymhe and 985,342 others

got the best fan ever

*tap to load more comments*

userone: oh my god

usertwo: i just fell to my knees in the middle of walmart parking lot

userthree: at least our logan is happy

alex_albon: yuck

logansargeant: hater

userfour: that's alex's sister omg

userfive: what in the fanfiction

usersix: is that alex's sister? how did that happen?

logansargeant: she texted me after the news and then dropped off some "feel better soon" cookies and it's pretty much been history since then, i'm a lucky guy😊😊

usersix: oh my god i'm sick

ynalbon: this was not on my 2024 bingocard btw

logansargeant: its' been on mine since 2022

userseven: OH MY GOD THEY'RE SO CUTE

ynalbon

liked by logansargeant, alex_albon, lilymhe and 334,236 others

no longer just a formula one sister, im now an indy wag 🤭

*tap to load more comments*

userone: WE LOST HER SOLDIERS

usertwo: if i see one more picture of them baking, i'm kissing my gun

userthree: most unexpected couple of 2024

alex_albon: who tf is going to look after my cats?

ynalbon: bring them to america

alex_albon: how about no?

ynalbon: hater much?

userfour: this is too cute

userfive: thank you for looking after logan for us

lilymhe: ignore the haters babe, you two are very cute (@/alex_albon)

ynalbon: yes ma'am

alex_albon: ARE YOU CALLING MY EX TEAMMATE CUTE?!

usersix: i was mourning the loss of aa23 and ls2 but yn has solved all my issues

logansargeant: 🍪🤍

the end.

[multifandom-pleasures]

shadow x reader

you walked into shadow staring intently at the coffee machine set inside the kitchenette of robotnik’s ship. he’d been recently freed from his cryogenic chamber and was growing accustomed to the more modern life; considering the time he was last roaming was 50 odd so years ago; and figuring out the functions of everything onboard. he always bragged of his power and intelligence, so it was quite humorous to see him grumbling to himself as he attempted to figure out the little machine that sat atop the counter.

“ figured it out yet? “ you called to him from the doorframe, the only signal that he heard you was a small twitch from his ear. after a beat of silence he spoke.

“ how long have you stood there for. “

“ long enough. “ he seemed annoyed at that, shoulders hunching for a moment before he crossed his arms and turned to face you, his constant face of stoicism remaining.

“ I have not. “ he admitted, looking like the statement didn’t affect him - even though you knew he knew that you’d seen him glaring at the coffee machine. a smile twitched at the corner of your lip as you made your way over to him.

“ have you ever even had coffee? “ you asked as you slipped beside him to open up a cabinet, stretching for a mug that lay on the shelf.

“ no, but it’s tempted me. dr. robotnik - “ he paused and grimaced, “ gerald, my creator, would drink it often when doing tasks and experiments on the ark. he would not let me try it. “

“ what, he said no and you listened? “ you teased, and he frowned at you, looking somewhat sheepish. it was silly through other’s eyes, “ well, anyways, I’ll show you how it works. wanna try a flavor or just plain coffee? “

“ flavors? “ shadow seemed intrigued, watching as you pulled over a little pod carousel. you couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the way he peered over your shoulder to examine the selection, which caused him to promptly step aside.

“ yeah - there’s like.. caramel, vanilla, hazelnut, toffee nut, pumpkin spice.. and then just regular one without any flavor. robotnik likes that one. it’s gross. “ shadow gave you a pointed look and reached to nab a pod from the holder, giving it to you. you judged him silently for the selection, but obeyed and popped open the top.

“ you put this little pod in here, and then close it. “ you explained your actions as you did them, and then grabbed the mug to put into the slotted section in the machine, “ then, these buttons up top are for the size cup. always just pick the middle one, all our mugs are the same. “ you could feel the hedgehog’s body heat returning close beside you as he watched you, looking too intensely considering the fact it was just coffee, “ then, you press this big button and it’ll do the rest on its own. “

you stepped back as the machine began to make a subtle sound, and coffee began to drip into the cup. you looked over to shadow and smiled smugly.

“ can the ultimate life form handle that next time? “ he huffed at you, throwing a glare before his focus returned to the machine before you, watching the steady stream and the scent of roasted coffee beans beginning to fill the room.

“ and it stops on its own? “ you nod, and he looked slightly impressed. you both stood in somewhat comfortable silence as the machine worked, and as the final drips settled into the mug, you motioned for him to grab onto it.

“ it’s hot though, so careful - don’t burn yourself. “ shadow scoffed as his gloved hand reached for the ceramic.

“ I think I can manage it. “ he replied, bringing the mug up to his face in order to sniff, and when he seemed pleased at the aroma he sipped. you noticed his eye twitch slightly, and he turned away as he swallowed down the liquid. when he faced you again you held a smirk, raising a brow, “ shut up. “

you both moved to the little dining table - two chairs, one for each of you. there was never any need for more as it was only you and robotnik who ever used the kitchen. shadow had allowed his drink to cool down considerably before attempting another sip, and you watched as his eyes slid closed and a soft little hum rise from his throat. when he opened his eyes again, you gave him a smile.

“ like it? “

“ it’s.. pleasant. bitter but, not unbearably so. “ he replied, lifting the mug once more to drink from it. he nodded and sighed, “ yes, I like it. “ you gave a small, triumphed cheer as you rose from your seat.

“ great! now we can spend our morning making coffee together. “ you padded your way to make your own cup of coffee, unaware of the steely, red eyes following your movements, “ maybe I can get you to try the other flavors - they’re definitely better than just plain black y’know. and there’s soooo many.. “

too enraptured in your talking and moving, you didn’t catch the glimpse of a smile shadow wore, sitting patiently awaiting for you as he continued to sip from his mug.

[dluxdekor1]

Handle with Care: Choosing the Perfect Chrome Hardware for Your Cabinets

Cabinets are the unsung heroes of any home, providing essential storage while also influencing the overall aesthetic of a space. But while much attention is given to cabinet styles and finishes, the importance of cabinet hardware is often overlooked. Yet, these small details can make a significant impact on both the functionality and appearance of your cabinets. When it comes to achieving a polished and sophisticated look, chrome hardware stands out as a timeless choice. In this guide, we’ll explore the art of selecting the perfect chrome hardware handles for your cabinets, ensuring that every detail is handled with care.

The Allure of Chrome: Timeless Beauty and Durability

Chrome hardware has long been favored by interior designers and homeowners alike for its timeless beauty and durability. Its reflective surface adds a touch of glamour to any space, while its neutral tone complements a wide range of cabinet finishes, from classic wood to modern laminate. Beyond its aesthetic appeal, chrome is also highly resistant to corrosion and tarnishing, making it an ideal choice for high-traffic areas such as kitchens and bathrooms. With proper care, chrome hardware handles can maintain its shine and luster for years to come, ensuring that your cabinets look as good as new for the long haul.

Consider Your Cabinet Style and Design

When selecting chrome hardware for your cabinets, it’s essential to consider the style and design of your cabinetry. For sleek and modern cabinets with clean lines, consider opting for minimalist chrome handles or knobs with a sleek, straight design. These understated options will complement the contemporary aesthetic of your cabinets without overwhelming the space.

On the other hand, if your cabinets feature more traditional or ornate detailing, you may prefer chrome cabinet hardware handles with intricate designs or decorative elements. Look for handles or knobs with embellishments such as beading, filigree, or scrollwork to add a touch of elegance and sophistication to your cabinetry.

Think About Functionality and Ergonomics

In addition to aesthetics, it’s essential to consider the functionality and ergonomics of your cabinet hardware. Handles and knobs should be comfortable to grip and easy to use, especially in high-traffic areas such as the kitchen. Opt for chrome hardware with smooth edges and a comfortable grip to ensure ease of use for everyone in the household.

Furthermore, consider the size and scale of your cabinets when selecting hardware. Larger cabinets may benefit from longer handles or pulls, while smaller cabinets may require smaller knobs or handles for a balanced look. Take measurements and test out different options to find the perfect fit for your cabinets.

Coordinate with Other Fixtures and Finishes

When choosing chrome cabinet hardware handles, it’s essential to consider how it will coordinate with other fixtures and finishes in the room. Chrome pairs beautifully with a variety of materials, including stainless steel appliances, polished nickel faucets, and glass or mirrored accents. Take stock of existing fixtures and finishes in the space and choose chrome hardware that complements rather than clashes with the overall design scheme.

Conclusion: Elevate Your Cabinets with Chrome Hardware

In conclusion, selecting the perfect chrome hardware for your cabinets requires careful consideration of both aesthetics and functionality. From sleek and modern handles to ornate and decorative knobs, there are endless options to choose from to suit your style and preferences. By handling this detail with care and attention, you can elevate the look and feel of your cabinets, adding a touch of sophistication and elegance to your space. So go ahead, explore the world of chrome hardware, and transform your cabinets into true works of art.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I first posted this 1947 art deco home in Baltimore, Maryland about 3 yrs. ago and the 2bd, 1.5ba house just sold for $239K.

The living room has glass block, curved walls and a fireplace wall, all original.

The living room flows into the dining room to reveal the other side of the double-sided fireplace. Some of the furniture was included in the sale.

The wall shelving is perfect for a tea pot collection or something of similar size.

Bedroom #1 has cool cowboy wallpaper that was very popular for little boys rooms.

The blue bathroom sink is definitely retro.

Bedroom #2 is small, and appears to be a pass thru to the kitchen and 1/2 bath.

The 1/2 bath has a stainless sink with baseball faucet handles. Not sure if the suitcases are decorative or for storage.

The kitchen has original metal cabinets and linoleum floors.

A kitchen table fits in this pantry area.

I don't know why there's a sink, stove and fridge in here.

Small sun porch in the back. This home does need work and seems like it's been slowly deteriorating due to neglect.

There's a patio in the back. What's going on with the roof? It looks like the brick deteriorated and they just painted over it.

The yard is dirt, so it will need some landscaping.

Lake Montebello is across the road.

Before they repainted it green it was yellow.

https://baltimorefishbowl.com/stories/trendy-unique-mid-century-modern-with-views-of-lake-montebello/

[vmsplus]

Kitchen Cabinet Types: Everything You Need to Know

A kitchen cabinet is a natural fit for the kitchen. Every kitchen cabinet has a central structure that encloses an inner box. The shutter is on the outside and becomes an essential part of the kitchen decor. They identify how the external of your shelves and drawers look. Shutters can make your kitchen rightly organised and aesthetically beautiful.

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Lavish Love

Cillian Murphy x F! Spoiled Reader

Summary: Cillian plans the perfect anniversary, and then some.

Wordcount: 14.1k

Warnings:

Straight up smut with a plot, it’s really lovey dovey smut, until he calls you a bitch..once tho, switch! Cillian, slightly perverted Cillian if you squint, possessive Cillian if you squint, breeding kink like it’s said, unsafe sex, f! overstimulating, f! oral receiving, fingering, kissing, semi cock-warming, p in v, soft/dirty talk, aftercare.

!!Semi-Proofread!!

Cillian stands in the kitchen wearing nothing but his boxer briefs, a simple, black pair that clings to his lean form, accentuating the muscles of his thighs and the taut lines of his abdomen.

The early morning light filters through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow on his pale skin, highlighting the faint smattering of freckles that dot his shoulders. His dark hair is tousled from sleep, falling in soft waves across his forehead, framing his sharp features and intense blue eyes. The kitchen is a study in modern minimalism, all sleek lines and stainless steel, but the warmth of the wooden cabinets and the earthy tones of the décor add a comforting touch.

He stands by the counter, one hand resting casually on the cool marble surface while the other deftly operates the espresso machine. The hum of the machine and the scent of freshly ground coffee beans fill the air, mingling with the faint aroma of the lavender-scented candle she lit the night before. His gaze is fixed on his phone, the screen casting a soft glow on his face as his eyes flit across the text of a message. His brows furrow slightly, a sign of deep concentration or perhaps a hint of frustration. The coffee machine sputters and hisses, and he absently reaches for the steaming cup, his long fingers wrapping around the handle.

The muscles in his forearm ripple as he lifts the cup to his lips, taking a cautious sip. He winces slightly at the heat, then blows gently across the surface, sending tiny ripples through the dark liquid. His phone buzzes with a new notification, and he glances down, his expression softening as he reads the message. It’s a reminder he set over a year ago…his anniversary. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and he shakes his head slightly, a lock of hair falling into his eyes. He brushes it away with an absent-minded gesture, his attention still on the screen.

The stillness of the morning was punctuated by a faint creak, the familiar sound of their bed giving way as it always did when someone rose from it. Cillian's ears perked up, and he turned his head slightly, listening intently. The sound of the bedroom door opening slowly followed, a gentle creak that spoke of age and use. His heart quickened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He knew it was her. Her footsteps, soft and deliberate, echoed faintly through the house, a rhythm he had come to know and love. Each step seemed to carry a promise, a whisper of their shared moments. Cillian's gaze shifted from the window to the kitchen doorway, anticipation building within him. The seconds stretched, each one laden with the expectation of her arrival.

As she appeared in the open style of the kitchen, their eyes met, and the world seemed to pause. Her presence filled the room, a warmth that rivaled the morning sun. She was wrapped in one of his shirts, her hair a tousled cascade that framed her face. There was a softness in her eyes, a sleepy affection that mirrored his own.

"Good mornin', love," Cillian murmured, his voice a low, husky drawl that carried the unmistakable lilt of his Irish accent. The words were like a caress, gentle and intimate, as he took a slow sip of his coffee.

She smiled, the kind of smile that made his heart skip a beat. It was a smile that spoke of shared secrets and unspoken promises, a smile that was for him and him alone. She padded across the kitchen, her bare feet making little noise on the cool tiles. Cillian watched her every move, his gaze unwavering, drinking in the sight of her. As she drew closer, he set his coffee cup down on the counter and opened his arms. She stepped into his embrace, her body fitting perfectly against his. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, feeling the warmth of her skin against his. For a moment, they simply stood there, wrapped in each other, the world outside forgotten.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest. Her words were a balm to his soul, a reminder of the depth of their connection.

"I love ye too," he replied, his brogue thick with emotion. He tilted her chin up with gentle fingers, his thumb brushing lightly across her cheek. "Yer a sight fer sore eyes, ye know that?"

She laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. "And you're a sight for mine," she teased, her eyes sparkling with affection. "Standing here in your boxers, looking all broody and handsome."

Cillian held her tight in his arms, his grip firm yet gentle as he set her down carefully against the cool surface of the countertop, he wasted no time in capturing her lips with his own. His kiss was passionate, almost desperate, filled with an intensity that spoke volumes about the emotions coursing through him. His tongue slid past her lips, exploring the warmth of her mouth while his free hand roamed over her curves, squeezing and groping with a possessive touch.

Cillian's tongue danced around mouth with a hunger that matched his eyes, each flick and swirl sending sparks shooting down her spine. His fingers dug into her flesh roughly, bruisingly, but there was something so incredibly hot about it that sent shivers down her body. His teeth nipped at her lower lip, tugging gently as though he wanted more. But he didn't want to push it, so instead he let out a low growl that vibrated against her lips. After a few moments of teasing, he pulled away from the kiss, his breathing ragged. "Fuck, baby," he groaned, sounding more American than Irish right now.

Cillian took a step back, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight of her. To him, she was perfect—an embodiment of beauty and grace, someone who had managed to capture his heart so completely that it felt like a spell had been cast upon him. His admiration was almost palpable, a silent declaration of love and devotion that seemed to hang in the air between them. She was perched on the cool countertop, her legs dangling playfully, her bare feet brushing against the cabinet beneath. She wore one of his shirts, the fabric soft and worn from countless washes, now serving as an impromptu nightgown. The shirt was a little big on her but not by a lot, the hemline barely covering the lace of her underwear, just by the lace style he could tell it was one he just recently bought her.

As she hopped off the countertop, her feet hitting the cold floor with a soft thud, she looked up at him, her smile widening. She walked towards him, the shirt swaying with each step, revealing glimpses of her smooth skin. When she reached him, she placed her hands on his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under her fingertips. Cillian's heart thudded loudly in his chest, a rhythm that matched the low growl emanating from his stomach. He chuckled softly, a rich sound that filled the kitchen, and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that filled the kitchen. "Seems like I’m a bit hungry," he said, his Irish accent thick and melodious. He placed a hand over his stomach, giving her a sheepish grin. "Must’ve been all that starin’. You’ve got me completely spellbound, ya know that?"

She laughed, the sound light and musical, her eyes sparkling with affection. "Well, we can’t have you starving now, can we?" she teased, her hands still resting on his chest. "What do you feel like having for breakfast?"

“Somethin’ simple..” Cillian said while fiddling with a piece of her hair.

The both of them separated at the same time, Cillian and her chuckled softly; she stepped over to the kettle to fill it with water for her tea. As she moved, the oversized shirt she wore swayed, giving Cillian a tantalizing glimpse of her bare legs. He watched her for a moment, his heart swelling with love and a hint of possessive pride. He adored seeing her in his clothes, a visible reminder that she was his and he was hers.

While she was waiting for her tea to make, she walked over to the cupboard and reached up to retrieve a mug from the shelf, standing on her tiptoes. Cillian was beside her in an instant, his hands gentle but firm as he steadied her. "Careful now, don't want ye fallin' and hurtin' yourself."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm not that clumsy, Cill~."

"Aye, well, I like to take precautions," he said, his tone teasing but his eyes serious. He couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to her. He handed her the mug, their fingers brushing together in a small but intimate gesture. She took it with a smile, her touch lingering on his for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

As the tea steeped, they turned their attention to the food. Cillian moved to the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs, a pack of bacon and sausage. "How do ye want yer eggs this mornin', love?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at her.

"Scrambled, please," she replied, setting out the pancake mix on the counter. "And maybe a bit of cheese in them?"

"Comin' right up," he said with a wink, cracking the eggs into a bowl with deft movements. She watched him for a moment, admiring the way his muscles flexed and moved beneath his skin. Even in such a simple setting, he was captivating. While he worked on the eggs, she mixed the pancake batter, humming softly to herself. Cillian couldn't help but smile at the sight of her, so content and at ease in his kitchen. It was moments like these that he cherished most – the quiet, unremarkable mornings that spoke of a life built together on love and trust.

"Do you need any help with that, darlin'?" he asked, his voice breaking her out of her reverie.

"No, I’ve got it," she said, pouring the batter onto the hot griddle. "But you could start the bacon and sausage if you don't mind."

"Anything for ye," he replied, moving to the stove and laying the strips of bacon in the pan. The sizzle and pop of the meat filled the air, mingling with the smell of the steeping tea and cooking pancakes. He added the sausages to another pan, his movements sure and confident. They worked side by side in comfortable silence, the only sounds the quiet clatter of utensils and the hiss of the cooking food. Every so often, Cillian would glance over at her, his heart swelling with a love so fierce it almost took his breath away. She caught him looking once and raised an eyebrow. "What?" she asked, a smile playing on her lips.

"Nothin', just enjoyin' the view," he replied with a mischievous grin. "Ye look beautiful this mornin'."

She blushed, ducking her head to hide her smile. "Flatterer."

"Just speakin' the truth," he said, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "I love you, ye know that?"

"I know," she replied, her voice soft and full of emotion. "I love you too, Cill~."

They finished cooking, the plates piled high with fluffy pancakes, crispy bacon, savory sausages, and perfectly scrambled eggs. She poured herself a cup of tea, the fragrant steam rising around her. "This is perfect," she said, taking a sip and closing her eyes in bliss.

He smiled, his eyes softening. "Aye, and it only gets better from here."

They sat down to eat, their knees touching under the table. As they shared the meal they had made together, they talked about everything and nothing, their voices low and filled with affection. Cillian couldn't help but think about the day he had planned many months in advance. But for now, though, he was content to sit here with her, enjoying this perfect morning. He reached over to take her hand, his fingers lacing through hers. "To us," he said, raising his coffee cup in a toast.

"To us," she echoed, lifting her tea. They clinked their cups together, the sound a sweet promise of the future they would build together. As they ate, talked, and laughed, Cillian knew that this moment – this quiet, simple moment – was the start of something beautifully new and exciting.

The bathroom was an elegant sanctuary, with soft lighting casting a warm glow on the marble countertops and tiled floors. The scent of lavender and eucalyptus filled the air, a calming aroma that always made her feel at ease. Cillian stood by the large, glass-enclosed shower, his eyes reflecting the soft golden hues of the room. His lean, sculpted frame was a sight to behold, the result of years of disciplined fitness and a healthy lifestyle. His dark hair, slightly tousled, added a touch of ruggedness to his otherwise polished appearance. His piercing blue eyes, the color of a clear Irish sky, held an intensity that never failed to captivate her.

Cillian’s gaze was affectionate as he looked at her, a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Love, I’ll start it fer us,” he said, his rich Irish accent adding a musical lilt to his words. He reached for the brushed nickel handle and turned it, adjusting the temperature until the water was just right. The sound of the water cascading down onto the tiled floor created a soothing symphony.

As the steam began to fill the room, he turned back to her, his eyes tracing the lines of her body with a reverent appreciation. “Come here, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice a gentle command that she found impossible to resist. She stepped closer, and he reached out to cup her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly over her cheekbones. “Yer so beautiful,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

She felt a shiver run down her spine at his touch, a delicious anticipation building within her. His hands moved from her face to her shoulders, his fingers tracing a path down her arms, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. He was always so gentle, so attentive, his touch a perfect blend of tenderness and passion. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, then her nose, before finally capturing her lips in a kiss that was both sweet and searing.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless, their hearts pounding in unison. “Ye make me feel like the luckiest man in the world,” he said, his voice low and earnest. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that she almost always saw, a glimpse of the depth of his feelings for her. “I want ye to know that.”

She smiled, her heart swelling with love for him. “And you make me feel cherished,” she replied, her voice soft but filled with emotion. She reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering against his skin.

His eyes darkened with an emotion she couldn’t quite name, and he pulled her into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around her protectively. “Yer my everything, ye know that?” he murmured into her hair. “I’d do anythin’ to make ye happy.”

She nestled into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her own. They stood like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other’s warmth, before he reluctantly pulled back. “We’d best get in before the water gets cold,” he said with a soft chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

She laughed, the sound light and carefree, and nodded. “Lead the way, Mr. Murphy,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. He grinned, his boyish charm shining through, and took her hand, guiding her towards the shower. The steam enveloped them as they stepped inside, the hot water cascading over their bodies. Cillian reached for the bottle of her favorite shampoo, the scent of lavender and vanilla filling the air as he lathered it in his hands.

“Turn around, love,” he instructed gently, and she complied, closing her eyes as his fingers worked the shampoo into her hair. His touch was firm yet gentle, his fingers massaging her scalp in slow, deliberate circles. She sighed in contentment, leaning into his touch, the sensation utterly blissful.

He rinsed the shampoo from her hair, the warm water running down her back in soothing rivulets. “How does that feel?” he asked, his voice a husky murmur in her ear.

“Perfect,” she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper. “You always know just what I need.”

He smiled, a tender expression that made her heart skip a beat. “I aim to please,” he said, his tone playful yet sincere. He reached for the body wash, his hands gliding over her skin with practiced ease, each touch sending a spark of desire through her.

They took their time, savoring each moment, each touch, each whispered word of love and affection. It was a ritual they had come to cherish, a time to reconnect and reaffirm their bond. As the water continued to cascade around them, they moved in perfect harmony, their bodies attuned to each other in a way that only years of love and intimacy could bring.

When they finally stepped out of the shower, they were both flushed and breathless, their skin glowing from the heat and their shared passion. Cillian wrapped a plush towel around her, his hands lingering on her shoulders as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “I love ye more than words can say,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I love you too, Cillian,” she replied, her voice steady despite the overwhelming emotions swirling within her. They dried off in comfortable silence, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around them like a warm blanket. Cillian handed her a robe, his eyes lingering on her with a look of pure adoration.

Cillian in a fresh pair of boxer briefs and his girl in a different lace lingerie set he had bought her, they both stood in the middle of their expansive walk-in closet, surrounded by racks of meticulously organized clothing and rows of gleaming shoes. The closet, almost the size of a small bedroom, was a testament to their shared love for fashion and luxury. Shelves lined with her designer handbags and her accessories filled the room, while full-length mirrors reflected the couple's movements. The air was lightly scented with a hint of lavender, adding a calming ambiance to the space.

His girl was a vision of elegance as she sifted through the dresses, her fingers brushing against the luxurious fabrics. She paused, pulling out a sleek black dress that looked black on the outside but was a deep shade of red on the inside it also held a deep thigh slit, holding it up for his inspection. The dress was stunning, it was after all one of a kind since he got it made for her. However it was the kind that demanded attention and exuded confidence. She paired it with her red-bottom heels, the iconic shoes adding a touch of bold sophistication.

She turned to him, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes, and asked, “Do you think it’s too over the top for where we’re going or no?”

Cillian pushed off the doorjamb and walked over to her, his own selection draped over his arm. He had chosen a classic black tuxedo with a crisp white shirt and a perfectly knotted black tie. His polished red-bottom shoes added a touch of flair to his otherwise traditional ensemble. He stepped close, his hands gently taking the dress from her as he looked into her eyes. His gaze was intense, filled with adoration and an almost palpable hunger.

“Darlin’, yeh could never be too over the top,” he said, his Irish accent rolling off his tongue like a caress. “Yeh look absolutely stunnin’ in that dress. Trust me, no matter where we go, all eyes will be on yeh, and that’s exactly how it should be.”

He handed the dress back to her, his fingers brushing against hers in a lingering touch. She smiled, reassured by his words and the sincerity in his eyes. As she smiled and walked out of the closet, Cillian couldn't help but admire her beauty. His gaze lingered on her figure, appreciating the way her hips swayed gently with each step. The soft light filtering through the closet's windows illuminated her form, casting a warm glow over her skin. She laid her chosen dress and heels on the bed with a delicate touch, the fabric shimmering in the light.

As he dressed, he couldn't shake the image of her from his mind, her beauty and grace captivating him completely. Once dressed, Cillian made his way to the bathroom, where she was applying her makeup. He leaned against the door frame, watching her with a soft smile. "You look stunning," he said, his Irish accent lending a musical quality to his words.

She glanced up, a blush rising to her cheeks at his compliment. "Thank you," she replied, returning his smile. She turned back to the mirror, adding the finishing touches to her makeup with practiced precision.

“Cillian, can you help me with the dress?” She asked while walking out of the bathroom.

The soft glow of the bedside lamps cast a warm light over the expansive bedroom, illuminating the exquisite furnishings and delicate fabrics that adorned the room. He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips as he stepped closer to her. His hands, strong and sure, gently caressed her shoulders as he carefully lifted the fabric, sliding the straps into place.

His touch was tender, his movements slow and deliberate as he smoothed the fabric over her back, his fingers brushing against her skin in a way that made her heart skip a beat. As he worked, he couldn't help but admire her beauty, the way the dress accentuated her curves, the way her hair cascaded down her back in soft waves. Once the dress was in place, he moved to her feet, kneeling down to help her with her heels. He carefully slipped each shoe onto her foot, his hands lingering for a moment as he fastened the straps, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her.

"Thank you, love," she said, her voice filled with gratitude as she turned to face him. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, they just stood there, lost in each other's gaze. Then, without a word, he took her hand and led her to the full-length mirror.

As she admired her reflection, he stood behind her, his hands resting lightly on her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. "You look absolutely stunning," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. She smiled, a blush creeping onto her cheeks as she turned to face him.

"Thank you, Cill," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

He smiled, a smile that reached his eyes, his love for her shining brightly. "Anything for you, love," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity.

As they walked towards the garage, Cillian could hear her heels clicking against the tile. Fuck, that sound turned him on a lot. Cillian gaze swept over the row of gleaming cars, his expression thoughtful yet eager. His girl, her arm intertwined with his, followed his gaze, her eyes widening at the sight of the luxurious vehicles before them. The Porsche 911, with its sleek lines and powerful engine, exuded an air of speed and sophistication. The Audi R8, a true marvel of engineering, stood out with its aggressive stance and futuristic design. The Aston Martin DB11, a symbol of British luxury, radiated elegance and class.

They continued down the line, exploring each car in turn. The Audi A8L, with its spacious interior and cutting-edge technology, impressed them with its comfort and sophistication. The Audi Q7, a versatile SUV, promised a smooth and enjoyable ride. The Mercedes-Benz S-Class, known for its opulence and refinement, offered a taste of luxury like no other. Finally, the Lexus RX 450h, with its hybrid technology and eco-friendly design, appealed to their sense of environmental responsibility.

After carefully considering their options, Cillian turned to his girlfriend with a grin. "I think I know which one we should pick."

She raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Oh? Which one?"

Cillian gestured towards the Aston Martin DB11. "The DB11. It's the perfect blend of style and performance, just like us."

His girlfriend smiled, nodding in agreement. "I couldn't agree more. Let's take the DB11 for a spin."

Cillian, with a smile that bespoke of a man deeply in love, walked over to her side of the car and gently opened the door, a gesture as natural to him as breathing. "After you, love," he said in his charming Irish accent, his voice a melodic blend of warmth and affection. His girlfriend, a vision of beauty in her own right, slid into the plush leather seat, her eyes shining with excitement. Cillian closed the door with a soft thud and made his way to the driver's side. As he settled into the luxurious interior, the scent of fine leather enveloped him, a familiar and comforting aroma that never failed to please his senses. He inserted the key into the ignition, and with a press of a button, the engine roared to life, its powerful rumble reverberating through the air.

"Ready for a bit of a drive, love?" Cillian asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

The afternoon sun danced through the tinted windows, casting warm rays of golden light upon the interior of the luxurious vehicle. Cillian, with his impeccable sense of style and undeniable charisma, exuded an air of quiet confidence as he navigated the bustling city streets with ease. As they drove, the air crackled with anticipation, a palpable tension that hung between them like a delicate veil. Cillian's gaze lingered on his girlfriend, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips as he admired her beauty. With a subtle movement, he reached out, his hand gliding across the smooth leather of the car's interior until it found its resting place on her thigh. His touch was gentle yet possessive, a silent declaration of his affection and desire.

With a knowing glance, Cillian guided the car towards their destination, the anticipation building with each passing moment. The streets blurred past in a kaleidoscope of colors, the rhythm of the city pulsing around them as they drew closer to their destination. And then, as if on cue, they arrived at their destination—an breathtakingly, beautiful restaurant within the heart of the city, its charming facade beckoning them inside with promises of culinary delights.

"You're going to love where we're eating," Cillian murmured, his voice a low, melodious rumble that sent shivers down her spine. His Irish accent lent an irresistible charm to his words, infusing them with warmth and sincerity. With a flick of his wrist, he cut the engine and turned to face her, his eyes sparkling with mischief and excitement.

The moment his foot touches the ground, the crowd's chatter briefly intensifies. Whispers of recognition ripple through the onlookers as they realize the presence of the renowned actor. His chiseled features remain composed, though there's a flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes as he subtly nods towards the valet and a few fans who’ve gathered, eager for a glimpse.

"Darlin’, ye look absolutely beautiful," he murmurs, his Irish lilt wrapping around the words like a soft embrace. His gaze is fixed on his girlfriend, who gracefully steps out beside him. Her dress, a sleek, black dress that complements her eyes, glows softly under the lights. He extends his hand, his fingers gently brushing against hers, the simple touch igniting a spark of electricity between them. "It's so hard for me to keep me hands off of ye," he adds, his voice low, filled with genuine admiration and a hint of playful mischief.

Despite the eyes on them, Cillian's focus never wavers from her. He leads her towards the grand entrance of the restaurant, their steps in perfect sync. As they pass through the elegantly arched doorway, the maître d’ greets them with a knowing smile, acknowledging Cillian with a respectful nod. "Mr. Murphy, welcome. Your table is ready."

Cillian inclines his head in appreciation. "Thank ye," he responds, his voice carrying the warmth of his heritage. The maître d’ gestures towards a secluded alcove, partially hidden by luxurious drapes and adorned with softly glowing candles. It’s a haven of intimacy amidst the bustling atmosphere, a place where they can enjoy their evening undisturbed. Reaching the table, Cillian releases her hand with a reluctant sigh. He steps forward, pulling out her chair with a graceful flourish, the epitome of chivalry. "Here ye go, love," he says, his voice a tender caress. She takes her seat, and as he pushes the chair in, he leans down, his lips brushing the delicate skin of her neck. The touch is feather-light, yet it sends a delicious shiver racing down her spine.

He takes his seat across from her, their eyes locking in a silent conversation that speaks volumes. The ambient light casts a soft glow on his face, highlighting the intensity in his gaze. "I wanted tonight to be perfect for ye," he confides, his accent adding a lyrical quality to his words. "Ye deserve nothin’ but the best."

Their dinner is a symphony of flavors and textures, each course meticulously crafted to delight and surprise. As they savor the exquisite dishes, their conversation flows effortlessly, punctuated by shared glances and the occasional touch. Cillian's eyes never stray far from her, his adoration evident in every gesture.

At one point, he reaches across the table, his fingers intertwining with hers. "Ye know, love," he begins, his voice a soft murmur, "Every moment with ye feels like a gift. I’m the luckiest man alive to have ye by me side." His words are sincere, filled with a depth of feeling that takes her breath away. The night progresses in a blur of laughter, shared stories, and quiet moments of connection. The world outside their private alcove fades into the background, leaving only the two of them in a cocoon of love and intimacy. Cillian's charm and wit keep her enthralled, his accent adding a layer of enchantment to every word he speaks.

Their dessert, a Mille-Feuille of Tahitian Vanilla Cream, sat temptingly between them, its delicate layers promising a delightful end to their meal. Cillian, ever the gentleman, had ordered it with her favorite flavor in mind, knowing how much she adored vanilla. As they began to share the dessert, Cillian's eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and adoration. He loved these moments of simple joy, the way she would close her eyes slightly as she savored each bite, the soft hum of satisfaction she made when something particularly pleased her. He was entranced by her, utterly captivated by every little detail.

"Ah, darlin', you look ravishing," Cillian said with a laugh, his Irish accent wrapping around the words in a way that made her heart flutter. His blue eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked at her, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile that spoke of his deep affection.

The rest of their dessert was consumed with playful exchanges and lingering glances, each moment a testament to the deep bond they shared. Cillian's heart swelled with love as he watched her, the way she lit up the room with her presence. After they finished their meal, Cillian reached into his wallet and pulled out a generous tip for the waiter, a gesture that spoke volumes of his appreciation for the evening's service. He stood up gracefully and walked over to her, his movements smooth and confident. With a charming smile, he pulled her chair out, helping her to her feet.

"Ready, love?" he asked, his voice soft but filled with anticipation.

As they left the restaurant, they were immediately swarmed by paparazzi, their cameras flashing incessantly, trying to capture every moment. Cillian’s demeanor shifted slightly, his protective instincts kicking in. He kept a firm but gentle grip on her hand, his body shielding her from the intrusive flashes. He led her swiftly to his Aston Martin DB11, its sleek lines and powerful presence a perfect match for the man himself.

"Ignore 'em, darlin'," he said softly, his accent thick with the effort to keep his frustration in check. "Let's get ye outta here."

He opened the car door for her, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips despite the chaos around them. Once she was safely inside, he quickly moved to the driver’s side, sliding in and starting the engine with a low, satisfying rumble. He maneuvered the car out of the crowded street with practiced ease, his focus entirely on her well-being. As they drove off, leaving the paparazzi behind, he reached over and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "Ye alright, love?" he asked, his eyes flicking to her for a moment before returning to the road.

She nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Cillian. Just glad to be with you."

His heart swelled at her words, and he brought her hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. "Yer too good to me," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of burnt orange and dusky pink, the world outside the car windows seemed to pause, capturing a moment of pure tranquility. The sleek, dark silhouette of Cillian’s luxury car glided smoothly along the winding road, the engine’s soft purr blending with the gentle whisper of the wind. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and intimate, cocooned in a bubble of soft leather seats and the lingering aroma of their recent meal. The soft strains of music played in the background, a soothing accompaniment to the quiet contentment that filled the car.

Cillian’s hand slipped back to her thigh and rested there. His fingers, cool and reassuring, sought the warmth of her skin, finding comfort in the familiar gesture. He glanced at her briefly, a small, affectionate smile playing at the corners of his mouth before returning his gaze to the road ahead. The fading light cast a golden glow on his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the intense blue of his eyes, making him look almost ethereal.

“I love yah, ye know that?” he murmured, his voice a low, melodic rumble, thick with his Irish accent. There was a sincerity in his tone, a depth of feeling that conveyed more than just the words themselves. It was a declaration and a reassurance, a way of anchoring himself to her in this perfect moment.

She turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting his in a brief but electric connection. She felt the warmth of his hand seep through the fabric of her dress, a physical reminder of his constant presence. She smiled, a soft, knowing smile that spoke volumes, her own hand reaching over to cover his. The contact was simple yet profound, a silent affirmation of their bond. The road stretched ahead, a ribbon of asphalt winding through the picturesque countryside. Trees lined either side, their branches forming a canopy that filtered the dying light, casting dappled shadows on the car. The air was cool and fragrant with the scent of pine and earth, the kind of evening that felt timeless and endless. Cillian’s hand gave a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing in slow, lazy circles over her skin.

“Ye know, every moment with ye feels like a gift,” he continued, his accent wrapping around the words like a soft embrace. “I never thought I’d find someone who makes me feel this way, who makes everythin’ brighter just by bein’ there.”

His girlfriend’s heart swelled with emotion, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around her like a warm blanket. She squeezed his hand back, her own words a quiet echo of his sentiment. “I feel the same way, Cillian. You make everything better, just by being you.”

They drove on in companionable silence, the landscape shifting as the sun continued its descent. The car’s interior grew dimmer, the twilight casting long shadows that danced across their faces. Cillian’s hand remained steady on her thigh, a constant, grounding presence. He glanced at her again, his eyes filled with a love that was both fierce and tender.

“Ye mean the world to me,” he said softly, almost to himself. “I’d do anythin’ to make ye happy, to see that smile on yer face.”

She felt a rush of affection, her heart beating a little faster at his words. “You already do, Cillian. Every single day.”

As they neared their home, the familiar landmarks began to appear, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. The car turned onto the long driveway, the gravel crunching softly under the tires. As Cillian parked the car in front of their quaint, ivy-covered house, the late afternoon sun casting a golden hue across the cobblestone path leading up to the front door. As the engine hushed into silence, he turned to his girlfriend, his blue eyes sparkling with a mixture of anticipation and affection. His smile was warm, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes and conveyed a world of unspoken promises.

With a fluid grace that seemed effortless, he stepped out of the car and walked around to her side. He opened her door with a flourish, bowing slightly as if she were royalty. Extending his hand, he gazed at her with a tender intensity that made her heart flutter. “I’ve got somethin’ you’ll like waitin’ on you inside,” he said, his Irish accent soft and lilting, each word a caress.

She looked up at him, curiosity alight in her eyes, and a radiant smile spread across her face. “Cill, today’s been perfect. I don’t think it can get any better,” she said, her voice filled with genuine contentment.

His grin widened, a hint of mystery playing on his lips. Taking her hand, he led her up the path to the front door, their steps in sync, like a dance they had rehearsed a thousand times. The scent of blooming roses wafted through the air, mingling with the faintest hint of cologne that clung to him. Just as they reached the doorstep, a flicker of realization crossed his features. He turned to her, his expression apologetic but playful. “Stay right here, love. I’ll be back in a jiffy,” he said, darting back to the car with a sprightliness that belied his age.

She watched him go, her heart swelling with affection. The past two years with Cillian had been a whirlwind of emotions, adventures, and countless moments of pure, unadulterated joy. He was a man of contradictions—intense yet gentle, serious yet capable of the most boyish charm. He returned quickly, stuffing something small in his pocket. His smile was back, more radiant than ever, as if he held the keys to a treasure chest of happiness. “Close yer eyes for me,” he said, his voice a soft command that she obeyed without hesitation. She closed her eyes, her mind racing with possibilities. What could he have planned? She felt a gentle tug on her hand as he led her forward, each step measured and careful. The cool breeze whispered against her skin, heightening her senses.

He had been meticulous in his planning, ensuring every detail was perfect, and now, anticipation thrummed through him as he brought her into the heart of their home. The house was quiet, save for the soft rustle of their footsteps against the hardwood floor, the familiar creaks and groans adding to the intimate atmosphere.

“Ye can open them for me,” he finally whispered, his voice a soft caress in her ear.

As she opened her eyes, the sight before her took her breath away. The room was bathed in the gentle, flickering light of countless candles, each flame dancing gracefully in the dim ambiance. The golden glow illuminated every corner, casting playful shadows that seemed to come alive with the romance of the evening. The subtle scent of vanilla and sandalwood from the candles mingled in the air, creating a warm and inviting aroma that wrapped around them like a comforting embrace. Her gaze was drawn to the floor, where rose petals were artfully scattered, forming a delicate path that led towards the dining area. The rich red hues of the petals contrasted beautifully against the dark wood, creating a scene that was both enchanting and dreamlike. Each step she took felt as though she were walking on a cloud of romance, the petals cushioning her feet and heightening her senses.

At the end of the petal-strewn path stood a table set for two, placed strategically by the fireplace. The table was elegantly dressed in a pristine white cloth, the edges embroidered with intricate lace patterns. Silverware glinted in the candlelight, perfectly positioned beside fine china plates adorned with delicate floral designs. Crystal glasses sparkled, catching the light and reflecting it back in a kaleidoscope of colors. A bottle of her favorite champagne rested in a silver bucket, the ice inside crackling softly as it melted. The sight of it brought a smile to her lips; Cillian had remembered every detail, no matter how small. The champagne was a symbol of their many celebrations together, each glass they had shared over the years filled with laughter, love, and memories.

He stepped closer to her, his arm encircling her waist, pulling her gently against him. “Do ye like it, darlin’?” he asked, his breath warm against her neck.

Beside the table, a pile of gifts beckoned, each one meticulously wrapped in elegant paper and tied with satin ribbons. There were at least twenty of them, their sizes and shapes varying, but all equally enticing. The bows on top were perfect, each loop and knot a testament to the care and effort he had put into this evening. The presents themselves were a reflection of his love for her, each one chosen with her in mind, each one a small token of his adoration and devotion.

She turned to him, her eyes wide with astonishment and love. "Cillian, this is... I don't even know what to say. It's perfect."

He smiled, a boyish grin that lit up his face and made her heart flutter. “Aye, I wanted it to be special. Ye deserve nothin' but the best, love.” His Irish lilt was soft, the words rolling off his tongue like a melody, soothing and comforting. He reached out, taking her hand in his and leading her to the table. “Come, sit. There's more to the evenin’ yet.”

As she settled into the chair, he deftly uncorked the champagne, the pop of the bottle a cheerful sound that echoed through the room. He poured the bubbly liquid into the glasses, the effervescence rising in a cascade of tiny bubbles that caught the candlelight. He handed her a glass, his fingers brushing against hers, sending a shiver of electricity up her arm.

“To us,” he toasted, his eyes never leaving hers. “Two years, and many more to come.”

They clinked their glasses together, the crystal ringing with a pure, clear note that seemed to resonate in the air around them. She took a sip, the champagne cool and crisp on her tongue, a contrast to the warmth spreading through her chest. Cillian watched her, his gaze soft and full of adoration, his heart swelling with love and anticipation. Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. She looked at him, her eyes searching his, seeing the depth of his feelings reflected back at her. He stood up, moving to the side of the table and reaching into his pocket. Her pulse quickened as he pulled out a small, velvet box, his fingers trembling slightly as he opened it to reveal a dazzling diamond ring.

"My love," Cillian began, his Irish accent adding a melodious tone to his words, "from the moment I met you, I knew that you were the one I wanted to spend my life with. You have brought so much joy and love into my life, and I cannot imagine a future without you by my side."

He dropped to one knee, his eyes never leaving hers. “Will ye marry me, love? Will ye make me the luckiest man in the world?”

Tears sprang to her eyes, her heart overflowing with emotion. She nodded, unable to find her voice at first. Finally, she managed to whisper, “Yes, Cillian. Yes, a thousand times yes.”

His face lit up with joy, a brilliant smile spreading across his lips as he slipped the ring onto her finger. He stood, pulling her up into his arms and spinning her around, their laughter mingling with the soft crackle of the fireplace and the gentle rustle of the petals underfoot. He kissed her, a deep and passionate kiss that spoke of his love and commitment, a kiss that sealed their promise to each other.

As they pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling. "I can't believe it," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Ye're goin' t'be me wife."

She smiled, her eyes shining with love. "And you, my husband," she replied, her voice soft and full of promise.

Cillian stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes locked on his now fiancée with a blend of affection and admiration. The soft glow from the bedside lamp cast gentle shadows across the room, highlighting the intimate setting they found themselves in. His suit jacket, a tailored piece of midnight black, slipped from his shoulders with an ease that spoke of the countless times he had performed this simple act. The fabric rustled as it fell onto the armchair nearby, the sound almost a whisper in the otherwise quiet room. He took a moment to appreciate the sight before him—his beloved lying back against the plush pillows, her features softened by the dim light. The events of the day, the lavish surprises, and the ultimate proposal had all led to this tender moment. Her eyes followed his every move, a gentle smile playing on her lips, reflecting the joy and contentment of the day's celebrations.

As he began to unbutton his crisp white dress shirt, Cillian’s fingers moved with deliberate slowness, each button revealing more of his toned chest. The act was methodical, almost ritualistic, as if prolonging this moment was a way to savor the anticipation that hung in the air. "Ye know, love," he began, his Irish lilt adding a musical quality to his words, "today's been perfect, but the real treasure is this moment right here, with ye."

His voice was soft, yet it carried the weight of his emotions. The shirt parted, revealing the expanse of his chest, the defined lines of his muscles subtly highlighted by the light. He shrugged out of the garment, letting it fall to join the jacket, and took a step closer to the bed. The intimacy of the setting was almost tangible, the room filled with a sense of serenity and unspoken promises. Cillian's eyes never left hers as he reached for her hand, lifting it to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles that now holds the beautiful diamond ring, his gaze intense and filled with adoration. "I cannae tell ye how much ye mean to me, darlin'. Every moment with ye feels like a gift." His accent made the words sound like a melody, each syllable wrapped in sincerity and passion.

He stopped and just looked at her beneath him. Cillian’s blue eyes, as deep and mesmerizing as the Irish sea, gleamed with a hunger that spoke volumes more than any words ever could. His gaze lingered on her, taking in every curve, every subtle movement of her body beneath him. There was a palpable tension in the air, thick with anticipation and desire. It was as if time itself had paused, holding its breath for the lovers entwined in a moment of pure, unadulterated intimacy. He could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, each thud reverberating through his chest, matching the pulse he saw at her throat.

His hand, gentle yet firm, cupped her cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing across her skin with a tenderness that belied the intensity of his desire. The contrast of his roughened hands against her softness was a sensation that he relished. Leaning in slowly, savoring the proximity, he captured her lips with his in a kiss that was at once tender and searing. The taste of her, sweet and intoxicating, ignited something primal within him. He kissed her with a fervor that left no doubt about the depth of his feelings.

“Ah, mo stór~” he whispered against her lips, the endearment rolling off his tongue in a rich, melodic lilt. "Y've no idea how much I crave ye, how much I adore ye."

He began a slow, deliberate descent, his lips trailing a path from her mouth to her jawline. Each kiss was a promise, a testament to the passion he felt. His breath was warm against her skin, sending shivers down her spine as he moved to her neck. There, he lingered, the tip of his tongue tracing the delicate line of her pulse before he pressed a soft kiss just below her ear. She could feel the vibration of his moan, low and deep, as he relished the taste of her.

His kisses moved lower, exploring the curve of her neck, mapping out every inch with a meticulousness that made her toes curl. "God, ye taste like heaven," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. "I could lose m'self in ye forever."

As he reached her collarbone, he paused, drawing back slightly to look at her. His eyes, darkened with desire, held a question, seeking her permission to continue. The slight nod of her head, the silent plea in her eyes, was all he needed. His hand slid down her arm, fingers brushing lightly, before he entwined his hand with hers, squeezing gently in a gesture of reassurance.

"Tell me, love," he murmured, his accent thick and intoxicating. "Tell me ye want this as much as I do."

Her breath hitched as she nodded again, her voice barely a whisper. "I want it, Cillian. I want you."

Cillian's eyes sparkled with admiration as he looked at her, his hands moving with gentle precision. His fingers traced the curves of her sides, feeling the softness of her skin beneath the fabric. With a small, loving smile, he lifted her slightly, his touch tender yet firm, conveying both strength and gentleness. As his hands reached the zipper of her sleek black dress, he moved with deliberate care, his movements slow and purposeful. He slid the zipper down, revealing the smooth expanse of her back. The dress slipped off her shoulders, guided by his hands, and he watched it fall to the floor with a soft rustle, revealing the delicate lace of her undergarments.

Her back was a canvas of beauty, adorned with the intricate patterns of her lace bralette. The deep red hue of the lace contrasted beautifully against her skin, enhancing her curves and accentuating her femininity. Cillian's eyes lingered on her, his gaze filled with admiration and desire. Gently, he lifted her again, his hands sliding around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He felt the warmth of her body against his, a comforting and familiar sensation that never failed to make his heart race. He placed a soft kiss on her shoulder, his lips lingering for a moment before moving to her neck, where he planted another gentle kiss.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and emotion. His Irish accent added a musical quality to his words, a melodic sound that resonated with warmth and affection. He looked into her eyes, his own filled with love and devotion, and he knew that this moment would be etched in his memory forever.

As Cillian's hand traced the contours of her body, every touch ignited a symphony of sensations within her. His fingers, gentle yet firm, caressed her sides with an intimacy that spoke volumes of his love and desire. She arched her back slightly, a silent invitation for him to explore further, to delve into the depths of her being.

With a feather-light touch, Cillian's hand descended, trailing along the soft curve of her stomach. The fabric of her panties brushed against his fingertips, a tantalizing barrier between them. His touch lingered, teasingly, at the edge of her desire, as if savoring the anticipation of what lay beyond. In the dim light of the room, his eyes met hers, a silent exchange of longing and passion. There was a hunger in his gaze, a hunger matched only by her own. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly began to inch the lace panties downwards, revealing the expanse of her skin and her beautiful cunt.

There was a low growl rumbling in his chest, his eyes darkened with lust as they devoured her body. His voice dropped lower still, the words rolling off his tongue with a guttural edge. "Fuck, darlin', yer body is perfect."

Cillian's hand danced across her sensitive folds, tracing the outline of her slit with a delicate touch. His eyes remained locked onto hers, watching her reactions closely. His thumb brushed over her swollen clit.

His voice was a deep murmur, filled with raw desire. "So fucking wet already."

With a low, rumbling chuckle, Cillian's deep voice echoed through the bedroom. His accent was unmistakably Irish, each word rolling off his tongue with an effortless grace. "Oh darlin', ye seem to have gotten yerself all worked up over this, haven't ya?" His tone was teasing but also held a hint of concern. The flickering light from the candles cast shadows across his face, highlighting the strong jawline and piercing blue eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, he continued tracing slow sloppy and broken circles around her clit with his thumb, applying just enough pressure to send jolts of pleasure coursing through her body. But there was no rush, no need to push her towards climax. Instead, he took his time, letting his touch become both soothing and arousing all at once.

"There ye go now, let yer body relax into me. Just feel those sensations..."

Cillian's fingers moved expertly against her sensitive cunt, each movement sending shivers up her spine. His touch is light yet firm, his thumb teasing circles around her swollen clit while his fingers slide effortlessly within her. The second digit curls just right, hitting that sweet spot deep inside her. He slips another finger into her tight cunt, stretching her deliciously as his thumb continues its relentless assault on her throbbing clit. His pace quickens, his breath hitching as he feels her walls clench tightly around him.

"Ah, darlin', ye're so wet... So ready fer me…" His voice is a low murmur, thick with desire and laced with his distinctive Irish accent.

His fingers moved with practiced precision, each touch a symphony of sensation orchestrated for her pleasure. His touch was both gentle and firm, teasing and exploring, as if he were playing a finely tuned instrument. Her responses were music to his ears, each sigh and moan a note in the melody they created together. He could feel her trembling beneath him, her body arching into his touch, seeking more, and he obliged with a deep, resonant chuckle that seemed to vibrate through his chest and into her very core.

"Ye look so beautiful, love," he murmured, his voice a soft, lilting brogue that sent shivers down her spine. "Every single part o' ye... just perfect."

His eyes moved over her face, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and the way her teeth caught her lower lip. He shifted slightly, adjusting his position to get a better angle, his breath hot against her skin. The intimate warmth of the room, the closeness of their bodies, created a heady atmosphere that enveloped them both. His free hand trailed up her side, fingers ghosting over the curve of her waist, the softness of her skin under his calloused palm. He loved the way she responded to his touch, the way her body seemed to sing beneath his fingertips. "D'ye like that, darlin'?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with a raw, unfiltered passion. His eyes locked onto hers, intense and unwavering, searching for the answer he already knew but loved to hear.

She nodded, a breathless "yes" escaping her lips, and he smiled, a slow, satisfied curve of his mouth. "Good," he said, his voice low and rough. "I want ye t' feel every bit o' this, t' know how much ye mean t' me." His fingers moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm, coaxing and caressing, pushing her closer to the edge with every passing second.

Cillian leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. He poured every ounce of his love and adoration into that kiss, his tongue teasing hers, his teeth nipping at her lower lip. When he pulled back, his breath was ragged, his eyes dark with desire. "I love ye more than words can say," he murmured, his accent thick with emotion. "More than anything in this world." He watched as his words sank in, saw the way her eyes softened, her lips curving into a smile.

His fingers, long and skilled, moved inside her with a precision that made her toes curl. He watched her, his gaze unwavering, as her face contorted in pleasure. Every moan, every gasp she made seemed to fuel his own desire. His lips parted slightly, his breath coming out in shallow, heated puffs. The sight of her, the way she reacted to his touch, was almost too much for him to bear. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, his Irish accent thick and intoxicating.

"Ye gonna come for me, love...come on my fingers..."

The way he spoke, the way his voice dropped to a husky whisper, sent shivers down her spine. It was a command, a plea, and a promise all rolled into one. His words were a sweet torture, pushing her closer to the edge. She could feel the tension building, her body responding to his every touch, his every word. Cillian's eyes darkened as he felt her walls tighten around his fingers. He could tell she was close, teetering on the brink of ecstasy. His thumb found her clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure to push her over the edge. He watched, mesmerized, as her back arched off the bed, her mouth falling open in a silent scream.

"That's it, love...come on my fingers," he murmured, his voice a low growl.

Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her with a force that left her breathless. She cried out his name, her hands clutching at the sheets, her entire body trembling with the intensity of her release. Cillian's smile widened, a look of pure satisfaction crossing his features. He kept his fingers inside her, prolonging her pleasure, drawing out every last bit of her orgasm until she was a quivering mess beneath him. As she came down from her high, her chest heaving with every breath, Cillian withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his lips. He licked them clean, his eyes never leaving hers, a look of pure, unadulterated hunger in his gaze.

"Ye taste so sweet, darlin'," he said, his voice rough with desire.

He leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. She could taste herself on his tongue, a reminder of just how intimately connected they were. His kiss was demanding, his tongue exploring her mouth with a hunger that left her breathless all over again. When he finally pulled away, she could see the fire in his eyes, the raw need that still burned within him.

"I love spoilin' ye, mo stór~," he murmured, his accent thick and lilting. "I love watchin' ye come apart beneath me."

Cillian’s breath came in hot, fervent gasps as he trailed kisses along her neck, savoring the taste of her skin. His fingers, skilled and insistent, returned to their familiar territory, delving into the slick heat of her cunt. Her moans were intoxicating, spurring him on as he sought to draw more from her. Each gasp, each shiver of her body against his, ignited a deeper hunger within him. His free arm snaked around her waist, firm and possessive, lifting her effortlessly as he shifted their position. Propping her up against the headboard, he paused for a moment, his intense blue eyes locking onto hers, conveying a promise of deeper pleasure.

“Look at ye, darlin’,” he murmured, his Irish accent thick and honeyed with desire. “Ye’re so beautiful like this, so needy.” He brushed his lips against her ear, his voice a low growl. “I’m gonna give ye what ye crave.”

As his fingers entered her again, he moved slowly, savoring every inch of the exquisite heat surrounding him. His movements were deliberate, measured, each thrust designed to bring her closer to the edge. The headboard creaked under their combined weight, a testament to the raw intensity of their coupling. She arched against him, her nails digging into his back, urging him on. Cillian responded with a growl of pleasure, increasing his pace, driving deeper into her with each thrust. He could feel her tightening around him, her body responding to the onslaught of sensations. Her cries filled the room, a symphony of pleasure that echoed off the walls. He watched her face, the way her eyes fluttered closed, the way her lips parted with each gasp and moan. She was exquisite, and she was his. Cillian's control was ironclad, his focus solely on her, on drawing out her pleasure until she was utterly lost to it. His fingers found her clit, teasing and tormenting the sensitive bundle of nerves, sending jolts of electric pleasure through her already overwhelmed body.

“God, ye’re so tight,” he breathed, his voice rough with lust. “So perfect around me.”

Her responses drove him wild, her body bucking and writhing beneath him, completely at his mercy. He pressed his lips to her shoulder, biting down gently, a possessive mark that made her shudder. Every movement, every sound she made fueled his desire, pushing him to the brink of his own restraint. He reveled in the feel of her, the taste of her skin, the way she trembled under his touch. She was a masterpiece of sensation, a canvas on which he painted his passion with each thrust, each caress. Her climax was building, he could feel it in the way her muscles clenched around him, in the breathless way she called his name. Cillian didn’t let up, didn’t ease his relentless pace. He wanted her to shatter, to lose herself completely in the pleasure he was giving her. His lips found hers in a bruising kiss, swallowing her cries of ecstasy as she tumbled over the edge. She convulsed around him, her entire body taut with the force of her orgasm, and he held her through it, driving her higher and higher.

“Tha’s it, love,” he murmured against her lips. “Let go for me. Give me everything.”

He didn’t stop, even as she writhed and bucked, her pleasure turning to a sweet, unbearable overstimulation. He watched the way her body responded, how her eyes rolled back, and her nails clawed at his skin. She was so sensitive, so exquisitely responsive, and he wanted to see just how far he could push her. His thrusts became more erratic, driven by a primal need to see her come apart beneath him.

“Can ye take more, love?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper. “Can ye handle a bit more for me?”

Her answer was a breathless, needy nod, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of desperation and desire. It was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers moved faster, his thrusts deeper, pushing her beyond the bounds of her pleasure, into a realm where sensation was all-consuming.

“Cillian,” she gasped, her voice a broken plea.

“I know, love, I know,” he soothed, his own control fraying. “Just a bit more, just for me.” Her third climax hit her like a tidal wave, leaving her gasping and trembling in his arms. He held her close making sure she didn’t lose it mentally.

Cillian’s breath was heavy, mingling with hers in the intimate space between them. His blue eyes, darkened with desire, bore into hers with a raw intensity that made her heart race. He slowly withdrew his fingers, slick with her juices, and brought them to his lips, never breaking eye contact. The way he tasted her, savoring every drop, was both a declaration and a promise. "Yer taste, love, it's somethin' else," he murmured, his voice thick with his accent, adding an extra layer of seduction to his words.

With deliberate slowness, he took her wrists in his hands, his touch firm yet gentle. He pressed them together and, with a controlled strength, guided them above her head, pinning them against the headboard. The wood creaked under the pressure, but it was nothing compared to the sound of their combined breaths, quickening in anticipation. His eyes, a stormy sea of blue, glinted with hunger and something deeper – a possessive need to consume her entirely.

His mouth found her neck, and he kissed a line down her skin, each touch of his lips leaving a burning trail in its wake. He paused to whisper in her ear, his breath warm and shivering, "Ye drive me mad, darlin'. I've never wanted anyone like this." His accent rolled over the words, making them sound almost musical.

As he kissed his way down her body, he took his time, worshipping every inch of her. His lips and tongue traced patterns on her skin, a blend of tender kisses and teasing licks. He savored the way she reacted, the way her body arched towards him, craving more of his touch. When he reached her breasts, he lavished them with attention, sucking and nibbling on her nipples until they were hard and sensitive.

"Ye like that, don’t ye?" he asked, his voice a low, rumbling growl that vibrated against her skin. She could only moan in response, her words lost in the sensations he was creating. Satisfied with her reaction, he continued his descent, his kisses becoming wetter and sloppier as he moved down her stomach, leaving a glistening trail that shimmered in the dim light of the room.

When he reached her thighs, he nipped and kissed the sensitive skin there, his eyes flicking up to watch her face. The anticipation was almost unbearable, and he reveled in the power he had over her, the way he could make her squirm with just a look, a touch. He spread her legs wider, positioning himself between them, and took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. "Christ, yer beautiful," he murmured, his voice reverent. Then, without warning, he dove in, his tongue finding her clit with unerring accuracy. He licked a broad, firm stripe up her slit, collecting her juices on his tongue before circling her clit with expert precision. She gasped, her hips bucking against his face, and he smiled against her, enjoying the way she reacted to his touch.

His tongue was relentless, alternating between long, languid licks and quick, flicking motions that had her seeing stars. He sucked her clit into his mouth, applying just the right amount of pressure to drive her wild. His hands, no longer pinning her wrists, roamed her body, squeezing her breasts, caressing her sides, holding her hips down when her movements became too frantic. He looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers as he continued his assault. "Tell me how it feels, love," he said, his voice muffled against her skin but no less commanding. She tried to form words, but all that came out were breathless moans and whimpers, her body too consumed by pleasure to comply.

His response was a satisfied hum, and he redoubled his efforts, determined to bring her to the edge and push her over. He added his fingers back into the mix, sliding them into her with ease, curling them just right to hit that spot inside her that made her cry out his name. "That's it, yeh, you gonna come on my tongue..” he encouraged, his voice rough and filled with desire.

Her orgasm built slowly, a rising tide of pleasure that swept through her with increasing intensity. Cillian never let up, his tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony to drive her higher and higher. She felt like she was going to burst, the pleasure almost too much to bear, and yet she didn't want it to stop, didn't want him to stop. When her climax finally hit, it was like a dam breaking. She screamed his name, her body convulsing with the force of her release. He held her down, his mouth and fingers continuing to work her through it, drawing out her pleasure until she was a trembling, quivering mess beneath him.

As her orgasm subsided, he pulled back slightly, his face glistening with her juices, a satisfied smile on his lips. He climbed back up her body, capturing her lips in a deep, hungry kiss, letting her taste herself on his tongue. "Ye taste amazin', love," he whispered against her mouth, his voice a husky growl that sent shivers down her spine.

Cillian groaned softly, a sound that reverberated with a low, primal hunger. His fingers, deft and sure, moved to the buckle of his black suit pants. He leaned back slightly, giving himself the space to maneuver, his gaze never leaving her face. There was an intensity in his blue eyes, a mix of desire and adoration that spoke volumes. He undid his belt with one hand, the motion fluid and practiced, then allowed the pants to slide down his legs with a deliberate slowness, a tease in itself. A smile, half-crooked and entirely charming, spread across his lips as he tossed the discarded garment onto the nearby chair, where the rest of their clothes were already haphazardly draped.

His boxers, stretched tight across the bulge of his arousal, bore a damp stain that betrayed his eagerness. The fabric clung to him, outlining every inch of his need. He paused for a moment, letting the anticipation build, savoring the sight of her beneath him. She was a vision, her body laid out invitingly, her skin glistening with a sheen of perspiration that spoke of earlier exertions. Her eyes, wide and dark with lust, followed his every move, her breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts.

Cillian's smile widened, a devilish glint in his eye. "Yer lookin' at me like I'm a feast, love," he murmured, his Irish accent thick and melodic. "An' who am I t' disappoint?" He crawled atop her, the bed dipping slightly under his weight, the muscles in his arms and back flexing with controlled strength. He positioned himself carefully, his throbbing cock now resting against her dripping cunt, the heat and wetness of her core a tantalizing promise. The contact sent a jolt through him, his breath hitching at the exquisite sensation. He moved just enough to tease, the head of his cock brushing against her entrance, spreading her slickness. She gasped, her hips instinctively arching towards him, seeking more. But he was in no hurry. He wanted to draw this out, to make every moment count.

"Patience, darlin'," he whispered, his voice a rough, soothing purr. "We've got all night." He pressed a kiss to her collarbone, his lips warm and soft against her skin. He trailed kisses upwards, his stubble scraping lightly, deliciously, until he reached her mouth. He captured her lips in a deep, searing kiss, his tongue exploring with a leisurely thoroughness that made her toes curl. She moaned into his mouth, her hands threading through his hair, tugging him closer. The sound of her arousal was like music to his ears, spurring him on. He shifted slightly, his cock sliding along her folds, the friction exquisite. He was hard as steel, the need to bury himself inside her almost overwhelming, but he resisted. He wanted her on the edge, desperate and pleading.

"Tell me what ye want, love," he said, his voice a husky whisper against her lips. "I wanna hear ye say it." He drew back just enough to look into her eyes, his gaze intense and filled with a possessive hunger.

She whimpered, her hips moving restlessly. "I want you, Cillian," she breathed, her voice trembling with desire. "Please, I need you."

"Ah, there's a good girl," he murmured, satisfaction lacing his tone. He rewarded her with a slow, languorous thrust, just enough to give her a taste of what she craved. The head of his cock slipped inside her, her heat and tightness enveloping him. He groaned, the sound low and guttural, his control slipping slightly.

He pulled back, teasing her again, earning a frustrated moan. "More," she begged, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, Cillian, don't tease me."

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm. "All in good time, love. All in good time." He kissed her again, his tongue delving deep, mimicking the movements he promised with his body. His hand moved to her breast, cupping and kneading, his thumb flicking over her nipple, drawing another gasp from her. He shifted his hips again, his cock sliding deeper, stretching her, filling her. She cried out, her body arching towards him, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. He set a slow, steady rhythm, each thrust deliberate, controlled, driving her wild with need. Her gasps and moans were a symphony, her body a masterpiece he was intent on worshipping.

"Cillian," she gasped, her voice breathless, "please, I need all of you."

Cillian groaned softly, hearing that’s she needed all of him..the sound escaping his lips like a low rumble, vibrating through the room and sending shivers down his fiancée’s spine. His gaze, intense and piercing, locked onto hers, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile that was both tender and mischievous. He cupped her cheek with a gentle hand, his thumb brushing over her soft skin in a caress that was both possessive and loving. His eyes, a mesmerizing blue, held a depth of emotion that words could scarcely convey, filled with love, desire, and a hint of playful arrogance.

He groaned softly, the sound a mix of pleasure and anticipation, as he felt her fingers digging into his back, urging him closer. His lips curled into a smile, one that spoke of both affection and a wicked promise. His hand, strong yet gentle, reached up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her flushed skin. Cillian pulled out, making her feel empty causing her to become needy. "You want me cock so bad, why... you wanna bear me kids, don’t yah?" His voice was a low, rumbling whisper, his Irish accent thickening the words and adding a layer of raw sensuality to his question.

As he spoke, his hand left her face, trailing a path down her body with deliberate slowness. His fingers traced the contours of her curves, a touch both possessive and reverent. When he reached her hips, he squeezed them gently, marveling at their perfect shape. “You’ll look so good pregnant, darlin’,” The image of her, swollen with his child, sent a surge of primal desire through him. He could imagine her belly growing round, her breasts fuller, the glow of motherhood enhancing her natural beauty. It was a vision that stirred something deep within him, a fierce protectiveness mingling with his lust. He murmured, his eyes darkening with desire as he imagined the future he wanted so desperately.

He shifted, positioning himself at her entrance once more, the tip of his cock just barely brushing against her. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, her body aching for him to fill her.

"Cillian, please..." she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous. "Patience, love. I wanna make this last."

He pushed into her slowly, inch by agonizing inch, filling her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and pain. She moaned, her nails digging into his back, urging him to move faster. But he held back, taking his time, savoring every moment.

"God, ye feel so good," he groaned, his voice thick with emotion.

He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, each one hitting a spot deep inside her that made her see stars. He watched her, his eyes never leaving her face, taking in every expression, every sound she made. It was as if he was memorizing her, committing every detail to memory.

"Look at me, love," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for disobedience.

She opened her eyes, meeting his intense gaze. The connection between them was electric, a palpable force that seemed to bind them together. She could see the love in his eyes, the overwhelming need he had to make her feel cherished and adored.

"Yer mine," he growled, his pace quickening. "Mine to spoil, mine to love."

His words pushed her closer to the edge, the intensity of his thrusts driving her wild. She could feel another orgasm building, the tension coiling in her belly, ready to snap at any moment. Cillian's hand found her clit again, his fingers working in tandem with his thrusts to bring her to the brink.

"Come for me again, love," he urged, his voice a low rumble. "I wanna feel ye come around me."

Cillian watches as she squirms beneath him, her moans growing louder with each thrust. Her legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as she arches her back, desperate for more stimulation. Cillian obliges, increasing the pace of his fingers on her clit while driving deeper into her. Her walls tighten around his cock, signaling her impending climax. With a final thrust, Cillian feels her cum around his dick, her inner muscles milking him as she cums hard. With a guttural groan, he shoots his hot seed all in her stomach, painting her in thick, ropes of cum. Each spurt sends shivers down his spine, his body convulsing as he rides out the waves of pleasure coursing through him.

Cillian lets out a low growl, his Irish accent thickening as he pants above her. His blue eyes darken with desire, a clear sign that he isn't finished yet. Despite being spent, he can't resist the urge to thrust into her once more. His movements are slow and deliberate, making sure to hit all the right spots. His cock twitches inside her, betraying its eagerness despite having already cum. A grunt escapes his lips as he pushes deeper, stretching her walls even further. His hand finds her clit again, rubbing small circles over it as he picks up the pace.

Cillian grunts, his muscles straining under the exertion as he thrusts into her once more. His breathing grows heavier, each exhale leaving his lips in a misty cloud. He leans down to capture her lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring the depths of her mouth while his hips continue their rhythmic dance. His hands roam over every inch they can reach - tracing along curves and valleys until they find themselves back on her sensitive breasts.

"You're so fucking tight," he murmurs against her skin, punctuating each word with another deep thrust.

Cillian grins down at her, his pale blue eyes sparkling with mischief. He gives a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest as he moans softly. His fingers move in uneven, messy strokes over her clit, deliberately leaving marks on her sensitive flesh. Despite the sloppiness of his touch, she can tell he knows exactly what he's doing. With each thrust, he gets messier and sloppier - then he starts getting more rough…he lays down on her chest and starts slamming his cock into her. “Take, it all mo stór~” he said while beginning to spill his hot seed deep within her sloppy cunt.

Cillian grins down at her, his eyes filled with a primal satisfaction. He keeps pounding into her making sure she is getting every last drop of his seed, each thrust going deeper than the last. A low growl rumbles from deep within his chest as he quickens his pace. With each pump of his hips, he makes sure to grind against that sweet spot inside of her until she's writhing beneath him.

He leans down and nips at her neck playfully before whispering, "You're mine now...my little breeding bitch..."

His fingers dig into her hips as he is slowly coming off of his high, but he still has one left in the tank. Cillian slowly speeds up once more..before with a few more powerful thrusts, he finally releases his last load, his hot cum spurting deep inside her. He keeps thrusting through his orgasm, ensuring every drop goes straight to her womb.

Cillian lay atop his one true love, their bodies entwined in a tangle of limbs, their breaths mingling in the hazy aftermath of ecstasy. With a soft exhale, he slowly lowered himself beside her, still intimately connected, his cock pulsing with the lingering echoes of their shared pleasure. As he gazed upon her, sprawled out before him, he couldn't help but chuckle softly, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his lips. She lay there, utterly spent, her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic cadence, her skin flushed with the remnants of their fervent lovemaking. It was moments like these, when she was laid bare before him, her defenses stripped away, that he felt the true depth of his love for her.

Reaching out, he tenderly brushed a lock of hair away from her face, his touch feather-light against her heated skin. "You're beautiful," he murmured in his rich Irish brogue, his voice low and husky with desire. "Absolutely beautiful."

She stirred at his words, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal eyes heavy with satisfaction. A languid smile graced her lips as she shifted closer to him, seeking the warmth of his embrace. "And you,……." she whispered, her voice barely more than a breathless sigh, "…..are irresistible."

Cillian's heart swelled with affection at her words, a surge of emotion welling up inside him as he gazed down at her. How had he been so lucky, to find someone who understood him so completely, who loved him with such unbridled passion? He couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings for her, a love so fierce and all-consuming that it threatened to consume him whole.

Leaning in, he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin as if trying to capture the moment forever. "I love you," he murmured against her, his words a whispered vow of devotion. "More than anything in this world."

She melted against him at his declaration, her heart swelling with emotion as she felt the weight of his love pressing down upon her. "I love you too," she whispered in return, her voice choked with emotion. "More than words can say."

Author’s Notes:

I don’t know if you knew since the beginning but do you have any freaking idea how hard it is to not mention that Cillian wanted to propose especially in the beginning holy cow, man!

Dude I freaking love this fic, it’s so cute and fluffy until y’all be fuckin’

Y’all I didn’t even know this man had like 7 cars.. bougie as fuck but that’s okay! And yes I may have changed what he likes to eat for breakfast.

Any yes, I’m confused on how I missed 6 whole days…then again I’m swimming so probs that…sorry lolz

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

The Rift - Chapter Five

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Marcus Acacius x Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: M, adult content, 18+ only. Next chapter will be E!!

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Marcus Acacius is a shameless flirt, yearning and sexual tension, Marcus Acacius as the author stand-in who gets impatient and straight up pushes everyone's face together

Summary: At the same time that Marcus Acacius is growing more and more accustomed to modern living, you are settling into your strange new life with an unconventional roommate who only speaks Latin, an FBI Agent you're secretly in love with, and the leader of the Heroics. All three of them are mainstays at your apartment, and you couldn't love the situation more. Or could you?

A/N: Is it heating up in here, or is it just me?

Masterlist | Chapter Four | Next chapter>>

(Acacius)

Marcus Acacius performs the now-familiar task of turning on the water for a hot shower, turning the little handle to exactly where you showed him and pulling the little knob on the faucet. Water immediately cascades into the tub, and as he steps under the hot spray with a satisfied groan, he wonders to himself why he desires to return home at all.

Now that more intricate, technical conversations are possible with the help of Moreno’s magic devices, you and Pike have been able to explain in more detail about the strange world he finds himself in.

Now he understands that he has traveled thousands of years into the future, and many of the incomprehensible things he’s seen have begun to make sense. Having studied history in his own time, he’s perfectly familiar with the progression of society and invention. Extrapolate this over thousands of years, and you have such things as cars, skyscrapers, and tee-vees.  

He could ask question after question about this world all day long, but the two of you seem just as interested in his life, and he finds himself talking about his service as a general, the wars he’s fought in, and even stories of his childhood.

The other man, Moreno, seems to be curious too, and stops by every few days for dinner and conversation, and the four of you often talk late into the night, satisfying his every curiosity from airplanes to elevators. One night, he receives a crash course in the meaning of the word ‘Heroic,’ discovering the man’s otherworldly abilities when someone bumps into a small table, sending a lamp crashing to the floor. Or, it would have crashed to the floor, if it had not begun floating in the middle of the air just before reaching the ground. He watches in dumbfounded awe as the Hero guides the metal object through the air with one hand outstretched and sets it back down gently on the table. 

Marcus Acacius is… content. 

He dresses himself in some of the new clothing you and Marcus had given him, puts his translator in a pocket, carefully places the earpiece in one ear, and heads to the kitchen. 

“Morning!” you greet him brightly. “Marcus has a few meetings that he had to go in for, so it’s just us today until the afternoon.”

He nods good-naturedly and gives you a smile. You always seem to fluster when he does so, and he isn’t sure how to react. In his own time, he had no trouble calling on women–or men, for that matter–but this world is so different, and he does not know the conventions of courting, or what is considered to be proper and improper. Both you and Pike are attractive, and you both fascinate him. If he were in his element, at one of the Emperor’s feasts, perhaps, he would entertain the two of you at once. As a high-ranking official, he’s certainly no stranger to the pleasure of many bodies entwined on a bed at once. 

He wonders, sometimes, if this sort of thing is still done. 

Marcus retrieves a mug from the cabinet and fills it with the black coffee drink you and Pike enjoy so much. He finds he rather likes it too, provided enough sweet cream and sugar are added to dilute the bitter taste. He swirls a spoon around, watching as the drink takes on a lighter shade of brown. 

“What do you want to do today?” you ask as you sip from your own mug.

Marcus thinks for a moment. “I want to watch another one of these ‘films’ that you put on the teevee.”

You laugh. “You liked that, huh? How about we wait for Marcus to get home, and then we’ll watch another.”

“I like the one with the small people and the magic ring.”

“I figured you would.” 

“In that case, do you have any more books that are in my language?” He had already finished the first one you’d given him, happy to have something familiar and comforting in his hands.

“Oh, absolutely,” you answer. “Come with me. We’ll find you something.”

He follows you into the little room that is filled from floor to ceiling with books and watches you peruse the shelves. 

“If it is no longer spoken by any living person, as you say, why are so many of your books in my language?”

You pause thoughtfully, one finger resting on the spine of a book. “People have studied these works for centuries. Historians, philosophers, politicians–many people in this time study the works of people who lived thousands of years ago.”

“I find it comforting,” Marcus muses, “that there is so much of this world that I do not recognize, and yet these words endure.” He thinks for a moment, frowning. “How is it that so many people are familiar with these texts if the language is no longer spoken?”

“Oh, well most people read them in English–or whatever modern language they speak.”

“And yet you have them as they were written,” he points out. 

You duck your head bashfully and look away from him–Why? “What I do for work…” you begin carefully. “I study ancient–well, ancient to us–civilizations. My specialty is Imperial Era Rome–your time. I’m kind of considered to be an expert.” You laugh nervously, still looking away from him as you explain.

Marcus finds it endearing, your reticence, but your area of study explains why the Agent brought him to you in the first place. He steps closer, so that you can no longer avoid looking at him. “You are an expert in… me, then?” he teases.

He revels in the surprised bark of laughter that you can’t suppress in response to his joke. 

“Lots of people are fascinated with objects from the past,” you explain, still smiling. “We put them in big buildings called museums and people come from all over to see them.”

“I would like to see this,” Marcus decides immediately. 

You hesitate. “Moreno doesn’t want you to be out in public any more than strictly necessary,” you tell him carefully. “There’s a lot of tension over how the Rift–the door to your time–was handled. If people knew you came through, he worries it would cause even more chaos.”

He considers this. “It is strictly necessary for me to see the museums,” he decides. 

You giggle softly. “Let me ask Pike, see what he thinks. Maybe we can sneak you over there. Ah! Here–” you hand him a book. “You’ll like this one.”

“Aenē̆is,” Marcus reads from the cover. “Thank you,” he says gratefully, choosing not to use the translator.

The two of you read in your living room until the late afternoon, when you’re interrupted by a light tap on the door. 

“I should really give you a key at this point,” you joke as you open the door to Agent Pike.

Marcus watches his face with interest, noticing how his lips part and his eyes widen with surprise before he quickly shakes himself and gives a noncommittal response. When you turn away and walk back to the couch, retrieving your book, the man’s eyes follow you the entire way. When he notices he’s being watched, he quickly looks away. 

“Marcus!” the Agent greets him brightly, clearly attempting to cover up the fact that he was just caught staring. Marcus isn’t sure why the man is so desperate to hide his obvious attraction to you. Is this a modern custom, or is it simply an idiosyncrasy of this man, in particular? 

“Are we expecting Moreno tonight?” you ask.

“I haven’t heard from him,” Pike answers as he sinks down onto the couch next to you.

“You should text him,” you suggest as you elbow the man in the shoulder. “Tell him we’re watching movies now.”

“I could,” he shrugs. 

Marcus decides to speak up. “I enjoy the evenings where there are four of us,” he says. “You always order extra food.”

The Agent snorts. “We can do that.”

Marcus smiles. It might have been said as a joke, but the sentiment was genuine. There is a particular kind of energy in the room that he enjoys when the four of them are together. It isn’t just the conversation that he finds so interesting; Moreno and Pike both wear every emotion on their faces–even more so when the wine flows–and Marcus has always been excellent at reading people. 

The attraction Moreno has for Pike is obvious. Pike is harder to read, because while his interest in the other man–and in Marcus himself–is clear from his body language, his feelings for you appear to be nothing short of infatuation.

And you… you’re interesting, too. The interactions between you and Pike indicate a history of affection and friendship, but he sees the way your eyes dilate when you look at Moreno… and when you look at him. 

And when the four of you are together, Marcus thinks, the tension is delicious. 

(You)

The best thing about watching a movie with Marcus Acacius, you decide, is not the movie itself. It’s watching Marcus Acacius watch the movie. You can’t help but watch the man’s face for his reactions to every scene. Your recliner has a lousy view of the TV, so the four of you are crammed onto the couch–because Moreno did show up, after all–sipping glasses of wine and watching Braveheart. You’re seated between Pike and the General, and Moreno is on the other end next to Pike.

Unfortunately, because you keep looking at him, the Roman keeps looking back at you, too, and it worries you that he’s getting the wrong idea. The man is gorgeous, of course, but your heart belongs to someone else, and has for quite some time now. When this is all over, you really need to tell Marcus–your Marcus–how you feel. At the same time, you don’t want this period in your life to end. You’ve never been a person who has many friends at once, and the three men who crashed into your life–and your home–have given you more companionship in the span of a few weeks than you’ve felt in your entire adult life. Each one is a comforting presence in their own way, and when all four of you are together, you’ve never felt more at ease. 

Not to mention each man is devastatingly handsome. You’ve been head-over-heels for the FBI Agent ever since he showed up at your office with an unbelievable story about Roman artifacts and a pleading look in his pretty brown eyes. Marcus Acacius, well–his commanding, charismatic presence in your home is impossible to ignore. He’s a terrible flirt, you’ve discovered, not just with you, but seemingly with Pike as well. You think he mostly does it to fluster the man, but there seems to be genuine affection behind his playfulness. And the leader of the Heroics? He hardly needs an explanation. Marcus Moreno was your first celebrity crush. Pushed into the superhero limelight in his early twenties, he was a mainstay in teen magazines during your high school years. Sometimes you can’t believe that the hero is a regular at your apartment, so familiar to him now that he helps himself to the six pack of beer that you keep in your fridge.

A set of unbelievable circumstances brought you together, and now here you are. On the couch. Feeling the fabric of Marcus Pike’s soft henley on one arm, and the bare skin of the Roman’s bicep barely contained by the t-shirt he’s wearing on the other. 

You can’t tell if it’s the wine or their proximity that’s making you more lightheaded. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Moreno subtly shift closer to the man beside him. 

You don’t know how the rest of them are able to concentrate on the movie.

You watch as a brutal fight scene shows on the screen, and you instinctively look to Acacius to gauge his reaction. He notices, of course, and raises his eyebrows in challenge. 

“The fighting seems so real, it is difficult to remember that these men are playing pretend,” he observes. He shifts in his seat, crossing one ankle over his knee and stretching his arm out on the back of the couch, just behind your shoulders, and seeming to accidentally brush the side of Pike’s neck with his fingers.

The Agent’s eyes flick sideways with a small, questioning frown at the touch.

“My apologies,” the Roman says, but before he returns his gaze to the screen, he gives you a subtle wink. 

Marcus Pike murmurs something about needing more wine and gets up. 

“Bring the bottle,” Acacius says. “Another round for us all, yes?”

The other man obeys, bringing the bottle and filling each glass in turn. When he comes to you, your eyes meet as more burgundy liquid splashes into your glass. You don’t know what’s darker, the wine, or his pupils. 

When he sits down, you note, he’s even closer than before. 

“What I simply do not understand,” the Roman suddenly says to the man beside you, the deep timbre of his voice felt in your chest, “is how you can be so deeply enamored with this beautiful woman beside you and do nothing.”

“E-Enamored?” Marcus chokes. “I–I’m not–”

“You are not?” the other man teases. “Then you do not mind if I partake?” 

“Stop that,” you scold. “You’re just trying to elicit a response and you know it.”

“Ah, I did not specify with whom I was speaking of partaking,” Acacius says darkly. His fingers caress the other man’s neck again, this time with intent. 

Marcus sputters wordlessly, his mouth opening and closing, but you can feel the soft tremor that runs through him at the soft touch. 

“Hey–” Moreno protests, looking irritated and put-out. 

“Shhhhh,” the Roman cuts him off. “You would be more than welcome to join, hero.”

Moreno’s mouth snaps shut. 

“But ah,” the man teases, “what rude guests we would be if we stole our hostess’s bed for ourselves, no? I think we should invite her as well.”

“You’re serious,” Moreno remarks skeptically.

“Is it not done in your time?” he asks, feigning innocence. “A group of people simply enjoying themselves?”

“No, it’s–it’s definitely done,” you say shakily. “It’s just that… I mean, we don’t know if we all want–”

“It is a simple matter to ask,” Acacius interrupts. “I will begin with you. Would you care to join all of us in bed?”

He speaks about it so plainly that it makes your skin tingle and your heart starts to race. All three men are looking at you: The Roman with patient expectation, the Heroic with obvious curiosity, and the Agent—his intense gaze burns you from the inside out. 

“Yes,” you hear yourself answer. “Yes, I–I would.”

“And you, hero,” the man moves on. “Are you interested in a night spent together?”

Moreno shrugs, as though he can’t think of any reason not to agree. “Yeah,” he says, chuckling softly in disbelief. “Sure, why not?”

Acacius fixes his gaze on the one remaining person to answer. “And you–the man who found me in the darkness. What say you?”

Marcus’s eyes flit rapidly between the three of you, hesitating.

Say yes, you plead in your head. Say yes, Marcus. 

You watch as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. He makes you wait for an eternity.

Then, he nods.